Alice woke up to someone clapping inside the tent.
Elena was waking everyone so the work could begin, but since Alice's group had arrived the previous night, they still hadn't been assigned any tasks.
Because of that, they were taken to the task board, which was under Kiril's supervision. The board was set up in a tent near Mikhail's house, between two large trees.
— It's already 08:20, you arrived late.
Kiril was a young man with red hair. Despite his age, his body carried several whip scars across his back. He had pale skin and a few freckles on his face.
— At least it's later than the farm. — Anastasia commented.
Most of the remaining tasks were somehow related to heavy labor. Since most people arrived at the camp in terrible condition, they generally lacked the strength for such work.
— I'll take cleaning the fabrics and refilling the water supply, is that okay with you? — Anastasia said.
There were no objections. To refill the water supply, someone had to gather large amounts of snow with a shovel, which would then be melted back into water.
Little physical effort was required, and she could drink as much water as she wanted during the process.
— Then I'll cut the firewo—
— I'll take the axe. — Alice said, interrupting Dmitri.
He looked at her. — Are you sure about that?
— Of course.
Anastasia scratched her head. — And do you even have the strength to lift the axe?
Alice blushed. — I'm not that weak!
She raised her hands dismissively. — If you say so.
Dmitri was responsible for carrying the chopped wood back to camp, though even if he insisted she wouldn't let go of the axe. If her size were as big as her stubbornness, she would be a giant.
Kiril handed the axe to the girl. As soon as she grabbed it, her hands dropped to the ground.
— Are you sure you want to cut firewood? — Kiril asked.
Alice walked off without saying a word.
— Make sure she doesn't hurt herself too badly. — He said to Dmitri.
The place where they were supposed to cut wood was far from the camp. Whether they liked it or not, the trees were a natural shield for them. If they wanted to cut some down, they had to advance a few kilometers away.
Once they were far enough, they began.
CRACK!
Alice drove the axe into a tree trunk with all her strength, her small body trembling instantly.
— Alice, you're going to hurt yourself...
— Just gather the wood!
A few hours passed. The girl's small fingers turned red, and parts of the skin on her hands were cut. Not to mention the pain in her spine from repeating the same motion incorrectly.
— I had almost forgotten what it was like to sweat this much. — Dmitri gathered the poorly cut logs. — You need a bath, urgently.
The girl sighed as sweat ran down her face.
Despite the enormous effort and difficulty, she would not let Dmitri touch the axe under any circumstances. The result was a small amount of firewood, along with unbearable physical pain that would probably knock on her door tomorrow.
After the task, they returned to camp with Alice holding onto trees so she wouldn't fall.
— Finally back. — Anastasia was cutting some fabric to throw into the fire. — A little longer and I would've had to use the whole blanke...
Anastasia looked closely at the girl's face, destroyed by exhaustion.
— Hahahaha...
— Have some consideration. — Dmitri said.
— She's sweating like a pig. — She laughed. — I didn't even know it was possible to sweat like that in this cold, hahaha...
It was almost 13:00 when Alice and Dmitri returned. They hadn't even had breakfast yet. And because of the delay in bringing the wood, lunch would take longer to be ready. But at least they wouldn't have to use fabric as fuel, at least for a while.
When they finally ate, it was around 14:27. Everyone in the camp gathered in a wooden house, where lunch would be served.
Mikhail sat at the head of a large table and was the first to be served. Only afterward did the others take their bowls and spoons to be served.
The food wasn't the best, but it was hot and filling. It was a soup made with beets grown in a small greenhouse at the camp. Along with it were boiled bones to thicken the broth, and a few small pieces of meat.
Basically bone and beet.
— So these are the newcomers? — said a woman with one arm missing.
— Ah! Yes, I still haven't introduced them to you.
Mikhail extended his hand toward where the group was sitting.
— These young people are Dmitri, Anastasia, and Alice. They are our new members coming directly from the farm.
— They look pretty healthy, didn't you have any complications during the escape? — said another member named Bagdan.
Dmitri stepped forward. — We were just lucky someone caused a disturbance.
— A disturbance? Did you start a riot?
— A madman broke in and blew up one of the barns. — Alice replied.
Most of the table was impressed.
— A group invaded that hell? — Bagdan crossed his arms. — Lucky you, at least did they kill some guards?
Alice took a moment to answer. — It wasn't a group.
Even Dmitri and Anastasia hadn't expected that answer. They had also been in the barn when Félix invaded, but they didn't know he had caused that chaos alone.
— Like I said, it was just one madman who invaded the farm.
Murmurs spread across the table as they talked among themselves about the event.
— Was he a "Gray"? — Bagdan asked.
Alice narrowed her eyes. — What is that?
— Mikhail didn't tell you yet?
— They arrived last night. They were too tired for questions, I preferred to wait.
Mikhail took a spoonful of soup, grabbed the bowl with both hands, and drank the beet broth. Slowly, he moved his empty bowl away so Elena could collect it.
— A "Gray" is the name we give to genetically modified people designed to withstand the cold.
A long explanation began at the lunch table. Alice paid attention to every word Mikhail said.
The exact date when these individuals began to appear is unknown, but it is estimated that the first prototypes were developed even before the heliothermal collapse became public.
Conspiracy theorists argue that the government already had astrophysical data on the progressive loss of solar mass and the consequent drop in Earth's thermal irradiation constant. Anticipating a scenario of extreme global cooling, classified research would have been initiated to induce physiological adaptation in human beings.
The first documented tests supposedly took place in the United States of America. Death row inmates disappeared from official records starting on July 23, 2030. All indications suggest that this marked the beginning of the experimental protocols.
The initial objective was relatively simple from a biomedical standpoint
To induce controlled hypermetabolism and increased basal cardiac output, elevating endogenous thermogenesis through mitochondrial superactivation.
In practical terms, the aim was to amplify basal metabolic rate, increase peripheral blood perfusion, stimulate mitochondrial activity in muscle tissues, and produce more ATP and body heat.
This would allow the organism to maintain thermal homeostasis even under extremely low temperatures.
The physiological cost was obvious
The need for exponentially greater caloric intake to sustain the metabolic flow.
These pieces of information were never made public. Leaks, in that geopolitical context, resulted in summary executions under accusations of national treason. The population used to summarize such cases with a bitter phrase
"He committed suicide with shots to the back."
During the Third World War, the protocols were altered. What had once been a climate adaptation project became a military enhancement program.
The biotechnological structure already existed. What changed was the application.
During that period, the metabolic protocols began to be combined with a potent and experimental substance called Axionil.
Years later, a diluted version was released on the market under the pretext of "Increasing cold tolerance."
It was a public health narrative.
In practice, it was involuntary population screening.
The drug only worked in individuals with a certain genetic compatibility. In others, it caused progressive metabolic failure, caloric consumption exceeding absorption capacity, hypercatabolic anemia, slow systemic degeneration, and hyperthermia.
The body cooked from the inside.
For most, it was a sentence of slow and painful death.
In 2034, near the end of the war, the so-called "Grays" began to emerge on a large scale. Soldiers with incredible capacity for functional muscle hyperplasia, accelerated tissue regeneration, extreme resistance to hypothermia, and the ability to withstand conventional lethal trauma.
Their regeneration was not magical, it was metabolic.
The body entered a state of super energy consumption, mobilizing lipid reserves, muscle proteins, and circulating iron to sustain accelerated cellular reconstruction.
This explained the whitening hair, nails detaching, and progressively pale skin.
It was not ordinary anemia, it was metabolic collapse due to systemic energetic exhaustion.
They could regenerate severe wounds, as long as there was still energetic substrate available.
Without calories, they died.
Even so, they presented devastating tactical advantages. In combat, they could even resort to consuming organic tissue from enemy soldiers as an emergency caloric source.
But there were structural limitations.
If the encephalic mass was destroyed, there was no possible regeneration. If the tissue was carbonized, protein denaturation prevented cellular replication.
Regeneration required viable matrix.
As the conflict advanced, they stopped being called humans and began to be designated as models.
Model No.1Model No.2Model No.3
Each generation presented greater metabolic efficiency and greater behavioral instability. The constant hyperactivation of the sympathetic nervous system produced psychotic episodes, extreme aggressiveness, dissociation, as well as psychosis and severe gnosis.
When the electrical grids and the internet collapsed, the records disappeared. All that remained were persistent rumors that their bodies operated at abnormally elevated internal temperatures.
That their metabolic rate could be so intense that their blood reached the borderline levels of physiological boiling.
In other words, their blood was capable of boiling.
— They are the Ashes the Sun left behind. Individuals who function like embers in a fire that has already gone out.
Alice finished her soup, thoughtful about what she had just heard. The spoon stopped halfway inside the bowl as she tried to organize her thoughts.
To her, it was as if the world were false. Living so many years in suffering, so much time thinking humanity was about to be extinguished, only to finally discover that they themselves were trying to extinguish it.
At such a delicate moment for the world, and they...
— I know it's a lot to absorb, but it's good to think about it from now on. But don't be so afraid, as I told you, they can die like any other living being.
The girl took a moment to respond. — The only true death is never living.
Mikhail fell silent. For a few seconds, he didn't take his eyes off the girl, as if she reminded him of someone.
He smiled in relief, his eyes shining for a moment as if ready to tear up.
— I hope you live a long time.
The way Alice acted was strange. She didn't question how Mikhail knew all that. Nor did she care about the details or what they had caused.
The only reaction Mikhail noticed was the strength with which she gripped the spoon.
When lunch ended, everyone returned to their tasks. But even with full stomachs, two people were drawing attention. Some laughed at the unexpected situation, while others tried to keep their distance.
And who else could be drawing attention? It was obvious it would be—
— No! You can give me back the axe, now!
— You're too slow, let me cut during the afternoon shift.
— I already said no!
Of course it would be Alice...
Anastasia watched the two arguing while sewing a jacket with a group of women.
— Is your friend always like this? — said Matilda, a young woman with black hair.
— I don't know if we can consider "friends"... But I think so.
Alice seemed even more stubborn. She wanted to use the axe no matter what, even if her body ended up in shreds afterward.
Maybe it was anger about something, or perhaps pure pride, or even a giant sense of helplessness. No one could answer that question just by looking at the situation.
After much insistence, Dmitri let her cut wood in the afternoon as well. He was even envied for having so much patience to deal with Alice's temperament. But the truth was that not even he understood why she was being so stubborn like that.
During the journey to the camp she had already shown signs of this, but now it seemed that everything had surfaced.
And so they continued their tasks, with small moments of rest between one laugh and another. Like the calm that precedes the storm forming on the horizon, with its heavy clouds thundering and frightening the birds in the distance.
The only doubt lingering in the air was
"How will they deal with the storm?"