It is past midnight in the city. Yet the everlasting silence does not end. Every hour seems to make the silence more intense. It’s as if you can cut through the stillness with a knife. It seems like even the barren ground cries out, tying to convey a warning. Here I sit under the harsh glow of the naphthalene lamp. It casts shadows around me and illuminates the darkest corners of this dreadful tunnel. The cry of ravens can be heard not too far off. Is this a bad sign?
Sleep still seems an eternity away. It must be. My eyes start to droop every now and then, but I must not let them. I must not sleep. I have to remain alert, for my sake and for Leslie, who lies softly snoring beside me. This is no place for us. What are we other than two vulnerable youngsters with no protection whatsoever? Perhaps you wonder who we are and more importantly where we are. Well then I shall not keep to myself this crucial information any longer.
First of all I am Rachel and Leslie who lies fast asleep is my only friend. Perhaps the only human I have seen since the past 48 hours. It’s true; there is no one alive at least not above ground. I haven't seen my parents or for that matter any one since the rats thronged the city. How I shudder to hear that word. Whom we thought were seemingly harmless rodents, who one day turned against us all. Yes, people have said that the end of the world is near; however I never expected it to be this way.
Maybe it’s not the end of the world, maybe it’s just my imagination but the lacks of food and water have driven both me and Leslie to madness. As a result we grow weaker and weaker each day. It drains the will power out of us just to not give up hope. But hope is trickling away and fast. Each day it seems that perhaps the end is here. Each day we wonder why we should struggle to live when death seems so near, why not just embrace it and put an end to the misery. I doubt if we will survive if it goes on like this forever.
Already Leslie is feverish and her skin is very pale. She refuses to take any food or water that I manage to scavenge. She just tosses and turns, moaning every few minutes. I am not too far off from that situation. I believe that even if I die, something should be left behind of ours to at least make others aware, if anyone still survived, of what happened on that doomsday, the 19th of February 1956. So I started on my journal to record the events leading up to the invasion. It went like this:
19th February 6.20 pm
It is dinner time and I am setting out the table for my family when there comes an urgent knocking on our front door. I look hurriedly to my parents and they motion for me to stay still while they walk cautiously to the door.
They have barely unlocked the door and the constable comes charging in. he bellows at my parents to take me and escape from the city. My parents look at each other trying to make sense of what was happening. I stood dead still glancing furtively every few seconds out of the open window.
The sky looks black and threatening and a terrible stink floods over the whole city. We are not only the only ones to be confused. A few of our neighbors including Leslie’s family walk bare foot out onto their driveway, dressed in their nightgowns. Judging by their face they seem pretty confused as well. The constable must have told them as well what he was telling us now. I look back at my parents and the constable. They are all standing as they were a few minutes ago.
The constable starts to become impatient. He grabs my father's collar and pushes him back onto the wall. Don’t you understand? He shouts hoarsely, 'it’s not safe anymore. Follow me if you want to live'. That seemed corny to me except that he was dead serious. Within minutes we followed him solemnly out the door and all the way to the city centre, a large football field at the heart of the city.
There must have been hundreds of us, all wary and confused. I was more interested in looked around intently for the source of the danger. It didn't take long to detect the source. The huge city gates which stand at the other end of the field looked like they were about to break open.
On the other side there were rows and rows of rats that seemed to stretch on indefinitely. I gasped. I could not believe my eyes. These rats didn't look ordinary, they looked almost evil. It was like it was time for the rats to have their revenge on us, for every little thing we ever did to them. The strained against the gates and with a loud screech the gates broke open. Rats flooded the city. We were surrounded by the rats. The smell that accompanied them was so unbearable that people promptly fainted. There was no time for escape. Rats were everywhere in thousands. People young and old combined fell with great cries. The only image I expect them to remember would be of the wild glint in the eyes of the rats before they were gnawed to death.
Forgetting everything and everyone I ran as fast as I could and slipped into one of the openings into the tunnels that led to the sewers. From down there I had a perfect view of what was happening above me through the grilled entrance. I watched people fall helplessly one after another as rats attacked them. All friends dear and even neighbors died. But their skeletons lay in perfect view. All the while silent tears slipped down my cheeks. It seemed that the rats attacked only for revenge because as soon as everyone in sight was dead they scurried out of city. I stayed hidden until night fell and only then did I notice that I wasn't alone. Leslie stood beside me, her whole body scratched and bleeding. Neither of us uttered a word. A nod passes silent acknowledgement of what we have seen and lost. It is not something we would rather face again.
We are still hiding and waiting even now. We wait for rescue of some sort. Dreams are nightmares every night as we relieve those moments again. For now there is nothing we can do. We must just hope for the best be strong. Everything will soon become all right. At least that is what we hold on to now. What happens next will happen. The future seems just a bit more promising.
