Hsu Jaeshin counted dead dogs on lamp posts. Printed flyers pleading for dogs and cats who were just like members of the family provided him a crude outline of the Bagumi’s hunting ground. The number of ‘runaway pets’ had tripled in the last two weeks, which indicated the aliens had moved into their sewers permanently.

Bagumi were a sort of ‘ratman’ with leathery skin, elongated skulls and rodentlike teeth. During the day they lived in underground tunnels and at night the creatures scavenged restaurant dumpsters for spoiled meat. Carrion eaters, but not averse to supplement their diet with housepets or the occasional homeless guy.

The sun should be high and blinding here but the tall community estate buildings cast long shadows, wrapping this part of Brixton in a gentle twilight blanket, making it possible to use a touchscreen even at the height of noon. Which probably explained why a double-gaggle of pretween boys sat on the curb with tablets and phones, either playing Fortnite or watching pornography. Tucked under a bench a pair of unloved footballs sighed mournfully.

Hsu snorted.  He quoted “Reality can have metaphorical content; that does not make it less real.  Who said that?  Ah... Salman Rushdie!  What was the rest....? A thousand and one children were born; there were a thousand and one possibilities which had never been present before; and there were a thousand and one dead ends.”

It was tempting to categorize the kids as throwaways.  But his oath of British citizenship made the little wastrels his countrymen.  And thus in some sense they were his responsibility.  He checked the nearby sewer grates.  One of them was loose.  “Likely entrance-slash-exit point.  Hey kid! Anyone lose their pets recently?”

A chorus of nos from the brats but two pointed him to a bulletin board with several other notices for missing pets and – chillingly – a missing child.  A 4 year old girl.

He hoped her disappearance was a family dispute, or that she had already been found.   A Google search showed otherwise. So he marked her name and the date in a little notebook he carried, then looked back at the lazy kids playing video games in the courtyard of their community estate instead of footie in the park.

Not lazy.  Staying together in a group and sitting where they can be easily seen from the apartments above.  Probably won the extra screen time in collective bargaining.  I guess British kids aren't that stupid, even in Brixton.

As for the missing girl.... “Who the hell do I even e-mail about this?”

Suddenly a deafening crack split the air!  A basso rattle Hsu felt deep in his breastbone.  The crack echoed back and forth between the buildings and the kids were all looking around for the source.

Had a crane fallen in Central London?  Or a building collapse?  Neither fit the sound, which was more akin to a hundred lightning bolts striking the same place at the same time.

He walked over to the kids “Hey–!”  One of them is sharing a recording.  “Did you get that on tape?”

“Whu’s tape?” one asked.

“‘e means an analogy.”

“Pissall, got me phone don’t I?”

“Tape’s lihke magnits.”

“Parish miracle!”

“Play et back a’gain Luffy! Turn et up sose we kin hear!”

The boy in question scrubbed back in his phone and there it was; 30 seconds of him goofing for a video message and then a bang so loud it had overloaded the device's microphone.

Hsu said “Send me a copy of that, okay?”

“So you kin perv on me?”

“Yeah ‘e charges for that.”

“Oi!”

“I want the sound. You can just send audio.”

One of the kids gave a barking laugh. “Fifty quid and you bend ‘im foh a big squeal! Hear it down the block.”

“Ay, shut off!”

“Sit on it! But give me halfsies ‘cause I set you up.” he jeered.

With a sigh Hsu Jaeshin produced a €5 note which the boys snatched and squabbled over. “Recording!” He gave his e-mail address.

The boy tucked the bill into his waistband rather then his pocket. “Like’ll this be worth nuffin come May.”

“Shut yer mouth Brexie!”

“Go shut yer mum’s mouth!”

Thee squabbled and shouted but the video did eventually get sent. Hsu listened to it several times, trying to put name to it.

If a crane had fallen there should have been sirens by now.

“Weird in Brixton.  Tenebrionids on the move, mysterious crashing sounds and missing kids.”  He sighed.  “My bank account has no time for this!”

That was very true.  Hsu Jaeshin was virtually broke.  No one wanted to hire a former Korean national whose entire work experience was classified.

But someone still needed to track the Bagumi, right?  Hsu has been studying their migration patterns before his job ended so abruptly.  The former analyst continued down the street, checking sewer grates, storm drain covers and large utility access points.  (These humanoid rodents were stronger than humans but not quite strong enough to lift off a manhole cover.)

When Hsu first arrived in London he’d had the uncanny feeling that Britain somehow crammed several cities within the footprint of one; extra streets and neighbourhoods waiting to be stumbled into if you only took the turns in a proper order. This city was a puzzle; a labyrinth of cultures and not all of those cultures are first world. Brutalist tenements are no place for children to grow up. Not if they are meant to escape them.

Isolated under the concrete stairs and walkways was a drop-down with drainage and utility access. Hsu had to climb over a concrete barrier to drop down here. His shiny dress shoes crunched on gravel and broken glass. The concrete smelled here, where some of the surfaces never received direct sunlight, and black mold had etched itself into the surface which defiantly endured attempts to powerwash it away. It smelled like wet. Hsu turned the gravel over with his foot, probing down until....

Blood. Brown and blacking in the damp. He crouched down and gingerly ran his fingers through the skummy mess, then smelled. Was that metallic smell copper or rusted rebar? He held his hand up so the light caught it and revealed a few fine black hairs mixed in with the muck.

No not hair, fur. So this would be what remained of... Boojum? He thought that was the name of the missing cat.

He tested the door and was not surprised when it swung open. Claw marks on the inside had pulled out the lock casing. This was one of the places the Bagumi emerged from to hunt, in the residential neighbourhood full of small humans.

Mostly they took pets. But not always.

Hsu Jaeshin pulled the door further open to examine the lock and was startled to see a wet handprint on the inside of the door! Not blood, just water. He never would have noticed unless the light caught it just right to illuminate its sheen.

A handprint like this would dry in less than 10 minutes. Someone had just come here!

With trembling hands Hsu took out his phone and activated the flashlight, then shone it over the entrance.

There were dirty scrape marks inside the corridor, including, mixed in with the clawed footmarks of the creatures. what was clearly the fresh imprint of a sneaker being scuffed or dragged into the darkness.

Hsu’s breath caught in his chest.

“They have taken someone.”

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