Page 1 of Romanced By the Rat
Chapter one
Ramsay
I’m a rule follower. Always have been. Worse than that, I volunteer for the undesirable. A therapist would say it’s an innate desire to please, even when I hurt myself in the process. Except I haven’t been to a therapist. Probably should, but I did something easier. I joined the military. Physical labor, deprivation of luxuries, and risking death are all much more palatable than talking about my feelings. My skin crawls just thinking about it.
No, wait, my skin is actually crawling. I’m just coming into consciousness, every inch of my body buzzing with an insistent itch. I attempt to scratch my face, but my arms are too heavy, the effects of the drugs still wearing off.
Recognition washes over me, remembering before I was knocked out. I agreed—no, volunteered to be part of a mystery science experiment. I could argue that I felt pressured. The military owns our souls after all, but when the announcement went out and the room lay quiet, I barely gave it a second before raising my hand to volunteer for the cause. The reward of luxury meals and a week of rest before the proceduremade the deal even more enticing. I must have been the only person who thought that, though, because I was the only one to volunteer. There was fine print, of course. Ramblings about a transformation of body and soul, yada yada. I was too busy devouring a bowl of perfectly seasoned Bolognese to pay attention.
I groan, shaking my head and attempting to roll into a seated position. I find the momentum and rest my head in my palms. At first, I think I lost feeling in my hands, but I yank at the fibers on my face, feeling the pull.
“What the fuck?” I ask, finally opening my eyes and staring around the bright white, sterile room. Everything is huge. What kind of drugs did they give me? My brain works overtime trying to remember the details of this experiment. I was told I’d be administered a drug that would heighten my abilities in espionage. I don’t know shit about biology so when they started rattling off jargon about the molecular changes, I kind of tuned things out.
Maybe this is all in my head. The room didn’t grow. I didn’t shrink. My face isn’t hairy. This is just what it feels like to have heightened senses. Yes, that has to be it. I stand, my legs wobbly, clutching my head as I take in my reflection from the metal flooring underneath me. I scream, falling to my ass, my heart hammering in my chest. I’m not groggy anymore. All my senses sharpen, especially my sense of smell. There’s no way that was my reflection.
I take another look, closing my eyes and not opening them until I fully lean over my reflection. I fight my initial reaction to scream again. Staring back at me isn’t the sandy-haired, muscular man in his early thirties I’m familiar with. It’s not even a man at all. Gray hair, large round ears, black beady eyes—It’s a rat. I’m a fucking rat.
“No. No way.” I can hear my voice, and it calms me slightly. I haven’t lost myself completely, maybe I can talk myself back to reason. I’ve seen some scary shit in the military. I can deal with whatever the fuck is going on. I push down my feelings and take in my surroundings. I remember being in this room before I was put to sleep. Except I was in a regular, human-sized bed, not a metal, miniature, elevated platform.
I’m alone in the room. I don’t doubt cameras are watching my every movement, but I can’t give up the chance to get the fuck out of here. It might not be the best idea. If I ever want a chance of returning to a human, I need these people, but I never would have imagined they’d change me into a fucking rat. I need to get out of here, hide, and assess their motives. Being as small as I am doesn’t give me confidence in my safety. I always knew the government did some fucked up shit behind closed doors, but this is a new level.
Rats can climb. At least I’m pretty sure. I look over the edge of the metal table, the tiled floor seeming impossibly far. I don’t have very many options, though. Without thinking, I climb over the side, race down the pole, not stopping until I reach the floor. Well, that’s cool. I soak in the pride of my abilities for a moment before remembering myself and darting toward a wall, climbing up the textured surface, and pushing myself through the grate of the air vent.
Just as my skinny tail disappears into the shadows, the door swings open and footsteps sound. “Where’d Ramsay go?” a man asks. I recognize him as one of the scientists who administered an IV to me.
“Fuck,” another man says, another bland-faced suit.
“Why didn’t we put him in a cage or something?”
“The sedation wasn’t supposed to wear off for several hours. I thought we had more time.”
“Well, obviously you thought wrong, idiot. What do we do now?” the man sounds panicked.
The other scoffs. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s not a big deal. We were going to dispose of him anyway. Now we know the transformation is possible. Next round, we’ll work on giving the subjects the ability to communicate, and then we’ll work on a way to change them back.”
This must be a nightmare. Life can’t really be this fucked up. I’m frozen, hanging on their every word. There’s no way to change me back. Apparently, I can’t even communicate, even though I swore I heard my voice; it might have been all in my head. If I didn’t wake up when I did, I’d be dead, but maybe death is a better fate than life as a rat. Even with that thought, an innate instinct to survive washes over me.
“So what? We just let him go?”
“He’s a mindless animal, completely transformed. He doesn’t even know he used to be human. Let him starve in the vents.”
Well, that can’t be true. I know myself. I remember who I was before being changed into a rat—Ramsay, a quiet, antisocial soldier who lived for his duty. Looks like that devotion led to a whole bunch of bullshit. I’m going to prove them wrong the best I can. I won’t die in these vents. I won’t give them the satisfaction.
I turn toward the darkness, tuning into my acute senses, ready to find my way out.
***
It takes much longer to escape from the facility than I anticipated—several days, I suspect. They’ve got this place sealed up tight, which makes sense since they're hiding experiments of absolute terror. By the time I push my way through an exhaust pipe and my feet—well, paws—meet thefresh grass, I’m seconds away from starvation. A beetle crawls by mere inches from me, and I don’t know if it’s my rat instincts or my overwhelming hunger, but I contemplate taking a bite out of it. No. I may be an animal, but I need to keep an ounce of my humanity.
My feeble humanity only lasts a few more hours. My vision blurs, I lose all reason, and when a wiggly earthworm appears in my path, I can’t resist the urge to sink my teeth into the slimy pink flesh. After devouring the entire thing, a wave of shame washes over me. Sure, I’m able to reason now, but I almost wish I were back in the delirium and didn’t have to live with what I have become. I’ve been trained to use whatever means necessary to survive, but I’ve never seen combat. This is as rustic as it’s gotten for me, and I don’t think I’m cut out for it.
I continue my journey, searching for civilization. I never ventured much into the town of Ghostlight Falls outside Fort Pines, even after being stationed here for a year, but as I pass a never-ending pit bellowing with the sound of frogs known as the Wonder Hole, I recognize the area. Except I have no sense of direction and can’t make out where the town is. I keep walking, finding myself in dense woods.
After several days and nights, surviving on bugs and rainwater, I’m about to give up. What’s the point anyway? I’m a rat. How could I possibly live a life worth living? But then the most delectable smells waft into my nostrils. Maybe it’s a mirage, but it’s so heavenly I have no choice but to follow it.
A singular building comes into view. A rushing waterfall sounds nearby. It’s early morning, the sun just poking out from the tops of the surrounding trees. The structure almost looks like a beacon, a gift from above, my sanctuary. I squint to read the sign adhered above the doorway. “Ratcliff’s—Fine French Dining.”
My stomach rumbles. It shouldn’t be too difficult to scrounge together some food in a place like this. And besides, Ratcliff’s? It’s almost like it’s meant to be.
