Terry led the rats out of the serpentarium accompanied by his new king cobra friend. They swept through the streets and alleys like a growing shadow, their numbers increasing as they went. He wondered if he should be giving orders, but his pack was fast becoming a swarm, and seemed to know what to do. They celebrated with games and feasting, finding unguarded food and delicious trash everywhere they turned.
He watched every cockroach he saw, wondering if it was Skit. He never could tell one roach from another, to be honest. At best, a cockroach was a meal. But Skit would know where Giles had gone, and Terry desperately wanted to see his brother again.
Giles had been a legendary king. The old rat might not want the job anymore, but with his advice, Terry might not be as horrible a king as he feared. The world was different, though. They all felt it. Maybe... maybe it was different enough that he could be a good king, too.
A strange, but oddly pleasant tension filled the air. The humans' accursed lights had all gone dark. Nothing roamed the streets but Terry and his rats. Every so often, the musical shrieks of terrified humans would sing through the night, but no dogs, cats, or humans showed themselves. For the first time ever, decent burrowing folks tasted freedom on surface world. Rodents and insects, the children of the earth, walked the open night without fear.
Terry led his pack to the only place he knew. A lone mannish figure stood at the far end of the alley, cloaked in comforting darkness and swirling shadow. He wasn't there for Terry or the rats, even if they shared an inexplicable bond. He was a guardian.
Terry had no idea what the benevolent giant was guarding against, but he supposed it didn't matter. If they needed a guardian, then there were still enemies, and that was something even Terry understood. This wonderful new world of peace and plenty would still have to be fought for, but for now, the children of the earth would have their day.
The End...
Epilogue: Eternal Love
Giles' head felt like it was splitting in half, and he wished it would. He had fled Jimmy's attic lair, dragging Serra along with him. How could he have known that the trail of food he found would lead to a deadfall into one of the prisons that the pathetic white rats had recently escaped?
It was a tiny cage. A lever on one side opened a trap door in the ceiling that dumped food down on top of them, and a lever on the other side poured water into a tiny depression in the floor.
Serra, his constant companion, ate and drank continually, unless she was talking. There was still something in her eyes that forced him to listen to and obey her. She had eaten the flesh of the gods, too. He considered trying to eat or drink himself to death, but Serra must have read his mind, and now closely monitored everything he consumed as she talked and talked and talked about Jimmy and Alice, and how pretty their kittens were. He hoped for death, but he knew it would be a very, very long time coming.