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RATSTRIKE – The Rat Rules 2035

Ratstrike novel in three formats

Jools G King

My debut dystopian horror novel, RATSTRIKE, is available for sale. I hope that if you like thrilling dystopian sci fi horror books, you’ll order it from Amazon and let me know what you think.

RATSTRIKE weighs in at 80,000 words. I hope for it to be the first in a series.

RATSTRIKE is set in England in the near distant future. The wild rat has become the predominant species, reducing a fearful and diminished human population to a medieval feudal existence. Ethan Vine is determined to win his country back from the vermin, even if it means sacrificing his life. Major problem: the rat species keeps growing and mutating quicker than the rat vigilantes can fight back. Can the vestiges of a London government rat control institution help?

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Ratstrike creature

5 Star Ratstrike Review from Extreme Horror Author Sea Caummisar

Ratstrike is is such a good book. I should also note this is the author’s debut, which is very refreshing. Rats are everywhere in the future. So yes, it’s set in the future but there’s no internet and barely even electricity. I suppose, rats, in large numbers could be a viscous foe. Then imagine those rats evolving in size. I wasn’t sure whether I would enjoy reading about rats, but the writing style was so good that I couldn’t help but enjoy myself.

Sea Caummisar – Extreme Horror Author

See more Amazon reviews here, and Goodreads reviews here.

Here’s what JENNLYREADS had to say about RATSTRIKE.

And FUONLYKNEW

Ratstrike made DLS Reviews’ The Ultimate Creatures vs Mankind Book List

Sc-fi author, JC Gemmell, has a page where indie authors can showcase their books and write about their reasons for writing them. My article on Ratstrike can be found here.

List of Tropes:

Horror; Revulsion; Terror; Monsters; The World is Ending; Post-Apocalyptic; Implants; End of Human Race; Scientist/ Researcher; Beast; Mad Scientist; Mutant;

Also, RATSTRIKE is available in audiobook and paperback formats.

RATSTRIKE COVERS THROUGH THE AGES:

From current to original (which is your favourite?!)

Ratstrike by Jools G King

EBOOK ASIN: B09NCGY6WF

PAPERBACK ASIN: B09QP3MC9N

AUDIOBOOK ASIN: B0F412WYS1

BISAC CATEGORY: FIC015030

 

Publication date: December 23, 2021 UK (independently published)

  • Language: English
  • Print length: 300 pages (ebook), 298 pages (paperback)
  • Listening length: 8 hours and 48 minutes
  • Trim size: 6 x 9in
  • Territorial rights: Worldwide
  • ISBN-13: 979-8405689340

Now that you’ve had a taster, here’s the Ratstrike blurb:

It’s 2035. Eight years ago, a rat-borne coronavirus decimated the population of the British Isles.

That was just the beginning. The lucky few with immunity were tested with a quite different threat. Rather than infecting the lower respiratory tract, this threat simply rips it out.

Now England drowns under a plague of killer rats. The towns and cities are death zones. Scattered pockets of human survivors battle against waves of vicious vermin. Life is short and hard; death swift and bloody.

In the villages, a valiant few fight on preserving a fragile hope for a safer future. For such a future, Ethan Vine is prepared to sacrifice everything. 

But things are about to get worse.

A mysterious new breed of rat has emerged. A demon mutant. For Ethan and the others, the only hope of survival is to take a stand against the vermin before it’s too late. Can they trust the mysterious stranger who claims to have found a way to fight back? 

Or is he just a treacherous government rat with his own evil plan?

You can buy Ratstrike from Amazon by clicking here or read for free on Kindle Unlimited.

And for the still undecided, here’s chapter 49 of Ratstrike in full:

Six long pine benches on a dark slate floor overlit by LED strip lights. No windows. Bare breeze block walls painted off-white. A large torn poster of the rat anatomy in full colour adorned the wall opposite the stainless-steel serving counter.

The Bunker canteen was becoming populated with lab coats, so Dr Schneider had saved one end of a table, while Ethan and Patch queued with trays for today’s slop ration.

Schneider knew he had to make this lunch date work. This could be his only chance to enlist these so-called rat liquidators. The research teams nested inside the Bunker had reached a critical juncture. A growing consensus from higher echelons demanded a significant action against the Rat. Where pest control and military action had failed, there was speculative reason to believe mass ultrasonic brainwashing might succeed in its place. Every day, dozens more civilians perished. The economy remained moribund, society operating barely above mediaeval levels. It was well past time for Operation Ratstrike to be tested in the field.

His two proteges were shovelling root vegetable stew into their mouths, between chunks of black rye bread. Schneider could observe them from a distance while he queued for his own ration.

The woman ladling the food today reminded him of his mother, with her grey hair tied Frau-like in a tight bun. Even on her deathbed, dear Mutti had never forgiven him for the cat. She’d never appreciated that while his fascination with animals ran deep, especially the feathered and furry ones of the dense, dark Bavarian forests, he simply hated cats.

Ferdi, the family’s French Bulldog, a breed known for their shortened respiratory tracts, was different. He had enjoyed walking Ferdi, experimenting with how far he could go before the dog’s asthma kicked in. But cats were vile.

Cats were vermin.

Locking the pet flap that dark winter night and closing his eyes to the plaintive mewling outside his bedroom window had been a different, quite delicious form of experiment, one that had far more to do with ridding the house of an evil pest.

The following morning, the cat had been retrieved from a snowdrift outside the front door, as stiff as old bratwurst skins. His mother suspected, even on her deathbed, but she could never prove it. Besides, she was soon to lose him to Munich’s Ludwig-Maximillians University for three years, where he’d enrolled to study Behavioural Ecology. For Mutti, maternal love remained a useful facade to preserve.

“Bread?”

He nodded at the server, depressed by the gruel-like stew slopped onto his plate. How he missed Mutti’s Sauerbraten. The man next to Grey-bun offered a cracked mug of anaemic tea. How had his father once dismissed the English? Less tea, more efficiency, or something similar. Where was his father now? Alone, remarried, dead? Who knew? Since the rise of the Rat, he’d made no attempt to contact him. Not that it mattered now. England drifted becalmed on the North Atlantic, alone and beaten.

“Thank you, Harry.” Tray full, he weaved his way back to the table.

***

“Five hundred?” Ethan whistled. “Wow.”

“You must believe it.” Schneider’s Adam’s apple bobbed as another morsel slipped down his throat. “Fifteen controlled trials, each involving up to five hundred wild rats selected at random. Each time, the three Sigmas – Siegfried, Gunther and Hagen – had the wild rats in thrall. Usually, they would develop Pavlovian conditioning.”

Patch inched her bum as far as she could from the German sitting beside her. “Pavlovian, huh? Might be impressive, if we could only trust the results.”

“I can assure you the ultrasonics work,” Schneider said. “You’re welcome to read through the peer-reviewed articles.”

Patch harrumphed. “Okay, I’ll be sure to do that,” she said. “Felix, you’re not eating that second slice of bread, are you?” She chewed happily on rye, sniffing the air. “Ethan, you know what this canteen smells like..?”

“School… dinners!” Ethan said and laughed.

“One important caveat,” Schneider continued, unfazed. “Each Sigma rat has to be ridden by a human. We can’t guarantee the transducer implants are enough on their own. I mean, they help but there’s still risk.”

“Why is that?” Ethan asked.

Schneider shrugged. “We’re not sure yet. Current thinking suggests the wild rats may believe the Sigma rat is master over the human. The ridee controlling the rider. Contrary, I know, but if true, this might give the Sigma a kind of kudos in the rats’ eyes.”

Ethan mopped up the rest of his stew with a nugget of bread. “So, to them the Sigma rat is king?”

“Fuhrer, even,” Patch added, with a grin. “Dominant over the human.”

“That may be the case, yes,” Schneider said, sipping his tea. “This is where you two come in. And, preferably, one other. We need you to ride the Sigma rats into a known infested area and record the wild rats’ behaviour. If we can replicate the trials on the ground, we might one day be able to vicariously control the country’s infestation on a nest-by-nest basis. Perhaps even organise them along military lines.”

Patch looked concerned. “Not so sure about that.”

“For the nation’s benefit, of course,” Schneider said. “It’s all about taking back control.” Pushing his half-finished plate away, he proceeded to explain.

Volunteers would be paired with a Sigma rat and undergo a month’s familiarisation training. They’d be taught to mount, ride and handle the Sigma much like a horse. Experienced Bunker staff would be on hand to watch for any rogue behaviours. The aim was to eliminate any jump scares, build trust between Sigma and rider.

“It all looks simple on screen,” Ethan said, “but how can we be sure it will work in the wild?”

“Lab conditions are never the same,” Schneider admitted. “I won’t pretend there won’t be some risk.”

“Whoever volunteers for this crazy mission would need back up,” Ethan said. “At the very least, a Plan B.”

“We’d have a small unit of militia standing by ready to support you in the event of an attack. Understand we’re not asking you to infiltrate any underground nests. Our target is the urban Rat living in our abandoned towns and cities.”

Ethan caught Patch’s nod, her spoon gripped mid-air. Taking back real objectives was the way forward, and that started with the urban areas. “Why don’t you get your militia to deliver your big rats?”

“This isn’t a job for the military,” Dr Schneider said. “It calls for people who can show some sensitivity. People who can bond with animals.”

“These aren’t cuddly kittens, Felix,” Patch said, chasing turnip around her plate with her spoon. “They’re vermin.”

“Big vermin,” Ethan added.

“I rate them a little higher than that,” Schneider said. “Rats are intelligent animals. They respond to nurture.”

Ethan laughed bitterly. “Now we’re the rat whisperers, Patch.”

She grimaced.

“Your joke reminds me of the other reason you’re a good fit,” Schneider said. He pointed to Ethan’s harp protruding from his denim jacket top pocket. “You carry a good tune with that harmonica. You know any jazz rock?”

“Maybe.”

“There’s good preliminary evidence that the Sigmas, and maybe their following, respond well to music,” Schneider said. “With the right tune, it’s almost like charming a snake.”

“I’ll remember that,” Ethan said. “But, Felix, despite the Sigmas, the militia… my harp… it still seems Patch and I are taking a big risk for very little return.”

“And we’re working for the government now,” Patch added. “There should be a reward.”

Schneider shrugged. “Sure, we can talk about remuneration later.”

“We can talk about it now,” Ethan said, popping the last of his bread into his mouth.

Schneider’s eyes narrowed. “What are your terms?”

“A house each signed in our names,” Ethan said. “Plus, another for each volunteer we find you.”

“Why not just take one?” Schneider said. “The country’s full of empty houses.”

“We’re not squatters,” Ethan said. “Whatever’s left of the State must own a fuck load of vacated homes. All cleared out by the Rat.”

“Ah yes, bona vacentia,” Schneider said, with a thin smile. “I’ll look into it, but I can’t promise anything. Our resources are tight.”

“We want written guarantees, nothing less,” Ethan said. “I grew up never having the chance to buy a house. It’s ironic, but I now live in a topsy-turvy England where supply outweighs demand.”

“There’s a silver lining with every tragedy,” Schneider conceded.

“Well, now you know the price of our… unique sensitivity to animals,” Ethan said. “And it won’t cost the State a bean. They’ve inherited these houses from the dead.”

And prices have crashed through the floor.” Patch seized Schneider’s plate. “Finished with this, Felix?”

“If this half-arsed rat brainwashing idea of yours works, it will give us a good shot of getting our country back,” Ethan said, scraping off half of Schneider’s leftovers onto his plate.

“Hallelujah. We all want that,” Patch said, between munching.

“We’d be free of the Rat,” Ethan said. “Everything gets reset. And when it does, Patch and I will be homeowners. It’s the least the State will owe us if we survive this.”

Patch smiled. “Helluva dream.”

“Something worth fighting for,” Ethan said, spooning the last of Schneider’s stew into his mouth. At least both of them had enjoyed a hot meal, even if it hadn’t been particularly flavoursome. He stacked the three empty plates.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Schneider murmured. He picked up his mug, grimaced at the grey liquid, and set it down again.

Ethan rose from the table. “You get us signed deeds of two nice properties on the coast and we promise to help you. That’s our price, and we’re not shifting.”

Patch got up too, hooking up her jeans. “Two bedrooms minimum,” she said. “Detached, but close together. And I want a big garden, so I can grow vegetables.”

“I can lie back in my deckchair and watch you, Patch,” Ethan added with a grin.

“Hey, fuck that, lazy boy, you’re digging.”

Schneider looked wan. “You’re asking for quite a lot.”

“Those are our red lines,” Ethan said. “You want us, it will cost.”

But I mean… a house each?”

“Then find someone else, Felix,” Ethan said. “Cause I ain’t doing it otherwise.”

“And I’m with lazy boy,” Patch said.

“Alright, alright, but on one condition.” Schneider locked his long hands together on the back of his head and glared in turn at them both. “I want you to promise me that third rider.”

“Deal,” Ethan said, wondering if he’d answered a little too quickly.

“I’ll try to get Tickner on board,” Schneider said. “But I don’t know how long it will take to pass your… request up the line.”

“You’ve got a few days,” Ethan said. “From tomorrow you can reach us at the Black Lion. It’s time we went back to visit old friends.”

“And find you that third rider,” Patch added.

Learn more about another rat horror novel similar to Ratstrike that I’m writing by clicking here.

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