June

Heat.

Too much.

We were in the middle of a desert. We hadn't stopped walking, and my nephews were fainting from the heat. Our water supply was scarce. As soon as Rick felt a little hot, he drank almost all of it, despite my warning that he would regret it and that we should ration it. Now, he's the most exhausted of the three.

"Uncle, please, give me more water!" I heard his whining from behind as he staggered from exhaustion.

"You shouldn't have drunk almost all of it. For the next hour, only your brother and I will quench our thirst little by little," I said, trying to sound wise.

"Nooo!" Rick shouted as he collapsed to the ground, his clothes filling with sand as he started coughing.

"Come on, Rick, get up. We must be close, right, Uncle?" Andrew tried to encourage his brother.

"The truth is, Andrew, I don't know. I've passed through here hundreds of times before everything went to hell. There should be a giant park here. But instead, all I see is sand everywhere, and I can't see the end," I said, gazing into the endless dunes.

"But how is that possible?" Andrew asked.

"Who knows? Some Ultra, probably. As always."

"At least let us stay here for the night, Uncle," Rick muttered, still sprawled on the ground.

"Rick's right. It looks like night is falling."

"But it's better to keep moving before we run out of supplies and water," I argued, recalling my multiple military expeditions in deserts.

Then I looked at Rick lying on the ground and sighed.

"Fine. Set up the tent and start a fire. With nightfall, the wind will pick up."

At my words, they both got to work. Rick miraculously stood up as if he'd been faking his exhaustion all along. Spoiled brat. If his grandfather were still alive, he’d probably have kicked them clear across the desert.

Once the fire was ready, we sat around it. By nightfall, our water was officially gone. Rick and Andrew wore expressions of pure despair.

"What’s with the long faces?" I asked, curious.

"We’re going to die of thirst," Rick said bluntly. "And we’ll never get out of this desert."

I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want to give them false hope because what my nephew said was entirely possible. Silence settled over our camp. As the three of us stared into the fire, I heard footsteps approaching from behind.

In an instant, we three drew our weapons like lightning, aiming at the approaching figure.

"Whoa, whoa, I’m unarmed! I can’t hurt you!" A calm voice emerged from the darkness as its owner raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

A tall, pale-skinned man, white as snow, stood before us, wearing a massive cowboy hat and a dark suit. His hair was equally dark, and a thick mustache sat above his lips. He looked to be around my age. And he was telling the truth—he wasn’t armed. Even so...

"How do we know you're not an Ultra?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well, I am. But relax, I come in peace. I saw your fire and thought I’d join you. But if you prefer, I can take my water bottles elsewhere," he said, pulling three completely full bottles from his backpack.

Rick looked at me with excitement, but Andrew was just as wary as I was. What a dilemma. Well, if we refused, we'd die of dehydration.

"Sit," I ordered in the sternest voice I could muster.

"Thanks," he said, tossing a bottle to each of us. "Do you always point your gun at people’s heads like that?"

He had noticed that, unlike my nephews, I hadn’t put my weapon away and was still tracking his every move with my revolver.

"Always," I said without hesitation.

"Hah! You’ve got guts. Name’s Santos. And you?" he asked formally.

I didn’t answer.

"Man of few words, I see. And you, kids?"

They didn’t answer either.

"Your father raised you well—not trusting strangers. Well, don’t mind me. Pretend I’m not here."

"I’m their uncle. And at dawn, you’re going your own way, or I’ll shoot you," I said as clearly as possible.

"Hey, no need to sound so threatening. I get it."

Silence returned to the campfire.

"Crazy about the desert, huh?" Santos eventually muttered. "Apparently, it was all the work of an Ultra with sand powers. My boss sent me here to take care of him before the whole world gets buried in sand. But I told her, ‘Hey, if the world’s ending in a few months, who cares about a little sand?’ But she didn’t give me a choice. I came here alone, but on the way back, a friend was supposed to pick me up. Looks like he's running late."

"Do you ever stop talking?" I grumbled.

"Sorry, I’ll shut up."

The man fell silent, and the desert was consumed by stillness. Until Rick spoke.

"Hey, Uncle, now that I think about it, you never told us how you could open that PowerMax cage, where your friend was. Did you work there?"

"That’s true—you’ve avoided the topic until now," Andrew added.

"I don’t know if now’s the time to talk about it," I said, glancing at Santos, who was whistling, playing dumb.

"Come on, if you don’t tell us now, you never will," Rick insisted.

"Fine."

Who cares if this stranger hears my past? The world’s ending in a few months anyway, and chances are, he’ll betray us tomorrow, and I’ll end up killing him.

"Yes, I worked at PowerMax. But as you know, I was a mercenary before that. Part of a group—The Incredible Jerks."

"There wasn’t a better name?" Santos interrupted with a laugh, earning irritated glares from all of us. "I’ll shut up."

"Anyway, with PowerMax’s invention of superpower pills, wars no longer needed ordinary humans. Battles ended in a flash, with colorful duels between two Ultras. We were out of work, surviving on scraps for months. I was on the brink and fought with your father. That’s why I stopped visiting the family. But as you can see, things only got worse—Ultras began mutating into crazed monsters. PowerMax needed trusted people to fix their mess. Your father, who was a PowerMax researcher, offered my team a job—tracking and eliminating any Ultra who lost control. Sometimes we captured them for research. What an idiot I was, thinking they wouldn’t be tortured like Tristan was. But I don’t regret killing them. The horrors I saw them commit… beyond words. There’s not a single one I regret putting a bullet in. As time passed, things went from bad to worse. Even so, I kept working for PowerMax—it was the only thing I was good at. Shooting at everything in sight. But eventually, your father came to me, desperate, and gave me a new purpose."

I stopped. I could continue the story, but my nephews already knew the rest. I put out the fire and said:

"Alright, time to sleep. Get ready—tomorrow, we’re walking a lot again."

They were stunned, full of questions but choosing instead to retreat to the tent and process everything.

I was left alone with Santos.

"Wow, hell of a story. PowerMax, huh? At least you're not one of those scientists who got us into this mess. Hey, did they at least give you futuristic weapons or jet suits?" Santos asked, oddly enthusiastic.

"They didn’t trust us enough to give us that." I tried to dismiss him. "Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch."

"And risk you shooting me just for being an Ultra? No thanks. How about this—you finish telling me the rest, and in return, I’ll ask my friend to give you all a ride when he gets here."

"Your friend has a vehicle?"

Almost every vehicle in this world was in bad shape or lacked enough fuel to function. It was hard to believe.

"Even better—a van. And a fast one. We’ll be out of this desert in no time."

I reflected for a moment—the desert seemed endless. I doubted we could make it out. The water Santos had given us helped, but it wouldn’t last the entire journey. An air-conditioned ride was exactly what we needed.

“Pff, fine.”

I decided to trust an Ultra, knowing full well how bad of an idea that was.

I dove into my story and continued where I had left off.

I was on a reconnaissance mission, tracking the movements of an ultra-mutant with animalistic powers. I was camping, smoking a cigarette, when a car came speeding toward me. I grabbed my shotgun, knowing this could only mean trouble. The car screeched to a halt just inches from my face, and out stepped Johan, looking terrified and desperate.

“What the hell?” I couldn't hide my surprise.

“Jason, I need you. Now.” He grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Hey, is this how you greet your brother after all this time? I thought you were still in Lab 7.”

“There’s no time for this crap. Listen. The world is ending.” He gripped me tighter, practically shouting in panic.

“Yeah, I think we all know that by now. Have you even looked around lately?”

“No, you don’t get it. This time, it’s real. In a year, the world will be gone. A powerful ultramutant—the strongest we’ve ever seen—said he’s tired of this world and that in one year, he’ll destroy it. The news is spreading fast. Sooner or later, everyone will know.”

I looked at my brother seriously and saw that he wasn’t joking.

“Where is he? Let me pay him a visit.”

“Not even PowerMax knows his location—only I do. But trust me, he’s too strong. A headshot won’t fix this like it usually does. And if you piss him off, he might just blow up the planet sooner than planned.”

“Then why are you telling me this? I’m just a worthless nobody, right? That’s what you’ve told me my whole life. What do you want from me?” I pushed his hands off my shoulders, irritated.

“Them.” He pointed at the car he had arrived in.

Inside were his kids—the same ones I had only seen in photos. This was the first time I’d seen them in person.

“Take care of them. For me. Take them to their mother—she’s in a safe place. These are the coordinates.” He handed me a map.

“But they’re your kids. They don’t even know me. What about you?”

“PowerMax is after me. I abandoned the project, and they want the ultramutant’s location.”

“But what about my squad? My teammates? What about General Plumberg?”

“I don’t know. Lab 7 was overrun by a new extremist ultra group. PowerMax’s HQ is in chaos—we’ve lost communication. I came here as fast as I could. Your squad was stationed in different labs. Only Plumberg was with me.”

“And what happened to him?” I asked, this time desperate.

Johan looked away. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and handed it to me.

“It was the last one in his pack. He wanted you to have it.”

“General...” I clenched my fists, staring at the ground, helpless. “Damn Ultras.”

“Jason, what matters now are those kids. They don’t deserve any of this. Take them to their mother—they deserve to see her for the first and...last time.”

“You take them. I’ve got more important things to do.” I turned away and went back to my mission.

As I walked away, my brother spoke again—this time, his voice was cold and threatening.

“Don’t you want to do something with your life besides killing? Don’t you want to prove to the General—rest his soul—that he was wrong about you? That you’re good for something more?”

“You don’t know me.”

“But I do—enough. Those two angels mean everything to me. And I also know they could mean something to you, too. They might show you a side of yourself you never knew existed.”

“Go to h—” Before I could finish, something fell from the sky.

No. Someone.

A massive figure covered in silver armor landed in front of us, with a PowerMax insignia printed on his gun-arm. His chest plate bore the name "Smith."

The tin man aimed his weapon at my brother. I tried to shoot him in the head with my revolver, but he activated a reinforced helmet just in time and knocked me into a rock. The impact nearly knocked me out—I could barely see, my vision blurred. His punch felt like a cannonball.

“I see they finally finished the Reaper project,” my brother said. “Do what you came here to do, but leave them out of it. Take me back.”

“There’s been a change of plans.” The armored soldier pointed his gun at my brother. “You’re no longer needed. We’ll find the location ourselves. Your services are no longer required.”

Johan smiled and looked at his kids one last time, whispering final words to them—words I never got to hear, but I could imagine what they were. The kind of words I never heard in my own life.

A gunshot rang out, and I blacked out as I saw the soldier fly away.

When I came to, my nephews were locked inside the car, crying. I stumbled over and found a key lying on the ground. I unlocked the door, and they rushed past me, running straight to their father’s lifeless body. They collapsed beside him, sobbing.

I stood behind them, trying to comfort them. Together, we buried him. As we stared at the grave, I made my brother a promise—to protect them for him, at least until I could take them to their mother. Let's test if you were right.

We got into the car and drove off.

As I looked at my nephews in the rearview mirror, I tried to talk to them.

“So… do either of you know how to use a gun?” I asked.

“No,” Rick answered dryly.

We are doomed. My nephews don't know how to shoot.

“Well, if you want to survive, you’re going to have to learn. It won’t be easy, but I know you can do it. After all, you’re your father’s sons.” Actually, we came up with a code when we were younger for these types of situations—the Carson Code. Want to hear it?”

They both nodded, curiosity sparking in their tired eyes.

And so, I showed them a side of their father they never knew.

That’s how our journey began. And now, here we are. They grew up and became true Carsons.

I finished my story and looked at Santos, who had been completely focused the entire time.

“So… what happened to the car?” he asked excitedly.

“Seriously? That’s your first question after I told you the most important story of my life?” I glared at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“I crashed it. I don’t know how to drive.”

“HA! A soldier who can’t drive!” He burst into maniacal laughter.

I just watched his disgusting laughter with pure disdain. I swear, one of these days, I’m going to kill him.