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boots. Those, they go to what, the top of your ankle?” Don asked as the truck rolled down West Ogden, passing three buildings, liquor stores, and vacant lots filled with nothing but snow. The avenue was nearly deserted at three-thirty in the morning. Parts of the West Side looked abandoned at the best of times; tonight it looked damn near apocalyptic.
    They’d been at the bar close to five hours, shooting the shit, watching basketball and hockey. Don introduced Tommy around to most of the regulars. When Don mentioned Lee’s name, guys would invariably wince and offer their condolences. Then they changed the subject. Quickly.
    Tommy lifted his foot to his knee and peered at it skeptically. He’d had the boots for nearly five years. Heavy-duty leather with thick soles, he couldn’t see what was wrong with them.
    â€œNah. They’re no good,” Don said. “You want something that’ll go up to your knees. Like some snake hunting boots, you know? Might have to hit some of the motorcycle stores, or the farm and hunting stores down in Indiana. I’ll see if I can dig up an extra pair of pads for now. When you get ’em, make sure they’re big enough that they’ll fit over your jeans. Had a rat run up inside my work pants once. Whoo boy, lemme tell ya, that was fun.”
    The crossed Cermak, then South Pulaski.
    â€œRule number two. Don’t waste your time chasin’ rats with bait. Mr. Rat, he’s too goddamn smart. And there’s just too many of ’em. So you find a colony, and you poison the living shit out of it.”
    â€œWe’re heading for a colony?”
    â€œWe’re heading for the biggest, baddest colony you ever seen. Just you wait. We could kill rats until Christ comes back, and we wouldn’t make a goddamn dent in their population.”
    Tommy considered this for a moment. “You ever been to Palmisano Park in Bridgeport?”
    Don shook his head.
    â€œIt’s a nature park, got a lake, some paths and shit. Used to be the Stearns Limestone Quarry.”
    â€œOh sure, sure.”
    â€œMy dad told me, back in the day, when they were done hauling limestone out, somebody had the bright idea to fill half of it up with garbage, then make a park out of it.”
    Don laughed. “Bet they got more than they bargained for.”
    â€œDad told me that the rats got so bad, they had to burn the garbage. Guess they had to stand around the place, killing rats as it all burned. Heard they switched to construction junk to fill it in.”
    â€œWhere we’re headed, it’s a little off the beaten path,” Don said with a sly grin. “Like everything else our esteemed commissioner has got his fingers in, it’s in that gray area in between of not exactly legal and a fuckin’ war crime.”
    Don turned off into an industrial wasteland. “Take a deep breath. Just south of here, there’s the biggest raw sewage treatment plant you’ve ever seen. You ever hear of the Deep Tunnel?”
    â€œStorm runoff?”
    â€œYeah. It’s so all the water has somewhere to go, so all our shit, and I mean that literally, understand, doesn’t wash out into the lake.” He turned into an industrial section, followed a few of the smaller streets that wove through the warehouses and deserted factories until they came to a shipping yard. Don nodded to the gate’s watchmen and followed a gravel road that wound around the trucks and down into a surprisingly deep quarry.
    Down at the far end was a tunnel.
    A set of narrow gauge train tracks that hadn’t felt steel wheels in decades, nearly obliterated in dirt and gravel, stretched into the darkness. Don didn’t even slow down and before Tommy could say anything, they were hurtling into the tunnel. Rough-hewn rock whipped past his window.
    â€œHuh.” Tommy swallowed. “Didn’t realize we were actually headed underground.”
    â€œWell, you