Era of the Ancient Nightmares

What I see inside the metro station are several tents and basic survival structures, which is surprising, considering the apocalypse started only about four hours ago.

How the hell is there already so much built down here?

It's insane when I realize that all of this was clearly set up in just a few hours, and there are probably around a hundred people here.

I look at the men guiding us, searching for answers. After a few seconds of my confusion, one of them glances at me and explains.

Man: Judging by your face, you're wondering how we got so well-organized down here in such a short time, huh?

I look at him as if it's obvious that I'm confused, but I just nod.

Man: It's simple. We were one of the few groups that believed the broadcast, so we took over this metro line and started preparing for what was coming.

One of the other men overhears our conversation and adds:

Man 2: Yeah, and the guy who organized all of us was actually the first one here. He set up the first tent.

Hearing that, I'm impressed by how structured they are, especially as the men keep explaining.

Apparently, they've organized the tents into sectors. The ones on the far right are mainly for doctors and the injured. The middle tents are for regular people—excluding the elderly, children, and pregnant women—while the ones farther from the entrance house the more vulnerable individuals. Since the furthest area from the gates is technically the safest, that's where they placed them.

Gustavo, listening to all this, even commented that the design was somewhat flawed. If a monster were to come through the tracks, the elderly and children would be the first to suffer.

But one of the men responded, saying that might be true, but for now, the entrance is the most dangerous area, as inhuman knocks can occasionally be heard coming from there.

They told us they were taking the two of us to the camp leader, who would decide where we would stay and what we would be required to do.

Because here, everyone has a role. Among the jobs, the men guiding us mentioned that the worst one was extermination, where you had to actively go into the metro tunnels and clear out the monsters lurking there before they reached the camp.

Hearing that, Gustavo's eyes widened. He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear.

Gustavo: Alan, this is going to go to shit. I can literally see that almost every time, these guys die in a horrible way.

I turned to Gustavo. He looked worried—no, desperate. Whatever he was seeing must be really bad.

Normally, I would've listened to him and left this place, but looking at all these people... I couldn't just leave them to die. So I whispered back.

Alan: If we help these people, what are the chances we can save them? Or at least most of them?

Gustavo went silent for a moment, staring into nothingness for a while, giving me the chance to look around.

And the best word I could use to describe this place was horrifying.

There was blood. Trash. A pile of bodies stacked in a corner simply because there was nowhere else to put them.

The people were filthy—some injured, but nothing serious. Others had dead, hollow eyes.

But what truly broke my heart were the children. They had the same expression I used to have when I was in the hospital.

Lifeless, empty eyes. No will to go on. No strength to even smile.

Many of them had probably lost their parents. I even saw a kid clutching a severed arm.

Gustavo finally finished calculating and looked at me.

Gustavo: 35% chance of survival. But every time I check... never mind. I just don't think it's worth helping these people, Alan. Let's just stay here for five days and leave.

I knew he was right. Our chances of survival would skyrocket if we just let them fend for themselves.

But I couldn't do it.

I walked over to one of the children, lifted them up, and spoke.

Alan: Look what I found outside.

I pulled out boxes of crayons, colored pencils, and my sketchbook, handing them over before continuing.

Alan: Someone important once told me that drawings have the power to change the world. Did you know that?

The children stared at me, their eyes still empty.

Damn, I'm terrible with kids.

But I kept going.

Alan: Look how different I look with a nice smile.

I grabbed one of the markers and drew a smile on my prosthetic mask. That seemed to spark something in them, and soon, they started playing with my drawing materials.

I silently thanked Marcus for encouraging me to draw whenever I had the chance.

The children gathered around, sketching in my notebook and even on my mask. In the end, they had drawn more on me than on the paper—but who cared?

When I turned around, I saw the men staring at me alongside Gustavo. I waved and said:

Alan: It's fine. Go ahead—I'll catch up later.

Gustavo just nodded and walked off, while the men hesitated for a moment before following him to the camp leader.

I stayed, playing with the kids, letting them draw all over my mask and my notebook, which was now covered in flowers and other doodles.

But eventually, we ran out of space, and the papers in my notebook were all used up. The kids looked disappointed.

Seeing that, I quickly spoke up.

Alan: What are you doing? Why did you stop drawing?

The kids looked confused until one of them spoke.

Child: But, Mister Mask... there's nowhere left to draw.

I looked at the one who spoke—a little girl with golden hair, wearing a tattered floral dress. I smiled behind my mask and happily asked:

Alan: What's your name, kid?

She looked a bit scared but quickly answered.

Kira: M-My name is Kira, Mister Mask.

I was glad she answered and continued.

Alan: Nice to meet you, Kira. I'm Alan. And who said drawings have to be on paper? Draw wherever you want! This place could use some color.

I smiled and imagined a radiant light shining behind me, making me look grand and inspiring.

But in reality, I was just a regular guy giving the kids a great idea.

Hearing my words, the children's eyes lit up—like a small part of the brightness stolen by the monsters above had returned.

And just like that, they grabbed all the crayons, pencils, and markers, and started drawing and playing on anything they could find.

Clap, clap, clap.

Hearing someone clapping, I turned around to see who it was. Expecting Gustavo or a stranger, my eyes widened in shock at what I actually saw.

Alan: M-M-Marcus?!

There he was—Marcus, standing there in his old lab coat and stethoscope, staring at me with... his one eye.

Alan: M-Marcus... what happened to your eye...? Y-You... what happened?!

I ran to him, checking his body for any other injuries, and then I noticed it.

Alan: Marcus, how did you know I was here? And how did you end up here? And why did you lose your eye?!

Marcus pushed me back slightly and answered my questions.

Marcus: Calm down, Alan. I'm fine. This happened when I went looking for you.

I still look at Marcus in shock—he's my only family. I can't lose him too, not like this.

Seeing how scared I still am about his wound, it looks like it hurts a lot, but knowing that Marcus wants to keep talking, I just wait for him to continue.

Marcus: You know, I was at home watching TV when you left, and then I saw Gustavo on the news. I panicked about what he was saying, and I remembered you were going to see him, so I ran after you to help.

Marcus slowly starts walking in a direction, and I follow him to listen to what he's saying.

Marcus: Honestly, at first, I thought Gustavo had lost his mind and was dangerous to people, that he might end up hurting you, so I started looking for you two everywhere in the last few normal hours we had.

He leads me toward the medical tents and enters one of them, where a woman wearing slightly dirty clothes sees him and shouts.

Woman: DOCTOR!!!

She rushes toward Marcus and says:

Woman: Doctor, do you have any idea how many injured people we have here?! And you decided to take a smoke break!? And who's this?

She looks at me with confusion after finishing her sentence. She seems exhausted, but now that I take a good look at her, she's actually quite beautiful. She's a dark-skinned woman with long hair tied up in a bun. She has slight dark circles under her eyes, wears a sweater along with a long coat, and has gorgeous green eyes.

Marcus: Oh, Marta, this is our new nurse and also my son, Alan.

The woman's face instantly turns into a warm smile, and she grabs my hand, shaking it as she says:

Marta: It's a pleasure to meet you, Alan. I hope we get along well.

Nice, she seems—WAIT, NURSE?!

I look at Marcus with a confused and weird expression, and he notices it and says:

Marcus: You may not have studied medicine, but you lived in a hospital for eight years and watched me perform all kinds of procedures. And it's not like we have medicine to prescribe anyway, so we're just doing the basics to keep people alive here.

As I consider arguing against what Marcus said, I realize I can't deny that I know how to stitch wounds, dress injuries, and perform all kinds of similar procedures.

So… why not?

I look at Marcus and say:

Alan: Okay, I'll be your nurse, but you know how it is, right? Always co—

Marcus: Mask and hood, got it, got it. Damn it, Alan, you really need to get over this insecurity.

Marcus calmly steps closer to me and gives me a few light pats on the head before turning to tend to a patient.

While his back is turned, he speaks to me.

Marcus: What are you waiting for, Alan? You can start already.

I realize what he means, so I grab a pair of plastic gloves from a nearby table and begin treating the injured.

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Power stones, please