It was early morning when I stepped out of the garage to prepare for the move.
But the morning wasn't bright. The air carried a strange smell—faintly like something rotting.
Off in the distance, dark clouds loomed in the sky.
Then I looked down at the ground right below it. Something black was creeping outward, stretching from the city. It wasn't a shadow. I was certain of that.
Wherever this black thing passed, the trees were dying. It was like the land itself was being devoured.
I closed the interior garage door and shoved a piece of furniture in front of it to keep it secure. Then I half-lowered the rolling door.
That should hold... even if those things come, they won't be able to get inside.
I checked the surroundings for any sign of the creatures, then made my way to the backyard.
There, under a large sheet, was something massive.
I pulled the cover off. A cloud of dust rose into the air.
And there it was—the only thing I ever got from my father. Or maybe it was just something he didn't need anymore.
There it was—the RV my dad left. Old, bulky, but reliable.
My original plan was to sell it. Thank God I didn't. It might just save our lives now.
First, I checked if it was working.
The ignition clicked, but the engine didn't turn over. Dead battery. Not surprising—it had been sitting for years. I popped the hood and set up the portable jump starter.
While the battery charged, I did a quick walkaround.
By 9:00 AM, the engine finally roared to life.
I gave myself until noon to finish stocking it—fuel, food, tools, whatever we could grab. After that, we'd have to hit the road, ready or not.
My stomach growled. I'd finish gathering supplies and cleaning up after breakfast.
We hadn't had a proper meal since yesterday morning. At this point, I could eat a whole whale.
I did another quick sweep of the yard, then shut the garage and locked the house door behind me.
Inside, I found my wife scolding Stacy and Claire—stretching their ears.
My mother was helping in the kitchen while my older sister lounged on the couch, laughing with her.
My wife's frustration melted a little the moment she noticed I was covered in dirt and grime.
"Thanks for the hard work," she said, walking over and giving me a kiss on the cheek.
Stacy, spotting the opportunity, piped up. "Daddy! Mom's bullying us. You should scold her or something!"
My wife flicked Stacy's forehead. "Young lady, that's what you get for teasing your mother."
Rolling her eyes at the drama, she turned to me. "Are you done with your work? You know, you could've asked for help. I do know a thing or two about engines, you know."
I stepped closer, wanting to hug her—but stopped short, remembering how filthy I was.
"It's too dangerous out there. I can't let you go out. Not right now."
Her expression shifted into a frown, and her tone turned firm.
"Then what about you? You always throw yourself into danger for everyone else. I know we're not 'just everyone else,' but you could try relying on me a bit more."
I shrugged, glancing toward the others. "I think you're already doing more than enough."
My mother chimed in with a grin, "Alright, enough flirting. Go wash up, son. We're all starving—and some of us didn't eat dinner because of you two."
Stacy, never missing a beat, added, "Yeah, Grandma, tell them! We couldn't eat because of—" she broke into exaggerated moaning sounds.
"You little—!" My wife lunged at her again while Stacy shrieked and bolted behind the couch.
After I cleaned up, I came back to the dining room.
We all sat around the table. It was packed with heavy dishes—rice, curry, roasted vegetables, some leftover fried meat, and fresh bread.
I glanced at my wife.
Catching my look, she smirked. "We couldn't store everything in the RV. Figured we should eat the stuff that would spoil first."
"Smart," I said, then grabbed a plate.
We ate slowly, with light banter easing the tension. The warmth of the food helped more than I expected.
Partway through, Mom spoke up. "So... we're really leaving, huh? You have a plan?"
I looked up, surprised. "What gives?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't start fixing that rust bucket for no reason. Not in this situation."
I gave a small laugh. "Let's eat first. We'll talk about the serious stuff after."
Besides, this might be the last peaceful meal we get to have. I thought.
Everyone nodded. No one pushed further.
Still, I could see it in their eyes—they were all trying to act normal, to stay calm. But the fear was there, just beneath the surface.
Even the laughter at the table was a little too forced, a little too quick.
We were holding onto this quiet moment like it might be the last.
***
After breakfast, we remained seated around the table, just as we had while eating.
"Let's start with the bad news," I said, my voice low.
"First, I should tell you... there might not be any help coming."
No one reacted. They looked at me like they'd already accepted it.
I continued, "The whole West is overrun. They're saying it's happening all over the world."
Claire raised an eyebrow. "Who's they?"
I jerked my thumb toward the old radio sitting behind me. "When the lights went out last night, I thought we'd be cut off. Then I remembered it might still work in emergencies. Turns out, it does."
My daughter Stacy blinked. "That thing works?"
Sofia, quiet until now, quipped, "I thought it was just an antique."
We all turned to look at her.
Personally, I was stunned—this was the clearest I'd heard her speak since yesterday.
She ducked her head a little, shy.
Wanting to give her space, I said, "Well... that was all the bad news."
Claire scoffed. "'That's all'? You say", She leaned back, arms crossed.
"Dude, we are fucked."
I smirked. "Looking at the way you're all joking, I don't think we're that screwed."
Claire grinned. "Well, at least some of us got to be."
A loud cough came from my older sister, Sarah, who'd been unusually quiet. "Let's stay on topic. Claire, stop teasing Jun."
"Yes, Mom," Claire said, mock-innocently.
Our mother shook her head with a weary smile. "Well, dear... you've always kept us safe during hard times. You can't blame us for feeling this way."
Her words hit me. I reached across and gently squeezed her hand, locking eyes with her.
But her eyes looked... troubled.
"And the good news?" Ruby asked, snapping me out of it.
"There is some, right?"
"O-Oh, yeah, ahem... right. The government can't help us. But... they gave out some refugee camp locations. These camps aren't run by the government—they just spotted them through satellite images. Populated zones, mostly near city edges. They said to head to the nearest one."
I looked around the table, then added, deadpan, "Also... I got superpowers."
Everyone stared at me for a second — blank, dead silence — except Stacy, Sofia, and Mom.
Claire narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure? You didn't hit your head or anything...?"
I didn't answer. I just reached for the crowbar I'd brought in from the garage; I'd kept it nearby for exactly this.
I held it up, gripped it tight, and bent it like it was made of foil.
Stacy jumped to her feet. "See! I told you!" she shouted at Sofia. "It's just like that!"
Ruby blinked. "Exactly like what?"
Stacy turned to Ruby. "You remember, right? When did Dad save us? Did you think I was exaggerating or something? There was, like, this blue aura around him—and look at him now. Doesn't he look different?"
Everyone stared at me. I gave a small nod. "Yeah... it's something like that."
Stacy raced around the table and stood next to me, practically vibrating. "So, Dad! Do you see, like... a system? A cheat menu? A voice in your head or something? Or does your left arm pulse or something?"
I laughed. "No, nothing like that. I just... feel strong. Faster. And I can see in the dark. That's it."
Ruby, almost under her breath: "I knew something changed yesterday."
Then louder, eyes on me.
"So how is that good news? You're just gonna put yourself at risk again. And if what Stacy says is true... couldn't we get stronger too? If we kill those things?"
I blinked. "Whoa — what? I'd never let you—"
"I'm not hearing it," Ruby cut me off. Her tone was sharp. "If you're going out there, I'm coming with you."
That shut me up.
She doesn't get angry at me often. But when she does — like this—I've learned it's best not to argue.
And, honestly, maybe she had a point.
"And I've got something to add," Mom's voice cut through the room, putting everything on pause.
We all turned to her.
She looked at Ruby, then back at us.
"Ruby has powers too," she said calmly.
The room went silent.