It takes a special kind of person to become an exterminator.

I was reminded of this again, as I stared into the pitch black basement tunnel, dusty

cobwebs hung down from the ceiling.

The darkness was so thick I could taste it, or maybe that was the asbestos.

Typically the asylum maintenance people took care of pest control for the old mental

hospital on their own.

It was unusual for them to call in outside help.

The problem must have been beyond their abilities, I thought to myself.

They've been coming from down that way.

The big ones are almost the size of cats.

I've never seen anything like it.

The young, pimple-faced security guard was just exaggerating, I thought.

I'm gonna need you to come down there with me.

I don't have a key for the doors.

No, I'm not going in there.

Not with all those rats running round.

You don't have a choice.

I need to get inside.

You're the security guard.

Do you want me to tell your boss that you're refusing to do your job?

Guy, I get paid $8 an hour.

He said, pulling a key off the big ring he had attached to his belt.

...