"I'm game." Sam slipped down the hole, dropping onto the steps just in front of Dill. "I'm hungry."
"Hungry?" Dill followed him down at a more cautious pace, his mallet held ready to strike out at any movement. "You're not seriously going to eat anything you find down here, are you?"
"Why not?" Sam poked his cricket bat behind a barrel. "At least we know it'd be fresh."
"Says the guy who ate a dead bird."
"Yeah. I suppose." Dill used his mallet to move a box labelled Runners Crisps. Ready Salted. Best Before June 1983. He looked inside. It was full of crisps. He took a packet. "Want some crisps? They're a bit out of date."
"Nah." Sam raised his bat and struck out at something.. he ducked under a barrel stand and came up holding a stunned rat by the tail. "This is better."
"I can't watch." Dill examined another box , trying not to hear the crunch and slurp as Sam bit into the creature, the rat's squeal cut off as suddenly as a police siren reaching the coffee shop. The box contained mobile phones, dozens of them. Some quite new. He pulled out one of the latest models and turned. "Hey! It looks like our host did enter the twenty-first century after all."
Sam looked up, his teeth around the rat's skull. The rodent's whiskers were tickling his nose and one ear became a stop point on each side of his mouth. He bit down, the skull cracking and splitting under the strength of his bite. He spat it our and sucked up the tiny brain. "Mmm-mmm. You should try one of these. They're delicious."
"Um... not right now, thanks." Dill forced himself to breathe several lungfuls of the iron-scented air until he felt less like vomiting.
"Did you find something?" Sam split open the rat to get at the tender organs.
"A Magelight. Thirty-K. They only came out a few months ago."
"Keep it." Sam picked up a box to find dozens of woodlice scurrying from the sudden light. He scooped them into his hand then transferred them to his mouth. "Yummy. Like peanuts, only wriggly."