Original series Medium level of violenceMedium level of horror

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Gerry Anderson's TV series Captain Scarlet & The Mysterons. The series is owned by its respective owners. This story has been created for the pleasure of writing and enjoyment of the show, not for profit. The characters Infinity Angel, Elliot Bings, Gillian Colley and Chief Nurse Wedgwood are made up characters created by me.    

 

 

Black Vermin

For The 2010 Halloween Challenge

 

“The past always catches up with you.”

-Anon

 

animated_rat

       

         He knew it was there. He could hear the horrid filthy little thing scurrying about, lurking in the darkest shadows, eyeing him up with a gluttonous gleam in its eyes.

          A man in his position was a potential feast for any creature, no matter how small or big. He hated them. He hated it. He hated his predicament. But most of all, he hated him, and the scurrying made the matters worse. It was the sound of something that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill if it ever crossed his path, or he’d ignore it. That pitter-patter like rain on a bad day. Some bad day….

         Captain Ochre once again cursed the disease-ridden mini meat-munching monster as he struggled against his shackles. He grunted, smacking the handcuffs against the metal pole that his  hands were cuffed around, trying to loosen them. At the same time, he tried moving his legs to cause friction, trying to cut the biting ropes binding them. All the while he knew that his small squeaking companion had more small squeaking companions of his own hiding in the shadows with it. He had to get free - and quickly. He knew of their habits, and how their attacks looked. It didn't matter if the prey was dead or alive, they couldn't care less, what mattered was filling their bellies with glorious flesh.

        Ochre knew his struggles were relatively hopeless, but he remained persistent. Thankfully the handcuffs hadn't been put on too tight, as it obviously had not been seen necessary. Another blessing for Ochre was he'd found with his hands a paper clip that had been lying on the ground and with which he was clumsily trying to pick the lock. His luck was limited.

        Ochre knew he could get free if he remained persistent, but how long did he have? He knew sooner or later the shadows would attack and he would run out of steam.

        He’d woken with a snap, not long ago, blinking back the pain in his head and ignoring the sting from a bloody gash on his left leg. He’d been trying to think of his last memories, prior to waking up, but they seemed eager to avoid him for now. That had urged him to test the restraints on his arms and legs. It was during this testing, he heard something: the sound of a delighted high-pitched squeak and many others agreeing with it.

        That was when realisation kicked in and he tried to get away, only to discover his situation. He then discovered the paper clip. His joy at the last find was short lived however; picking locks was not his speciality. 

        Now he worked desperately, trying to free himself, and all the time, he could hear it, feel its every move in air so thick you could cut it with a knife, or bite and rip a chunk off it.

        A clicking sound made itself heard. Ochre gritted his teeth against the stabbing pain that was now shooting up his arms. The handcuffs had tightened in his struggle for freedom; they were now too tight! They were digging into his sore raw wrists, making them bleed. He dropped the paper clip, the tool useless now. He felt himself growing tired, but he had too much determination to just stop and allow something that went squeak in the night to just rip into him. He tried banging the cuffs against the pole, hoping it would shift them or damage them.

        Gosh, Black knew some ways to torture people.

        Black! Captain Black!

        Ochre’s memories finally returned to him. He cursed loudly, much to the delight of a thousand squeaks.

He hadn’t meant to run into Black when he did.

 

        Ochre had returned to Spectrum’s Kestrel Base in Telford, to teach a seminar in piloting, along with the help of the base’s Angel, Infinity, a friend Ochre felt he’d known for years.  After finishing the seminar, he’d left Kestrel base, but stopped along the way to Wolverhampton Airport, to grab a sandwich. That was when Captain Black had walked within ten feet of him. He spotted Black, who then in turn spotted him.

        Black fled and Ochre picked up the chase. He ran across a park, down a road, into an abandoned warehouse, long deserted. He guessed that it was the site of an old haulage company judging by the logos on the wall. Inside, the Spectrum officer and the Mysteron agent had exchanged bullets. Black’s shots, despite nearly nicking Ochre and one sending his cap flying, all missed. Ochre’s aim was much better, and he succeeded in getting three direct hits to Black’s legs. The Mysteron agent lost some of his lead, but not enough to be caught.

Feeling the wounds starting to heal, Black continued running, attempting to lead Ochre onto an unstable catwalk. The metal supports were completely rotten, and barely managed to hold Black’s weight. Ochre spied the problem in advance, and instead sprung for a dangling rope, hit his mark and landed in front of Black. They'd grappled briefly before Ochre sent Black flying to the floor. But the metal walkway refused to take any more strain, and collapsed. Luckily, the Spectrum agent was able to leap clear and roll onto the floor, only sustaining a gash to his leg.

“Shoot!” Ochre had exclaimed as he saw Black back on his feet and running once more. A well-aimed shot sent the fugitive flying into an old storage cabinet. Ochre jumped Black and tried to pin him down long enough to punch him unconscious. However the Mysteron agent had the greater strength and was able to throw the Spectrum agent off him, punching him twice in the stomach, completely winding him. To finish the job, Black punched the helpless captain in the face,rendering him unconscious.

The sight of Black standing in front of him was the last thing Ochre could remember. 

 

He stopped his pathetic attempts, knowing they were getting him nowhere, except closer to passing out, and then the rats would start to feast on his comatose body. Ochre shuddered at the thought. The rats could detect his fear, even without any light. It was clear the Spectrum officer didn’t want to die because of rats eating him alive. He’d seen that kind of death before.

His cap was long gone, but he still had his voice.   

“God dammit, somebody help me!” He could hear no response. “Help me! Please! Anybody? Can anybody here me? I need help! I’m a Spectrum officer!”

Ochre dropped his head and let out a heavy breath. What were the chances that somebody heard him? Next to nothing in all probability.

He wiggled his hands a little and cursed. The cuffs were digging in tightly. Worst still, he could feel the blood that acted as a lubricant against the vice-gripped metal. A warm sensation was on his leg too. He was continuing to bleed, painfully. Black had left him tied up, alone in this dark place, with a thousand rats ready to eat every little bit of him.

Ochre tilted his head back and looked skywards; a dark cloudy sky was overhead. He recalled Infinity Angel saying a thunderstorm was due in the mid-afternoon. He also recalled something else from his memory. He'd send a radio transmission to Cloudbase just as his cap was shot off his head. There was hope yet.

        Blood loss, fatigue and exhaustion were starting to catch up with him, and he felt heavy. No. He had to remain awake.

 

        “Now I have an indication of how Scarlet feels,” Ochre joked feebly to himself, as he snapped himself out of it. “Where are you guys? Where are you?”

A sudden noise grabbed his attention, a torch shown a dull light on the area. “Captain Ochre?”

“Yes, here! I’m tied up! Help me out!”

The figure with the torch came into sight, and to Ochre’s dismay, it was Captain Black.

        “Black! What are you doing back here? Come to see if I’m rat chow yet?” sneered Ochre. A faint smile was on his lips.

“I’ve come to finish what I’ve started, Earthman,” replied Black, as he levelled a gun at Ochre’s head. He fired.

 

        Ochre snapped back to reality, gasping.

“Dream. I was dreaming.”

SQUEAK!

“Shut up, rodent!”

        The pitter-patter of little paws disappeared as the one rat he could see scurried back to the safety of the shadows.     

        Ochre forced his eyes to stay awake. He couldn’t afford to doze off again.

“Somebody, help me!” he yelled again, but the cry was weak. “Help…”

        Ochre nearly passed out for a few seconds before shaking his head and forcing his mind to keep working. Rats were in his vicinity, and he knew what rats could do. He forced himself to remember what a half-eaten corpse looked like.  

He’d seen his fair share of dead bodies during his time with the World Government Police Corps. Dead bodies were always disturbing, especially if they were rotting, disfigured or decapitated.

He’d gone after several serial murderers and he remembered every single one. He remembered not just their faces, but the victims too, the autopsies he'd had to watch on a couple of occasions, the clues that led him to them like the rats to the Pied Piper.

He remembered the court cases, the sentencing, the expressions of the murderer and the families who wanted justice.

But none of the others matched that one particular monster. None of them had disturbed him most than the man he was presently thinking about.

He was one of the most infamous serial killers of all times, maybe the most notorious of the 21st century. He had been dubbed ‘The Vermin Monster’. He committed twenty-seven of the most brutal murders ever recorded and was believed to have committed more. Ochre was the man who closed the case by firing the bullet that killed the man responsible for them.

That man’s name was Elliot Bings.

Detective Richard Fraser had spent months tracking him down, encountering his victims, trying to outthink him. He knew one thing about the man that distinguished him from other criminals: Bings had an obsession with rats. When he had tortured his victims and made them bleed by stabbing them multiple times, he would dump them alive in a rat-infested area, so they would feel the onslaught of the hungry rodents. When it was found, the body was in such a state that the victim was extremely difficult to identify.

Fraser had himself shot Bings dead in self defence. Bings had tried to make a meal out of him. By doing so Fraser had not only saved his own life, he'd also saved the life of the young woman  Bings had intended to kill and brought an end to gruesome case.

It wasn’t something Ochre wanted to remember, and he’d suffered nightmares for ages after killing the monster, especially after he learned the young woman had committed suicide, unable to recover from her ordeal.

But memories of seeing the unfortunate victims, seeing the armies of rats feasting on human flesh stayed forever to haunt him. It chilled Ochre right to the core, and gave him the strength and will to hold on.

“Somebody! Please help! Please! Don’t leave me alone here!”

Where was back up? Surely, his message got through. Someone would’ve registered him as missing by now... He thought about Infinity Angel. He racked his memory, going over their conversations.

He was positive she said something about doing routine maintenance on the hidden interceptors at Wolverhampton Airport. He hoped that was what she'd said and that she meant it would be today. If so, then she would see his aircraft still on the ground and investigate. The British-Brazilian Angel would then get help and he'd be saved. But then again, he was scheduled to take off at sixteen hundred hours. If it was later than that the Spectrum personnel at the airport would've raised the alarm. And there was the message to Cloudbase. Had it got through?

He guessed it was now night-time glancing up at the sky, so hopefully a team would be looking for him. 

He hoped that help would come soon.  The others would not let him to rot in this place. Infinity Angel was a friend, she'd raise the alarm and his partner, Captain Magenta, would not abandon him, surely?

It seemed like hours that Ochre had been fighting consciousness, holding off the rats, wishing over and over that someone was coming to rescue him. He didn’t know how much longer he could stay awake. Everything was either numb or hurting like hell. No, correction… THIS was hell. He could picture the cold zombie-like face of Elliot Bings staring at him, laughing at him, and then there was Black, watching and waiting with a gun in his hand, and then there were the rats, loads of them, thousands of them, waiting for him to slip into unconsciousness, so he wouldn’t scream or struggle then.

“No, you won’t have it your way! You won’t! You won’t, you hear me?”

 

Far away, his Spectrum cap lay down on the disturbed floor, trapped amongst twisted metal. A shadow moves across it and a hand picked it up, a hand that was tanned and feminine.

“Over here!”

“That proves it, he was definitely here.”

“But where is he now?”

“You know this area?”

“Sure. I used to play here as a child.”

“Alright, look for other clues. We need to know where he went.”

“Or where he was taken. Captain Scarlet, there are some good hiding places around here.”

“Check them out.”

 

RATS!

Ochre bolted awake and lashed out at the touch he felt. The rats bolted away again as Ochre swore loudly. But strength ebbed away again, and he turned motionless once more.

His breathing was laborious. He couldn’t fall asleep now. Not now, or the rats would have him.

“C’mon Richard, you’re stronger than this, hold on, hold on,” he whispered to himself. He looked skywards again. “Dammit, someone, please save me!”

Ochre looked down as his lap, then all around, straining his ears for any sounds of the rats. They were waiting; the sly things were waiting in their hundreds, possibly thousands or millions.

“You’re not having me, rats, no way!” he yelled at them. It drained him of his strength and he rested his head again.

Ochre wiggled his toes. Yes, they were responding. He moved his hands; they responded too, if just barely. Blood was drying and dust and dirt were making the wounds worse. A new pain was present on his other leg. A rat had taken a bite out of his flesh, and blood was now flowing freely from the wound.

“Guess I’ll need that tetanus jab then,” he muttered, feeling he was about to pass out. “No, I won’t. I won't pass out. I refuse to let Spectrum down. It isn’t fair on them to find a dead mutilated body, covered in thousands of rats.”   He gulped, as another memory came into his mind.  

 

He was in a morgue with a good friend, Dr Gillian Colley, a forensics scientist. They spoke regularly, enjoyed dinner together, spent long hours just talking about anything remotely interesting. They were close friends, but not lovers. He always amused him that Gillian was never one who liked police officers yet she didn't mind him. However, Richard Fraser wasn’t the average detective; he was something different, something special. Gillian had pointed that out right from the beginning, and she was so right, as she always was.

That day was no exception. A team brought a new body in. A body Detective Richard Fraser had found, and that had been torn to pieces by rats. It was the third body he'd found and he believed he was onto a serial murderer. Despite the fact that it was her day off, Gillian agreed to do the autopsy. Richard wanted to be witness, in an attempt to try and get into murderers’ head.

The body was placed on the table in the centre of the room. An overhead light was switched on. Richard hung in the background, in the shadows, as Gillian prepared her instruments. The metal glinted under the bright light. She flicked on the sound recorder. Gillian was ready to proceed. 

“Time is twenty one hundred hours, the identity of the body has not been confirmed. The victim is female, in her late twenties, roughly five foot seven in height, and a weight of seventy kilos, and has been seriously disfigured by vermin. Cause of death is unknown at this point.”

Gillian uncovered the body. Richard had to hold down his stomach the instant the face came into view. He hadn't seen it before as it had been facing away from him, and he never saw when  the victim had been placed in the body bag.

It wasn’t a face, just a mass of flesh that was green in some places, rotting in others. The body was covered with bite wounds and congealed blood. It didn’t look human, but it sure gave Richard an insight into the life of Elliot Bings whom he would link to the murders two weeks from that date.

But he'd made a major breakthrough that day; the man didn’t kill his victims; he used vermin to do his dirty work. All he did was stand back and watch as the rats swarmed the living person, biting and gnawing, ripping out their insides, climbing into their clothes and ripping open skin most tender to bite down on the flesh below.

Agony! It was the worst way to die, and then there was Bings, standing in the shadows, watching with  eyes that flickered with ecstasy on the zombie-like face.

 

“NO!”

Captain Ochre struggled furiously to free himself from his bonds, whacking the pole, trying everything.

“STUPID! STUPID! SON OF A…”          

Ochre’s attempts were futile. The bonds wouldn’t break, and all he did was deplete his energy by a far measure. He could feel his past lurking in the shadows, rising up through the dried up channels of his brain. It was coming. It was catching up with him. Elliot Bings would have his revenge on the man who killed him, using his black vermin.

“GO BACK TO HELL, BINGS! GO BACK INTO THAT BLACK PIT AT THE BACK OF MY MIND AND NEVER SHOW YOUR FACE AGAIN! YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!”

Ochre could hear excited squeaks from the rats. They sensed his increased delirium from losing so much blood, and the memories of what happened weren’t keeping him alive, they were driving him crazy. Unwillingly, Ochre drifted into a slumber.

 

He screamed loudly.

“Doctor Fawn!”

Ochre felt one of his eyelids being pulled back.  A blurry shape emerged, just about.

“He’s deteriorating,” said a voice. He saw the blurry shape  turn to look at something to its left and said other words he didn't quite catch. Medical talk obviously . It confused him.

“Yes, Doctor.”

The blurry shaped turned to look at him again.

“Hang on, Captain Ochre. Hang on in there, just a little while longer.”

Fawn? That couldn't be. Could it? The good doctor was on Cloudbase...

Ochre couldn't think coherently.

The shape turned away again.  

Something pierced his arm and then he felt liquid moving under his skin, spreading out. He was too weak to resist. Then his vision went black. His eyelids closed.

“Is he going to be okay?” asked a distant voice.

“I don't know yet.”

“This is Captain Ochre we're talking about! He'll be fine!”

“What makes you the expert?”

“You're supposed to be the optimistic one, you're his partner!”

“Captain Magenta! Infinity Angel! Please!”

Two shots were fired.

“Go help Scarlet!”

 

“GET OFF ME!” Ochre snapped, shaking off the three rats that were on him. He swore loudly, trying to free himself once more. He could feel himself bleeding from separate bite wounds. Time was running out… very quickly.

“Can anyone hear me? Help!”

Ochre shook his eyes, trying desperately to stay awake…

 

        “You won’t make it, Fraser.” Ochre looked up in shocked anger at the voice.

“You’re dead, you son of a bitch,” he spat at Elliot Bings. The face that so reminded him of a zombie smiled. Bings then laughed and started walking around him, admiring the damage already caused by the rats. In his expert opinion, they haven’t even started yet.

 “The rats will kill you, I’m sure you know that, Fraser.” He drew close to Ochre. “Like they killed my victims. You got away last time but not this time,” he added with a hiss.

Ochre grunted and jerked his head away from Bings. He looked at the messy longish light brown hair, and the dead green eyes, the pale bloodied skin, and the ruin of the clothes. After all the years he’d been dead, he looked more like a zombie than ever.

“I have been waiting for this. To see you suffer the way my victims suffered, crying out for the rats to stop biting them, ripping them to pieces while they were still breathing, popping in and out and in and out of their abdomens.” He laughed slyly. “Now you, Richard Fraser, you share that fate like the victims that you masterfully linked to me. I’ll be watching. I’m forever with you. I can’t wait to see what they'll do with your intestines and your eyeballs.”

He laughed, grabbing Ochre by the collar. “Your death will be so slow, and you will cry and beg for it all to stop, feelings parts of you disappear into the stomachs of rats for a nice long digestion.”

Tears now appeared in Ochre’s eyes. He had lost too much blood; he could feel it all over his wrists, and behind him, on the ground. The bite wounds were weeping, his eyesight blurry in the low light. His breathing slowly was decreasing. Beat by beat by beat by beat by beat by beat. His fighting spirit slowly accepted his predicament, but still kept him alive.

 

“Patrick, if anyone can reach him now, it's you. Talk to him. Try and bring him round.”

He could hear a helicopter somewhere far off in the distance.

“Rick? Can you hear me, buddy?  You need to stay with us. We'll get you to Cloudbase soon, real soon. You'll be okay, and up to your  old tricks in no time. You've just got to hold on. Don’t let Black win this one. Please, stay with us. Don’t die, please! Please, don’t…”

 

Slowly Ochre opened his eyes one more time. The rats were approaching him. He had lost the battle. He knew everyone died one day, and obviously, today was that day for him. He prayed that he’d be unconscious when the rats ripped chunks out of him.

 

“Gillian, I’ve failed you,” he whispered.

“No, you haven’t, Richard. Be strong. You will hang on, like you always do.”

Ochre looked up and saw Doctor Gillian Colley standing there. Her brown hair drawn up in a bun, her dark framed glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, a clipboard in her right hand.

“What makes you so sure?” murmured Ochre.

“Because I know you, Richard. I said you were different. That’s because you have such a strong will to survive. Look where you are now. You’re in Spectrum… congratulations. And you’re in Spectrum because you’re so tough. I know you so very well, Richard. I love you.”

 

A bright light filled the area. Loud noises accompanied it, followed by the sounds of paws, squeaks, and bloodthirsty chomps. The rats were eating him alive. This was the end of the line for him. He was now at the rats’ full mercy.

He felt a strong force gripping his shoulder and tilting him forward. His hands fell away from each other as his arms were chewed off. He felt himself pitched sideways, unable to do anything as the rats devoured him…

“Why aren’t I dead? I’m supposed to be dead! I’m supposed to be many pieces in the stomachs of thousands of rats I’m alive! No! I can’t be!”

 

Ochre let out a strangled cry. The muscles in his face locked up. He felt something clamping over his face.

 

“Can’t you get anymore speed out of this thing?”

“We’re at maximum velocity, just try and stay calm!”

 

Ochre realised that he had been found. His friends had found him. Despite the pain, he managed a weak smile. Everything would be fine. In that brief second, fantasy and reality moved back into sync and Ochre slipped back into unconsciousness under the watchful eyes of Dr Fawn and Captain Magenta.

 

Where am I? Where is here? Why can’t I feel any pain?

 

Captain Ochre mustered up his strength to open his eyes. He was greeted by a blurry white ceiling. He looked to his left slightly and saw the shape of Chief Nurse Wedgwood walking towards him. She placed a hand on his forehead.

“Nurse,” he whispered quietly. He shut his eyes carefully before opening them again.

“You’re on Cloudbase, Captain Ochre. You’re safe now, you can afford to rest,” she assured him. His eyes were starting to make clearer sense of his surroundings.

 “Rats? Where are the rats?” He drifted into unconsciousness again.

 

“Is he going to be okay, Doc?”

Dr Fawn looked up to see Captain Magenta standing in front of him. Behind him stood Infinity Angel. Both officers looked tired and worn out. “Didn’t I tell you to rest up and sleep, Captain Magenta?” he asked. “And I recall telling you the same thing, Infinity?”

“I've been resting,” the Angel protested.

Fawn muttered something about stubborn Brazilians before turning his attention back to Magenta.

“Captain-”

“Don't worry, Doc, I'll be fine.”

Fawn sighed, put his pen down and stood up. He walked away from his desk and towards the visibly tired captain.

“Patrick, I understand the last few nights have been long and hard, but you must try and sleep. Have you been taking the sleeping pills I prescribed?”

From the silence he got in return he guessed not.

Fawn pulled them into his office. He’d rather talk to them out of earshot of any other medical staff.

“Captain Magenta,” he warned, “those pills are not an option…”

“Hey, it’s MY partner who is lying in a bed in a critical condition! I just want to be here for him when he wakes up!” protested the captain. Fawn didn’t see the point of arguing with him any longer. Magenta wasn’t going to budge. It wasn’t only his partner he was talking about, but his best friend as well.

        “I need not remind you why I’ve refused up to this point to allow visitors to see Rick. Now that he’s stable enough, I’ll permit it. BUT, afterwards, I’m ordering you to get some rest, and before you leave, I’m giving you a light sedative and putting you off duty until you’ve had a good night’s sleep. And that doesn’t include sneaking off to the Room Of Sleep. Gosh, I despise that thing. Why can’t people just use it only in urgent situations, as it was meant to be, instead of on regular basis, to replace whole nights of sleep? A full night of natural sleep is much more beneficial.”

        “Yeah, we know Edward,” Magenta whispered before starting to head off in order to go to the room assigned to Ochre. He stopped in his tracks, turned round and asked: “Is he really okay now?”

        Fawn nodded. “He’s out of danger. He was lucky that you found him when you did, or he’d have been too heavily mutilated to be saved. He woke up briefly a couple of days ago, as you already know. Since then he’s just been getting stronger.”

        “Lucky thing Green picked up on that brief message he sent and that Infinity realised his aircraft hadn't taken off.”

        The British-Brazilian pilot smiled a little. “It's lucky I'm in charge of maintaining the spare interceptors at Wolverhampton Airport and that I left Kestrel Base a few minutes after Ochre had, to see to the mixed up roster list that day or else we would not have known until mid-afternoon that he was missing. And now if you'll excuse me, I have work to be getting on with. Colonel White wants a report on the trainee Angels.”

        Magenta nodded his thanks to the Angel as she left. He was grateful she understood that it was important for him to see Ochre alone. Fawn gestured to the captain to follow him and led him to ICU.

As they approached Ochre’s room, they saw Chief Nurse Wedgwood leaving it.

        “Madison? Anything new?” Fawn asked his colour-coded nurse.

        Wedgwood nodded. “He’s coming out of it. This time, he should be able to stay awake for a while longer.”

       

        Rats! Thousands of them! All over his body, slinking, eating, devouring. He could feel every single one. Their excited squeaks, the gnawing of their jaws as they bit away. He felt blood in his mouth and coughed loudly, spilling it out. One rat then reached and bit his lip, shaking his head, tearing it to pieces. He felt tears on what was left of his face. Pain. Great pain.

        Then nothing. The rats vanished. The squeaking was gone. The area lit up like a stage. He opened his eyes and saw a woman and a man in front him. He could hear them, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. They both reached out and touched him; his wounds healed rapidly. Then the man came into view after untying his wrists.

        “Patrick.”

        The man nodded. He looked at his companion.

        “Infinity?”

        “Come back to us, Rick. Come back to us,” whispered Magenta.

       

        Ochre forced his eyes to focus as Captain Magenta came into view. His friend was anxious;  it was written all over his face. With this realisation came  a new determination to recover.

“Pat?”

        “Rick, please,” begged the Irish officer. He stood over his best friend, looking down at the pale and bandaged face covered with a breathing apparatus. “You’re not well. Don’t overexert yourself.”

“Where am I?” asked Ochre, his voice quiet and croaky.

        “Sickbay, on Cloudbase, you’re going to be just fine, Rick. Dr Fawn’s looking after you.”

        “Rats…”

“No rats, Rick, just Cloudbase as you know it,” Magenta whispered.

Ochre nodded before closing his tired eyes and drifting back off to sleep. Magenta let out a sigh, and bowed his head.

“You okay, Patrick?” asked Dr Fawn, stepping out of the background.

Magenta looked up and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m okay now. Thanks, Doctor. I needed to see him, needed to know he was okay.”

        Fawn smiled sympathetically before turning his attention to the various monitors watching Captain Ochre like guard dogs. They each told the same: the patient was getting better, but would need time to fully recover.  He had been so close to death, Fawn and his medical team had just been able to save him.

        Just

        “This was a very close call but he’s recovering well, at least physically,” Fawn told Magenta reassuringly.

        Magenta just nodded his head, and then shuddered at the memories. It had been the most unpleasant and upsetting event in his whole life but now Ochre, his best friend, lay in a sickbay bed, recovering well, still looking worse for wear but better than when Dr Fawn first examined him.

        How on earth he had managed to survive as long as he did, nobody knew, but they knew all too well that Captain Ochre was more than the average man. He was a man who defeat the vilest of black vermin. 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

The Writer Writes Some More

 

Would like to thank Chris Bishop for beta-reading this fic and helping me out once again. Cheers Chris!

 

Inspiration was taken from a scene in the movie 'The Bone Collector' starring Angelina Jolie where a killer uses rats to kill one of his victims as depicted in a horror novel of the same title. The killer follows the deaths in the novel, leading police officers on a wild goose chase as they try to figure out what is going on.

 

A couple of my friends also had a read of this last year- when I intended to finish it but didn't. Can't remember who but cheers to them anyway!

 

I hope this has been worthwhile reading and I would love to hear your thoughts, if you thought it was squeaky clean and easy to read and if you or you rodent (wouldn't) read this ever again! Forgive the puns, I just couldn't help myself!  Eh eh eh!

 

Hang on, what are those green rings outside? … Oh come on! I only just finished my last assignment! Let Black do the next one!

 

Enjoy Halloween!

 

RoverGirl

 

21st October 2010

 

anisev1

 

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