Cockroach Crush  
by Janilou


"There are monsters in this world and they walk in the skins of men."

Eighteen horrified faces stared back at the teacher from across the room as he
reached down and lifted several prints from his briefcase.  

Tossing the graphic photos to the student in the front row, he said, "Please pass
these around. I want you to know what you are dealing with. No human being is safe
in this community tonight."

"Mr. Norvegicus, how can we protect anyone from this?" one of the students asked.

Stretching up and turning to the chalkboard, the teacher scratched a series of lines.

"Pay attention, please. This is your safety net. Memorize what I have shown you
here." Adjusting his tie, he coughed and continued. "First and foremost, never travel
alone. Stay on the main paths to and from school, to your home, to the restaurants.
Always carry your weapons. Never leave without letting your parents know where you
are going and who is going with you."

A pudgy student, whom everyone called 'Beak' because of his unusually long nose,
squirmed in his seat and whispered, "Yeah, right." Looking up, he gulped at the sight
of his teacher towering over the desk.

"Beak, you seem to find something I said amusing. Would you like to share it with the
class?"

"No, sir."

"This isn't the same world your parents and grandparents grew up in. When the bomb
dropped, the world changed. It will never be the same. Does anyone remember how
tall humans used to be?" He looked around. "Yes, Hettie?"

"The average was between five and six feet, sir."

"And now?"

"Twelve to fifteen feet, with some recorded cases of twenty-five feet."

"Is there any question then as to why we must be so careful? The added size is a
terrible disability, stressing the brain to the point of reducing intelligence and IQ in the
general population by half. People were at the top of the food chain, now, nothing
could be further from the truth. The monsters are everywhere. They're out of control,
reaping destruction. We cannot stand by and watch humanity destroyed. We have to
do something about it."

He accepted the photographs from the student on the end of the row. "Thank you,
Rollie."  The most gruesome photo sat on top of the stack, and he shuddered as he
stared at the brutal scene in the photo. Bodies lay everywhere, their heads crushed.
These people had lived two blocks from his own home.

"If you have any doubts this could happen within your own family, let me tell you, this
family was using the highest technology available to protect their home.  
State-of-the-art alarm system imported from Norway, warning lights, hidden tunnels.
The one thing they forgot to do was prepare for a power outage. Once the electrical
repellers were down, it was all over in a matter of minutes." He glanced at the photo
again.  "Poor devils."

"But I thought humans used to be our enemies," Rollie said, scrunching up her face,
and rubbing her whiskers on the back of one paw. "Why do we care about protecting
them now?"

Mr. Norvegicus smiled. "Isn't it funny how things change over the course of time? Yes,
Hettie, humans were our enemies before the bomb. After the fall-out, we were able to
use those remaining humans as slave labor to help rebuild the cities and
communities. Of course, any rat worth his tail knew how to read a blueprint, but even
with their reduced intelligence, people were still better at construction than our kind.
It's that opposable thumb they have. With careful breeding programs we hope to
produce a stronger genetic line, although we must be careful to ensure they never
regain their pre-bomb intelligence level."

"Sir, why do the cockroaches hate humans so much? Because they used to step on
them before they were both the same size?"

The teacher smiled. "You will be getting an A in my class, young rat. That is exactly
why they hate them. That's why you can always recognize a cockroach attack. They
call it squash revenge."

"So that's why they skin humans and build light-proof tents and clothing out of their
hides?"

"Right again. The nuclear fallout might have been the end of civilization as we know it,
but the cockroaches were affected, just like everything else on the planet. They
cannot stand sunlight of any strength. Once it penetrates their outer shell, they are
cooked!"

"My dad says if humans became intelligent again, they would work beside us, not
against us," Hettie said.

"There are several opposing views on that, young lady," Mr. Norvegicus replied. "I
would like to believe it to be true. I am very fond of my humans, and treat them well."

A high-pitched squeal erupted from a small green box high on the classroom wall.

"Class is over. Now please remember what I said. Monster cockroaches have been
spotted on Fifth Street as early as six o'clock at night.  If you follow my directions,
your humans will be safe. I want to see all of you in class tomorrow. I know it's the
beginning of the Vegetable Peelings and Rotten Egg Festival, but we will be covering
atomic and nuclear physics in first period followed by biological warfare after lunch.  
None of you can afford to miss it. That's all. You are dismissed."


Sattar Norvegicus watched as the students climbed off their chairs and scurried to the
door. The sun hung in the sky well above the horizon as the student rats headed to
the parking lot where their transports waited.

"No dawdling! Hurry home and don't forget to check your battery backup systems!"
he called after the last retreating tail to disappear over the grassy ledge.

Taking a quick glance at his wristwatch, he lifted his nose in the air and sniffed hard.
No cockroaches within ten miles of here. Now, I'd better follow my own advice and get
home. Pulling a large textbook off the shelf with his teeth, he carried it to the door.

"Fred? Good boy, there you are! Take this for me," he muttered through the thick
pages. "We are going to do some more research tonight and see if we can't find a
way to combat these terrible tragedies. No one as nice as you should ever be
skinned. Come on, fella. Let's head home before it gets dark."

The lumbering giant of a man took the book from his master's hand, then tilted his
head to one side and whined.

"Okay, Fred, I know what you want."

Using his teeth to give the red-headed human a scratch behind one ear, the giant rat
left the schoolhouse and headed down a well-worn path, with Fred lumbering along
behind, textbook in hand, singing "One Green Bottle hanging on the wall," slightly
off-key.

"I really need to teach you some new songs, Fred."

"Beer," Fred said.

"Yes, you can have some beer when we have you safe and sound in your
cockroach-proof enclosure."

"Mmm, beer." Fred's face lit up.

Sattar nudged the stun gun hanging over Fred's shoulder.

"Fred. Do you remember how to play the game I showed you? Shoot the cockroach?"

Fred nodded. "Ready, aim, fire. Ready, aim, fire. Ready, aim, fire. Ready, aim -"

"Okay, big guy, you remember. I knew your military background would come in handy.
No cockroach is ever going to skin you, old Fred, or my name isn't Sattar Rattus
Norvegicus!"

"Beer," muttered Fred.

Sattar just shook his head and smiled.  

"Mother was right. She always told me men have a one-track mind."
This story won First Place in the FanStory contest, Monsters Of Men.
[Category - Science Fiction, Humor, Fantasy.]

You can see the original story in my portfolio here.