Chapter Text
In a world that once buzzed with the hum of everyday life, a young boy named Manny tinkered with junk and broken toys in a cluttered bedroom, unaware that his world was about to change forever. The day was a chilly and crisp November day. The family started their day in perfect unison; Anastasia, who likes to be called Annie, was gathering her thick hair into a bun in the bathroom. Mom and Papá were downstairs drinking their second and third cup of coffee while watching the news, waiting for their kids to get into the car. Then there was Emmanuel, or Manny for short, tinkering with an old computer and a soldering iron held in his left hand. The thirteen-year-old was oblivious to the fact that he was running late. Then the siren went off; ever since the war started the siren had become background noise to the family. Mom screaming at the kids and heavy footsteps rattling the house was the first inkling that something was wrong. Quickly grabbing their pet, Ratsly or Gordon Ratsly, off of his bed, and put the rat in his hoodie pocket. The last thing Manny remembers is the feeling of heavy nausea and the acrid smell of burnt rubber. That pungent oder rammed into him and his sister like a tidal wave drowning them in their senses. As Annie was dragging him by the wrist, he screamed for their parents, as the blast shook the world.
Manny sprang up from his bed will all intent to run away from the fear. ‘Just a nightmare?’ He thought ‘The bunker was always Papa’s prized possession.’ He sneered when he swiped the sweat from his brow with a used rag. He had to give his Papa credit, they weren't millionaires in any regard, but it was amazingly built for a family of four. ‘Dad always wanted to get rid of Ratlsy anyway’ he barked a laugh at the thought as he opened the cupboard revealing a curly-haired blond rat. Then Manny started his daily, monthly, yearly, and probably lifetime routine. Time before 8:00 is spent reading, today he picked Crash, huffing as he flicked on the light he had worked so hard for.
An earsplitting “BRIIIING tick tick BRIIING” comes screaming from the alarm clock at 8:00 telling him it's time for his main meal. Ratsly scurrying up his pant leg and into the hood of his old hoodie. Warm, cozy, and smelly, but the sleeping Ratsly didn't care. He grabbed a cup of rice from the 5-gallon rice bucket, a cup full of water for him and the rice, and the leftover canned peaches from yesterday. “The most interesting part of my day, huh Ratsly.” the rat squeaked upon hearing its name, clawing itself out of his hood onto his shoulder. “Watching water boil…” those words hung in the air. Looking around dully there were three rooms in the place he called home. There is the electricity-making treadmill and food storage room. Then there was the room he was currently in where he slept, ate, read, and cooked. Sometimes taking the old math and history textbooks out to do a few problems in his head. Then there's the compost and greenhouse room… Manny despised going in there to do work each day. It stinks like all hell in there but somehow he was able to make some strawberry plants out of the leftover jam. The first time he ate a fresh strawberry in a year; he would never admit that he cried over a strawberry.
Then the realization struck him. “I can't keep living like this.” the string of words wrapped around his heart. He turned off the water was a soft click. Dry hands clung to his hair; grease lining his fingers as he did it. Angry heat bubbled in his stomach while the taste of bile clung to his tongue. Anger flowed through him like a riptide as he said “Ever scene you left…” staping the ‘t’ sound “I've been” he grabbed the chair with both his hands and threw it across the room. It slid to a halt as he shouted “SO GOD DAMN LONLEY!” he cried, kicking the old mattress he had laid on for two years. A metallic screech came from under the bed. That woke him up from his angry stupor. He was reaching back to his hood and grabbing the, now trembling rat. He whispered a quick ‘im sorry’ to the small mammal and went to investigate, placing it on the ground. He knew that the bed feet had tennis balls on them so what made that noise? Cautiously stepping over to the side of the wall the bed had been touching. He peered into the dusty crevice and saw a large metallic box with a sticky note on top. It read “Dear Manny, I know you will get bored when you are down here. You were never really one to sit still ;). So I put in this box” Manny with shaking hands started to open it and continued to read, “An old iPad, an RC Car with a remote, the guts of an old TV, and your old soldering stick. Love Papa.” The boy started to walk towards the table rat in toe. Pulling up the chair he threw calmly he was put deep in thought. ‘What will I make out of this junk?’ he thought puzzled.