Rats! Hey, Arnie! Whatchya got there?

Roddy had swiveled in his seat to get a look at his co-worker who was huddled in the back of the van, fiddling with something just out of view. Roddy chewed his doughnut and slurped his coffee noisily where he sat. Rules had it that they werent supposed to eat in the van, for safety reasons, but the boss wanted Roddy to keep an eye on Arnie at all times, and that held priority. Arnie was a little slow, and there were too many possibilities for something to go wrong if he was left on his own. Roddy thought it was a terrible idea to have him working for the extermination company in the first place, but Arnie was the bosss brother and you cant fight nepotism in a family business. Nuthin, Arnie mumbled without even turning to look at Roddy. If it were nuthin, I wouldnt be askin, Roddy grunted, before taking another swig from his coffee. I aint blind. I see you messin with somethin. Now spit it out whatchya got? Nuthin important, the slightly pudgy, rather husky man replied. He remained focused on the package in his hand, which Roddy could see, with some scrutiny, that Arnie was adding to their rat poison mixture. On the positive side, at least Arnie was wearing gloves and one of the masks required when handling anything toxic. The powdery poison was normally put in baited traps, to be ingested by the vermin in case the traps failed to capture them. It wasnt exactly healthy to breathe it in, or to touch it with your bare fingers. Why dont you leave it up to me to decide whats important and what aint, Roddy said with some irritation, straining to get a better look at his cohorts activities, and almost spilling his coffee in the process. Roddy looked like the typical coffee addict a man who buzzed with a constant nervous energy. He was a thin, weasel-like man with a large nose and dark brown, greasy hair. If you dont tell me, Im gonna hafta tell Joey that youve been keepin secrets. He wont like that, you know. Joey, their manager, was actually Arnies younger brother, but you would never guess that from comparing Arnies child-like behavior to Joeys stern drill sergeant approach. Arnie was the more likable of the two, but far from competent. At the mention of being ratted out to Joey, Arnies eyes widened in fear. Oh dont tell on me, Roddy. I aint doin nothin wrong. Im just tryin to fix a problem. I got me an additive to make our stuff more potent. You know the last two times we did a sweep for rats, some of em managed to survive the traps and the poison. I got somethin my friend, Jorge, says will take care of any stragglers. Joey was some pissed when he had to send us back to make a second sweep those

times. Jorge said that he seen that happen before because the poison werent strong enough. I traded him some of my sports cards for this. He said that it will do the trick. I dont want to give Joey any reason to be mad at me again. Roddy shoved the last of his doughnut in his mouth and set down his coffee. Lemmee see. Come on, pass it over. Arnie eyed him sheepishly through the light brown curls that hung haphazardly over his thick brow, and then reluctantly handed the package to him. Roddy took it, disregarding the glove and mask rule that Arnie was diligently following. R i c i n...aint never heard of it. Says handle with special WHMIS directions provided, ex-clu-sive-ly for specified medical use only, and theres a bunch of warnings here blah, blah, blah. Shit, Arnie, it says its highly toxic and not for commercial use. Where the hell did Jorge get this stuff, anyway? He couldnt of bought it himself. Nah he swiped it from the special disposal stores, when they were gutting the old alternative cancer treatment centre, the larger man admitted, glancing at Roddy in his heavy-lidded way. He knew we were havin problems an he figured he could help. They aint supposed to touch that stuff, but you know how much he wanted a chance to go through my collection. I told him he could have whatever five cards he wanted in trade. He said this stuff will give a good kick to our usual poison. He heard one of the folks at the centre call it a magic-bullet. Roddy continued to scan the package, ignoring most of the warnings. His gaze finally settled on the thing that he had been looking for. Hmm well it says its made from the extraction of castor beans. I suppose that makes it 100% natural. The thin man shrugged. I guess that means it wont hurt to use it, and if it does do the job better, Joey will be pleased. He handed the package back to Arnie. He could see a smile in the bigger mans eyes even if Arnies goofy grin was hidden behind the mask. Arnie went back to combining the powder with their standard rat poison. Joeys always sayin that you gotta take risks an try new things, Arnie said with a laugh. I just wanna show him that Im not just a big screw-up. Sometimes I can have good ideas too. Roddy chuckled at this and picked up his coffee again. They had a really big job ahead of them. They had to cover twenty floors of an office building that was being gutted and completely renovated. Nobody wanted rats in their new flashy offices. Joey wanted it done in two days, max, so it would be a bit of a rush.

Roddy gave a small internal groan at the thought of all the work ahead of them. Hed take a little more time to savor the last of his coffee, and then he would have to start putting up all of their danger and keep out signs and tape. *** Eight floors left to go, Arnie, and were gonna to run short on time if we dont speed it up, Roddy muttered, contemplating the thirteenth floor, where they had just arrived. He knew he was supposed to watch Arnie at all times, but there was no possible way that they were going to finish in time if they stayed together. While Arnie trudged his way through the thirteenth and fourteenth floors, Roddy was pretty sure that he could cover all of the other six remaining levels. Going against his better judgment, he decided that that was his only real option. Id like to split up, if its okay with you. You can stay and work here, and Ill head up to the top floor. You work your way up, I work my way down, and well meet somewhere in the middle. Do you think that youre up for it? Do you think that you can manage on your own? Arnie perked up immediately. He had never been given leave to work independently before. He saw this as a sign of approval on Roddys part, perhaps because he had shown the initiative in boosting their rat poison. He didnt realize that the lack of supervision was a desperate ploy on Roddys part to save time. Sure! Ill do a great job! You can count on me. Arnie was tired, and that had a tendency to make him clumsy, but he wasnt about to turn down the opportunity to prove that he could work on his own. He was determined to make a go of it. Okay then, Roddy said. Make sure you put the sticky strips down for the mice and the big bait traps for the rats, somewhere a little out of the way because they like that best. Spread em out real good. Dab a little bit of peanut butter, just to draw em in with the smell, then add the powder. Can I trust you to not mess that up? Arnie gave him a wide smile. No problem! With a nagging feeling that he might be making a big mistake, Roddy started up the stairwell. There would be just as much hell to pay if Arnie messed up as there would be if they didnt finish on time, but they would run late for sure if they didnt split up and tackle separate floors, whereas the screw up wasnt guaranteed, just expected. As well, any accidents on Arnies part might be something that could be swept under the carpet, but late was late.

Arnie did follow protocol. He placed the sticky strips at reasonable intervals, and then did a second round with the large bait traps. The process had been drilled into his sluggish brain, so his actions were fairly automated. Roddy should not have mistrusted his ability to complete his tasks as required on the basis of an inability to follow directions. It was his body, and not his mind that failed him. The hefty man was rounding a corner in order to place the last bait trap for the floor when he caught his toe on a spot where the carpet was bunched, and he went sprawling. Arnie was not really hurt by the fall, the main thing bruised being his rather small ego, but the trap he was holding tumbled across the floor and the bag of powder he had been clutching in his other hand spilled out in front of him. Rats! Arnie scrambled to his feet as quickly as was feasible and he twisted left and right, lost and wondering what he should do. Oh no oh no. The powder was not supposed to be used anywhere but in the traps, but Arnie had no means of collecting what he had dropped and putting it back in the bag. The poison had scattered, lifting into the air in a dusty fog and settling across the carpeting. There, it had mingled with the drywall powder that already riddled the nooks and crannies of the floor. Arnie stood staring at the white spots there, surrounding the base of the windowed wall. He scratched at the back of his head. Should he say anything to Roddy? It would probably get him in trouble, first with Roddy and then with Joey. He didnt want that. He was hoping this job would finally earn him some respect from his brother. He glanced at the powder that remained in the bag. Arnie estimated he had enough to do the next floor, with a bit left over. If he met up with Roddy on the fifteenth floor, he would be okay. If he made sure he took his time on the fourteenth floor, nobody would ever have to know about this tripping incident. The folks who would come in to tear out the carpeting during the renovations wouldnt be able to tell the difference between the drywall dust and the poison. It would not remain there long, and would end up being discarded along with the carpeting when they started to put the new flooring in. Arnie decided that it would be simpler to hide it instead of confessing to his mistake. Stomping and scraping at the most obvious spots with his boot, to make sure the powder had been well blended with the pre-existing dust, he tried not to consider any of the potential negative consequences that might result from his actions. Those who pulled up the carpeting would probably be wearing masks as well, for health and safety purposes, so they likely wouldnt get sick when they disturbed the dust at least, that was what Arnie believed. It would all be long gone before the new tenants moved in.

Rats! Arnie repeated, retrieving the trap and putting it into place at the farthest corner in the room. He heaved a great sigh and hoped that he wouldnt look as guilty as he felt by the time he met up with Roddy again. He returned the package of powder to the zippered pocket where he kept it when not in use. Then, taking heavy plodding steps toward the stairwell, he set off for the fourteenth floor. *** Dane pulled a somewhat reluctant Cleo along behind him, his camera in his other hand and his camera bag dangling off of his shoulder. But there was danger tape back there and keep out signs. Are you sure this is safe? Dane gave a scoffing laugh. This is the tenth shoot Im doing so far, hun. There was danger tape and keep out signs at every single location, but there wasnt anything worth worrying about. Its all in the timing. They wont be able to start the actual renovations on this particular building until tomorrow, at a minimum. They put all that junk up ahead of time, to make sure that their asses are protected, legally, when the time comes. I need this shoot. I have five that I completed at buildings post-reno and only four at the old gutted ones, pre-transformation. I have to have this to make sure my portfolio is properly matched. Do I have to remind you that this is art, and with art you have to heed your inspiration? It was big talk coming from someone who was still only a student, but Dane needed that act to score and not just photographs. He had dragged along a rather vacuous, gullible model to each one of these shoots, and he had a new conquest to brag about for each location. He had not considered the possible perks when he had proposed his 13th floor old and new theme to his academic advisor, based on the concept that many office buildings relabeled their 13th floors as 14th floor, for superstitious reasons. It was a quirky enough concept that his advisor had given him the green-light, and Dane, typical horny young man that he was, had decided to milk the situation for everything that it was worth. Dane was far from handsome. He was a little on the short side and wiry not a physique that appealed to most women. It was a side-effect of having been an asthmatic as a child, and he had some breathing allergies that still persisted into adulthood, but he was no longer required to carry a puffer and generally any reactions that he had to excessive amounts of dust or animal dander were not all that severe. He had worried a little at first about the amount of dust in the older buildings he used as staging for his photos, but when the worst after-effects of his first four shoots had just been small coughs that lingered for a couple of days, he had decided that the sacrifice was worth it. He had had more sex with different women in the last couple of months than he had had during all of his preceding

twenty-two years. Not just any women either, but pretty ones hell-bent on being a real model some day. It was quite simple, really, getting in their pants. First he flattered them with the offer of a full photo-spread; he developed a second set of prints for free in exchange for their services, prints that they could add to their modeling portfolios. Professional photography often proved to be very expensive, so he could trade them something with a cost that would have come out of their pocket otherwise. What he offered had real value for them. Next came the building up of their anticipation for the shoot, and the facade of being the shrewd artist, edgy and self-confident. At a certain point, Dane could almost sense that switch go off in their head, the one that saw him as a puny undesirable. The other switch would turn on instead, the one that created that fantasy of being that model, the girl who became famous after enamoring herself to the soon-to-celebrity photographic phenom. Dane would cheer triumphantly on the inside, when he reached that place. Sometimes it was the moment they stepped onto the lot, without permission to be there. The trespassing for the sake of art gave some of the girls a real thrill, a sense of treading into the taboo. That was enough to create sufficient arousal in those types, and then it was just a matter of charming them a little by gushing compliments as they posed for him and telling them how amazingly sexy they were. About half of the women had fallen that easily, swept up in their own fantasies and had eagerly welcomed Danes advances before he had really put the moves on them. Those women had been embarrassed by their actions later, ashamed of having allowed themselves to give in so easily to the artificial excitement of the moment. They had been unwilling to meet Danes gaze when he met them to give them their copies of the prints and had taken to ignoring or screening out his calls. No matter, Dane thought. As Cleo had proven, there were plenty more snaphappy fish in the wanna-be model sea. Cleo, while not striking Dane as particularly intelligent, would clearly not be one of the women who yielded easily. She had been hesitant from the beginning, and appeared to be quite cautious with regards to the whole photo-shoot affair. She was however one of the more beautiful of his models, a mulatto woman with cafe-au-lait-colored skin, coppery-toned hair and devastatingly green eyes. He was wondering if she were a natural redhead, she certainly looked it, and he was hoping that he would have the opportunity to test the theory. She would be one of the more resistant ones, however a challenge. She did not derive the same thrill from creeping around the vacant building in an elicit manner as some of the others had, and she was instead nervous because of it, and therefore less receptive. Dane was a little nervous too, because she was both so attractive and so wary. It would be

harder for him to display his phony air of nonchalance, but he would give it his best shot. Next, after surreptitiously breaking into the building, would come the climb to the thirteenth floor, since the elevators were always disabled temporarily during the renovations for safety reasons. That was the part Dane dreaded the most. After climbing several flights, he was usually left quite breathless, and in one instance, he had had a minor attack of bronchial distress. He had worried that it would put off the girl with him at the time, but it had instead been the key to his seduction on that occasion. The woman was the nurturer type, who fell easy prey to the hurt puppy syndrome. Dane had had no qualms about accepting a pity fuck that time around and it had been right there on the stairwell. He grinned to himself at the thought, even while his chest tightened and his lungs burned a little. Are you sure we wont get caught? Cleo whispered, mostly ignoring the short, gasping sounds coming from Dane, and loosely juggling the flashlight that he had given her to counter the shadowy gloom of the stairwell. Nope theyre waiting on permits to clear before they can move on to the next stage of the renos. That wont happen on a Sunday, Dane had a cousin who worked in the municipal office that issued those permits. It was his main source of information, and all it had cost him was a couple of the pictures he had gotten of a drunk girl he had met at a party, one who had offered to pose nude for him. There would likely be one bumbling security guard, doing his rounds, sucking back coffee and dozily tripping over his feet. He would not exactly be much of a threat, even if he accidentally came across them, and more than likely, he wouldnt. Theres a really nice spread of windows overlooking the city on the eastern side of the floor. Id like to head there. The sun is rising, and those colors will set your beautiful hair aglow. Itll be magic. Dane was counting on the bewitching effect of the sunrise. It had worked for him before, and it would bathe her in pretty pinks and oranges, something that would add some mystique to the shots. The jaunts to the series of thirteenth floors hadnt been only just fun and games they had proven to be good practice and had helped him develop a better eye for more than just his models. Cleo was jumpy when they finally reached the location where Dane intended on taking the pictures. She barely seemed to notice the stunning array of colors behind her in the growing light from the window and instead focused on the negative. Its stuffy in here...theres dust everywhere, she observed. And, oh my God! Is that a rat trap? What a princess, he thought.

They always put those things out as a precaution, but its empty, and besides, its on the other side of the room. And thats just drywall dust. Its something youd expect to find almost anywhere that they are doing construction, Dane scoffed, laying down his camera bag and fiddling through to find the battery pack and the expandable stand for his light. He wanted to hint that she wasnt being very professional and to shame her into doing whatever he asked from her from that point onward As far as sets go, this ones actually pretty cushy compared to some of the ones a good model will have to face. Havent you ever watched any of those modeling reality shows? I could be slathering you with mud, and getting you to sprawl on cold stone tiles draped with a giant snake. Im trying to be kind but creative here. He gave her one of his surest Im the expert smiles. He had to do his best to resist envisioning the image he had just described, or his sexual interest in her would have made itself all too clear before he had flipped that switch in her head. Rein it in, he told himself, too soon, too soon. Ewww, not a snake, she said with a shudder, finally noticing the glory that could be seen though the window as she hugged herself against the notion of slithering reptiles. Dane loosened himself up a little, doing his best to relax as he pulled out his camera and he began to adjust the various settings. Without actually looking up at her he spoke. Dont worry; Ill respect your sensibilities. No snakes and no rats. Unless you count me, he thought. I want this shoot to be an enjoyable experience for you as well as for me, he added. He meant that in the sincerest of ways. With one last flick of the wrist, Dane returned his gaze to Cleo. She was perched by the window, staring out at the sublime panorama before her. He could see her reluctance fading and a peaceful expression easing its way into her face. Without warning her, he took a candid shot. He suspected that that particular frame would be the best of the entire set. She turned towards him, startled. Hey! I wasnt ready! Au contraire, my lovely, he said with a grin. You were probably ready for this from the first moment you drew breath through those sweet lips. You cant help but be beautiful, even when youre not trying. He was laying it on thick, he knew, but he was starting to see something changing in her eyes. She was susceptible to his flattery. He still had a chance.

Next was his trademark trying for sexy move. He crouched, so that his slight stature was less obvious as he gazed up at her in admiration, with camera in hand, and he ran his other hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face so that his features were more visible in the blossoming light. He was not handsome, but his face was his best feature and reasonably attractive when considered on its own, especially if he managed to encourage that positive association with the camera he cradled gingerly in his grasp. He detected a glimmer in her eyes accompanied by an attempt to restrain a smile. She was finding him cute. That switch was starting to shift. Dane was forced to swallow back the sudden urge to cough as shifting his footing disturbed some of the dust. Shall we begin? he suggested. Dane directed Cleo, getting her to assume various poses by the window. He continued with a constant stream of compliments, interrupted by the occasional cough, and he could tell she was starting to get into it. She was aware of her own sex appeal. At one point he actually had her sprawl on the floor and roll in the dust there, so that it dotted her skin and highlighted her coppery hair. He could no longer fight animal instinct as she tilted her head back, exposing the sensuous arch of her neck and extended her lithe limbs, like a majestic flame-crested swan...or perhaps with her hair and skin-tone, an ashen phoenix waiting to re-ignite. You beg adoration, he murmured as the camera clicked and whirred. Like a goddess, an Aphrodite, or maybe a queen, a regal Egyptian seductress, like your namesake. She tittered at this, accompanied by a few little coughs that exposed her perfect, white teeth. He glanced over the top of the camera. There it was. Click. The switch had flicked. He shuffled over to her and sliding in to the space between her open legs, he leaned over her, taking a few more shots. So beautiful, he whispered. So perfect. Click. He knew the power of his words. She raised herself up onto her elbows and when he moved the camera aside, her face was just inches away from his own. He licked his lips, ignoring the slight burning at the back of his throat and the tightening of his chest, too preoccupied with striking while the iron or the Cleo was hot. When he was absolutely sure that her eyes were telling him that she was willing to acquiesce, he started in for the kiss. They locked lips and the taste of her soft mouth was as honey-sweet as he had imagined. He bit gently at her lower lip, and when she did not pull away, he moved in for the kill, burying his face in the crook of her neck and nibbling at the smooth skin there. Then for his clincher: pulling her in close, smothering himself

with her luscious curls and whispering suggestive pleasantries and a little more daring innuendo-laden flattery into her ear. Only, after the first couple of words, when he had breathed in a significant amount of the dust in her hair, the remainder of his rehearsed appeal choked and died in the back of his throat where the burning sensation had intensified, and in his constricted chest, now paralyzed. He managed a slight whine, his eyes tearing up. His asthma, even at its worst in his childhood, had never felt like this. Mere drywall dust wouldnt do this to him. Cleo squealed, but as she shoved him aside, he realized she wasnt reacting to his sudden respiratory distress. He made a feeble grab at her, unable to vocalize his troubles, but her attention was completely elsewhere. In fact, she could not draw her eyes away from the large sickly looking rodent, its pelt matted with its own wastes, which was approaching the baited trap at the far side of the room. Rats! Ahhhhh! You said no rats! You lying son of a bitch! she wheezed. Cleo didnt wait for an explanation on his part. She did not even glance back to see his muscles seize up, his complexion turn blue, or his now unblinking eyes bulge. She did not notice him struggle three times to stand, growing weaker with each attempt and failing each time. With a flurry of irritated coughs, she tore out of the room in the direction of the stairwell, and that would be the last he would see or hear from her. That would be the last he would see or hear from anyone beyond the dirty rat that scuttled in the corner of the room.