Encounters

We stared at it as if it were some victim at a crime scene. Someone made a joke about the struggling animal which a few of us snickered at.

Lying on a cardboard super-glued to its side was a fat grey rat. Still struggling for escape from its sticky,mucus-like prison, we could only look on -as if watching its limbs scamper haphazardly was any help at all. A few meters away,the steel cage which caused it's downfall was placed with its trapdoor open, cheese still dangling inside, all ready for the next victim.

" What are you all looking at ? " Sim, a solider from another platoon snapped.

He poked his neatly combed head of hair inbetween us and saw the rat, which had now stopped struggling. Its belly expanded and contracted like balloon.

" Stupid Rat," he stated matter-of-factly, filling his instant noodle cup with hot water.

He laughed a cold , metallic laugh.

I had a feeling the hot water was intended for something more than cooking his instant noodles. I was right. The instant noodle cup was empty. The hot water was for the rat.

******

I was in Signal Institute ,July last year. My Platoon Sergeant had warned us of "dirty" things happening in our block, especially during the seventh month.

" You know why all the regulars stay out," he said one day on a particularly rainy afternoon.

"It is because they know," he muttered,his voice tailing off.

"Know what, sergeant? " I asked him, to the nods of everyone in the platoon.

"Know of the things that happened."

This was one of the stories he told us.


An officer-cadet once hanged himself in one of the rooms in our block because of depression. His buddy had jumped down from the very same building days after.

Once,when one of his men, Amir, went to the toilet in the middle of the night he saw shadows of two people at the far ends of the corridor. Amir stood rooted to the ground. The shadows moved closer. He opened his mouth in a silent scream. Darkness overcame him. His platoon mates found him in the middle of the corridor the next morning. He had fainted.

"Zhui Boh?" Are you sure. My sceptic friend asked.

" As sure as sure can be," my Platoon Sergeant replied with a half smile, combing back his greasy hair with his orange pointed comb.

" As sure as sure can be."

******

I could not sleep that night. The air was too warm. The mosquitoes were out in full force. I stared at the rotating ceiling fan finding comfort in its circular motion. I then heard a noise- a noise that I would not forget.

It was the rustling of plastic. As if someone were dragging the plastic bag along the floor. I tried to close my eyes and will myself to sleep but I couldn't. The rustling continued, relentless in its activity. I wondered if my bunk mates were awake.

They say an active imagination is a good thing. I found myself on the receiving end of its irony as I pictured a person dragging his officer cadet friend on the ground, painting it a stroke of red every time I closed my eyes. Clenching my fists, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and saw the one image I dreaded.

I saw two shadows at the far corner of the bunk. I lay there, hardly believing what I saw . Every breath I took was laboured.

Then a sudden brightness transfused the entire room, nearly blinding me.

My friend had switched on the light. I looked to where the shadows were and saw to my relief , they were only two stacks of chairs. I realised the noise had stopped.

" What the hell is that noise? " Derek shot a enquiring look around the room. Most of my bunk mates were awake.

Noone knew.

******

We ordered Pizza the next day. A Mexican Supreme and a loaf of garlic bread arrived after what seemed like two hours. Wolfing down the food, everyone had no idea that hours later, the truth was about to be revealed.

This time there was no rustling sound. Instead, a consistent scraping of the door replaced it. We had locked the bunk following yesterday night's events. Gathering all my courage, I switched on the light to a ghastly sight.

Food bits were strewn everywhere. Instant noodle cups lay rolling on the floor.

My eyes caught some movement beneath the bed.

I took a deep breath and peered into the home of the Boogeyman.


.

.

.

It was the rats. They had been gnawing at the door. Attracted to the aroma of food, they had gotten into the plastic bags- an unlimited supply of left-over scraps.
We got a rat trap the next day.