I started noticing the rats three days ago.
Rats were not uncommon in my neighborhood, but the ones I noticed — the ones that chilled me deep in the marrow — were something stranger. From across the street, they watched me with unnatural stillness. When our eyes caught, there was a small moment of recognition before they scattered like ordinary rats. But I knew better.
Three days in, my hackles raised at the slightest pinprick of discomfort. I never used to be scared of walking alone at night. Now, the mere swish of an errant autumn leaf startled me. My head jerked at the noise, only to find the peaceful swirl of leaves on the wind.
I breathed relief as I turned forward again. But there it was.
I knew it was one of the rats because it looked at me, not with fear or hunger but a calm of expectation. Our eyes met, and it did not scatter.
I stepped forward with caution. It struck me that I could end this ceaseless anxiety with an awful crunch of bones and fur. As I took another step, raising my left foot with a giant's intention, the rat only lifted its head in warning. I had the sense that even if I killed this one, it would not be the last. I could have a brief respite from their haunting beady eyes, or I could end my torment now and discover whatever terrible answers lay ahead.
The rat sensed my decision and scattered westward, knowing I would follow.
We walked along the familiar chain-link fence until it was no longer familiar. My pace was steady, not so fast as to overtake the rat, yet not so slow it was abnormal. It stopped at the edge of a lonely park then turned back to face me. I could almost imagine its declaration in the depths of those unblinking eyes:
This is your last chance to walk away.
I doubted its generosity. I'd been marked three days ago. I walked into the grass.
The grass was rough and scratchy, harsh enough it poked through my thick denim jeans. The ground was rocky, uncomfortable even through the soles of my sneakers. Still, I plodded forward as the rat guided me towards my dreaded destination. Despite my curiosity and acceptance of this inevitable fate, some invisible thread tugged me forward.
The rat stopped in the middle of the field, and the thread pulling me seemed to dissipate, too. I looked around, expectant. At first, I saw only grass. But when I looked again, there another rat emerged. Then another. In short order, I was encircled by four of them, and I knew it was time.
I waited with extraordinary stillness. I could only imagine the living agony of their teeth gnawing to my bones. But when I looked to the first rat, there was no hunger in its eyes. It opened its mouth to do something worse.
"Are you ready, Jason?"
