The boy clenched his fist and ran straight toward the group.
In a blink, he appeared between them and the mushroom-heads. Raising his arm, he said casually,
"Sorry, guys. I need these people for my birthday celebration… so die. Swaha."
Flames burst from his hands.
Wave after wave of fire rolled forward, swallowing the mushroom-heads whole. Screams dissolved into crackling ash as most of them burned where they stood.
When it was over, the boy turned back to the group. A faint smile curved his lips.
"Hey," he said lightly, as if nothing unusual had happened. "Come with me. That building is safe to live in."
Without waiting for an answer, he started walking.
After a moment of stunned silence, the group followed.
As soon as they entered the building, everyone covered their noses. The smell hit them hard—thick, bitter, unmistakable.
The boy noticed.
"Well… that's the ash of those zombies I burned," he said. "You'll get used to it. And don't worry—they won't come here because of it."
Even he had been surprised when he discovered that the mushroom-heads feared the ash of their own kind.
At first, it had been accidental. Whenever he burned them, he dumped the remains into a pit. One day, he noticed something strange—other mushroom-heads avoided that pit completely. He ignored it at first, but as the bodies piled up, they stopped using the road nearby altogether, choosing longer paths instead.
That's when he formed a theory.
If an ant sees a hundred dead ants on a road, he thought, it won't take that path.
He called it "Death on the Road."
To test it, he spread ash across the street.
It worked.
The mushroom-heads stopped coming—except for a few. After burning those too and adding their ash, the area became completely clear. The only problem was time. Wind carried the ash away, forcing him to repeat the process every few days.
Back to the present.
He avoided calling them mushroom-heads. The girls called them zombies, and he didn't want to sound strange—or raise questions.
He took a closer look at the group. Thin frames. Hollow faces.
Expected.
In a world where the mushroom-heads consumed almost everything, starvation was normal.
"So," he said casually, "what are your names? I forgot my own, so I can't really introduce myself."
They probably thought he was crazy. That was fine. If he claimed he didn't even remember his name, they wouldn't ask too many questions.
More importantly, if they ever found out the mushroom-heads didn't attack him for some reason… he didn't want to imagine the consequences.
"My name is Gauri," the girl said. "And this is my team."
She pointed her thumb at the woman holding multiple guns.
"This is Zoey. She manages our weapons."
Then she gestured to two girls standing close together.
"Priya and Diya. They're twins."
Finally, she turned to a woman holding two children.
"And this is our team doctor—Dr. Priyanka."
The woman smiled faintly.
"Hi. These are my kids, Rohan and Riya. Thank you for saving us." She pulled them closer.
He felt uneasy.
The fear in their eyes wasn't something he could fix. No one knew what others had faced after the apocalypse—what they had lost, what they had done to survive.
Suddenly, something stirred in his mind.
Looking at the girl again…
"You said your name is Gauri?" he asked.
She raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Any problem?"
"No, no," he said quickly. "I just… remembered someone with the same name."
Gauri.
A friend from tenth grade. A newly transferred student. They hadn't talked much at school, but she had been good at making friends. After school ended, they met again at tuition classes—on different floors of the same building. Somehow, they exchanged numbers.
She was probably the person he had talked to the most back then.
He took a step closer.
"So… how did you get here?"
Gauri stared at him. She felt it too—that strange familiarity. But how could she ask directly? The man didn't even remember his own name.
She stepped closer, studying his face.
In her mind, she erased the beard.
And suddenly, it clicked.
Her eyes widened. Before anyone could react, she rushed forward and hugged him tightly.
Everyone froze.
Zoey's hand flew to her gun.
The boy stiffened, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he noticed Zoey's movement.
Gauri hugged him tighter.
"I'm so happy," she said, her voice shaking, "that at least one of my friends is alive in this apocalypse."
Zoey stared. "Friend? What are you talking about?"
Gauri nodded.
"Yes. His name is Amitesh. Don't worry—he's not a bad person."
As the girls spoke, Amitesh stood there, stunned.
His name.
Now he was trapped—surrounded by a thousand questions.
He looked at the girl hugging him, calling him her friend.
So much for that plan.
Stepping back, he rubbed his temples, putting on his best Oscar-worthy performance.
"Are you okay, Amitesh?" Gauri asked with concern.
Zoey raised her gun, fully alert.
"Yes," he said calmly. "I just remembered everything. Thanks, Gauri."
"Well… that's good, then."
He nodded, relief washing over him. Thankfully, she hadn't grown suspicious.
"Before we talk more," he said, clapping his hands, "let me cook something. It's my first time having guests, so make yourselves comfortable."
He left them alone and entered the room he used as a kitchen.
Leftover rice from the morning. Vegetables he had grown himself.
Decision made.
Fried rice.
Soon, the sound of utensils clashing echoed through the building. After a while, he returned carrying plates and a pot, gripping it carefully with cloth wrapped around the edges.
He arranged the plates on the ground and filled them.
"Let's eat together. I don't know if you'll like it."
"You first," Zoey said, eyes sharp.
"Huh?" Amitesh blinked. "Isn't it rude to eat alone while everyone watches?"
"I'll eat with you," Gauri said, picking up her plate.
"Gauri, it might be a trap," Zoey warned. "Who knows what he mixed in it?"
"Don't worry, Big Sis Zoey," Gauri said gently. "If something happens, you're here."
She took the first bite.
"Hm," she said after a moment, smiling.
"I have to say, Amitesh—this is my first time eating your cooking, and I'm impressed."
Only after she finished did the others relax. Ten minutes later, when Gauri gave them a thumbs-up, the group finally began to eat.
The kids finished first.
"Don't eat too fast," Amitesh said. "There's more."
Thirty minutes later, everyone was done.
Amitesh spread bedsheets and pillows on the floor nearby, then stepped back.
"Get some rest. We can talk later."
He left them space. Trust was expensive in a world without laws. Only fools gave it freely.
In his own room, he lay awake.
Not because he didn't want to sleep—but because he couldn't fully trust them either. Especially not people carrying guns.
Rubbing his temples, he replayed the day's events.
He had wanted to meet people again.
Just… not like this.
Who knows what the future holds?