I screamed and tried to dodge away. The rat clawed at the bottom of my shorts. It held on for a second, gnashing its teeth. Then it lost its hold and slid to the floor with a wet plop. Another rat leaped to attack. I thrashed my leg wildly—and kicked the rat across the room. Red eyes glowed up at me. The hissing grew to a shrill siren. I batted rats away with the old book. I swept my flashlight across the room, frantically searching for a way out. There! A narrow staircase across the room! I ran for it. Stepping into the sea of rats. Stomping hard on them—flattening their scraggly tails. Claws scraped against my bare legs as I ran. Two rats clung to my sneakers as I charged up the stairs. I kicked the rats off. Heard their bodies thumping wetly onto the floor. Then I staggered the rest of the way up. Hurtled to the door. And out. Out into the fresh air. Gasping. My heart pounding. Sucking in breath after breath of the salty, ocean air. I ran all the way home. I didn’t stop until I came to my house.
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