The repulsive locker room wasn’t the best place for a lecture, but that was what I got from Ed. He explained all about the Junior Woodsmen team that used this facility and competed in the lower-tier development league. Sometimes that league was a place for top-tier football players to rehab injuries or to get punished by being “sent down.” But it was meant for guys who were really good—just not quite good enough. It was supposed to be a place for them to improve and then move up to the big time. The Juniors wanted to be real Woodsmen someday so they played here in this hellhole for puny paychecks and scant attention from fans.
“The development league doesn’t make money for the owners,” he explained. “I think that’s why they don’t bother to fix this up.” We both glanced around the locker room as a light flickered above our heads. “The circuit breakers,” he explained again. “Or it could be water getting into the fixtures. I think there’s something wrong with the old skylights.” Then he looked toward the door.
I had also heard the intensifying sound of male voices and heavily thumping feet. “Is that the team? The Junior Woodsmen?” I didn’t want to be in their locker room when they came in from practice. Their season was still ongoing, I thought, but I wasn’t sure. I had never really heard of them until my boss had told me about this survey.
“Here come the boys,” Ed agreed, but they weren’t. Yes, they were coming, but no, these weren’t boys, not in any way. Theywere definitely all adults and some of them were the size of two adults put together. When they saw me, they stopped and stared. I was a little out of place in this locker room. For one thing, I was the only woman here, and for another, I was clean. The ground was just starting to thaw outside, where I guessed that they must have practiced because they were coated in dirt. They could look forward to showers in the cold bathroom with lots of mold spores to keep them company.
“Okey dokey,” Ed told me. “Let’s move on. There’s one problem inside that we haven’t talked about yet.” He led the way through the crowd and I followed behind him, glancing at various faces as I passed by. They looked curious and chilly, not emotionally but due to the temperature.
“Here we go,” he continued as he opened another door in the grim hallway. “This is the epicenter.”
I had lived on the West Coast for a while, in Oregon and California. I immediately looked at the large table in the middle of the room and assessed it as a place to duck and cover from earthquakes.
But he meant something else. “As far as I can tell, they’re coming up from the floor somehow, but I haven’t been able to find any holes or entrances.” He walked inside and I followed, watching as he peered around the baseboards. “There must be something.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“I’m not an expert, so I’m not sure about the genus or whatever. They’re the biggest ones I’ve ever seen,” he answered. “They’re just about the size of cats or a small dog, like an Affenpinscher.”
“A what?”
“A German toy breed. But they might just be giant-sized because they do eat well around here,” he considered. “I tell the boys not to leave food in their lockers but they don’t always listen, and the refrigerator in the kitchen doesn’t work so they can’t store stuff there. You could put that on your survey, ‘broken fridge.’”
“What are you talking about?” I repeated. “What dogs?”
“They’re not really dogs, they’re rodents. I’m talking about the infestation.”
He kept saying more, going on about a topic that might have been very important. But everything in my consciousness had narrowed and focused on two words:rodentsandinfestation. “There are rodents in here?” I yelped. I looked frantically around my feet.
“A fair number.” He was looking too, now up at the ceiling like they might have been flying in—
Then the lights went out.
“Oh, rats,” Ed said.
“Where?” I yelled.
“No, I mean it in a ‘darn’ kind of way,” he explained. “The lights are out.”
I knew that. We were standing in the dark. “Why? What’s happening?”
He was prepared for this contingency and flicked on a flashlight. “I’m going to go check the breaker box,” he said, and I also turned on the light on my phone. Its beam made a pitiful line through the gloom, definitely not throwing off enough illumination to ward off any giant mice. Before I could tell Ed not to leave me here, he had disappeared through the door and by the time I followed, he and his flashlight had been swallowed up by the shadows. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face and I had no desire to wander the halls of this big building, not with a team of football players to run into.
I went back into the room, the rodent epicenter. With a little effort, I got up onto the table and I stood there, trying to listen for any skittering, scratching activity. Instead, there was a louder noise.
“Ed?” a deep voice boomed. “Eddie, you in there?”
I swung my phone in the direction of the door as another light beamed around the room and settled on my face, blinding me. “He’s not here,” I said, holding up my hand to shield my eyes.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Who are you? And can you stop shining—”
“What the hell is that?” he suddenly yelled. “What the hell is that? A rat?”
And before I knew what was happening, before I could react, the man rushed me. I screamed as he collided with the table andthen it rattled and groaned as he joined me on its top. It shook hard and I almost fell off—my phone did fall off, right out of my grasp, and clattered to the ground.
He grabbed me. “I’ve got you!” he said, which I knew because he was holding both my shoulders. “There’s a rat in here!”
