A small wooden house stands quietly on the outskirts of a forested area. The setting sun casts a warm glow. On the edge of the world, far from the city, a family of three lived in peace. Dean, a joyful 10-year-old, races down the hallway with a toy plane in hand. Zack and Zoey sit on the couch, sharing popcorn and watching TV. They glance toward the hallway, smiling.

Dean (yelling playfully): Captain Dean, ready for take-off!

Zoey: He’s really into it today.

Zack (chuckling): He’s got your fire.

Dean’s toy slips from his hand mid-run and bounces down the stairs to the basement.

Dean: Oh no! Not again!

A figure in black clothing and gloves crouches by the side of the house, holding a container. His face is hidden by a hood.

Dean’s voice, older: But someone else was watching…

The mysterious figure begins pouring gasoline around the edges of the house, staying in the shadows. Dean is inside the basement, crawling under a shelf to grab his toy. Unaware. Dusty, dim light.

Dean (muttering): Almost… got it…

The figure flicks open a lighter, the flame reflecting in his dark eyes. The gasoline ignites near the wooden back porch. Flames start to crawl rapidly up the walls. From the living room, the orange glow is suddenly visible through the window. Zack sits up straight, alarmed.

Zack: Zoey… what the hell?

Zoey (eyes widening): That’s fire!

The mysterious figure walks away calmly into the woods, flames growing behind him. Only a dark shape remains.

It wasn’t an accident…

The living room is now glowing red orange from the spreading fire. Thick black smoke begins pouring in from the kitchen doorway. Both parents rush to their feet, covering their mouths, eyes wide with terror.

Zack (standing up suddenly): THE HOUSE!!

Zoey (coughing): THE FIRE!!

Zack: Where’s Dean?! Did he go outside?

Zoey (panicked): I haven’t seen him… HE Was PLAYING!!

A faint clink sound comes from downstairs, the basement door is cracked open, and now smoke is starting to drift toward it. Zack grabs Zoey’s shoulders with urgency, eyes locked.

Zack: We’ll cover more ground if we split up.

Zoey (tearful, nodding): O-Okay. Be careful…!

Zack runs toward the hallway, shouting: Zoey bolts toward the back door, coughing through the smoke.

Zack (yelling): DEAN! DEAN, WHERE ARE YOU?!

Zoey (thinking): Please be safe, baby…

The fire is now raging flames burst through walls; the ceiling above begins to crack and fall. Smoke fills every corner. The house is becoming a death trap. In mere minutes, their home was no longer a home… but a burning grave.

Dean is curled up in the corner of the basement, hugging his toy plane tightly, eyes wide in fear. He hears crashing above.

Dean (thinking): What’s happening…?

Zack opens the basement door and sees thick smoke pouring down the stairs. He hesitates for a second… then bolts down.

Zack (thinking): Please… let me find him in time!

Zoey kicks open the back door but is met with an inferno outside the whole back porch is engulfed in fire.

Zoey (screaming): ZACK!! IT’S COLLAPSING!!”

Sweat and soot cover his face as he sees something faintly in the shadows.

Zack (gasp): …Dean?!

Flames are now curling down the staircase, and parts of the ceiling are collapsing. Dean is trapped, backed into a corner surrounded by burning debris.

Dean (screaming, eyes wide): DAD!! MOM!! SOMEBODY!!

Zack freezes for a moment as he hears Dean’s voice echo through the smoke. His eyes sharpen.

Zack charges down through the smoke-filled basement, shielding his face, yelling back:

Zack (thinking): That way he’s still alive!!

Zack (yelling): DEAN!! I’M COMING!! HOLD ON!!

Dean is crying, covering his ears as burning wood collapses around him. A plank crashed down, smashing into his left arm before scraping along it. Splinters ripped into his skin, peeling it raw as a jagged cry burst from his throat. He stumbled back, clutching the arm, but the sting only deepened sharp, burning, alive until it felt like the wood had left fire crawling under his flesh.

Dean: AAAH!! Dad!!

Zack bursts through the flames, grabbing and tossing burning debris with his bare hands to clear the path to Dean.

Zack (softly): I’ve got you, soldier. We're getting out.

In that moment, all fear vanished there was only one mission…

Zack sprints up the basement stairs with Dean cradled tightly against his chest. The wooden

railing collapses as he runs, flames licking at his back. A beam from the basement ceiling partially collapses. Zack lowers his shoulder and crashes through it with sheer force, protecting Dean. Zack emerges into the living room. The sofa is ablaze. The front door is blocked by broken beams and falling ash.

The front door was only meters away… but it felt like miles.

Zack kicks and punches through collapsed wood blocking the door with one arm while holding Dean with the other.

Zack (teeth clenched): NNGH!! ALMOST THERE!! (yelling through smoke) STAY WITH ME, DEAN!!

The front door BURSTS open as Zack charges through it, engulfed in smoke, Dean in his arms. Behind them, flames swallow the hallway.

They made it out… but not all of them.

Zack bursts out of the burning house with Dean in his arms. The sky is black with smoke and flaming pieces of the roof collapse behind him. His body burned. His lungs burned. But his heart burned hotter to save his son. Zack sprints across the yard toward a small metal shed, barely lit in the firelight. Dean is limp in his arms, clutching the toy plane.

Dean (barely whispering): D-Dad…

Zack: Just a little further… Just hold on…

Zack kneels on the cold floor and lays Dean down gently on an old, folded blanket. His hands tremble, covered in soot. For a moment, there was silence. A small corner of the world untouched by the flames. Dean’s eyes are fluttering closed. His face is pale, left arm burned, body shaking. Zack places his hand on Dean’s chest, gently but firmly, looking him in the eye.

Dean (softly): Where’s… Mom…?

Zack (off-panel): …She’s still inside. (calm but serious) Listen to me, Dean. Stay here. Don’t move.

You’re safe now.

Dean: B-but… you’re leaving…

Sweat, ash, and tears stream down Zack’s face. His eyes reflect the fire behind him.

Zack: I’m going to get your mother. I promise… I’ll bring her back.

Dean watches through blurry eyes as Zack stands, turns, and runs toward the fire once more. His figure fades into the smoke.

Dean’s voice, older: That was the last time I ever saw him alive…

[Dean’s Bedroom] Flames crawl across the walls. Zoey, coughing and sweating, is searching wildly, looking under the bed, behind furniture.

Zoey (yelling): DEAN?! WHERE ARE YOU, SWEETHEART?!

Suddenly, a massive wooden beam crashes down near the door behind her, blocking the exit. Another fiery beam collapses in front of the window.

Zoey (gasping): No… I’m trapped!

She turns, slips on burning rubble, and falls hard to the floor. As she lands, another heavy timber beam crashes down on her lower body, pinning her completely. A ragged scream tears from Zoey’s throat, raw and piercing, echoing through the wreckage. Hot tears blur her vision, sliding over dust-streaked cheeks. Her leg trapped won’t obey her desperate commands; it’s as if it belongs to someone else. Her arms shake violently, muscles screaming as she shoves at the heavy beam crushing her lower body, the cold, unyielding weight refusing to budge. Every breath taste of grit and rust, every heartbeat thunders in her ears.

Zoey (sobbing): Z-Zack…! Help me…!! Please…”

The flames get closer. Her strength fades. She lays there, smoke rising around her, still crying.

Zoey (weak voice): Please… not yet… not until I know he’s okay…

Zack smashes through the burning hallway, eyes scanning wildly. He spots her through the broken doorway. Zack rushes in and throws the fallen wood aside, finally reaching her. His hands are trembling. He drops to his knees beside her.

Zack (shouting): ZOEY!! I’M HERE!! (panicking) Oh God no no no…

Her face is pale, bruised, ash stained. She opens her eyes weakly as tears slide down her cheeks.

Zoey (whispering): Zack… is Dean… okay?

Zack chokes back emotion as he gently holds her hand. His eyes well up.

Zack (smiling through tears): Yes… our little angel is safe. He’s outside… he’s waiting.

Zoey lets out a soft sob of relief and smiles with tear-filled eyes.

Zoey: Thank goodness… I just… I wish I could feel his warmth… one more time…

She leans her head gently against Zack’s chest. Her body goes still. Her eyes begin to close, lips part in peace.

And with that final thought… she let go.

Zack holds her tightly, his voice trembling. He rocks gently, refusing to believe what just happened.

Zack (crying): Don’t say stuff like that… Everything will be fine. I’m going to get us out… Just hang in there…

Zack gently lifts Zoey’s lifeless body into his arms. His legs are shaking. The house is collapsing around him burning beams fall, smoke swallows the ceiling. Even with her gone… he still carried her. Because that’s what love is. He stumbles forward, coughing violently. His vision is blurring. His arms begin to tremble under her weight.

Zack (thinking): Almost there… just a little more…

His eyes widen suddenly. The smoke has overwhelmed him. Blood trickles from his nose. He drops to one knee.

Zack (thinking): I… I can’t breathe…

Zack falls to the ground, his body covering Zoey’s. He’s shaking, coughing, his face soaked with tears and ash. His strength had reached its end. But his heart hadn’t. He lays beside his wife, whispering through the agony, his voice cracking like the burning wood around him. A single tear falls from Zack’s eye, landing in the ash below.

Zack: Dean… I’m so sorry… I couldn’t… keep my promise… (whispering) Please… forgive me…

Zack stares upward through a hole in the ceiling. Flames dance around the edges. He places a hand on Zoey’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

Zack (whispering): God… please… protect our little angel…

Zack’s hand slowly slips off Zoey’s arm. His eyes close. Both of them lie still together, surrounded by smoke and silence.

Dean’s voice, older: And just like that… I became alone.

The entire house is engulfed in flames. Wooden beams collapse inward, sending sparks into the dark sky. The sound of burning fills the air. The fire showed no mercy… and neither did fate. Dean stands outside the small shed. His left arm is bandaged in torn cloth, bleeding and burned. He watches in complete silence.

(Dean’s voice): I waited… because he said he’d come back…

Tears well up in his eyes. His lips are trembling. His father’s words echo faintly.

Zack (voice echo): I’ll bring her back. I promise.

The sky is darker now. Ash falls like snow. The house is a pile of burning ruins. A half-broken wall crumbles into the fire. Half an hour passed. But no one came out…

Dean drops to his knees, still staring. His toy plane lies beside him in the dirt, untouched. His arm is trembling as he clutches it close.

Dean (whispers): …Dad…?

The boy’s small body is outlined against the flaming wreckage. He’s completely alone, bathed in orange light and smoke. The house was gone… and so was everything in it. Dean’s knees buckle. His head lowers. His body collapses slowly to the ground.

My home… my world… turned to ashes.

Dean lies unconscious on the ground outside the wreckage, one arm stretched toward the fire, the other burned and limp. No words. Just wind. Just flames.

The sun begins to rise over the charred remains of the house. Smoke still rises from the ashes. It’s eerily quiet a world in black and gray. The fire was gone… but so was everything else. Dean is still unconscious, ash covering his face. His toy plane is in his hand, barely hanging on. His left arm is burned and bruised. I don’t remember how long I was out…

Boots step into frame near Dean’s head old, worn leather boots. The figure’s shadow falls over him. A tall man with a hooded cloak, dark stubble on his jaw, and calm, sharp eyes kneels beside Dean. He says nothing at first.

Mikey (thinking): Another soul left to rot in this cruel world, huh…

He reaches out and gently touches Dean’s neck to check if he’s breathing. His expression stays calm.

Mikey (softly): You’re alive… huh.

Dean’s eyes flutter open. Through a haze, he sees Mikey’s face for the first time backlit by the rising sun. He hears a low voice.

Mikey (voice fading in): Hey… can you hear me, kid?

Dean tries to speak but only lets out a whisper, eyes still full of shock.

Dean (whispers): …Dad…?

Mikey gently lifts Dean into his arms. Dean’s body is limp, head resting against Mikey’s shoulder.

Mikey: Don’t worry, kid. I’ve got you now.

Mikey walks away from the burning ruins, carrying Dean in his arms. The fire is dying behind them. Ashes blow through the wind.

Dean’s voice, older: He never asked what happened. He never asked my name. He just carried me like it was the only thing left worth saving.

Sharp but kind, looking forward. That was the day I met Mikey… the man who became my new father. Multiple emergency vehicles surround the burning remains of the house. Flashing red and blue lights cut through the early morning haze.

By the time they arrived… it was all over.

Firefighters hose down the last flickers of flame. Police put up yellow tape. A crowd gathers behind the lines, whispering in shock.

Officer (muttering): Total loss. Not even a wall left standing.

A forensics officer picks up a half-burnt toy from the ashes, dropping it in a plastic bag. Another takes photos, their faces solemn.

Firefighter: We found two bodies near the core. Adult-sized.

A detective in a brown coat looks around. Charred wood. No survivors. No camera footage. No witnesses.

Detective: No signs of forced entry… no accelerants left… it's like the fire erased everything.

Ashes blow across the wreckage. One cop coughs and covers their mouth. They didn’t know… someone had already come and gone. A walkie-talkie crackles on an officer’s chest.

Radio: All units, no survivors confirmed. Mark it as closed… accidental fire. Awaiting coroner.

The officials begin to pack up. The house is nothing more than black debris now. The sky is gray. The last firefighter leaves frame.

(Dean’s voice): They never found me. They never knew I lived… and no one asked why the fire started. That truth… died with my home.

In the distance, a small figure Mikey is walking away from the hill with a child in his arms. Peaceful, unnoticed. A pickup truck drives up a steep, narrow mountain path. Fog surrounds the road. The distant forest stretches below. He didn’t take me to a hospital… or a city. He took me far away… to the mountains. A quiet wooden cabin nestled between tall pine trees. Peaceful. Isolated. Smoke rises gently from the chimney. That’s where I met Cristina. His wife.

Cristina stands by the bedside, looking at Dean with sadness and warmth. Her hands nervously clutch her apron. She couldn’t give Mikey a child of his own. So, when he brought me in… she didn’t hesitate.

Dean wakes up slowly in a warm bed. His arm is wrapped in clean bandages. The room smells like herbs and firewood.

Dean (groggy): …Mom…? Dad…?

Mikey walks into the room, carrying a small bowl of soup. He pauses when he hears Dean's words.

Mikey (softly): Hey. You're safe now.

Dean jolts upright, confused and overwhelmed. His face twists in fear and sadness.

Dean: Where… where’s my mom?! My dad?!

Mikey places the soup down and sits beside Dean, putting a steady hand on his shoulder. Calm but firm.

Mikey: They're not here, kid. I'm sorry…

Dean stares at him in silence then lowers his head and lets out a deep, shaking cry. Mikey says nothing, just sits there with him. That was the first time I cried in someone’s arms since the fire… and he just sat there, holding me through it.

...Two Years Later...

Dean, now a bit older, is outside with two other kids they adopted, Stacy (tough, older sister type) and Bryan (goofy, kind-hearted boy). They're practicing with wooden sticks and doing survival drills. Over time… I stopped surviving alone. Mikey began teaching me survival, hunting, tracking…

Cristina brings out bowls of stew. All three kids run up to her with excitement. Cristina taught us warmth. Patience. And how to laugh again. Mikey is kneeling, showing Dean and the other kids how to strike flint and spark dry leaves. We became a team. A family… even if none of us shared blood. All five Mikey, Cristina, Dean, Bryan, and Stacy sit together on a wooden porch as the sun sets, eating dinner.

He gave us something we never thought we’d have again…

Dean, now 12, sits alone under the stars, hugging his knees. But he’s calm. A peaceful expression on his face.

…A home.

The mountain home glowing warmly under the starlit sky. Forest winds whistle gently. Peace has returned.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Dean: Ten years… and it still feels like yesterday.

Close-up of young Dean (age 10), covered in soot, eyes reflecting orange flames. A scream echoing in the background. Dean’s mother (Zoey) trapped under a beam, reaching out with trembling fingers. Her face is tear-streaked, eyes glassy.

Zoey (weakly): …Is our Dean safe…?

Zack screaming over his shoulder, coughing, holding Dean in his arms near the exit.

Zack: Wait for me outside… I’ll bring her back!

Now 20 years old, Dean rolls aggressively in his sleep. Sweat on his face, brows furrowed. He's clearly in distress. “I hear their voices. I see the flames. Over… and over…”

Cristina, now in her 50s, opens the bedroom door. A tray of breakfast in her hands. She stops in the doorway, worried.

Cristina (softly): Dean…?

Dean kicks the blanket off, gripping his head. Breathing heavily. A small shout escapes his lips in his sleep.

Dean (sleep-talking): Mom… Dad… No!

The tray shakes in her hands. A cup falls and shatters.

Cristina (alarmed): DEAN!

Dean shoots upright, eyes wide, breathing fast. Sweat drenched, face full of panic. A scar can be seen on his left arm.

Dean (screaming): AAAAAARGH!!!

Cristina stands at the door, hand over her chest, tears slightly forming in her eyes. Dean clutches his head, panting.

Cristina (softly): …It’s okay, sweetie. It’s just a dream…

Dean lowers his head, eyes shadowed. A single tear drops from his chin.

Dean (whispers): Then why does it still feel so real?

Cristina gently touches Dean’s shoulder, her expression soft and worried as he wakes up from the nightmare.

Cristina (tenderly): Dean… are you okay?

Dean looks up, still breathing heavily from the dream. He nods faintly.

Cristina (off-panel): Was it… that dream again?

Cristina pulls him into a motherly hug. Dean doesn’t resist—his face hidden in her shoulder.

Cristina (whispering): You’re safe now… everything’s okay. (gently, pulling back) Now come on, get ready for breakfast. (smiling warmly) I love you.

Cristina exits the room, leaving Dean in a quiet, thoughtful moment. “She always says it like she means it… like my real mom would’ve.” Mikey leans on the doorframe, arms crossed, with a half-smile on his face.

Mikey: You plan to keep that bed warm all day, birthday boy?

Dean lets out a small smirk, his posture relaxing.

Dean: Took you long enough to show up.

Mikey: Happy 20th, kid. (grinning) Today’s not just any day it’s your first time going to the city.

Dean: The city?

Mikey: There’s a festival today…music, lights, chaos. Stacy and Bryan are already up and waiting

for you in the living room. They’ve never been to the city either.

As Mikey opens the door, light from the hallway frames his figure.

Mikey: Get ready. Go make memories with your siblings. (smiling) I love you, son.

Dean looks toward the window where the morning light shines in contemplating, but grateful. “I lost everything once... but somehow, I found something just as real.” Dean stands up from bed, stretching, now with a calmer face. His earlier tension is replaced by a small, peaceful smile. “Their love… it really does make it easier to breathe.”

He starts getting dressed. Focus on him slipping his left arm into the sleeve slowly revealing faded scars and bruising. “Time to move forward…”

Mikey’s voice echoes through the wooden house.

Mikey (calling out): Stacy! Bryan! Let’s go!

Stacy, already dressed up, leans out from the living room.

Stacy (grinning): I’m ready, Dad!

Mikey squints with a mild scowl.

Mikey: ...Bryan?

Bryan (yelling): Alright alright, old man Mikey, keep your pants on! Geez!

Dean, Bryan and Stacy gather at the living room. Dean looks a bit reserved but calm. Bryan’s smirking lazily. Stacy is already buzzing with energy.

Stacy (teasing): Y’all ladies or what? What took you so long?

Without waiting, she tugs them both toward the door with excitement.

Dean: Hey…calm down would ya

Stacy: Come on! First city trip! We are NOT going to be late!”

Mikey’s arm wrapped around Cristina’s shoulders. Both smiling proudly like parents seeing their kids off.

Mikey: Make sure you leave space in your stomach

Cristina (smiling): Because we’re celebrating mountain-style when you get back!

They both wave as the trio walks off. Cristina’s eyes shine. Mikey smiles proudly.

Both (in unison): We love you guys so much.

“For the first time… the mountain wind carried something new… freedom, laughter, and the start of something bigger.” Far in the distance, two shadowy figures, a man and a woman stand half-hidden among trees, watching the home silently.

“But not all eyes were filled with love that morning…”

The woman peers through binoculars focused on Mikey’s house. The man beside her writes something in a small notebook, eyes sharp.

Mysterious Man (low voice): He built himself a cozy little nest out here…

Mysterious Woman (flatly): Still… the boy survived. Just like he said.

Dean rides a shotgun, Bryan hops in back. Stacy gives a proud smirk with the keys in her hand.

Stacy: Let’s hit the road, boys!

The figures remain perfectly still in the brush. Their expressions are unreadable as they observe Mikey’s house, not chasing just watching. “They weren’t here to stop him… not yet.”

Stacy drives Mikey’s old but well-kept SUV through a scenic mountain route, windows down, wind blowing through their hair. Dean sits in the front seat, Bryan in the backseat yawning with arms crossed.

Stacy (grinning): Next stop: civilization!

Bryan: If this city sucks, I’m blaming both of you.

Dean (smirking): Let’s just hope it has good food.

The siblings enter a bustling city district decorated for the annual festival. Streamers, lanterns, food stalls, and street performers flood the streets. “For the first time, the mountain kids

tasted the city’s heartbeat…” Stacy hops out excitedly while Dean stretches. Bryan lazily steps

out, rubbing his eyes.

Stacy (pumped): Alright! Time to blow off some steam!

Dean (smiling softly): Let’s make some memories.

Dean eats Takoyaki for the first time, wide-eyed.

Stacy joins a dance circle, dragging Bryan in.

Dean wins a mini game and hands a plushie to a random child, smiling.

The trio take a selfie under glowing lanterns, laughter all around. His eyes closed, carefree, truly happy for once. Dean laughed without fear… without weight…

Back home, Mikey’s house glows gently in the dusk. A faint shadows moves among the trees behind it.

…not knowing that back home, something dark had already begun.

“Another horrific event was about to take place…”

(Dark, shadowy room – unknown masked man seated on a throne-like chair): His face is hidden under a sleek black mask, only his glowing red eyes visible through the shadows. A single dim light flicks overhead. He holds an old phone to his ear.

Masked Man (coldly): Proceed with the plan.

(Cut to the mountains – the two mysterious figures): Their phone vibrates. The man answers quickly. The woman is already on alert.

Mysterious Man (on phone): Yes… understood.

The call ends instantly.

A glimpse of a strange symbol on a gadget. The man adjusts a strange ring on his hand. Both figures start walking toward Mikey’s house from the woods. The shadows began to move…

The two sit on a bed made neatly, soft lamps glowing beside them. Cristina gently folds clothes as Mikey stares out the window thoughtfully.

Cristina (softly): Do you think… we raised them well, Mikey?

Mikey (smiling): They’ve become stronger than I ever hoped for.

Suddenly his smile vanishes. His fingers dig into his scalp. Cristina quickly leans in, alarmed.

Cristina (worried): Mikey? What’s wrong?!

Mikey trembles, eyes wide open but seeing nothing.

Cristina: Are you… are you having a vision again?

No response. Mikey’s mind fades out

(Vision world – blurry, greyish haze): A child stands alone in the middle of a void, crying. We can’t see their face clearly — it’s all warped and shadowed.

Mikey (voiceover, echoing): …The same vision again. But why does it keep coming back…

A huge house appears behind the child, engulfed in fire. Mikey watches from a distance, eyes wide with shock.

Mikey (voiceover): Wait… this wasn’t here before…

His eyes widen, his mouth barely moves, but one phrase escapes as he stares at the burning house.

Mikey (whispers): “No… that’s our house… this can’t be real”

Cristina is shaking Mikey, panic on her face. The room glows orange from outside flames flickering through the curtains.

Cristina (yelling): Mikey! Mikey, snap out of it!!

(Mikey gasps back to consciousness) He grabs Cristina’s hands, disoriented but alert. She sighs in relief, holding him tightly for a second.

Cristina (tearful): Thank God… you’re back…

Through the window’s smoke-glazed glass, he sees two shadowy figures standing silently outside, no emotion just watching as the fire builds around the house.

Mikey (internal): They’re here… just like in the vision…

Flames begin to creep up the wooden walls. Gasoline burns in a ring around the property. The figures watch from a few meters away, their faces hidden.

“They came to erase what was once a safe haven…”

The living room is filled with smoke and embers. Cristina stands beside Mikey as smoke rises through the floorboards. They both look at the windows and doors all blocked by debris or flames.

Cristina (softly, trembling): …This was your vision, wasn’t it?

Mikey slowly nods, his face shadowed with guilt.

Mikey: Yes…

Cristina closes her eyes, holding back tears.

Cristina: Then… we can’t escape it, can we?

She grips Mikey’s hand tightly. He looks at her with quiet resolve… Mikey responds, clenching his jaw.

Mikey: The vision didn’t show me how to stop it… But we must try.

They run from room to room, they check windows, doors, even try the attic but every route is burning or blocked. The house is a trap.

“But fate had already made its decision…just like last ten years ago”

Coughing, surrounded by fire, they stumble back to the living room. Mikey grabs his old phone; Cristina wipes her face. Mikey opens the FAMILY group chat.

Mikey (voice breaking): There’s no way out… everywhere is blocked (tears fills his eyes) but… we can still leave them something.

Flames dance behind them. Their eyes are teary but steady. Cristina rests her head on Mikey’s shoulder as he hits ‘record.’

Mikey (to the camera): Hey there… our little treasures (trying to hold his tears) we’re sorry…

sorry that we won’t be with you guys for the rest of your wonderful journey (tears break out) If

you're seeing this… then we didn’t make it.

Cristina (softly, smiling through tears): We love you… all of you. Don’t ever forget that.

Her voice cracks, but she smiles through tears. They sit close together on the couch, flames flickering behind them, the orange glow painting their faces with warmth and sorrow. The phone’s timer shows the minutes slipping away.

“The timer hits 00:08:30”

Mikey shares an unknown truth.

The timer hits 00:00:59, the screen glows with final embers. Mikey and Cristina turn toward each other. They share one last kiss, gentle and filled with pain and peace.

Cristina (whispers): …Let’s meet in heaven.

Mikey (softly): I’ll be waiting.

Outside the house, a flash of light through the smoke-filled window as the phone sends the

video.

“And then… silence.”

(Dark room, back to the masked man sitting in front of monitors) A dim glow lights the masked man’s face as his burner phone rings. His gloved hand picks it up.

SFX (Phone): Ring… Ring…

Masked Man (coldly): “Speak.”

On the other end, the two mysterious figures stand in a forest clearing.

Mysterious Man (through phone): Job done.

Masked Man (grins beneath his mask): Splendid work…

He lets out a low, wicked laugh.

Masked Man (continued): I’ll transfer your money through.

*SFX: Click. (Call ends)

Back to the festival sunset begins turning the sky overcast. Crowds are starting to thin out. The trio, still smiling, walks along a row of food stalls. Unaware of anything wrong.

“Meanwhile, at the festival…”

Dark clouds gather above, casting long shadows over the colorful booths.

“The clouds began to turn… and so did fate.”

Rain starts falling as thunder rumbles – light drizzle at first. Dean looks up, as raindrops land on his face. Bryan makes a comment, annoyed. Stacy starts pulling out the keys.

Bryan: Well… that ruined the mood.

Stacy: Come on. Let’s head back before it gets worse.

They return to Mikey’s SUV, parked by a forested lot nearby. Stacy unlocks the door while Dean and Bryan hop in, still laughing. Dean’s phone is still off in his pocket.

“Their phones… still off. The final message from home undelivered.”

Stacy at the wheel, starting the car, she glances at the rearview mirror where Dean is seated, humming. Bryan is playing with a keychain he won.

Stacy: Let’s go surprise the old man.

SUV driving off through the rain-soaked road, thunder echoes in the distance as they leave the city behind, unaware of the horror awaiting them at home.

“They drove toward the mountains… smiling, laughing… not knowing their world had already burned.”

Rain pours hard. As they get closer, smoke still lingers in the air. The headlights cut through

the mist. As they reached the house… the remaining smoke poured out, filling the air… and

their hearts… with dread. The trio steps out of the car, faces pale with fear. Stacy grips the car

door tightly. Bryan stands frozen. Dean's eyes are wide, heart pounding.

Fear took over. Each of them imagining the worst…

Dean starts running toward the ruins of the house, his breath heavy, the rain soaking him, but

he doesn’t stop. The smoke clears as the last flames die under the storm.

“But Dean… ran."

What once was home now lies in blackened rubble. Charred, silent, and empty. And when they saw what remained… their worst fears came true.

Stacy falls to her knees, crying uncontrollably.

Stacy: N–no… No!!

Bryan stands stiff, fists clenched, lips trembling as he fights back tears.

Bryan (whispering): Old man… Mom…

Dean has a flashback, quick flashes of Mikey, Cristina, the house in flames… his parents ten years ago… overlapping.

“Not again… not again… not again…”

Dean drops to his knees, clutching the wet earth tears mixing with the rain. He throws his head back and lets out a raw, broken scream that echoes loudly through the mountains.

Dean: AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

“And just like that… Dean's world burned for the second time.”

To be continued...

The three siblings cried until their throats ached and their eyes could no longer hold any more tears. The night carried their grief like a cruel echo, the smell of smoke still clinging to the air. Stacy, though her own body trembled, forced herself to stand tall.

Stacy: We need to leave before the police arrive.

Bryan hesitated, his legs frozen as he stared at the wreckage. His lips trembled, but after a long pause, he nodded.

Bryan: You’re right… we can’t stay here.

Dean said nothing. His face was pale, his eyes empty, as if every ounce of light had been drained away. He finally looked up to the sky with a cracked expression.

Dean: Why me… Why… what did I do… What did I do to deserve this…

His voice broke, dropping into a hollow whisper.

Dean: All I ever wanted was a loving home again… And the universe took it away… again… Again! I’m all alone… again.

Stacy’s chest tightened. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Dean, pressing him close to her trembling warmth.

Stacy: You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone.

Bryan’s body shook as he joined them, his arms locking around his siblings. For a long moment, they held each other in silence, letting the night bear witness to the lives of Mikey and Cristina.

Then the sharp wail of sirens pierced the distance, growing closer by the second.

Stacy: We need to move now before they get here.

Bryan: But… where will we go?

Stacy: Back to the city. We’ll figure the rest out there.

Bryan: It’s already dark… and we don’t have money for a hotel.

Dean remained silent, his gaze hollow, his body heavy with the weight of despair. No matter how much Stacy and Bryan tried to hold him together, he felt like the universe itself was against him.

The sirens grew louder, too close to ignore. Stacy and Bryan exchanged a painful glance before grabbing Dean by the arms.

Dean: No… don’t leave me… please…

His desperate cry cut through their hearts like a blade. But there was no time to stop. They dragged him to the SUV, his arms reaching back toward the burning wreckage.

Dean: Don’t leave me…

The pain on his face made Stacy’s hands tremble on the steering wheel as Bryan sat with Dean in the back seat, trying to hold him still. They shut the doors, locked them, and Stacy turned the key with a heavy breath. The SUV rumbled to life, pulling away from the nightmare, back onto the road that had once carried them to the festival.

Dean stared through the rear window; his vision blurred until a single tear slid down his cheek. Stacy felt her own tears fall as she drove, this one not just for Mikey and Cristina, but for the broken state of her brother beside her. Bryan clenched his fists in silence, forcing his tears back even as his chest ached.

The road stretched endlessly into the night, filled with nothing but silence, sorrow, and the soft sound of muffled sobs.

The journey back felt like hours, each minute dragging like the weight of grief pressing against

their hearts. At last, the SUV rolled into the city. But the glow it had during the festival was gone. The streets were swallowed by shadows, windows shut, doors locked, everyone hiding inside. Only figures lurking in the dark remained; thieves, eyes sharp and hungry, scanning for prey.

The SUV coughed and rattled as if on its last breath, the fuel gauge almost touching empty. Stacy gripped the wheel tighter as they drove through the dangerous streets. A group of men leaned against a wall, their eyes following the SUV like wolves eyeing meat. Stacy swallowed her fear and forced her hands steady, her gaze locked ahead. Bryan and Dean, too lost in their sorrow, didn’t even notice the threatening stares that followed them.

After what felt like an eternity, they found themselves in a quiet, abandoned part of the city.

Broken fences lined the road, trash bins lay toppled over, and the smell of rot lingered in the air. Stacy slowed the SUV and finally pulled over.

She stepped out into the night air, her shoes crunching against shards of glass.

Stacy: Stay inside.

Her eyes scanned the shadows, every corner, every sound. The silence was heavy, broken only by the distant barking of a stray dog. After a long moment, she exhaled and returned to the SUV, switching off the engine.

Stacy: We’ll stay here for the night. We’ll have to sleep in the car. Each of us will take turns keeping watch, two hours each. I’ll start. It’s already midnight.

Bryan gave a tired nod, too drained to argue. Dean remained quiet, his face calm but distant, as if nothing could reach him anymore.

Bryan leaned back, closing his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. His chest was heavy, his mind restless. Dean lay staring at the car roof, the emptiness inside him stretching into the night. Eventually, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Only Stacy stayed awake, her eyes watching the shadows through the windshield. The city’s silence pressed against her, broken only by the occasional gust of wind rattling the broken fence. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the small amount of money she had left. Just a few crumpled bills.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, followed by a trembling whisper.

Stacy (whispering): What can I do… Mom… Please help me.

Tears slid down her cheeks, falling silently in the dark. Her shoulders shook, but she wiped her face quickly, not wanting her siblings to see her break.

In the silence, her mind drifted back to Cristina’s words, the night she had returned in tears, hopeless after failing to find a way through the mission Mikey had given them. She could almost hear Cristina’s gentle voice as if she were sitting beside her again…

...[Flashback]

...

Fifteen-year-old Stacy sat under a tree, her knees pulled to her chest, her face buried in her arms. Her shoulders shook with each sob.

Cristina, Mikey’s wife, noticed her from a distance. With soft footsteps, she walked closer, crouching beside the crying girl.

Cristina: Stacy… why are you crying?

Stacy lifted her head; her cheeks streaked with tears.

Stacy: (voice trembling) I… I couldn’t find a way out on the mission Dad gave us. Dean and Bryan got ahead of me, so they get to move on to the next mission… but I’m stuck.

Cristina’s expression softened. She reached out her hand and gently pulled Stacy closer.

Cristina: Come here, my little angel.

They sat together under the shade of the tree, the wind swaying the leaves above them. Cristina turned to her eyes full of warmth.

Cristina: Tell me, are you giving up?

Stacy went quiet, staring at the ground. After a long pause, she whispered.

Stacy: No… but I don’t know where to go. I’m stuck.

Cristina gave a small smile, tilting her head slightly.

Cristina: Then let me tell you a little secret. (smiles) The mission isn’t about finding the way out faster than the others. It’s about trying again and again, finding different routes until you finally get out.

Her voice grew stronger, full of gentle conviction.

Cristina: One’s ability to keep pushing forward, without giving up, that’s what really matters. It’s not about who reaches the end first. It’s about going back there as many times as it takes, until you succeed.

Cristina smiled and brushed Stacy’s hair back from her wet cheeks.

Cristina: So quit crying and go back there. Pass that mission, then catch up with your siblings. And don’t just catch up… (her smile widened, full of encouragement) Surpass them. Show them you’re the oldest… and the leader.

Her words lingered, powerful and warm, as the sun filtered through the leaves above.

...[Flashback ends]

...

Stacy sat in the silence of the SUV, her tears slowing. She whispered softly to herself.

Stacy: Don’t give up… Find different ways until one works, huh? (a faint smile broke through her tears) Even when you’re gone… you’re still guiding me. Thank you, Mom.

The night was still, but inside her chest, a fragile strength began to bloom.

The clock on Stacy’s phone glowed faintly. 2:30 a.m. She rubbed her tired eyes and leaned over to nudge Bryan.

Stacy: (softly) It’s your turn.

Bryan stirred, blinking awake. He nodded without complaint, stretching his arms with a quiet yawn before slipping out of the SUV. The night air was cold, but he welcomed it, leaning against the broken fence. He stayed outside, watching the shadows, letting the silence wash over him until 3:30 a.m.

Around 3:35 a.m., Dean began to stir restlessly in his sleep. His body trembled, sweat dripping down his face as his lips whispered broken words.

Dean: (weak, desperate) Mom… Dad… old man Mikey… Cristina…

His legs kicked in the cramped space of the SUV, one foot hitting Stacy lightly. The jolt woke her. She sat up groggily, only for her eyes to widen when she saw Dean. His face was twisted in pain, his body shaking, as though trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

Stacy froze for a moment, her chest aching at the sight, then reached out to shake him gently.

Stacy: Dean… wake up. It’s just a dream… please, wake up.

She glanced outside and saw Bryan, still sitting by the fence, lost in his thoughts.

Stacy: (calling quietly) Bryan!

But he didn’t hear her. Her voice was swallowed by the night.

She turned back to Dean, shaking him more firmly.

Stacy: Dean, it’s okay, I’m here… wake up!

Dean’s eyes snapped open at last. His body stilled, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye as he slowly calmed down.

Without hesitation, Stacy pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly.

Stacy: (soft, soothing) Everything is okay… I’m here with you.

Dean leaned against her shoulder, silent at first. Then, for the first time since they left the wreckage, his voice came out low, fragile, but steady.

Dean: (quietly) Thank you… I’m okay now.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers.

Dean: (gentle, trying not to sound empty) Where’s Bryan?

Stacy: Sitting outside.

Dean nodded, his face calmer now.

Dean: I’ll call him in. I’ll take it from here.

Stacy frowned, worry flickering in her eyes.

Stacy: You sure you’re, okay? You don’t have to keep watch… I can keep watch for you.

Dean gave her a small, forced smile.

Dean: Thanks for the offer… but I’m fine. Don’t worry.

He slipped out of her embrace and straightened himself.

Dean: You and Bryan should rest. I’ll keep watch.

Without waiting for her reply, he opened the door and stepped into the cold air. Bryan looked up at him, surprised.

Dean: You can head back inside. I’ll take over.

Bryan: (frowning) But I still have twenty minutes left.

Dean: It’s fine. I’m not sleepy anymore… and I want some alone time.

Bryan hesitated, his lips parting to argue. But when he saw the faint strength in Dean’s eyes, he closed his mouth.

Bryan: …Alright. But don’t push yourself.

Dean gave a quiet nod. Bryan walked back into the SUV, though worry lingered on his face. Stacy and Bryan exchanged a silent look, their hearts heavy with concern. Then, slowly, they lay their heads back down. Exhaustion took over, and sleep claimed them once again.

Dean stood outside alone, the night air brushing against his face. For the first time, there was no screaming, no fire, no nightmare, only the silence of the surrounding city, and his own thoughts.

Dean stepped out of the SUV, the cold air brushing against his damp skin. He breathed deeply, trying to steady the chaos inside. The nightmare still lingered in fragments, but he forced his mind away from it, gazing at the stars faintly glowing above the city’s haze.

For a moment, a voice stirred in memory of his parents, Jack and Zoey, speaking to him when he was a boy.

Jack: (gentle, steady) Dean, whenever you feel alone, don’t forget… call out to God.

Zoey: (warm, soft) And believe that His angels are surrounding you, even when you can’t see them.

The memory wrapped around him like a blanket, not erasing the emptiness but softening it. He let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.

Dean: (whispers) Angels, huh… maybe you’re still here.

Time passed quietly. The silence was not comforting, but it wasn’t crushing either. As the first faint light of dawn crept into the sky, Dean stood straighter.

Dean: (to himself, firm) Crying and sobbing won’t help us survive in this cruel world.

He clenched his fists, recalling Mikey’s lessons. With a determined breath, he set out to put those skills to use. The city outskirts were littered with scraggly trees and rustling bushes, and Dean patiently laid a simple snare. It took time, effort, and silence, but finally, his persistence paid off. When he returned, the sun had risen enough to paint the sky in gold. In his hands, he carried four dead birds.

Back at the SUV, 6 a.m. came. Stacy stretched awake, her body stiff from sleeping upright, while Bryan rubbed his eyes and groaned.

Stacy glanced around. Her heart quickened.

Stacy: Dean…? Where’s Dean?!

Her breath hitched, worry flashing across her face. She stepped out of the car, scanning the street.

Bryan: (calm but tired) Relax, Stacy. He wouldn’t just run off. Give it a second.

Before her worry could grow, a familiar figure came into view. Dean walked toward them, his shirt slightly dirty, his hair messy, but his face carrying a faint smile. In his hands, the birds hung lifeless.

Stacy let out a long sigh of relief.

Stacy: Don’t scare us like that, Dean.

Dean: (softly, with a faint smile) Sorry… I just wanted to do something to keep myself busy.

Bryan’s eyes widened as he stared at the birds.

Bryan: (disgusted) You’ve gotta be kidding me. You actually expect me to eat that?

Stacy shot him a sharp look.

Stacy: We can’t be picky right now, Bryan. Survival is our number one priority.

Dean said nothing. He set down the birds, pulled together broken branches and wood, and with some effort managed to start a small fire. The siblings huddled around it, the cold night finally giving way to warmth. The smell of smoke and roasting meat filled the air as they cooked the birds over the flames.

When the meal was ready, Dean bowed his head slightly, whispering a short prayer.

Dean: (quietly) Thank you for this food… may it give us the strength to keep going.

Without hesitation, he took the first bite. The taste was rough, but he chewed without complaint. Stacy followed, her face calm, though she swallowed hard.

Bryan sat still, staring at the charred meat with disgust.

Stacy: (firm, encouraging) Come on, Bryan. Eat up, or you’ll die starving.

Bryan hesitated, glaring at the bird as if it were his enemy. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he took a bite. His face twisted in discomfort, but he forced it down.

The three of them ate their small, meager meal in silence. It wasn’t much, but for the first time since the wreckage, it felt like a step forward.

Stacy brushed her hands together after finishing the last bite, her expression serious.

Stacy: That will have to do for now. Okay, everyone, dig into your pockets and bring out every dollar you’ve got.

Bryan frowned but obeyed, reaching into his jeans. Dean did the same, pulling out a folded bill he had tucked away.

Bryan: (flat) I’ve got fifty dollars.

Dean: (quiet) A hundred.

Stacy sighed, pulling out a crumpled note from her pocket.

Stacy: Twenty-five.

She set it down in her lap, staring at the small pile of money they had gathered.

Stacy: So… one hundred and seventy-five dollars. That’s all we have to survive with.

Bryan: (grumbling) That’s not even enough for a decent week in this city.

Dean stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the weak flames of the fire as it died out.

Stacy: Alright. Then here’s what we do. First, we get fuel for the SUV, we need mobility. Then we find somewhere to charge our phones. If Mikey or Cristina left us anything… we need to know.

She trailed off, her eyes heavy with worry. Bryan ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

Bryan: (irritated) With dead phones, no money for a hotel, and thieves roaming around, we’re screwed.

Dean: (calm but firm) No… we’re not screwed. We just need to be smart.

He looked at his siblings for the first time with focus in his eyes, though his voice still carried the weight of loss.

Dean: Mikey taught us to adapt. To survive. That’s what we’ll do.

Stacy nodded, her jaw tight.

Stacy: We’ll have to stretch this money as far as we can. Fuel, food, charging the phones… and maybe some supplies if we can. We’ll need to find safe places to rest too, not just the SUV.

The air grew heavy again, but this time it wasn’t just sorrow, it was the realization of the struggles ahead.

The struggles they would face:

– Finding safe shelter in a city crawling with thieves.

– Deciding whether to risk the little money they had on fuel or food.

– Surviving without the message Mikey and Cristina left them, a message that could change everything.

– Keeping themselves together when grief and fear threatened to tear them apart.

But despite it all, there was a small ember of hope. They had survived the night. They had eaten. They still had each other.

Stacy: (determined) We’ll get through this. One step at a time.

Bryan looked doubtful, but the strength in Stacy’s voice made him stay quiet. Dean simply nodded, clutching the memory of his parents’ words and Mikey’s lessons close to his heart.

The unknown still waited ahead, like a storm ready to break. And somewhere inside their dead phones… Mikey and Cristina’s voices still waited to be heard.

TO BE CONTINUED…