Pasta Heroes (10) - A short novel about noodles, rats and courage

Mutated rats with a taste for gourmet food escape from a laboratory in New York. While fast food chains remain untouched by the rats, restaurants like Pasta Heaven are getting overrun. Time for it's owner, Vincent, and his employees to grab a gun and go to war.

And then everything went terribly fast. The woman on the radio announced that the first rat attacks had just been reported, and in the next moment Lenny burst into the kitchen with a barking Jack.
"I'm sorry, I forgot my phone, but anyway, the rats are there!" He pointed towards the storage room and then turned around to follow his own finger. Vincent and Michael did so as well. Along the window, the one that still had glass, several rats had lined up and were now trying to damage the glass in various ways. Some gnawed with their teeth, others were scratching with their paws and a particularly fat rat swung repeatedly it's behind against the window, which made a muffled sound. Lenny took Jack on his arm and held him in front of the window, which unfortunately didn't impress the rats at all.
"Up on the roof!" shouted Vincent and grabbed the shotgun. On the way up Jack darted past him, and then almost ran him over when Lenny called him back down. When Vincent arrived on roof, the air was filled with the sound of gunshots; it reminded him of New Year's Eve, except that the sky remained black. Vincent stepped to the edge of the roof, followed by Michael. What he saw made him almost choke. It looked as if someone had laid out a several feet wide, gray-haired carpet in front of the back door.
"I'll check the other side!" yelled Michael and returned after a few moments. "They're all here. Come on, fire the shotgun!"
Vincent felt his heart pounding up to his neck and he wished that all this was just a dream. He wondered if it even made sense to attempt this battle that they would most certainly loose, when his hands all by themselves triggered the shotgun. The blast was deafening, and for a moment Vincent thought that he had hit himself because the recoil had rammed the gun into his shoulder.
"Yeah!" Michael shouted enthusiastically and down below the gray carpet got a few red spots. Vincent fired again, this time he was ready for the recoil.
"I've got an idea!" shouted Michael, though Vincent could only assume that his friend was shouting based on the wide-open mouth and long vowels, what he actually heard was a loud beep and a very quiet, muffled voice.
"I'm gonna run those bastards over! With the van!"
Vincent was in too much of a panic to think the plan through, but at least he recognized the major flaw.
"We have to make sure that I'm not shooting while you're down there."
"Okay, I'll drive slowly into the alley and honk and flash the headlights, and you wave with the shotgun to show that you have seen me!"
"Got it!"
Michael rushed down the stairs, while Vincent reloaded the shotgun and fired several more rounds into the sea of rats. He wondered what Lenny was doing the whole time, it wasn't a good sign that he didn't come up. Helicopters appeared in the sky and circled around, scanning the ground with their searchlights. Gunshots were still sounding from all directions, but for Vincent's battered ears it sounded like someone popping bubble wrap. Blue emergency lights were everywhere now, turning the night red and blue. Vincent had to stop for a moment, he could barely believe what was happening here and that he was right in the middle of it, standing with a shotgun on the roof of his restaurant. Bright light suddenly filled the alley, Vincent saw the white van and waved the shotgun. Michael put the car in gear and stepped on the gas. He was a damn good driver and always parked the car with more precision than other people their own behinds. Right before he was about to hit the rats, and the building, he cranked the steering wheel to the side, pulled the handbrake and stepped on the gas again to make the car circle around it's own axis. The rear wheels sprayed the walls with rat blood, Vincent's stomach twisted and when he saw that it wasn't just blood but also shreds of fur sticking to the walls, he was about to throw up. After a few laps the car began to break out. Even though Michael was a damn good driver, he had never practiced driving on rats. The car crashed with such force against the wall that the whole building shook. The air bag burst open and Vincent saw Michael with his arms fighting it, at least it meant that he had stayed conscious and wasn't hurt too bad. More and more rats crawled on the blood-smeared windshield and under the car. The headlights went out and Vincent was afraid that they wanted to have their revenge for the massacre. His instinct was about to fire the shotgun, but his mind intervened and told him that this was probably how most of the fatalities happened. Vincent ran as fast as he could down the stairs with the shotgun in his hand and wondered if running down the stairs with a gun was causing just as many fatalities. Arriving at the final steps, he saw a rat speed through the hall towards the kitchen, followed by a barking Jack, followed by Lenny with a board in his hand. But it didn't matter now, he had to help Michael. As he flung the door open, rats scampered though his feet and into the building. Michael was doing a wild dance next to the car, and Vincent realized what was going on when he felt something fluffy and very alive move up inside his pants. He jumped up, shook his leg and watched a rat fall out of it.
"Come in!" he called to Michael, who started dancing towards the door. Vincent tried to hit the rats on Michael's sweater, but caught only his friends shoulder. Once they were both inside, Vincent pulled the door shut and crushed a rat that had tried to get in at the last moment. The rats who had been attacking Michael seized the opportunity and rushed off to the kitchen. Michael was still fidgeting, and only after Vincent grabbed him by the shoulder and calmed him down, he let himself sink onto the floor. He was bleeding on his neck and hands, and when he took off his sweater, which he pounded on a few times with his fist, many more bites appeared.
"Oh shit," Vincent said, "I'll go into the kitchen and get bandages and something to disinfect."
"There," Michael said almost absently, pointing with his bitten hand to the boarded up window. A rat was trying to squeeze itself through a tiny hole and unsuccessfully tried to crawl backwards when Vincent walked up to it and hit it with the barrel of the shotgun.
"Damn, that wasn't sealed well enough, never mind, I'll get the stuff now."

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9

About the author: From riches to ragz: The story of a gambling nomad

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