A scampering, slithering sound. The scrape of something hard sliding across the metal tracks. Then a squeaking, cluttering noise. Something brushed against my ankle and I jerked my foot away involuntarily, almost losing my balance on the sagging planks above the electrified rail.

Rats. I peered into the darkness and saw baleful red eyes glaring back at me. Rats. Many of them.

But then I heard voices. I couldn’t make out the words at first, but I could hear that one voice was a woman’s and the other the harsh, ugly, menacing kind of voice that I instantly knew belonged to the dark man I had seen so briefly in the restaurant.

I followed the voices, moving as silently as a wraith, ignoring the evil red eyes of the rats that hovered in the darkness around me.

“What did you tell him?” the man’s voice insisted.

“Nothing.”

“I want to know how much you told him.”

“I didn’t tell him anything.” It was Aretha’s voice, no doubt of it. But then I heard her gasp and give out a painful, frightened sob.

“Tell me!”

I abandoned all attempts at stealth and ran along the warped, loose planks toward their voices. Aretha screamed, a strangled, agonized cry, as I dashed between two of the idle trains and finally saw them in a circle of light.

They were at the end of the tunnel. Aretha was sitting in the filth of the floor, her arms pinned behind her back, the bandage still on her forehead. The dark one stood off to one side, half in shadows, staring down at her. She was surrounded by dozens of rats. Her feet and legs were bare and bleeding. Her blouse was ripped open and a huge rat, malevolent as hell itself, was standing on its hind legs, reaching for her beautiful face.

I gave a wordless roar and charged straight for them. I saw the dark one turn toward me, his eyes as red and vicious as the rats’ own. He seemed to recognize me as I charged down the tunnel toward him, and he backed away into the shadows.