9. The Wabbit and the Army Explosives

Grey Rat arrived with a jeep that had seen better days. As it jolted to a halt, the Wabbit wrinkled his nose. But he shrugged. "It's what we have," he muttered. He'd found more boxes. Enough to mine the whole corridor. Grey rat's voice was muffled from inside the jeep. "I suppose we'd better find a new home." The Wabbit panted from the weight of the box. "Plenty more hospitable than here." He looked behind at the line of boxes. He jumped back in the jeep as it lurched toward the next opening. "How long have you been here?" he asked. "Years," said the Rat. "And our Nazi familiars?" sneered the Wabbit. "Since the Cold War," replied the Rat. "You've lived a long life," said the Wabbit. "It's the stuff in the cans," responded the Rat. The jeep made a lot of noise as it careered along the tunnel. Its big end bearings had worn out years ago. Every time Rat stamped on the brakes it pulled to the left. The steering wheel shook and wobbled in a death rattle. But it still motored on. The Wabbit left box after box at every gap in the tunnel. "Where's the way out?" Grey Rat gestured ahead. The Wabbit saw an iron gate and some chinks of light. "What about your pal, Black Rat?" Grey Rat laughed. "He's on his way." He paused. "He's bringing all his pals." Now the Wabbit laughed. "I'm Der Rattenfänger of the Bunkers." The Grey Rat giggled. "The Nazis won't know where we've gone. And then what?"  The Wabbit bared every one of his 28 teeth. "Kaboom!" he grunted.

8. The Wabbit and the Radiation Suits

The Wabbit was horrified. Radiation suits hung in a tunnel alcove. Barrels of radioactive liquid lay ready. But for what? Black Rat hovered by a barrel. "It's quite yummy," he said. "That's how we get so big," The Wabbit's fur stood on end. He groaned and covered his eyes with a paw. Grey Rat did the same. He knew Black Rat was fairly clueless. "I thought you could put on one of these suits and make your escape." The Wabbit groaned again. "And no-one would ever notice me." He paced up and down. If the Agents are going to launch a radioactive attack, we have to stop them. Everyone and everything is in peril." The Wabbit looked around. "What's in that box?" "That one?" said Grey Rat, "It's only TNT. Smells OK. Doesn't taste very nice." The Wabbit was familiar with TNT. "Got blasting caps?" Grey Rat nodded. "Boxes of all manner of stuff." The Wabbit was happier than he had been. "Let's get to work!" He lifted the box and carried it to a nearby bench. More boxes on the shelves behind it contained an assortment of items, including blasting caps. He spoke to Grey Rat. "We need transport." Grey Rat nodded to further up the tunnel. "There's a jeep there." "Get it!" said the Wabbit. "I haven't got a driving license," shrugged Grey Rat. "Walk on the wild side. It's an emergency," replied the Wabbit. Black Rat spoke up. "Emergencies don't happen to rats." "There's a first time for everything," snapped the Wabbit.

7. The Wabbit and the Intelligence of Rats

The Wabbit staggered into the cellar a little the worse for wear. When his eyes grew accustomed to the light, there were rats as promised. One was gnawing on bread. "They feed you here?" asked the Wabbit. The rat looked up. "Why do you think we tolerate them?" The other rat chuckled. The Wabbit chuckled too. "You look like a train hit you," said the Grey Rat. "Just a scratch." The Wabbit felt wobbly nonetheless. "Sit down and have some bread." The Wabbit was peckish so he didn't care. He crouched down and had a nibble. "Is this your gun?" said the Rat. "Ah that's where it is." The Wabbit was relieved to find it. "You should always keep the safety catch on," said the Rat, "It could go off at any second." The Wabbit nodded. "I was relying on it." He slipped it into his fur. "Ready for action," he whispered. "If you must," said the Grey Rat. "Wanna get out?" The Black Rat was insistent and the Wabbit nodded his assent. The Black Rat disappeared through an opening, but the Wabbit couldn't get through. So he gave it a kicking. Bricks and plaster flew. "Subtle," grunted the Grey Rat. The hole widened and allowed the Wabbit and the Grey Rat to step into a wide corridor. The Black Rat scurried round a corner. They could hear the murmuring of voices. "Our Lords and Masters," sneered the Grey Rat. The Black Rat popped his head round the corner. "Imbeciles," he commented. He beckoned for the others to follow. The Wabbit was seldom astonished, but this time...
[Grey Rat by Karsten Paulick.]

6. The Wabbit and the Bunker Rats

It was a brightly lit control room. In the middle fluttered a Nazi flag and under it, the Wabbit saw Agents of Rabit going about some ghastly business. "Nazi Agents of Rabit," muttered the Wabbit under his breath, "The worst kind." The Wabbit saw his opportunity and edged along a ledge designed for a projection screen. The Agents of Rabit were busy making plans and looking at maps and failed to notice him. But the Wabbit realised he'd severely miscalculated the ability of the ledge to take his weight. It began to bend. As it flexed it let out a horrifying screech of tortured metal. The Wabbit lost his grip and tried to grasp the flag but to no avail. The Agents looked up. His automatic fell out of his fur. Everything was going wrong. He crashed to the floor and looked up at the Agents. It was worth a try "Flag inspection," he said. The Agents were stupid but not that stupid. He tried again. "Awfully neat but significant fraying at the edges." Three Agents picked his up and pushed him around. "What are you doing here?" said one. "How do you know this place?" said another. Yet another howled. "How did you get access to the secret bunker?" The Wabbit remained cheerful. "I was taking a constitutional hop and stumbled upon it by accident." The leader slapped him with force. Then pressed a button and a panel slid back. "Put him in there. The rats will gnaw his fur and when they've finished, he'll be ready to talk." The Wabbit grimaced. "At least they won't rat me out."

5. The Wabbit and the Listening Devices

The Wabbit crept along one of the corridors. It was lined with tape recorders and the many headphones and no microphones were a giveaway. "These aren't for listening to Spitify." The Wabbit always mispronounced things and he wasn't going to change. "This is a surveillance operation," he muttered. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper that echoed down the corridor. He picked up a pair of headphones and examined it. He was puzzled. It was the only pair that was new. A tape recorder began to hum. Spools began turn. He held a speaker up to one ear. He heard voices from a different control room and could catch fragments of an unknown foreign language. He pulled up a metal chair and using the word recognition system implanted in his ears, he concentrated. There were three voices talking about an attack on the Department of Wabbit Affairs. For a moment he thought he recognised the signature accents of the Agents of Rabit. It was when he realised it wasn't a foreign language at all. They were talking in code. He shook his head. He wasn't going to crack it there and then. He dug in his fur and pulled out his automatic. The safety catch on his old gun had broken off so he had to remember to switch this one to fire. He sneaked along the corridor towards what seemed like the entrance to a large bunker area. Saw bright lights and concrete. Heard more voices. He flattened his back against a wall, gripped his automatic - and waited.

4. The Wabbit and the Abandoned Tunnel

The Wabbit was gripped by an immense force he couldn't control and then violently thrust through the hole in a building made by the first missile. The force gripped him like an iron glove and pulled him through tunnel after tunnel. A stale smell of damp like a long-forgotten building filled his nostrils. He was dragged over cement floors and rubble. He came to a stop. He sneezed. He was covered in enough dust to bake a concrete cake. "What is this place?" mused the Wabbit. There was no-one to hear him, but the soft twanging noise made him look at the forest of steel bars emerging from the walls. He dusted himself off. "This seems like a bunker," thought the Wabbit. He pondered longer. "A nuclear bunker." The Wabbit thought again. "To protect from a nuclear attack? Or to make one?" He glanced at a stairway to his rear. "Maybe that will tell me." An orange glow lit the stairs. A low hum came from the upper level. He picked his way over dust and metal and lumps of concrete until he came to the bottom of the stairs. On the upper level he could see many rooms and a corridor lined with computers. They clicked and whirred. "That's where the noise come from," thought the Wabbit, "but why aren't they blocked with dust?" They were old, but functional enough. He felt in his fur for his radio, but there was no signal. The Wabbit scowled and looked around again. Then with a great deal of caution he began to climb the stairs...

3. The Wabbit and the Rusty Missiles.

The Wabbit did what he usually did and started to run. He scurried through the buildings and when he came to a narrow walkway he chanced a look back. It was an astonishing sight. Nuts and bolts had vanished. In their place were three rusty missiles. He took off at an even greater rate. The missiles might be rusty, but they often were. An article on corrosion in missiles flashed through his head, but he just couldn't remember. He hopped faster than any rabbit was able to hop. The missiles kept coming. No matter how much cunning he employed, the missiles followed him. He dodged this way and that. He swerved, he veered, he turned cartwheels. He made some ground and grinned. "You want me, then first you have to catch me." He cartwheeled from the walkway and back on again. The first missile hit a parapet and exploded, shattering walls and collapsing ancient buildings. "One down," muttered the Wabbit. Just up ahead a wall cut across the walkway. The Wabbit bounced from it at speed, just as the second missile smashed against the brickwork. The Wabbit shrugged off rubble as he sprinted the other way. He feinted to the right as the last missile grazed his heels then came to a sudden halt. The missile didn't. What was left of a gasometer crashed lazily to the ground and buried the missile in a tangle of twisted metal. The Wabbit surveyed the scene. His head glanced from left to right. His nose twitched. There were no more missiles. But he knew it wasn't over...