by Thomas Kleaton
Norman scratched his head, pondering which resupply ship brought the rats.
He and Nancy had rats on their Wisconsin farm, but their retirement home in space was fully automated. Pest control, even funeral arrangements. All in the contract.
Except it hadn’t responded when Nancy died the week before.
Hadn’t responded to the rats.
Modern technology. Worthless. Norman held the trap, stout wood with VICTOR stamped on it, grimacing at the irony as he baited it with Nancy’s fingertip.
The finger she’d used to grasp her beloved brick cheese, the only part of her body not gnawed down to gleaming bone.
Thomas Kleaton is a freelance horror writer whose stories have been published in The Horror ‘Zine, Final Masquerade, Pernicious Invaders, Spooky Halloween Drabbles, Alban Lake Drabbles, and What Has Two Heads, Ten Eyes, and Terrifying Table Manners? He lives in the woods near Auburn, AL with his wife, Sheila.