The Rat

Louise Collins

Chapters (23)

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

ISBN: 978-1-77339-983-6

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: CA Clauson

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE RAT

Louise Collins

Chapter One

Rory leapt off the bed at the sound of a scream. For a minute, he couldn’t remember where he was, let alone work out who the howl of terror was coming from.

He launched back, colliding with another person, and fell on their neighboring bed. He scuffled with the stranger, and their grunts and mumbles only added to the soundtrack of horror coming from the other side of the room. They both fell silent with their fists scrunched in each other’s t-shirts. If death had a sound, they were listening to it.

“Jesus Christ,” Rory mumbled.

“I don’t think he’s gonna help.”

The lights came on, and Rory pushed off from the body he was clutching. He stared at the man thrashing on the bed, in the midst of a nightmare. A lock clunked, and two guards rushed into the room. They seemed hesitant, didn’t approach, and darted panicked looks at each other.

“Benjamin!”

Shouting the man’s name had no effect.

The other guard tried to whisper the name, but it made no difference. No voice could reach the screaming man. He had fallen into the depths of hell, and unbeknownst to him, he was dragging them all down with him. Rory shuddered—he couldn’t imagine what was happening inside the man’s head.

It was clear that neither of the guards wanted to approach the man on the bed, and Rory didn’t blame them. He was huge, muscular, tattooed, with tired eyes when they were open, but closed, they were framed with angry lines, an expression of pure agony, and it was terrifying.

“Get against the wall.”

Rory nodded, and he and his fellow inmate pressed their backs to the wall and held their hands up. They didn’t dare move or make a sound.

Another prison guard came into the room, rolled his eyes, and strolled up to the man tossing and turning with terror.

“Captain!”

The howling stopped. The tortured prisoner rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His great chest heaved, and he swiped his hand down his face.

When Rory had first met him, they’d exchanged names, Captain Benjamin Tracy. Rory had called him Captain for short, and that earned him a small smile. He decided he would always refer to him as Captain from that moment on.

“You were having a nightmare.”