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The Trench Rats, Part 1 (standard:drama, 1712 words)
Author: trenchratAdded: Aug 23 2001Views/Reads: 1252/701Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A furry story with rats fighting Nazis in WWII. A young woman and her father try to flee attacking soldiers.
 



Bring my spear, invested with my youth 

Bring the children near, they must now be told the truth 

Old and young, and those of foreign tongue 

Are you ready to fight? 

--Mike + The Mechanics, "A Call To Arms" 

1:  MIRELA 

THE STOLEN DOGS trotted as silently as possible through the undergrowth,
slipping through the woods, mere shadows moving between trees.  Their 
riders--an older male rat upon one, a young female rat upon the 
other--cast frightened glances over their shoulders as the dogs moved.  
It was bad enough that they had stolen the creatures, when they were 
already on the run.  They hadn't been captured yet, but with the way 
things were looking it was only a matter of time. 

They didn't even have any friends or relatives left to turn to.  They
had all either denied knowing them or had been killed.  There was 
nothing to do now but try to escape the country--in whichever way 
possible. 

Her father had been reluctant to steal the dogs but she'd finally
convinced him:  "We are thieves who live or we are innocents who die.  
I doubt the owner even needs them as much as we do.  When we escape, we 
can always try to spread the word of what's going on.  I don't know if 
anyone knows just how dangerous it is here.  Wouldn't that be a good 
trade for becoming thieves?" 

To which he'd merely replied, "We set them free when we're done." 

Good enough; that had been enough to get them going.  But now, night had
fallen, and they were in the woods alone...it had been easy enough to 
steal the dogs and make off unnoticed, but it would be only a matter of 
time before the missing canines were noticed...and then who would be 
sent after them? 

Neither wanted to find out, yet find out they knew they would... 

As the night wore on, as seemingly endless as the woods, they grew more
apprehensive.  It was quiet.  *Too* quiet.  They hadn't heard any 
pursuit yet...it was taking far too long...what was going on, anyway? 

Her father turned to her and whispered as they rode.  "Keep your ears
open, little Mir.  They're tricky--they might come up from behind, or 
in front, or even from above us..." 

She nodded, mouth thin.  He tried to sound unafraid but she knew the
truth. 

*It's too quiet...they must be out there, somewhere...* 

They had crested a small hillock and started down the other side when
she found out she was right. 

From the bushes and undergrowth all around them, giant dogs suddenly
leapt snarling, teeth dripping and eyes blazing.  Dobermans and German 
shepherds, every last one of them, their riders with blood-red 
swastikas emblazoned on their upper arms and deadly guns clenched in 
their hands.  She heard her father yell once before they were off, 
speeding deeper into the woods in a futile effort to outrun the enemy. 

It was hopeless--the dogs they had stolen weren't as well trained or as
fit as the ones their pursuers rode.  So in short order they were 
panting heavily, stumbling over roots and smacking into low branches, 
scratched and foaming.  She didn't like the rasping sound her own made 
at all.  And to make it worse, a blast shattered the air, nicking a 
tree just to her right as she passed it; apparently, it no longer 
mattered whether they were taken in dead, or alive. 

"Go!  Go faster, little Mir!" her father shouted. 



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