Windy City? More like Vermin City!

“That’s the statement that everyone on earth has been thinking as we approach the one-month anniversary of what’s now being classified as the single greatest breakthrough scientists have seen since the discovery of penicillin.”

Martin stared at the television, at the news reporter with her fake excitement, trying so hard to maintain the network’s high viewership numbers. Martin had been released from the hospital two days ago, but the phantom limb pain he was experiencing had never been worse. God, I don’t know how long I’ll last like this, he thought as he looked down at the space that his legs used to occupy, then at his shoulders from which his arms once extended. He looked at the ceiling, tears filling his eyes as he recalled what had happened to him, and wondered what could have possibly taken place beforehand to cause any of it……

The autumn season of 2006 had been unusually rainy, and the main stretch of Clark Avenue had endured the worst of it with five straight days of torrential downpours and flooding. It could have been much worse, however. The flooding could’ve come a few weeks later and it would’ve frozen the entire district. But none of that mattered to Valerie or Guinevere, ruling Rat Monarchs of the primary sewer lines of the 400 and 500 blocks. Coincidentally and tragically, both rulers had lost a son that season, the baby rats not strong enough to escape the runoff in the curbside gutter. Even six years later, the royal women found themselves embittered by their losses and grasping for any strand of hope that might come their way.

“Oh my,” the words fumbled hesitantly out of Valerie of the 400’s mouth as she looked out of the grated window excitedly. “Could it be?” She blinked several times, an attempt to clear the fuzz from her eyes. It didn’t do any good, as her eyesight had been failing the past few years, and quickly. Still, she stood and ran to the nearest sewer opening to gain a view of him.

Her rat guards stood at attention and eyed one another, unsure of what had excited their Queen. She rubbed at her eyes saying, “Oh, please don’t deceive me now!” Her vision improved slightly, enough for her to conclude that she’d just seen her son walk by not three feet from her. “It’s impossible! How can this be so?” she whispered to herself.

Above ground, a young man walked hurriedly down the sidewalk. Martin Caplar was his name, and he was late for work again. He was a short man, and not morbidly obese, but slightly. His nose was pointed and pink, like the sun had kissed it on a beach the day before. Martin’s two front teeth were so long that they were visible despite his mouth being closed. He was an insecure man, it was obvious. His beard and mustache were thick, a way to try concealing the facial features that he didn’t want others to see. In his right hand was a full pack of unwrapped Kraft Singles cheese, his on-the-go breakfast of choice when he was in a hurry.

Valerie grew frantic, pushing the rats out of the way, spilling into the marketplace where the civilian rats made their living. She needed to see his face, needed to get to him somehow. “Move!” she shouted as she ran, pushing and shoving all the way. “My son! My son! I’ve just seen my son!”

Being in the Royal family all her life, and never needing to know how to get anywhere, she was unfamiliar with the roads and not sure where to go. She chose a pipeline that took her in the direction of where her son had gone. Unbeknownst to her, this pipe had been retired decades ago and was no longer used for travel. She ran as fast as her aging body would allow until the length of the pipe was exhausted and she could go no further. She slid to a halt, nearly slipping off the edge in her haste.

That was it. She’d seen the son that she thought had drowned in the floods of ‘06, but now he was gone. She looked around, desperate to find another path that would allow her to continue her pursuit, and that’s when she saw it: the boundary line for the 500 block. She couldn’t progress even if she found a way, Guinevere of the 500 had made that completely clear.

Seven months passed from that day, and the word spread rapidly that Queen Valerie had become obsessed with this man that she claimed to be the son she’d lost when he was a baby. He was all she thought about, and she grew determined to reunite with him somehow. Dozens of strategies had been used, yet, they hadn’t come any closer to even gaining his attention let alone convincing the man to climb into a sewer drain.

“Your Majesty, may I speak plainly?” a rat asked gently.

“Yes, of course, Rutherford. I have always valued your opinion,” returned the Queen.

“My men have been posted at all the main city entrances for weeks now, observing this man – “

“My son,” Queen Valerie corrected Rutherford.

“Well, that’s just it, Your Majesty,” he treaded lightly. “We’re starting to believe that this isn’t your son at all. Indeed, the man is wretched and filthy, with many physical traits that we rats also share, but he is still a man. I know that your vision has been giving you trouble as of late…” the rat paused as the Queen shot a look at him that told him that she was on the verge of being offended.

The Queen raised a prideful chin and said, “My vision is top notch and has been for years, thank you for your concern. I know who I saw, and who I saw was my son! And if you question my judgement again, I’ll find someone who won’t, and you can go back to the food line in the alleys.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. On second thought, I do believe you are right. And from what I hear, your son looks very much like you.” Such was the rat’s attempt at flattery, but the Queen saw through him. Still, he straightened his tail and ran his fingers through his whiskers to perfect his appearance in the presence of the Queen.

“Now, give me a progress update on The Rift. How is the diverting coming along?” asked the Queen. The Rift was what the rats named the territory that divided the 400 and 500 blocks. Not governed by any party for hundreds of years, events that occurred within the boundaries of The Rift were not subject to any laws. It was a free land, but dangerous.

Though unaware, the Queen had actually run the width of The Rift when she had first seen Martin Caplar and mistaken him for her son. This act, done in the heat of the moment, turned out to be an historic one. Not only was Queen Valerie the first ruling Monarch to step foot in The Rift, she was the only Monarch, living or dead, to cross its entirety to the boundary line of the 500 block. And in the months since that event, the rats had learned that Martin’s daily route crossed through The Rift and at the very least entered into the 500 block, beyond the Queen’s reach. She’d ordered the rats to create a diversion that would cause Martin to either remain in the 400 block or within The Rift. So far, the rats’ attempts had been unsuccessful.

“Er, I’m sorry to say, Your Majesty, that we’ve been unable to redirect the man – ahem, your son’s – route,” the rat called Rutherford said. “It appears that his final destination is beyond The Rift, and he likely sees no reason to change his direction of travel.”

The Queen was silent for a moment, then threw a glass of water across the room, soaking the wall that it impacted. “You’re done, Rutherford. You’ve clearly taken to the belief, like the rest of the commoners, that I’ve gone mad. And I’ve been patient with you for well over half a year. Rats!” Valerie screeched, “Take him to the grinder. Maybe he’ll be more efficient ground up like a cow and placed between two buns.”

Two rats immediately grabbed his arms. Rutherford screamed for fear of his life, but his screams were muted when a third rat came from behind and stuffed a sock into his mouth. They did as the Queen commanded, and Rutherford never spoke another word. How could he?

_________________________________

Like Queen Valerie, Queen Guinevere of the 500 was also having trouble with her vision. But unlike, Valerie, who’s sight was failing from old age, Guinevere’s misfortune came in the form of an alleyway accident when a bar tender tossed a bucket of bleach on her two years back. She didn’t grow up in a royal family. She was raised in the streets, in fact, and had to learn how to survive in the harshest of conditions.

Guinevere and Valerie were actually the best of friends in their teen years. Even when Valerie took the command of Queen of the 400, they made every attempt to keep close. But royalty and peasantry do not mix, and the fame eventually took hold of Valerie. Their relationship slowly dissolved until it was nothing but a memory.

Then one day, Guinevere fell in love with the most unlikely rat, and that relationship eventually led to the rise of Queen Guinevere of the 500. Valerie, in her royal and selfish manner, became bitter toward Guinevere and made many attempts to have her assassinated. But Guinevere, understanding the nature of rats, outsmarted Valerie and fortified her physical realm of authority so that no one could leave or enter, lest they wish to either die or be exiled.

“Send rats in the thousands if you have to!” Queen Guinevere shouted at the rat officer in her royal quarters. Martin passed through The Rift as a part of his daily routine, and entered the 500 block briefly before passing into what was known by the rats as Forlorn, a vast space that no species of rodent dared enter since Man had flushed the sewers with various poisons years before. Guinevere, coincidentally catching a glimpse of Martin from the corner of her eye the very same day that Valerie had, had also mistaken Martin for her rat son. Royal minds don’t always think alike, but failing eyes always will. And after months of strategically attempting to reunite the two, the rat officer was pleased to report that they’d finally had some success, but at great cost.

“Your Grace, we cannot continue sending droves of rats into Forlorn, it is not right! You know that anyone that enters Forlorn dies!” the rat officer protested. Queen Guinevere’s choice of strategy was to fill the street and sidewalk of Forlorn with so many rats that Martin would be forced to stay within the 500 block.

“You’ll do as I say, Frederick, or Forlorn will be the last place you and your family see.”

“As you say, Your Grace. We will continue our efforts.”

Queen Valerie caught wind of Queen Guinevere’s near successes and curd sprayed out of one of her ears. I cannot risk that toad Guinevere actualizing her success, she thought to herself. She let her anger fuel her brainstorming for some time. Finally, she hatched a plan and called her new royal guard into the room to share the details.

“This will be a block-wide effort, so everyone must know precisely what to do, but the plan must not leave the block. It mustn’t even reach The Rift, for the land is too vulnerable. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied the rat.

Just then, they heard a scurry come from the other side of the room’s door. The rat guard opened the door to find another rat dressed in rags, headed for the same pipeline Valerie had once used that led to the boundary of the 500 block.

“A spy! Capture him!” the rat guard shouted. But it was too late, the plan would surely be revealed to Guinevere. And Guinevere would no doubt rise in retaliation.

“Wonderful,” Queen Guinevere said through a wide smile. “You’ve done well,” she told the peasant rat who was holding his hands out to receive his reward. “Unfortunately, honor doesn’t exist underground. Now off with you! You will receive nothing that was promised.” She assigned one of her rat officers to observe the boy for any sign of betrayal. “If he does anything questionable, dice him up.”

The following Thursday morning was unusually warm for the time of year that it was. Millions of rats from both the 400 and 500 blocks crowded every opening to the sewer lines that faced The Rift. The plan, as Queen Valerie had intended, was for Martin to make his way through the 400 block and into The Rift as usual. However, once reaching The Rift, they’d ambush him and drag his body into the sewer where the Queen would reveal herself as the mother he’d always been looking for. However, things grew complicated when Queen Guinevere found out about this plan, which caused Queen Valerie to issue a whatever-the-cost executive order to defeat Guinevere’s rat horde and bring Martin to her. And what better location for this to go down than the lawless, dangerous streets of The Rift?

Martin, actually scheduled to make it to work on time this morning, made his way through the 400 block with his Kraft Singles in hand. There were a few rats scattered throughout the block making their usual attempts to get his attention, for things would be a lot easier if Valerie’s plan became unnecessary. Those attempts were unsuccessful, as expected. Martin was only feet away from stepping into The Rift. Eight feet. Five feet. Three feet. He finally stepped in, unaware that the day would be anything but uneventful.

Millions of rats of various shades of brown began pouring onto Clark Avenue from the sewers, issuing a squeaking noise in unison that made the sound echo off the buildings. People on the streets screamed and shouted and tried their best to get out of the way, including Martin. However, the rats managed to attack him before he could fully defend himself. The rats reached his feet and started crawling up his legs. He didn’t realize they were crawling on him until they reached his torso.

The Kraft Singles dropped to the ground. Martin began moving in all directions to try to shake the rats off. He was successful with the first few, but the sheer volume of rats eventually brought him to his knees, and no one gave him a second look since they themselves were trying their best to escape what had quickly become a sea of rats.

Within thirty seconds, nearly every civilian had cleared the area except Martin who had fallen flat and been covered with so many rats that he couldn’t be seen from an aerial viewpoint. The rats started pulling him toward the 400 block. Slowly, the distance to the boundary line began closing. A few minutes more and Queen Valerie’s plan would be carried out flawlessly.

Just then, a soft shrieking sound rose up from the distance. Queen Guinevere and her horde were approaching quickly. The shrieking grew louder and louder as they grew near. A section of rats from the 400 redirected their efforts to fend off the enemies. But they could only keep them away for so long before Queen Guinevere’s rats made it to Martin’s body and began pulling him in the opposite direction.

Knowing that they had much further to go if they were to be successful, Guinevere’s rats were much more aggressive. In their determination, Martin’s clothing started shredding from the rats’ teeth. It tore until he was entirely unclothed. But that didn’t stop the rats on either side. Queen Valerie had commanded that they bring Martin back no matter what the cost. That is precisely what they would do, with Guinevere’s rats doing whatever it took to foil the plan.

Hundreds of rat teeth penetrated Martin’s flesh. Martin went wide-eyed, in shock from what was happening. Then the pain caught up with him and he began writhing. He screamed so loud that it drowned out the screams of the rats that hadn’t stopped since they had arrived. Clark Avenue was four feet deep in rats, growing deeper by the second, and Martin was at the very bottom. The rats pulled. Martin screamed. They pulled harder. He screamed louder.

Flesh started ripping off Martin’s body. Rats killed other rats. Blood filled the streets and stained fur. Rat blood mixed into Martin’s wounds as he flailed on the ground. Martin wailed and begged for anyone – anything – to save him. No one came, and the ripping didn’t stop. Long tendrils extended from Martin’s body, veins that the rats had pulled loose and tried to deliver to their Queen.

The struggle lasted for hours. By the time the fighting was over, every rat had either died or retreated back to their block. Martin was in the street, unconscious and unable to move even if he were conscious. His arms and legs were no longer arms and legs. Rather, they lay strewn across The Rift in bloody pieces. His bones were visible on most of his body, slivers of meat dangling off his joints. Before they could even get to him, first responders had to clear the road with a snow plow which painted the street buildings red and created enormous meat berms. Once they reached him, he’d nearly bled to death.

___________________________

Martin wiped the tears from his eyes and looked back at the television.

“Nearly one month ago,” the news reporter continued, “all eyes moved toward the city of Chicago as a violent rat infestation stained the streets with blood between the 400 and 500 blocks of Clark Avenue. It’s still unclear what caused this catastrophic event. However, in the short time that scientists have been researching, they’ve already been able to identify that there was indeed a method to this madness, the madness being sourced at an ongoing feud between two grieving rat Monarchs who’d lost their minds.

“Now engulfed in a civil war, the rat population on Clark Avenue has grown so rapidly and the fighting has become so intense that the entire street has been shut down until further notice. Scientists now believe that in time they’ll be able to learn the language of the rat species and will eventually gather additional details as to what exactly triggered the war…” the news reporter paused, then shook her head, “…because I guess this kind of stuff makes sense in our world now. At least we can say that as devastating an event as this was, there was only one injury, and the victim was a nobody, so realistically there weren’t any injuries.”

The news reporter signed off and Martin powered off the television. He stared at the black screen and thought about the reporter’s last statement. An hour later, he called a taxi and directed him to the 400 block. “Here’s good, thank you,” he told the driver. The car stopped and the cabbie opened the door for him since he couldn’t do it himself. Martin toppled out of the car and onto the ground, then slipped into the sewer. The cabbie shrugged and proceeded to pick up his next customer.

Queen Valerie was startled awake from a loud thud, and rose from bed to check it out. Martin was never seen, nor was he ever thought of by a human mind again.