Mirko stretched his arms over his head, stomach full, body tired… and then he caught a whiff of himself.
"Oh, god—okay, Mirko," he gagged, waving a hand in front of his nose. "You smell like ass. Maybe like… ass that died and came back infected."
He stood, dusting off his pants.
"Time to visit that pond again. Ten-minute walk. Maybe less if I don't get distracted. Or eaten."
He climbed down the rope ladder and dropped lightly onto the mossy ground. The forest around his treehouse was thick but familiar—his territory. The sun filtered through the leaves, painting gold streaks across the dirt path that only he knew existed.
He started down the trail, humming to himself. Birds chirped overhead—normal ones, thankfully, not the infected screeching nightmares.
As he walked, he flicked a small pebble ahead with the tip of his foot, watching it bounce off a tree.
"You ever think about how weird it is," he said to the forest, "that humanity ended, and nature was just like… 'cool, my turn'?"
A squirrel scrambled up a tree, pausing halfway to glare at him.
Mirko pointed at it. "Don't you start. I already fought your cousin last week."
He kept walking until the buildings thinned and the green thickened. Vines crawled over everything—old street signs, broken cars, even a toppled telephone pole now lying like a fallen giant. He ducked under a low branch, then stopped to stare at something half-buried in the dirt.
An old bicycle.
The metal was rusted, the chain snapped, but the basket on the front still had faded plastic flowers tied to it. Mirko crouched, wiping dirt off the handlebars.
"Man… someone probably rode this to school," he murmured, softer now. "They had no idea the end of the world was coming."
He stood again, brushing his fingers over one of the cracked flowers.
"Wish bikes still worked. Would save me like… so much walking."
He continued onward, stepping through thick grass that swallowed his boots with each step. The deeper he went, the cooler the air became, carrying the faint sound of water trickling.
Then the trees opened up, revealing the pond.
The surface shimmered like glass, reflecting the sky and the tangled branches leaning over it. Dragonflies skimmed across the water, and the faint mist hovering above the surface made it look almost magical—if magic had survived the apocalypse.
Mirko grinned.
"There it is. My personal bathtub slash spa slash five-star resort."
He stepped toward the edge, kicking off his boots.
"Alright, pond," he announced proudly. "Prepare yourself. I'm about to ruin your entire ecosystem."
Mirko had just peeled off his shirt, tossing it over a branch, when a faint crunch echoed through the trees.
He froze.
Another crunch.
Then the soft murmur of voices.
He blinked. "Okay… I'm going nuts. That's not footsteps. That's hunger. Or dehydration. Or—"
His stomach growled loudly.
"—yeah, maybe that."
But then the sound came again. Definitely footsteps this time.
He crouched behind a bush, eyes narrowed, heart thumping like it was trying to escape his chest.
"Maybe it's the honey," he whispered. "I didn't even open it yet and already I'm hallucinating bees."
He leaned forward, parting the leaves with shaking fingers.
And then his brain short-circuited.
Wtf…?
People.
Actual people.
Four silhouettes near the water's edge. Two guys. Two girls. Talking. Breathing. Holding guns. Big guns. Guns way bigger than the sad little thing in his treehouse.
Mirko's heart slammed so hard he felt it in his throat.
"Okay…" he mouthed. "Okay okay okay—those are real. That's—holy crap."
Before he could process the miracle-horror mixture bubbling in his veins, a large bird swooped down and landed on his head with all the grace of a drunk toddler.
"Shoo! Buddy—get off me—I got real business here!"
Instead, the bird dug its claws into his hair like it had found its new apartment.
"Ow—OW—stop that! You feathered demon!"
The bird screeched in his ear and began attacking his scalp like it was digging for treasure.
Mirko flailed, swatting wildly, but the creature only got angrier—flapping, pecking, screeching.
The noise was loud.
Very loud.
Too loud.
"Did you hear that?" a girl's voice snapped from the clearing.
Mirko froze mid–bird wrestling match.
"Heard it? Aiko, something is in those bushes," another voice said.
"What if it's one of those infected animals?" the third voice chimed in.
"It better not be," the fourth said, cocking a gun. "I'm not wasting bullets we don't have."
Mirko peeked over the bush just as the bird pecked him square on the forehead.
"OW—THAT'S IT—get OFF!"
He accidentally launched the bird into the air with one frantic swing. It screeched like he'd personally insulted its family and flew off.
Branches rustled.
Guns aimed his way.
One of the girls gasped, stepping back. "Shoot!! That's— that's an animal!"
The tall guy beside her lowered his weapon slightly.
"Wait… no. Look. He's… he's actually a boy."
Aiko leaned in, squinting. "Doesn't look like a boy. Looks like—an animal trying to pretend to be a boy."
"Hey!" Mirko shouted instinctively.
Silence.
Four barrels pointed straight at him.
He immediately threw both hands up—then remembered he was very, VERY naked.
He dropped one hand to cover himself.
"STOP! Okay—okay—okay just—just PLEASE don't shoot! I'm a guy! A very naked guy! Don't ask why—it's a long story!"
The group stared.
Mirko stared back, half-crouched, half-dying inside.
One of the girls whispered, "Why is he naked?"
The other answered, "Because he's an idiot?"
Mirko groaned. "Look, can we do this later? I'm trying not to die OR be traumatized today."
The four lowered their weapons slightly, confusion battling with curiosity.
Mirko swallowed hard, cheeks burning hotter than the apocalypse sun.
This was not how he imagined meeting humans again.
Not even close.
The bird finally decided it had punished him enough and flew off with a victorious chirp. Mirko sagged with relief, still covering himself with one hand like a tragic statue.
The tallest guy—the one who seemed to be in charge—cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Okay, uh… buddy? Grab some leaves and cover yourself up so we can talk."
Mirko blinked.
"…What?"
"Just… leaves," the guy said, gesturing vaguely at the forest. "Like… I don't know, make a cover? A… leaf skirt or something?"
Mirko stared at him like he'd just suggested he eat dirt.
"WTF you mean grab myself a leaf?!"
The guy raised his hands in surrender.
Mirko pointed aggressively at the neatly folded pile of clothes beside the pond.
"My clothes are RIGHT THERE. Literally ten steps from me. Do I LOOK like I crawled out of a cave?"
The group looked at each other.
Mirko didn't stop.
"I mean seriously, I bathe at a pond ONCE and suddenly I'm 'Caveman Mirko of the Forest Tribe.' Like bro, calm down. I'm not Tarzan. I just don't have a comb. Or shampoo. Or electricity. Or—"
The girl with short black hair—Aiko—snorted so hard she almost choked.
Her friend elbowed her, whispering something Mirko could still hear:
"He's funny."
"I'm FUNNY?" Mirko echoed, offended but flattered. "Lady, I'm NAKED. This is not my comedy era."
The tall guy pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Buddy. Please. Just grab your clothes so we can talk properly."
"Thank you!" Mirko threw his free hand up dramatically—then yelped and immediately slapped it back down to cover himself.
"See? Clothes. I know what they are. I wear them. Frequently. When I'm not being assaulted by a bird."
Aiko tried to hide her laugh behind her hand.
The smaller boy beside her muttered, "He's like… unhinged."
Mirko stomped over, scooping up his shirt and pants with one hand while still trying to maintain dignity. It was an absolute disaster, but he managed.
The tall guy cleared his throat again.
"…We'll just… turn around."
"Yeah. Please do," Mirko muttered. "Let me reclaim what little dignity I have left."
The group turned their backs politely—well, mostly politely. Aiko definitely peeked once before the other girl smacked her arm.
Mirko quickly pulled his clothes back on, hair a total bird-nest disaster, heart racing, mind spinning.
People.
Actual people.
And he had greeted them wearing nothing but panic and shame.
He exhaled, stepping forward.
"Okay," he said softly. "I'm dressed. Now we can talk."
Behind him, a single bird chirped in the trees.
Mirko glared upward.
"Try it again, I swear to god."
Mirko rubbed at his hair, still messy from the bird incident. "Okay… so, like… five people roaming the Earth? Not bad." He smirked, as if he'd just discovered some hidden statistic.
The tall guy raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Mirko shrugged, leaning against a tree. "I mean… uh… are there other survivors? How did you all survive? Umm… you know what? Don't answer that." He waved his hand dismissively, pretending he hadn't just asked the world's most obvious question.
The tall guy exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose like he'd aged twenty years in the last ten seconds. "Okay, buddy… I don't know how you isolated yourself out here, but—you're literally not alone."
"Wait… what? Other survivors?" Mirko's eyes went wide. "Like… a lot more? Out there… in actual… rebuilt cities?"
The tall guy nodded. "Yes. Cities. Buildings. Functional—well, sort of. Civilization, buddy."
Mirko's face lit up like he'd just discovered a candy store. "Whaaaat?! Like… good buildings? Food? Music? Real music?! People not trying to kill each other every five minutes?" He bounced on the balls of his feet.
The tall guy held up a hand. "Okay, buddy. Calm down. You don't actually want to be there."
Mirko froze. "Wait… what? Don't want to be there?"
"It's not… like the place you imagine," the tall guy said, glancing toward the forest as if the trees might judge him for explaining it.
The shorter girl—Aiko—cut in, rolling her eyes. "Yes, we're actually runaways."
The tall guy nodded, adding, "Yes. Runaways. And we're out here in this concrete jungle, trying to find our new home."
Mirko blinked, letting it sink in. Concrete jungle? Runaways? Other humans? Food that didn't taste like dirt? Music that didn't sound like screams?
He raised his hands like he was surrendering to a miracle. "Okay… wow. Okay. I don't know what to say. I—this is insane. I thought I was the last guy on Earth. And now… you're telling me there's a city? A city!"
Aiko snorted, nudging the girl beside her. "He's so dramatic."
Mirko ignored her, spinning in a small circle like a kid who just discovered fire. "I—uh—I have questions. Like… a lot of questions. Where's the food? How do you sleep without dying? Do you have, like… musical instruments? Can I come? Can I see it? Do you have candy? What about—"
"Buddy." The tall guy held up both hands. "Let's… take it slow. Step one: calm down. Step two: introduce yourself properly. Step three: maybe stop shouting about candy."
Mirko paused, blinking at him. Then shrugged. "Okay… fair. But, uh… this is amazing."
He grinned, feeling the weird, fluttery kind of hope he hadn't felt in years. "Actual humans. Not dead humans. Actual humans! I—I don't even care about the bird anymore."
Aiko smirked. "You might change your mind when it pecks your hair again."
Mirko raised an eyebrow. "Then it better be prepared for a proper fight."