‘What is it, Vic?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It sounds like rain.’
‘Can’t be. Keep still!’
We sat motionless, listening.
The pattering sound was nearer now: a sound of a thousand little leathery feet running over pebbly ground. I knew what the rustling sound was. I’d heard it before: only it wasn’t one or four, but hundreds.
The rats were on the move!
V
I jumped to my feet.
‘Come on. Let’s see how fast you can run.’