DONT TURN OFF LIGHT
BLIND RAT KING SENCES WHATIS IN DARK
LIGHT = HIDDEN! - RED QBHP
Roseline's fingers hovered over the light switch. She’d just turned off the overhead lights for the hotel room and crudely written, glowing letters had appeared on the wall. She flicked the lights back on and the message vanished. Moving to the wall, she examined it and could see the words written in some sort of clear spray paint.
“Thanks for the warning,” Roseline said.
Hanging out in the illuminated hotel room made her feel vulnerable but she’d have to bear it.
Roseline returned to the dispenser and swung her crowbar, trying to put her entire body behind the movement. The crowbar struck the machine’s colorful plastic and bounced off, the blow reverberating through her arms and shoulders.
Whatever material the dispensers were made of was tough. Prying at it with her [MegaWreck Crowbar] had been an exercise in futility so Roseline decided to use it as an attack dummy. So far it showed not a single scuff or dent. If only she could have this as armor.
Roseline kept most of her attacks low, knowing that her enemy would be rat or dog-sized. She had no fight training or even sports experience that might help her here. All she knew was cribbed from martial arts movies: put your entire body into a blow but don’t overextend. Maintain appropriate form but don’t let your body become ridged.
What Roseline did know from personal experience is that every action relied on muscle memory. When you learned to strum the guitar, swim, do a backflip, or draw a face, your central nervous system and parts of your brain rewired themselves.
So Roseline swung, jabbed, and chopped at the dispenser, letting her body get used to the weight and balance of the crowbar, its length, and the way the force of each hit traveled back up her body. It was warm in the hotel so she tossed her hoodie to the floor. Underneath, she wore a taxi yellow, short-sleeved compression shirt.
Her energy levels were rising. It was more than a second wind and Roseline wondered if the bottle of berry-flavored electrolyte water she’d found in the mini-fridge had caffeine in it as well. She probably should have grabbed one of those High Octane energy pills the gas station was selling but Roseline didn’t know back then how hellish the night would turn.
The hotel suite’s outside was dominated by a large class window, excellent for watching the world outside. The rain had picked up and more rats were slinking through the streets. Smaller ones traveled in groups of up to a dozen, the rat-dogs usually had a partner or two, and the wererats were always alone. Of the three types, the rat-dogs moved the fastest and looked like they could outrun her in a sprint.
What Roseline found interesting was that the movements of the rat-dogs and wererat were consistently off. The rat-dogs lacked the easy lope of real dogs and the wererats shuffled as though struggling with an old injury.
More interestingly, not one of them had glanced upwards at the lit room Roseline was in. The way they peered forward in the rain and hesitated when exploring an abandoned car or bus stop suggested that their eyesight was poor.
Roseline mulled this over as she pummeled the hapless dispensers. A shotgun or rifle would have been more useful. There was the issue of limited ammo but that was an acceptable trade-off in her mind. Some force had brought her here, considered her a Unit, and wanted her to fight the rats. Roseline had no intention of doing so if there were other options. There had to be a way out or at least other people who’d created a fortification.
She’d find them or an exit. Fighting was for defense or gathering supplies.
How exactly Roseline would go about doing that was a bit more difficult. Her phone had gone dead when she’d entered this world and the one at the gas station was also a dud. What other technology had been affected?
After pulling her sweatshirt back on, adjusting the card bandoleer, and grabbing another bottle of electrolyte water, Roseline went to the door and listened. No movement that she could pick out. Peering out, she searched the dimly lit hall. The Christmas lights someone had strung along the walls flickered eerily, casting shadows stained with reds, greens, and yellows.
‘Blind Rat King senses what’s in the dark.’ Someone had taken out the overhead lights on this floor of the hotel and only this floor. Creeping into the hallway, Roseline peered upwards. Not smashed, there was no glass on the carpet and she could see where the bulbs were taken out.
Why would someone do that?
Think, Roseline, think.
The arrows drawn on the wall were the same sort of rushed work as the message. So there’s someone named ‘Red’ and they don’t like the dark. They wouldn’t be the one to come through here and yank out all the lights. Someone did that before them and the Christmas lights were their way of fixing things.
Which meant that someone came here earlier, saw a dispensary on this floor, and deliberately darkened the hallway so anyone going for that yummy healing candy would have to pass through. That alerts the Blind King and they send their minions out to eliminate a threat. Intelligence, planning, and cunning—at least a few of these creatures had it.
Satisfied she’d figured out what she could, Roseline went to the elevator and took it to the fourth floor. She’d seen from outside that the lights were on. The first door was locked, but her handy-dandy crowbar was all the key Roseline needed. The wood around the handle broke with a loud crunch that would wake anything lurking within. Steeling herself, she pushed into the room, crowbar raised but nothing jumped out at her.
There were signs of habitation but nothing stirred within. Darting to the TV, she turned it on—static on every channel. A laptop was plugged in on the desk but it required a password to access. The room telephone? Dead, just like the one in the gas station.
Roseline rummaged through the former occupant’s belongings, tossing clothing on the floor. Her heart rose when she found car keys in the bedside drawer but she immediately realized she had no way of knowing which car it belonged to.
Setting them back down, her gaze was pulled to a Gideon's Bible. Though bound in familiar black leather, the book was slimmer than she remembered. Flipping it over, it was titled ‘The Book of Yazata.’ Were religions different in this world? But if that was the case, how come everything was still in English?
After a few more minutes of searching and Roseline found a laminated map of the city. It was small, focusing on the subway routes and a few tourist spots. Her hotel wasn’t on the map but Spirit of Discovery plaza was. She’d passed through that less than an hour ago.
Roseline was in the SE corner of the town of Adelbert. Further north was the University of Adelbert along with a Polytech Symposium. There were convention centers near the center and south of Adelbert, Mount Clark to the west, and a lake to the east near ‘historic oldtown.’
The whisper creak of a door opening reached Roseline’s ears and her head jerked up. She’d assumed her luck would run out sooner or later and breaking into the room hadn’t been subtle. Roseline pressed herself to the wall beside the door and listened. The muffled sound of heavy footsteps came from the hall and, as the creature neared, a wet, wheezing breathing. For a second, Roseline was reminded of her uncle—pushing 65, beer gut hanging over his belt, a pack of Lucky Strikes in his shirt’s breast pocket. The smell of cigarette smoke had soaked into every surface of his house and to visit was to be bathed in it.
Roseline swore she caught a whiff of it now as the thing stood right outside the door. She’d left it ajar and its shadow stretched across the ground into the hotel room.
It just stood there. What was it waiting for?
Roseline forced her breath to be low and slow even as her heart raced. It couldn’t see her but could it hear her? Smell her? She covered her nose and mouth with her gloved hand, the wool muffling the sound of her exhales.
Each second was tortuous but Roseline forced herself to lift her crowbar inch by inch and then hold it there. There was no way it could see or attack her until it pushed its head in. The moment it did that, she’d strike. Right in the head. Her weapon was solid iron and it had a wicked hook—that would do some damage.
She hoped.
Her arm was starting to burn. Did it know somehow that she was right there? It must hear her. It must be expecting an attack. Roseline couldn’t let her guard down. The moment it popped its head in. The very momen--
“Mommy?” came a child’s voice from outside.
Roseline swallowed hard. No, no, that wasn’t possible. That thing outside was bigger than she was.
“Mommy, daddy, is that you?” the monster continued in perfect mimicry. “Are you back? I’m scared, I hid like you told me.”
Too perfect. Oh god, that sounded just like a scared kid. Where had it learned that? How many people had it used that on to lure them out of hiding?
Silence again save for the wet, laborious breathing. It was listening.
Right inside of the doorway was a kitchen. Roseline had found nothing but rotting pizza and spoiled milk in the fridge. No bowls or plates but there had been an empty scotch glass. It still sat there on the counter, only a few steps away across the tile. Roseline reached for it and took a slow, light step forward. Then another. One more. Got it! Her hand wrapped around the prize and she moved back into place beside the door.
It would be an awkward toss with her left hand but she didn’t want to put too much force into the throw. Picking a spot near the far wall, Roseline tossed it forward. It landed with a soft ‘thump’ and then rolled into a table leg.
The front door exploded.
Before Roseline could register what had happened, the wererat had leapt into the room and landed where the glass had hit the floor. The oily fur along its back and shoulders bristled as it hissed and whipped its head around. Gone were the lethargic, wounded movements of before.
Roseline lashed out with her crowbar, aiming for the creature’s wide head. Thankfully, it was as bulky as the rest of it and she landed a solid whack. Unlike a human, its eye was on the side of its head and the bent claw scraped against the tender organ, sending a light spray of fluid onto the floor.
It screeched in pain, hand slapping over its eye. Turning towards her, its muscles tightened, muscled coiling for another leap. Roseline shifted her stance. This time when it leapt, she dove to the side. The room shook as it dove face-first into the wall.
Roseline ran past it to the hallway and through the fire door. As she made it down the stairs, she wondered if her head blow had hurt it. When she hit the third-story landing, the fourth-floor door swung open above her and she knew the creature was in pursuit.
Rather than take the stairs as fast as she could, she kept a safer pace. Roseline refused to be the heroine in a horror movie who tripped and twisted her ankle. Above her, the wererat tossed itself down the stairs, slamming into one wall and then another.
Second floor now, first floor—above her, the creature’s pace had slowed and its growls and hisses mixed with gasps for breath. Down to the parking garage she went, the air here was much colder and parts of it were covered in free-standing water due to the rain runoff.
There were steady rows of lights running along the floor but also deep pools of darkness. Several cars had run into one another but they all sat silent and empty now.
Though she knew it was dangerous, Roseline hopped into the darkened interior of a van and huddled down. There was something she wanted to verify.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The wererat came soon after but it was in bad shape, huffing and puffing. It even pressed a clawed hand to its chest.
Roseline pressed herself down against the damp fabric of the back seats. This was not a horrific xenomorph, a perfect organism whose structural perfection was matched by its hostility. The way it had burst through her door, the momentary strength and speed it had manifested was enough to take down the average person.
Certainly the average child.
It caught her then—a memory sharp enough to prick her even as Roseline hunkered down in the middle of a nightmare. A time long ago when she’d also crouched and waited in hopes of being passed by. Another kid had decided to be a hero and ended up with a shotgun blast to the chest. The impact as he hit the tile had shattered the back of his skull.
They’d put up a memorial stand on the front lawn—a large portrait of him framed with candles and flowers. They’d sung his praises in the national news for five days until something more interesting popped up. Cold comfort in Roseline’s mind.
She wasn’t thinking of heroism when she stepped silently from the van. The wererat stood not far from the half-open door in a pool of light and Roseline approached it on its left side where its eye was swollen shut and oozing tears. It wasn’t that she was unafraid; it was that the fear had become cold and hard within her.
The crowbar felt solid and good in her hand and she swung at its head with all her might. Something warm and wet splashed against her face and then the creature was on her. Her blow had not lessened its weight and it drove her down, pinning her. As its jaws snapped, Roseline held her arm before her face and sharp teeth sank into the flesh of her forearm.
The thing smelled wet and moldy like a rotted basement. Hot breath streamed over her skin and slapped her face. Roseline yet gripped her weapon in her right hand and clumsily she began to strike. With each impact, the crack of breaking bone filled the parking garage and the creature’s jaw spasmed uncontrollably.
It tried to pull itself free but its limbs were no longer under its control and it sagged atop her. Roseline had expected it to screech and cry out but it seemed to struggle simply to breathe. Her arm rose and fell until something in her chest snapped and she gave a sharp cry. The beast had fallen still. Roseline got her feet up under it and slid it off with some effort.
The floor was covered in dirty rainwater and it had soaked into her jeans and jacket. She shivered as she steadied herself. As the wind traveled through the parking garage, it made a howling sound and for a minute she felt like a paper leaf that might be blown away. There was something unpleasant on the crowbar and she transformed it back into a card.
Staring at the dark, furry form at her feet, Roseline wondered how she had ever managed to kill it. Though it had just happened, her recollection was strange. Her shoulder ached from swinging the crowbar but she hardly remembered that yet the moldy scent of it and the pressure against her body remained vivid and clear.
Her arm bled. A chuck of flesh on the side had been caught by its incisors but oddly enough, the rest of the teeth marks resembled that of humans. The skin there was less pierced and more chewed through.
A brief search of the cars led her to a small first aid kit sitting half-open on a passenger seat. She rinsed her arm, letting the bloody water fall on the ground, and then sprayed it with bactine before shoving a wad of bandage into the wound.
Golden light caught her eye—something had appeared above the body of the wererat.
Warily she circled back and realized it was another of those cards. This one hovered over the body as though it were a prize for beating it to death. She snatched it up, half-expecting the rat to rise again like the creature in a horror film.
Beastly Mien
We be of one blood—ye and I.
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Active: Bloody claws burst from your fingers allowing you to swipe and tear at your opponent.
Duration: 5 mins, Cooldown: 1 hr
Passive: Your physical traits are improved. Your mental traits are degraded.
Instant
That sounded useful… and horrifying. The passive didn’t mention the duration or how far her mind would be degraded. Roseline was not interested in giving herself brain damage.
How did you turn on these abilities anyway?
In response to her thoughts, three ghostly, card-sized rectangles appeared to float in the air before her. Roseline pushed the card she held into the first one. A wave of heat rolled through her as a coppery taste filled her mouth. As she leaned against a car, adjusting to the sensation, the three boxes shrank down to a small floating dot in her vision.
Blood had soaked into the wad of bandages Roseline clutched and she changed them out. This time she covered her arm in the gauze and then wrapped it tightly with tape.
She didn’t feel stronger. She also didn’t feel dumber. What would being dumber even be like? Would it be something obvious like sudden gaps in her memory or a more subtle loss of reasoning ability?
As Roseline made her way through the garage onto street level, she heard the faint but distinctive sound of tiny paws splashing through water. She turned in time to see one of the canine rats waiting in the shadows, its body coiled and ready. She dove to the side as it sprang. It hit the spot where she’d stood and slipped on the wet stone. Pulling a crowbar from her bandoleer, she stepped forward to finish it when Roseline felt another snap at her ankle.
There was another one. No, two more as well as small movements under the nearby cars. She swung low, connecting hard enough to send the one on her ankle tumbling. Nimbly, she stepped back, taking in the scene. Three of the dogs-rats and a dozen normal kind. The one that had pounced at her had retained its footing. As one, the rats surged forward. Roseline sent a rat flying and then another. Smashing down on another’s back, she felt a small, furry body begin to climb her leg. In the corner of her vision, the dog-rats were biding their time, spreading out and encircling her.
She spun, trying to find an exit. The garage had emptied into a side street with one way out. Two of the dogs had blocked that while another was between her and the ramp back down. Roseline tried to lunge for it, picking off the isolated one, but three rats now clung to her legs.
Shit! They weren’t even biting her, just hanging on for dear life. When she tried to focus them, a rat-dog growled and attacked. Roseline fended it off but felt more furry bodies crawl over her pants and sneakers. Her heart dropped as she saw another seven appear from around the corner, running towards her as fast as their short legs could manage.
Despite herself, Roseline pedaled back toward the dead end. It was like wading through hip-deep water as the rats tried to hold her down. Making her way, to a parked car, she climbed onto the trunk and then the top, kicking her legs send a rat right into the face of a charging dog.
This was insane: the way they’d waited at a choke point, their coordination, and tactics that seemed designed to counter Roseline’s speed advantage.
She was between two walls now, one of brick and one of angry fur and teeth. Rolling off the car, she grabbed a burnt trash barrel. The rusty metal dug into her hands as ash and poured out the holes in its side. She chucked it as hard as she could into the center of the swarm. Squeaks of surprise and pain came from the rats she hit but that wasn’t enough to make a gap she could run through.
Roseline was starting to run out of space.
Pulling herself onto one of the industrial-sized dumpsters, she eyed the nearby brick wall warily. With a running start, she might be able to… no time to think. She ran a few steps forward on the slick top and jumped with all her might.
And crashed right into the wall.
When she hit the ground, two rats scurried into her back. She pushed herself up only to feel sharp claws dig into her shoulder as one bit into her cheek. The entire swarm rushed her and she threw herself at the dumpster again, struggling to pull herself up. They had her in their grip now, a dog on her arm, and more rats grappling her legs.
Like a drowning woman, she flailed with her legs to dislodge them as she slithered forward on her belly. Gasping, she managed to get back on the container. It was her only island now in a sea of fur. Another group must have joined them along with two more of the dogs.
She had to do this. She had to make the jump. Roseline would happily trade all the brain cells in the world for more strength in her legs.
At the edge of her sight, the gray circle holding her [Bestial Mien] card flashed dully. Roseline ignored it—the claws wouldn’t be enough to fight off the swarm and there was no mention of increased strength or speed.
The wall loomed before her, a gap of a few feet between it and the edge of her platform. She’d missed the top of the wall by about a foot. Swallowing hard, Roseline stared at the hard line of red and gray brick. It didn’t look good.
She regarded the gray dot again. When she tapped it, it expanded to reveal the [Bestial Mien] card. Roseline had to try, there weren’t many options. Her fingers didn’t even make contact with the card before it began to glow. Her hand cramped and she grit her teeth in pain as blood swelled in her fingers and then jutted out of her flesh like sharp spear tips.
Again, she ran forward two steps and jumped. Higher this time but not high enough, even as she reached for the ledge, she knew she was too low to snag it.
Again, she slammed into the wall, but this time she was ready. Her fingers dug at the brickwork and her new claws sunk into the cracks and mortar. Gravity caught up with her and Roseline hung there. It hurt—her fingers weren’t used to carrying the weight of her entire body.
Almost there.
Down below, the rat-dogs gave a sharp bark of frustration. One jumped up to bite her leg but Roseline pulled her feet up under her and started to climb upwards.
It took her another minute to haul herself over the wall. Her hands and wrists felt like dead things. As she dropped down on the other side, another group of rats appeared but they lacked enough numbers to slow her and she ran through them onto the street. The city was full of them now. Every path she took presented another group she had to evade or dash through.
The darkness had betrayed her, Roseline was sure of it. None of the monsters on the street had bothered her while she was in a well-lit hotel but when she’d hunkered down in the dark of the garage, a pack had quickly found her.
As she jogged, Roseline spotted the entrance to the subway. Light shone from the stairwell leading downwards. Could she risk it? It could be full of things and it would be much harder to elude them. Not that she was doing that now.
She took the stairs two at a time, blinking in the harsh light. Nothing leapt out at her and there were few shadows to hide in. After jumping the turnstile, Roseline approached the platform, her heart lifting as she saw the familiar flashing strobe lights.
The claws had disappeared, leaving her hands unusually gray and shriveled looking. As she tried to unbutton the pouch on her bandoleer, cold metal landed on her palm and she found the token had simply appeared in her hand.
This time the options were: [Cat-Piss Stained Sleeping Bag], [Power Stone], and [Putrid Wasting].
The power stone cost five tokens and could store mana, putrid wasting looked to be a spell that did damage based on her Presence, the piss-stained sleeping bag was an item.
‘Sleep soundly, free from rats and other common pests.’
That might be useful. If she wore it like a cloak, maybe she could sneak about and avoid detection?
Dropping her token into the machine, she turned the crank and a card popped out. Again, the other two dispensers immediately became inactive.
Cat-Piss Stained Sleeping Bag
No manticores were harmed in the making of this product.
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Active: Create a sleeping bag that exists for eight hours. While you rest within, you are under a [Protection] effect from rats and rodentform monsters.
Uses: 1
Consumable, Construct, Abjuration
Roseline frowned as she read the text. Only one use and it specified she had to be ‘at rest.’ She looked back at the [Putrid Wasting] dispenser with slight regret.
She slotted the card next to [Bestial Mien] and tapped it as soon as it lit up. The card fizzled into nothing as a blue, rolled-up sleeping bag materialized at her feet. Roseline undid the leather buckles that held it shut and was hit by an odor so offensive she staggered back, eyes watering. How could anyone sleep in that? The scent filled the underground platform and Roseline waited for the green strips of paint to start peeling off the wall.
Hands on her knees, Roseline waited as she got used to the smell. Magical abilities aside, if this didn’t send creatures running, she wasn’t sure what would.
Eventually, she returned to the bag. It looked thin and lumpish.
Her rational brain was telling her that there was no way this could protect her. Her other (also rational?) brain was telling her that she was in a city overrun by rat demons and the bag had magically come out of thin air. She had to trust she’d be safe if she slept in it.
After lying it out across a bench, Roseline crawled inside. She was cold, tired, and hurt and the sleeping bag was surprisingly warm and comfortable. If she were lucky, Roseline could sleep here until daybreak. Once the world was bathed in sunlight, she might be able to move about safely.
Her eyes closed and soon she drifted off, her tired mind and body all too willing to sink into restful darkness.
A thunderous, unholy shrieking tore her from her rest. Roseline’s eyes flew open to the sight of the subway coming to a stop on her platform.
How could it still be running?
She moved to get up, forgetting that she was in a sleeping bag, and ended up on the floor. The doors hung open and Roseline realized she might only have a few seconds to board.
Should she board? Kicking her way out of the bag, Roseline tried to remember the map she’d picked up. If the subway was running, she could travel through the city. There might even be other people camping on the platforms.
Sleeping bag slung over one shoulder, she stepped aboard and looked around the empty but well-lit interior. The walls were polished chrome and the seats were orange plastic hard enough to break your tailbone. The floor was pebbled blue Formica stained with dark boot and shoe prints.
The doors grumbled shut and Roseline felt the carriage lift before moving forward, leaving the platform behind.
How long had she been out? If it had been eight hours, the sleeping back would have disappeared, right? Or maybe it stayed and just lost its piss-enhanced warding abilities.
She glanced at a map as she walked forward. If her guess was right, they were heading eastward toward the water. That might be a good thing. There could be boats she could escape on and…
Roseline wasn’t sure where she’d head to. She didn’t even know how to sail a boat.
Ignoring the ‘moving between cars is prohibited’ sign, she slid the door open and headed to the next car. Also empty, but the conductor’s coach was next. Roseline knew there were semi-autonomous trains but she still hoped that she’d find someone. This last door was locked.
“Always handy,” Roseline muttered as she summoned her crowbar card and manifested it. The wind rushed past her face and the narrow joint walkway swayed beneath her feet. To either side, the only thing to stop her if she fell was a thick rubbery rope.
Roseline winced as the lock snapped and the door popped free. As she’d feared, the cabin was empty. A small dog bubble head bounced merrily on the dash and a paper cup had been stuffed in the cup holder. She sighed in disappointment.
“Ticket, please,” a voice came from behind her. Roseline turned to find a tall, thin man standing in the doorway. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and torn leather duster.
But what drew Roseline’s attention was the straight sword he held, the tip inches from her belly.