Baked Scribe Flashback : Roused
Clay had already found seven bodies.
They had all been left in various states of destructive disembodiment, sporting horrible wounds and bite marks. Whatever was down here, it was the worst thing he had ever seen.
He walked along the sewer, shining his light down into the murky water, wary of whatever might jump out at him. From the depths, he caught the occasional swirling trail left behind from some kind of aquatic life, just under the surface, but nothing had revealed itself.
In all of his years on the force, there had been plenty of deaths from animal attacks, but never down here. The worst thing that happened in the sewers was that once or twice a year, some kids would come wandering and get lost. Nothing like this. And these were no normal animal attacks, the result of something being spooked into a fight or flight mode. These had been brutal, showing a level of rage he would not have thought possible from an animal.
Still, no sign of anything unusual. He was wasting his time. It wasn’t like some snake that got flushed down some kid’s toilet was engaging in a revenge scheme against the whole town. The bodies had just been dumped down here. It was the only explanation that made sense.
The sound of more splashing, just outside the beam of his light and maybe the sound of something climbing up out of the water made him start to change his mind.
The clamor of claws scrambling out of the drain pipe to his left alerted him to the danger, but much too late. Something heavy flew from the drain and ran into him. All he felt was fur, claws and breath that was like steam off of boiling water. The thing felt like it had to be at least fifty pounds.
Clay grabbed it in a bear hug and threw it as far as he could manage. It hit the ground and skidded, rolling until it ran into the wall and turned back to face him. He saw it clearly in the flashlight beam and recoiled at the sight. It looked like your average rat, only more the size of a German Shepherd.
He stumbled back several steps as the thing charged, screaming and waddling from side to side as it ran, leaping up at him and knocking him back into the water. It bit into his wrist, down to the bone and Clay cried out, bringing his other fist down onto its flank. A long, heavy tree branch floated past and he grabbed it, beating the thing with it. The grip on his arm slackened and he was able to shove it, just far enough away for him to draw his pistol and fire four times into side of the thing’s bulky mass.
By the time the echo of the shots had faded, the body was already floating, lifeless in the water. Clay went to it, nudging it with the barrel of his gun just to be sure it was dead. He flexed his other hand and held his injured wrist to his side.
He was about to head back towards his car when two separate and distinct howls of rage erupted from behind him and he was knocked forward. Two shapes, even larger than the first one rushed past him and the gun flew from his grip to vanish into the water. He stood up to face the giant rats, carbon copies of the first one except much larger.
Mommy and Daddy were pissed.
