Rats are cool. Nimble, smart, and willing to do what it takes, right?
The rubble was fine. The feeling of dust sliding through his fingers made him think of what sand must feel like. Not desert sand, but real sand, on a real shore, with real water that made your mouth pucker.
He coughed and pushed himself upright as dust slid through his nose and into his lungs, causing a burning in his chest. It smelled how it looked... dry. The coughing hurt, almost like it was trying to pull his vocal cords from his throat, but what he felt more than that was the vibrations in his chest.
I'm underwater? No. Then why can't I breathe?
He pulled his head back and chest forward to take a deep breath...
Air.
His tattered hands stroked his face.
No water... then why can't I hear?
A streak of blood answered his question as it drove itself to the edge of his chin. He brought his hands to his ears to confirm his suspicions. A couple fingers on each hand showed red-stained signs of busted ear drums.
Fuck...
The small boy quickly rose to his feet as the fog slowly receded from his mind. His head shot around, searching for something or someone. Crippling pain sank deep into his chest as he stood before the collapsed structure. A wooden cross outline in ivory lay broken at his feet. Split crudely in the middle.
He limped around, attempting to lift any large planks of concrete or wood that he could. The skin on his hands ripped deeper than before with every desperate pull. He began to turn his head-
"HELP M-"
A loud explosion sent his head ringing as sound began to reclaim his ears once again. Back to the ground he fell. The shockwave was too much for his body to handle right now. Instead of calling out once more, he looked around intently. Only then did he realize the calling was pointless.
The wasteland around his home lay flat and desolate. Each building toppled by boulders or consumed by fire.
Why is this happening? I mean... what even happened?
His focus shifted back to the rubble beneath his feet as his desire to search for his brothers and sisters increased.
Amy, Paul, Garrison, Leena, Mikey, Lee-
Adrenaline surged as the gravity of the situation landed itself in his heart. He spotted the first thing he believed he could lift and crawled to it. Leveraging himself on his knees, he forced himself up once again.
"...Paul, Garrison, Leena, Mikey-"
He mumbled to himself as he peeled the plank from the ground and his mumbles turned to grunts as he struggled to lift the wood. Slowly it let itself free from the ground, inching higher and higher above the ground.
The boy pulled with all his might as his fingers began to show bone as the tendons tore from within. He felt none of it as he saw a hand from beneath the rubble. A sight that only pushed him further beyond his limits. He quickly tossed the plank aside only to find a mangled cadaver of the matron fallen at his feet.
Her face contradicted her deaconess-clothing, an unholy sight for such a young boy to see. A jaw ripping to the side, teeth scattered, tears and gashes in the ears, nose, and left eye, a missing right eye. The side of her face caved inwards, like cannon fodder.
Stumbling backward, air seemed to run the other way as the boy found himself under a new sense of suffocation. He gasped and gasped and gasped—
"Amy, Paul, Garrison, Leena, Mikey, Lee, Julia, Leo-"
Gasp after gasp until finally... black.