Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: This was a very difficult chapter for me, being the first time others joined Sam in an action sequence in my fiction. That wouldn't usually be a problem, but this is supposed to be written entirely from Sam's perspective. Unfortunately, to describe what's going on properly, I was forced to show the perspectives of others, as well. I hope very much that it's not confusing, but let me know if it is and I'll put little dividers in to help. Thank you all for taking the time to read my crap this far into it.

Chapter 5: The Rats of Hell

As Sam was running after Edgar, Sock took a second to light up a molotov and throw it down the hallway leading into the East wing. It smashed on the floor, sending flames all over the floor and walls. Ben, taking his cue, lit one of his own molotovs and chucked it into the opposing hallway that led to the West wing. "Come on, Benji, let's go," said Sock, running in the direction Sam took.

The staging area in the back was empty, save for a staircase leading down at the very back. Sam raced down it two steps at a time, the sound of the approaching horde of hellspawn growing ever closer. Sock and Ben came barreling down after him, looking very apprehensive. Sam flicked his pocket light back on and looked around the basement room he had ended up in. It was filled with stacks of crates, boxes, and a variety of ancient-looking pieces of furniture. All of it was piled up haphazardly, some of it dangerously close to toppling over.

On the other side of the room, two corridors led out in the same direction on each end. Sam ran for the corridor on the right, Sock and Ben not far behind him. They could hear the awful screams of those damned creatures chasing after them. It wouldn't be long before they caught up with them.

The corridor was short and broke off to the left abruptly. On the left-hand wall, before it ended with the new hallway, there was an old steel door. Sam opened it and aimed his weapon inside. The room turned out to be an old boiler room with another door on the far end, presumably leading into the other corridor. Sam let the door swing shut and turned the corner that the hallway wrapped around. On the right-hand side, he saw two large wood doors spaced a fair distance apart from each other.

He heard the rats reach the staircase and backed up to look. They came rumbling down the stairs, looking like a solid shapeless mass. As they started down, a number of them jumped or were pushed over the railing, landing on the concrete basement floor. They look like gremlins, he thought, his mind on those old eighties movies. Not one of them was anywhere over two feet tall and they were bone-thin. Their flesh was dark and mottled, reminding him of asphalt for some reason. Sock threw a third molotov at them, splashing several of the vicious little things in flaming goo. Their screeches were high-pitched and hurt his ears badly to hear.

Deciding that he didn't want them to catch up, Sam ran for the nearest door and kicked it open. It was a large empty room, except for a few old blankets and sleeping bags laid out in the corner of the room. This place had obviously housed a bum at one point in time, probably before the police kicked them out. One thing that stood out was the hole in the wall on the far side of the room. Unless the souls had decided to huddle together in the other room, this had to be how they had escaped. "Hey guys," he called out, "in here."

Sock threw a pipe bomb before running after Ben. He dove around the corner just as the pipe bomb blew up. The blast shook the floor a little and deafened all three of them momentarily. They joined Sam in the room that led to the strange hole in the wall. He was crouching down in front of it, peering in.

"Hurry up, Sam," said Ben, turning around to point his shotgun at the door. Fear was pulsing through them at the pace of their blood. Sock pulled out his hand gun and aimed it at the door, his hands shaking so severely it was a miracle that he was even able to keep a grip on it at all. The little creatures reached the door and started pounding on it.

Sam slipped through the hole and found himself at the edge of a four foot drop off, which led to an odd concrete corridor running to the left and the right of him. A series of pipes and cables were running along the ceiling, water dripping from them steadily to the floor in places. He jumped down into the hallway and looked from direction to direction, hoping to see some sign of what direction they souls had gone in. Seeing nothing overt, he chose to head left.

The rats burst through the door, sending it off its hinges and to the floor. They piled through the open doorway and tumbled through it into the room. Sock and Ben started firing into the crowd of them, taking out as many as possible before they were forced to escape. The little beasts recovered quickly and ran at them. Ben broke off and ran straight for the hole, diving through it without a clue as to what was on the other side. Sock was following closely, but had a little trouble fitting through it quickly and easily.

He was set upon by those things, several of them grabbing onto him cruelly. Sock screamed in fear and pain, crying, "HELP ME!!"

Sam and Ben turned around and ran back to assist him. Sock was writhing around frantically, trying to get free of the hole and the rats. Sam reared his arms back and swung the crossbow like a bat, knocking a couple of the little bastards off his back. Ben grabbed Sock and pulled him into the tunnel, dragging him to the floor. The rats poured out of the hole like sand, spilling out everywhere around them.

Thinking quickly, Sam grabbed the shotgun Ben had dropped to help Sock and held it one-handed into the hole and fired. The blast reverberated strongly through his arm, coming close to forcing it from his grip. The concussive blast tore into a number of the little monsters, spraying him and several of their counterparts in a thick and viscous black blood. One of them leapt up and grabbed onto his shirt, clawing desperately at him and drawing blood. He dropped the gun and grabbed it by the neck with his free hand and squeezed it viciously. The thing started clawing at his hand, trying to get free, but it was no good. Sam gritted his teeth and tightened his grip until he felt that satisfying crack of its neck. It went completely limp and he let it fall to the floor. Several of the creatures saw him do this and backed away a few steps. His friends also witnessed this, both losing a little heart at the darkness they saw in his eyes in that moment. They tabled their concerns and refocused on the task at hand.

"Sammy, back away," called out Sock, who was holding a lit molotov in his hand. Sam obediently did as he was told and backed up several steps, as Sock launched it at the top of the hole. It smashed against the concrete and coated all the rats trying to clamber through. They burned and screamed loudly in pain, writhing about horribly and falling to the floor. Sam, Sock, and Ben ran down the tunnel, the mass of the rats pushing through and chasing after them once more.

The tunnel twisted and turned, getting them lost deep in this dark place. There was absolutely no sign of Edgar or any of the other souls and the horde was close on their heels. Sam decided that they needed to find a way back to the surface and get away from these little monsters. He started looking around for a way out, finding only divergent tunnels leading to other regions of this strange underground maze.

Eventually, the tunnel led them to a large open space with a number of tunnel branches heading off into darkness. To his left, a flight of metal stairs led up, hugging the walls until it reached its end, some twenty feet up on the far end of the room. A steel ladder was fixed to the wall there, leading up into a hole in the ceiling above. Sam and his friends raced up the stairs, the rats spilling out into the room behind them.

The crazed hellspawn clambered up the stairs and climbed up the support structure also, trying to cut them off. Sam pushed on faster, feeling that familiar burn in his legs in doing this. It reminded him uncomfortably of Silent Hill and everything he had endured there. The rats were quickly climbing up the sides of the stairs, closing the gap rapidly. Sock was struggling with a couple of them that were clinging to his back and Ben was trying to help him keep his pace. Turning the corner, Sam made it to the ladder in time for the demonic rats to reach the railing on the side of the stairs and climb over it to land on the steel grating.

He rushed over to the railing, ignoring for a second the ones that had gotten on the platform already, and used the vessel to knock them off the side. The damned things fell off, squealing their way to the bottom. Sam looked back at his friends and saw Ben helping Sock to the ladder and turned back to make sure they had enough breathing room to get up. In truth, it was akin to holding back water with a patio screen. There was just no way to hold back the mass of them for very long, but all he needed was to keep them back long enough for his friends to get up and then he could cut and run himself.

Soon enough, both Sock and Ben were out of sight, having disappeared up through the hole above. He had backed himself up to the ladder and looped his arm through the bow and the string of the crossbow to free his hand. He started climbing up, kicking at the mass of rats chasing after him. There were so many of the monstrous little things that they had completely occupied all space on the floor of the large room. About midway up, he grabbed one of his own molotovs and lit it up. He dropped it on the platform below, where it broke on impact with the metal grating. Almost immediately, Sam could feel the heat of the flames licking their way up in his direction. It had the pleasant effect of forcing most of the rats that had been climbing the ladder to let go and fall. He forced himself to climb up faster, looking up to find himself reaching an opening just above his head. Reaching a hand up over the edge, Sam could feel the intense and building heat of the fire below. It was drawing sweat from him and it was rapidly getting unbearable. Hands gripped his forearm and started to help pull him up out of the ladder well, just as a couple of the little beasts grabbed hold of his pant legs. The screams of the wretched things below were piercing his ears in their intensity and it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

His friends helped get him up and off the ladder, getting him on solid ground. Immediately, Sam turned his attention to the two rats that had caught a ride up with him. They launched themselves at his face, their fury etched clearly on their tiny wretched faces. Sock managed to kick one off him, sending it flying back into the chamber below. The other one reached his face, getting swipe at him with its claws, drawing blood. He grabbed it by its midsection and pulled out his knife, pushing the blade viciously into its gut. That sickening blood oozed out, coating him thickly like oil. Sam tossed the monster aside, his knife still stuck in it with the edge of the blade poking out the other side. With that done, he got up and turned back to the hole, throwing his remaining molotovs down there. Sock and Ben joined him in unloading their stock of explosives. They then started throwing their pipe bombs down the hole, as well. When they had done that, the three of them ran away from the hole and ducked around a corner in time to be knocked off their feet when the bombs -igniting from the still-burning flames- started exploding, one after the other. After the last of the explosions, they took stock of their surroundings. They were in a dimly lit tunnel made of concrete, with more pipes and cables running along the ceiling and the walls. Along one of the wall, faded black paint was stenciled in, reading: MUNICIPAL ACCESS.

Looking around, they finally came upon a steel door that had the words, TO SURFACE, painted on it. Sam opened it, revealing a flight of stairs leading up to the street. A bum was leaning up against the wall of the stairwell, draped in a number of ratty old blankets. He looked up at them curiously and Sock said, "good evening to you, sir. It's a nice night, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah," replied the homeless man, looking deeply confused.

The three of them climbed up the stairs and found themselves on some sort of side street. They wandered about for awhile, trying to get their bearings. Eventually, it was the sound of sirens that clued them in on the direction they needed to head in. Apparently, the mission was starting to burn down and some forward thinking resident had called in the fire department. Their car was right where they had left it and the three of them piled in and drove off.

The drive back to their apartment was spent in silence, each of them keeping their thoughts to themselves. Sam was absently staring out the window, not paying any attention to the passing scenery. His mind was racing with the events that had just transpired. His nerves were ablaze with the adrenaline and the shock of being back in the trenches. They had captured three of the sixteen souls and had killed untold numbers of those malicious little beasts. Still, their job was far from finished and his adrenaline had yet to quiet down. That was probably a good thing, seeing as they still needed to tend to their wounds, shower, and he needed to get over to Andi's as soon as possible to pick up Charlie. One thing he knew was that he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, that was for certain. Being there in that situation had brought it all back, the fear and the despair. It infested him and filled his mind with the darkness that came with it.

Soon enough, they reached their apartment building and parked in the garage. The three of them trudged their way up to their place and entered wearily. All three of them removed their utility belts and Sam set the vessel on the kitchen counter. Ben immediately began helping Sock clean and dress his wounds, before moving on to Sam. When they were done, Sam quietly excused himself and went to take a shower to clean off the blood and ichor from his body.

He took care of this mechanically and dressed himself in the same manner. After that, he grabbed his car keys and said his goodnights to Sock and Ben, who were sitting quietly on the couch with beers in their hands. Sam got to his car and drove off to Andi's place, placing a cigarette between his lips. Lighting it with a shaky hand, he rolled down the window and exhaled that wonderful smoke. He rolled down all the windows to make sure it aired out for Charlie's sake and turned on the radio in an attempt to drown out his own morbid thoughts. It didn't really yield great results, but it was better than nothing.

Sam had long since finished his smoke before he reached Andi's and popped a mint in his mouth to get rid of the smell of tobacco on his breath. Pulling into her driveway, he looked curiously at the car already parked there. It wasn't hers or her mother's car and he wondered who was visiting, wondering at why it looked familiar. Getting out, he walked up to the front door and knocked on it. A moment later, the door opened up and Andi was standing there, looking as beautiful as ever. In her arm, Charlie was nestled comfortably and sucking on his pacifier. "Hi," he said, offering up a smile that he didn't quite feel inside.

"Hey baby," she answered, smiling gently. "How did it go?" Sam's silence drew an immediate look of concern on her face and she asked timidly, "Are you alright?"

"Uh yeah, it was just a tough night. How's my boy?" he asked, changing the subject.

She got a very uncomfortable look on her face then, looking over her shoulder into the kitchen.

"Andi, who's there?" asked an irritatingly familiar voice. The woman it belonged to stepped into view and looked at the scene with rapt curiosity.

"Hi Josie," said Sam, trying not to sound resentful at seeing her there.

"Hi Sam," she replied with that bittersweet element in her voice, the kind that hinted that she was onto him and wasn't going to believe a word he said. Josie was extremely good at pulling it off, as well. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, just came by to see my girlfriend," he replied, uncertain of what else to say.

"Really," she said, obviously not believing him, "and it has nothing to do with the mysterious little baby that Andi has been watching, the one she was unable to provide a valid explanation for watching."

Sam hemmed and hawed, finally settling on, "he's my cousin. I've been given custody of him temporarily."

"You've been given custody of a baby boy," she stated, sounding like she believed him even less than before.

"Yeah, it's a long story and I don't really wanna get into it right now," he said, tired of this already.

"Fine," she said, "I'll drop it for now. Andi, when you two are done, I'll be in the kitchen." With that, Josie sauntered off and left them alone.

"I'm sorry about that," said Andi."

"That's alright," said Sam, "It's not your fault. Besides, she was gonna find out anyway." He reached for Charlie, who was simultaneously reaching out for him.

Andi handed the baby over to Sam, who set him against his shoulder and kissed him on the brow. "Hey buddy," he said softly in that gentle voice he reserved for the baby boy.

"Here, let me get his things," she said, walking into the den. Sam stepped inside and waited in the foyer. Andi came back with his day bag stuffed to the gills with toys and baby supplies and he hung it on his free shoulder. Giving him a kiss, she smoothed Charlie's hair back and planted a kiss on his crown, saying, "Have a goodnight. I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, before saying more loudly, "goodnight Josie, I'll see you later."

"Goodnight Sam," she responded from somewhere in the kitchen.

Sam left after that, putting Charlie in his car-seat and strapping him in. He got in drove back home, feeling low and vulnerable at everything he had been forced to put up with that night. Getting home, he immediately put Charlie to bed and kissed him goodnight. Sam didn't even try to get some sleep himself, opting to sit in the rocking chair he had procured for nursing Charlie and sat in it all night, the crossbow resting across his lap.