Tallahassee, United States
9:45 a.m., August 22, 2010
Jason woke on Sunday with his entire body aching.
Every muscle seemed to protest at the slightest movement.
The previous night’s game had left marks that adrenaline had concealed but sleep had brought back with a vengeance.
Even so, before he went downstairs for breakfast, he was already sitting on his bed with his laptop open and his phone pressed to his ear.
The idea that had occurred to him during the movie afternoon with his parents hadn’t left his mind.
Stormtrooper costumes.
At first glance, it seemed ridiculous.
A fifteen-year-old boy buying plastic armor inspired by an old movie.
But Jason didn’t think of the pieces as costumes.
He thought of them as protection.
Rigid plates covering the chest, arms, legs, and shoulders.
Thick fabric underneath.
Very little exposed skin.
They wouldn’t protect anyone from gunfire.
Perhaps not even from blades.
But against bites and scratches?
They might mean the difference between life and death.
After spending nearly an hour searching for contacts, Jason found a supplier specializing in cosplay costumes and customized convention replicas.
The company was called Galaxy Forge Costumes.
It was based in Orlando and accepted custom orders.
Jason called immediately.
“Galaxy Forge, this is Martin.
How can I help you?”
The man sounded sleepy.
Jason glanced at the clock.
It was Sunday morning.
“I need to place a large order.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Kid, you realize it’s Sunday, right?”
“I do.”
“And you know the workshop isn’t open on Sundays?”
“I know that too.”
Martin sighed.
“Then can this wait until Monday?”
Jason looked at the date in the corner of his screen.
August 22, 2010.
Monday would be the twenty-third.
The world would truly end on the twenty-fifth.
There was no time.
“No, it can’t.”
The firmness in his voice silenced the man for a moment.
“What exactly do you want?”
Jason opened the file containing the notes he had made during the night.
“Stormtrooper costumes, but with some changes to the materials.”
Martin chuckled quietly.
“You called on a Sunday morning to order stormtrooper costumes?”
“Yes.”
“And you said it was urgent?”
“Extremely urgent.”
The man sounded as though he was about to hang up.
Jason spoke before he could.
“I’ll pay twice your normal rate.”
The line fell silent.
“I’m listening.”
Jason took a deep breath.
“I don’t want to change the design.
They still need to look like ordinary costumes.
But instead of standard plastic plates, I want something more durable.
A material capable of withstanding impact and pressure more effectively.”
Martin became more attentive.
“That will make them considerably more expensive.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“I also want a thicker undersuit, especially around the arms, legs, neck, and sides of the torso.”
The man typed something.
“That will make the costume hotter and less comfortable.”
“I know.”
“Anything else?”
Jason checked another note.
“Yes.
I need additional room inside the chest, abdomen, and back sections.
Enough to allow protective vests to be worn underneath.”
This time, Martin didn’t respond immediately.
“Kid…
this is starting to sound less like a costume and more like protective equipment.”
Jason remained silent for a second.
“It’s for an event.”
“A very strange event.”
“Can you do it?”
Martin sighed.
“I can, but not quickly.
With those modifications, a large order wouldn’t be ready until August twenty-eighth.”
Jason closed his eyes for a moment.
The twenty-eighth would be too late.
If his predictions were correct, deliveries, roads, and workshops might no longer function the same way by then.
“I need them before the twenty-fifth.”
Martin laughed in disbelief.
“Impossible.”
“How much would it cost to make it possible?”
“You don’t understand.
I would have to call people in on a Sunday, pay overtime, purchase unplanned materials, and suspend other orders.”
Jason opened his bank account on the laptop.
“Name a price.”
Martin fell silent.
Jason entered a few numbers.
“I’ll pay half now and the other half upon delivery.”
The silence on the other end changed.
Irritation gave way to calculation.
“How many do you want?”
“How many can you deliver before the twenty-fifth?”
Jason heard Martin take a deep breath.
Papers rustled in the background.
Then the man began murmuring numbers, probably calculating materials, labor, and production time.
“With the modifications you requested?”
“Yes.”
“Twenty.”
Jason clenched his jaw.
Twenty wasn’t enough.
But it was better than nothing.
“Deal.”
Martin sounded surprised.
“Deal?”
“Twenty reinforced costumes by the twenty-fifth, delivered to Tallahassee.”
Jason checked his notes.
“And I want to place another order.”
“Another one?”
“One hundred standard costumes.
No modifications.
Just the regular model.”
Martin went completely silent for several seconds.
“You’re buying one hundred and twenty stormtrooper costumes?”
Jason looked toward his closed bedroom door.
Downstairs, Robert was probably already awake.
The conversation Jason had avoided since the beginning of the week was still waiting for him.
Even so, he kept his voice firm.
“I am.”
“When do you need them?”
“The same day.”
Martin released a short, almost nervous laugh.
“You are the strangest customer I have ever encountered.”
“Probably.
But the money is real.”
Another pause followed.
Then Martin answered.
“Send me proof of the initial payment and the approximate measurements.
I’ll assemble the team.”
His voice became firm.
“But let me make this clear: if you change anything after this, I can’t guarantee the deadline.”
“I won’t change anything.”
The address.
The price.
The deadline.
The delivery method.
When the call ended, he remained seated on the bed for several seconds, staring at the laptop screen.
Twenty reinforced sets of armor.
One hundred standard costumes.
It wasn’t perfect.
Nothing was.
But plans were never perfect.
They were merely desperate attempts to avoid death when reality finally arrived.
Jason closed the laptop and rubbed a hand over his face.
The idea still seemed absurd.
Stormtroopers against zombies.
If someone had told him about that in his previous life, he probably would have laughed.
Now, however, there was nothing funny about it.
Every layer of protection mattered.
Every second mattered.
Every bite prevented could mean a life saved.
He rose with difficulty, feeling the pain from the game return.
Then he looked toward his bedroom door.
Sooner or later, he would have to go downstairs.
And when he did, Robert would be waiting.
Jason took a deep breath.
First the costumes.
Then the truth.
Or at least…
The part of it he could still reveal.
Jason didn’t stop there.
As soon as he ended the call with Galaxy Forge Costumes, he opened another tab on his laptop.
The costumes were a good idea.
On their own, however, they still had weak points.
Joints.
Gaps between the plates.
Areas where teeth or fingernails could reach the fabric.
He needed a second layer.
Within minutes, he found a store specializing in diving, fishing, and water-sports equipment.
Jason called without hesitation.
This time, the order sounded less absurd.
Wetsuits.
A lot of them.
The same number as the costumes.
Twenty reinforced models made from more durable rubber to wear beneath the modified armor.
And another one hundred standard models, still thick enough to cover almost the entire body.
Neck.
Arms.
Legs.
Torso.
Rubber wasn’t invincible.
Nothing was.
But it could make bites and scratches more difficult.
It might prevent a fingernail from tearing through the skin during a moment of carelessness.
It could buy seconds.
And in the world to come, seconds would be precious.
The salesman tried to warn Jason that suits of that kind would be far too hot to wear outside the water for extended periods.
Jason merely closed his eyes for a moment.
Heat wasn’t his greatest concern.
Summer would soon end.
Fall would come.
Then winter.
And when the cold arrived, thick clothing would no longer be merely uncomfortable.
It would be necessary.
“I need them delivered by the twenty-fifth,” Jason said.
The man on the other end almost laughed.
Jason increased his offer.
The laughter disappeared.
Once again, money transformed the impossible into something merely difficult.
After ending the call, Jason looked around his bedroom.
Notes covered the desk.
Supply lists.
Contacts.
Deadlines.
Prices.
Routes.
But a new problem was becoming obvious.
Space.
The Miller house couldn’t hold all of it.
Food.
Water.
Tools.
Camping equipment.
Wetsuits.
Costumes.
Reinforced armor.
If he continued having everything delivered to the house, Jennifer would notice before Robert even had a chance to ask questions.
And even if she didn’t, the house would simply become too crowded.
Jason needed another place.
Somewhere nearby.
Discreet.
Large.
Secure enough to store everything until the time came.
After searching for nearly half an hour, he found a small warehouse for rent only a few blocks from his house.
It wasn’t attractive.
It wasn’t modern.
But it had surrounding walls.
A sturdy metal gate.
Enough interior space for boxes, shelving, and small vehicles.
According to the listing, a landscaping company had once used it.
Now it stood empty.
Jason called the owner.
The man seemed surprised to receive a call so early on a Sunday, especially from someone so young.
Jason didn’t waste time.
He offered to pay three months in advance.
In cash.
The man asked very few questions after that.
When the call ended, Jason had an address, a time to collect the keys, and another piece fitted into his plan.
He leaned back in the chair and stared at the laptop screen.
Twenty reinforced wetsuits.
One hundred standard ones.
Twenty modified sets of armor.
One hundred ordinary costumes.
A warehouse near his house.
It seemed insane.
Perhaps it was.
But Jason had already seen enough to know that normalcy was dying.
And when it finally collapsed, those who continued treating everything like an exaggeration would die first.
He looked toward his bedroom door.
Downstairs, Robert was waiting for answers.
Jason knew he couldn’t hide everything much longer.
But before the truth came to light, he needed to continue setting the board.
Every delivery.
Every box.
Every layer of protection.
Every square foot of that warehouse.
Each one could mean another chance.
And chances were precisely what he was trying to purchase before money became worthless.
Jason remained silent for several seconds.
The distant crack of gunfire from the range’s other lanes seemed to come from very far away.
Robert waited.
He didn’t pressure his son.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He merely watched Jason with the same firm calm his son had known since childhood.
That was precisely what made everything more difficult.
Jason took a deep breath.
“It all began last Sunday.”
Then he told him.
He explained the rumors about cannibalism in Georgia.
The way it hadn’t looked like an ordinary attack.
He described people who had continued moving despite injuries that should have brought them down.
The videos being deleted from the internet.
The news reports changing their tone.
The stories disappearing far too quickly.
Robert listened without interrupting.
Jason continued.
He told his father that he believed it wasn’t an ordinary disease.
That the dead were coming back.
That the government was trying to hide the truth.
That he had begun selling his investments because money would soon lose its value.
That he had purchased food, water, equipment, tools, and anything else that might keep their family alive.
He told him about Melody.
Eleanor’s disappearance.
The hospital.
The isolation ward.
The creature trapped behind the glass.
The brain scan Eleanor had shown them.
The dead brain.
The faint activity returning only in the most primitive regions.
Bodies without memories, consciousness, or pain.
Only hunger.
When Jason finished, his throat was dry.
He realized that his hands were trembling slightly.
Not because he feared the creatures.
Because he feared what would come next.
The suspicion.
The doubt.
The inevitable question.
Have you lost your mind?
Jason searched his father’s face for exactly that.
Some sign of rejection.
A look telling him that everything he had said was too absurd to believe.
But Robert didn’t look incredulous.
He looked grim.
Like someone who had just received terrible intelligence and was already calculating his next move.
He remained silent for several seconds.
Then he asked the last question Jason had expected to hear first.
“How do we kill these things?”
Jason blinked.
“What?”
Robert rested one hand on the shooting booth’s counter.
“You heard me.”
His voice remained calm.
But there was something different in it now.
It was no longer merely the voice of a father.
It was the voice of someone who had been to war.
“If these things are real, if they’re spreading, and if you believe everything will collapse within a few days…”
He looked directly at Jason.
“Then the first question isn’t whether I believe you.
It’s how we survive.”
A knot formed in Jason’s throat.
Of all the reactions he had imagined, that wasn’t one of them.
“You believe me?”
Robert took a deep breath.
“I believe you’re afraid.
I believe Melody saw something she can’t explain.
I believe Donald Tyler is concerned enough to listen to a fifteen-year-old boy talk about the end of the world.”
His expression remained firm.
“And I believe your mother and I raised a son too intelligent to throw his life away over a fantasy.”
Jason couldn’t answer.
Robert continued.
“Perhaps I still don’t understand everything.
Perhaps part of me still wants to believe there’s another explanation.”
He looked toward the target downrange.
“But if there’s any chance you’re right, I won’t wait for the door to come crashing down before I start protecting my family.”
For a moment, some of the weight in Jason’s chest eased.
It didn’t disappear.
But it became lighter.
He took a deep breath before answering.
“The brain.”
Robert looked at him again.
“What?”
“It’s the only way.”
Jason pointed toward his own head.
“Eleanor said the rest of the body can sustain damage and continue moving.
They don’t feel pain.
They don’t think.
They aren’t afraid.
The heart, lungs, organs…
none of them matter in the same way.”
He swallowed hard.
“To stop one permanently, you have to destroy the brain.”
Robert absorbed the information in silence.
The answer didn’t shock him as much as Jason had expected.
It merely hardened his expression.
“Shots to the chest won’t stop them.”
“No.”
“Ordinary wounds won’t either.”
“They’ll only slow them down.”
Robert slowly nodded.
“Then we aim for the head.”
A chill passed through Jason when he heard his father summarize it so directly.
“Yes.”
Robert picked up fresh ammunition from the counter and began loading the magazine with precise movements.
“Then we’re going to train properly.”
Jason looked at him.
“Dad…”
“If you’re right, I need to know you can defend yourself.”
Robert inserted the magazine with a sharp click.
“And you need to know that I can protect your mother.”
The words struck Jason hard.
Until that moment, he had thought only about preparing Robert.
Convincing him.
Perhaps revealing part of the truth.
But he hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that.
That he was no longer alone.
Robert raised the handgun, aimed at the target, and fired.
The shot echoed through the range.
It struck the center of the head printed on the paper silhouette.
Then Robert lowered the weapon and looked at Jason.
“Your turn.”
Jason took the handgun with steady hands, even though his heart still pounded heavily.
Robert stepped backward.
“Breathe.”
Jason obeyed.
“Control your fear.”
He raised the weapon.
“Aim.”
The target in front of him seemed simple.
Only paper.
Only ink.
But in Jason’s mind, it was no longer that.
It was the future.
The street in front of his house.
The corridor of a hospital.
Someone who had once been human coming toward him.
He squeezed the trigger.
The shot echoed.
The paper moved in the distance.
Robert studied the hit for a moment.
Then he nodded.
“Again.”
Jason took a deep breath.
And fired once more.
Because the terrible conversation had finally begun.
And for the first time since the rumors of cannibalism appeared, Jason felt that he was no longer carrying the world alone.
I’m using AI to translate this story.
English is not my native language.
If you would prefer to read it without an AI translation, you can find the original Portuguese version on this same profile.