February

The clock is ticking. Today marks the beginning of February. A week has passed since our encounter with the ultra with Dumbo ears. Unfortunately, we couldn't salvage much food from the explosion—just a couple of cans, which we finished yesterday. At this rate, we'll die before reaching our destination, or worse, before the end of the world. I wouldn't mind that much, but I made a promise to get these two brats to their mother before everything goes to hell.

"Uncle, when are we going to settle down somewhere and rest?" Rick asked from behind, walking alongside his brother. His exhaustion and boredom were becoming more and more evident.

"Once we find a safe place," I replied without looking back, keeping my eyes on our surroundings in case of ultramutants.

Lately, there seem to be fewer of them, but the ones we do encounter are stronger. Looks like they're killing and eating each other. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but at least I’m saving bullets, which are running out faster and faster.

Right now, we’re in what used to be a suburban neighborhood. Everything around us is destroyed, littered with bodies as usual. At first, my nephews struggled to move forward, especially with all the corpses and, worse, the monsters. But over time, they toughened up and realized there’s nothing to fear. Good thing, too—otherwise, I’d still be dealing with the smell of them wetting their beds from nightmares about ultramutants. It's all thanks to me showing them that these maniacs are nothing when they’ve got a bullet in their heads. Got too cocky with their powers and started underestimating firearms, thinking they were invincible.

Suddenly, the kids started kicking a can around as they walked, each time sending it further. The noise got louder, and I had to warn them.

"Cut the noise, or you'll attract every ultramutant in the city," I said seriously, still not looking back.

"Come on, Uncle, we're bored. There's nothing to shoot around here. I wish a mutant would show up so I could show it what I'm made of," Rick said, kicking the can even harder.

I didn’t realize they got rebellious at this age. Good thing I never had kids.

"You should be grateful there's nothing to shoot. So far, we've never encountered a truly powerful ultra. When that day comes, you'll pray you never wished for it."

"Pfft, if God existed, we wouldn't be in this shitty situation."

"Who knows? Maybe he's punishing us for that attitude of yours. If you want good things to happen, you have to think positively. That way, life will smile on you more."

"Tch, yeah, sure," Rick muttered, clearly not convinced, and kept kicking the can.

"Hey, Rick, I thought we were just playing with the can, not making noise," Andrew said, annoyed at his brother as he grabbed the can. "Sorry, Uncle, we won’t kick it anymore."

"Good job, Andrew. If we find food, you’ll eat double." At least one of them listens to me—most of the time, anyway.

"Gimme that, dimwit." The rebellious brother, now irritated, snatched the can from Andrew’s hands and kicked it as hard as he could.

Unfortunately for him, the can flew straight at my head, causing a sharp pain and making me turn around with the fakest, most menacing smile I could muster. Rick looked terrified—pretty sure he just started praying for the first time in his life. Andrew just stood there, an innocent bystander, not daring to get involved.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Uncle! I didn’t mean to! Please don’t abandon me!"

"The important thing is that you apologize, so promise me—no more cans." My voice was lower, more threatening.

"Y-yeah, no more cans."

"Good. That being said..." I kicked the can as hard as I could and got rid of it.

It made a loud noise, but at least I didn’t have to worry about this stupid game anymore.

But then, a different noise started—a strange one, coming from far away.

"Hey, Rick, I thought you understood," Andrew said, worried, thinking his brother had found another can.

"That wasn’t me," Rick clarified.

The sound grew louder and closer. Way too fast. And then it clicked—I’d heard it before. And it was something I never wanted to encounter on this journey.

I turned to the kids, who hadn't realized it yet, and shouted at the top of my lungs.

"Get inside a building! It’s a Sprinter!"

The second they heard me, they ran, each trying to find shelter. But it was too late—a yellow flash zipped past like lightning and made Andrew disappear.

A wave of despair crushed me. I ran toward Rick, who had frozen in place, shocked by his brother’s sudden disappearance. He pulled out his gun and fired at the light, but it was useless. Even so, after the shots, the blur seemed to slow down.

Now I was alone. I failed my brother. But I couldn’t afford to break down yet—I had to find them and kill this bastard.

"Come on, lightspeed," I taunted. "Just you and me now. I’ve got nothing to offer, and trust me, the kids are annoying once you get to know them, so if I were you, I’d give them back."

The blur returned, circling me at insane speed. Every few seconds, it stopped just long enough to land a hit on me before vanishing again. I never had time to react—I took every blow head-on.

"So you wanna go hand-to-hand, huh? Why don’t you stop moving and fight like a real man?" I growled, rolling up my sleeves and inviting the light to come closer.

At my challenge, the figure started hitting me even more, getting bolder with each attack. I tried to defend myself, but I was always too slow. Still, I was studying its pattern, waiting for it to tire out. I just had to hold on.

Over time, its speed began to drop—but not enough. I needed a plan.

I noticed a puddle on the ground and could see its footsteps appearing in it. I grabbed an empty can from my backpack and tossed it onto one of the footprints, hoping it would step on it again. Now, I just had to wait.

The Sprinter was getting cocky, paying less attention to its surroundings. And then, just as I predicted, it stepped on the can and slipped.

For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of its face—just a short person in a yellow hoodie.

As it fell, I grabbed it by the neck and slammed it against a wall, unloading all my frustration into a flurry of punches, which made a mess of blood around him.

"Where… are… the… kids?" I asked, punctuating every word with a punch.

It wasn’t answering, so I paused to look at its face. What I saw stopped me in my tracks—it was just a scrawny teenager, dark-skinned, glaring at me with pure defiance.

For some reason, I saw my nephews in his face. My grip loosened.

Obviously, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. He flipped the situation, pinning me against the wall and hammering me with supercharged punches.

"Here you go, idiot! You damn creep!" His punches got stronger, more personal.

I was seconds away from blacking out when the sound of two guns cocking echoed through the air.

"Let go of Uncle. Right now."

Rick’s voice. He was gripping his gun tight, ready to pull the trigger.

Andrew stood beside him, swallowing hard.

"What he said. Uncle Jason doesn’t deserve this. He’s the only family we have left."

The Sprinter froze.

"Uncle?" He hesitated, raising his hands in regret. "Shit… I think I misread the situation."

I took the chance to speak.

"You heard them, kids. Lower your guns. No need to hurt him."

"But look at you! You’re a mess—he doesn’t deserve to live," Rick snapped, angrier than ever, gripping the gun tighter.

I got up and snatched it from him.

"What’s Carson's Rule #10?" I asked.

"Uh… don’t date ugly girls?" Andrew guessed.

"Ahem. I meant Rule #11."

"Don’t shoot minors," Rick answered correctly, like he already knew the answer.

"Exactly. And he’s borderline, but he made a mistake and apologized. So go grab some bandages and antibiotics from my backpack."

As they left, I turned to the kid.

"No need," he muttered, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his lips. "You’re in worse shape than I am."

"Your foot says otherwise," I pointed at his foot, where a bullet hole was bleeding nonstop. "Looks like my nephew actually managed to hit you when he shot earlier. Great aim, makes me proud. We need to treat that quickly before you bleed out."

"Thanks... I don't know how to repay you," he said, looking down, disappointed in himself.

"I hope you have food."

"If that’s enough for you..." He pulled out a bag full of supplies from his backpack. "I found a nearby empty bunker stocked with food. Seems like its owner didn’t make it in time before everything went to shit."

"I almost feel bad. You look hungrier than we are."

"Don’t worry. I come from a place with a lot of people, so it’s hard to ration food. But as long as you leave me some, it’s fine."

"Deal."

As we finished talking, the boys came back with what I had asked for.

"Andrew, do me a favor and treat him. I’m going to have a smoke—that’s what I need the most after the beating I just took. Rick, keep watch and make sure no other lunatics show up."

"Yes!!" They answered at the same time and did as I said.

While Andrew treated the young man, they started chatting cheerfully. I suppose it’s good for him to talk to someone other than his uncle and brother for a change.

"I never asked, what’s your name?"

"Mark."

"Good name. I’m Andrew. So, Mark, why did you attack my uncle and me?"

"Like I said before, it was a misunderstanding. With the world ending, people are getting crazier. I saw an adult with two kids, and... I don’t know, something lit up inside me, and I felt like I had to do something."

"But what could Uncle Jason ever do? He may look like a mobster, but he’s harmless once you get to know him."

"It's just that I had an experience that..." Mark started trembling, and I felt the need to interrupt.

"Andrew, don’t ask questions you shouldn’t."

Just by looking at how he was shaking, I got an idea of the situation. It’s common in this ruined world. Degenerates need to relieve their stress somehow, and kids are the most vulnerable to it. Lately, this madness has been increasing, which is why we need to find a safe place.

After some time, Rick returned from keeping watch and said there was nothing around, while Andrew finished bandaging Mark.

"Now it’s your turn, Uncle."

"Don’t worry, I’m used to this. Better to save the bandages. I just need a good place to rest."

"Tch, yeah, but we need a shelter for that, and we haven’t found one in a week," Rick complained.

"Well, if you need a shelter, I can take you somewhere."

"Really?" Andrew’s eyes lit up.

"Is it safe?" I asked, the only thing that concerned me.

"Yes, very. In fact, I think it’s the safest place you’ll find in the entire country. You’ll see when we get there. What do you say? It’s the only way I can make up for what happened. It’s a few weeks from here, but I guarantee you can stay for a while. There are also kids your nephews' age so they can have fun."

Both of them looked at me excitedly, waiting for my response. At first, I hesitated, unsure if everything Mark said was true, but after some thought, I sighed and nodded. The boys cheered with joy.

"But I have to ask your nephews a question—Is your uncle really a good person? My shelter is kind of exclusive."

They looked at each other and answered at the same time.

"Yes!!" Andrew said happily.

"Sometimes," Rick said bluntly.

I lightly smacked Rick on the head, making him answer again.

"I mean, yeah, if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have lasted a single day," he said while rubbing his new bump.

"Well, that settles it," Mark said, standing up. "We’re going to my home—'DreamGuard.'"

I hope this isn’t a bad idea. But really, what do we have to lose? with the world already ending.