The screech of tires echoed through the air as an Aston Martin sped down the road, racing away from the city and toward the forested mountain region. Inside the car, three people sat—two in the front, one in the back. The passenger in the rear leaned against the seat, eyes locked on his phone, completely immersed in a game.
The driver glanced at the rearview mirror, then at the young man behind him.
"Jimmy, we're almost there. You should close the game and get ready to carry the luggage—it's your turn, remember?"
"Shut it, Aryan," Jimmy replied, his tone laced with annoyance. "I'm in a match. Hope I don't lose because of your blabber, or you better pray the bags carry themselves up."
Aryan smirked but didn't respond. He knew Jimmy would carry the luggage regardless—he just liked rubbing it in that it was Jimmy's turn.
Alex, seated next to Aryan, let out a sigh. "I can carry the luggage this time, you know. My health's improved a lot—better than before, at least. I feel bad that every time we go on trips, you two do all the heavy lifting while I just tag along."
Aryan glanced sideways at him, raising an eyebrow. "You okay there?" he asked, nodding toward the beer can sitting beside Alex.
Alex was just about to respond when Jimmy interrupted, having finally put his phone down and leaned forward, suddenly more invested in the conversation than his game.
"He says he can't drink… just like how sometimes he can't fart, right?" Jimmy grinned.
Alex scoffed and turned toward them. "How rude! Are you saying the only time I'm thoughtful like this is when I'm drunk?"
Aryan and Jimmy burst out laughing in unison.
"Yes. We're saying exactly that," they replied together.
After a few chuckles, Aryan's voice took a more serious tone. "Jokes aside, keep in mind that drinking is not good for your health, even if it's just sip." He narrowed his eyes. "You know alcohol isn't exactly great for your condition."
"Yeah, yeah, teacher. I get it," Alex replied with a faint smile, knowing Aryan meant well.
A few moments later.
The trio stepped out of the car, the setting sun casting a warm orange hue over them.
Aryan, with black hair and eyes, had a well-defined face and fair skin. Standing at five foot eleven, he wasn't stunning, but he definitely stood above average.
Alex, already ahead of the other two with just one bag in hand, waved them forward. He was undeniably the most handsome of the group. With natural blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and sharp features, he looked like he'd walked out of a fashion magazine. At five foot ten, just an inch shorter than Aryan, his only flaw—if one could call it that—was his pale complexion, a side effect of his health.
Jimmy trailed behind, carrying the bulk of the luggage, his five-foot-six frame working harder than the rest. Aryan and Alex often jokingly called him the "short king." He shared Aryan's black hair and eyes, but his skin was more tanned. His symmetrical features made him appealing in his own way.
They made their way toward their usual camping spot. The terrain was rugged but manageable, though Alex's pace was noticeably slower. It had been over an hour since they entered the mountain zone.
"Hey, let's rest a bit before we keep going," Jimmy suggested, clearly tired.
Alex glanced at him, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's not far now. I'm tired too, you know," he muttered.
Aryan nodded. "Give me some of your stuff. We're almost there anyway."
Jimmy grumbled, standing up. "I was suggesting that for you both," he muttered, earning chuckles from the other two.
As they pressed forward, a wide field came into view, the towering mountains behind it forming a breathtaking backdrop. No matter how many times they came here, it never got old.
Aryan took a deep breath. "Man, I love being free. It's such a shame for those who live, yet aren't truly alive." He quickly shook off the thought.
"Alex, you brought the UNO cards, right?" Jimmy asked as they neared a small pond at the cliff's edge—their usual tent spot.
"Of course!" Alex grinned, bumping his chest. "I also brought poker, chess, and the speaker."
Suddenly, Aryan's voice rang out, sharp and tense.
"GUYS!! GUYS!!"
Jimmy and Alex snapped their heads toward him.
woof! woof!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"FUCK!" they both muttered in unison.
Right in front of them stood a freaking wolf—massive, wild, and furious.
Aryan immediately raised a flare gun and fired into the sky. Without wasting a second, he reached for his .44 Magnum and pointed it at the beast.
The wolf growled, stepping forward.
Aryan pulled the trigger—
Click.
Nothing.
"Fuck! Shit!" he cursed, eyes wide. The gun had jammed.
The wolf lunged, and Aryan barely dodged, rolling to the side. He pulled out a knife from the sheath on his back and slashed at its side. The blade dug deep, making the creature roar in pain.
Jimmy didn't hesitate. He darted in and stabbed the wolf's shoulder with all his strength. The impact made it stagger.
Alex moved in to help—but his body was slow. Too slow. The wolf lashed out, claws raking across his arm. He screamed, stumbling back, blood pouring from his broken limb.
"Alex! Stay focused!" Aryan yelled.
The Wolf turned to Jimmy, enraged.
It lunged.
Jimmy didn't run. He met it head-on, catching the beast mid-charge. His muscles screamed. His leg cracked under pressure—but he held firm. Something surged through him, unnatural and powerful. The ground cracked beneath his feet.
"Aryan! Now!" Jimmy gritted out.
Aryan rushed in and plunged his blade into the wolf's exposed side again. The beast howled and thrashed violently. Jimmy was thrown off.
Alex, half-conscious, watched in horror as the wolf turned toward Aryan again.
Aryan couldn't move. His arms felt heavy, his body sluggish, like he no longer owned it. But he gripped the knife tighter, locking eyes with the furious beast.
At that moment, Aryan knew—he was going to die today.
A strange feeling crept into his mind, and his lips curled into a smile as he let out a laugh. He abandoned the notion of survival, of making it out alive. Spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture, he fully embraced what was to come.
The wolf was wounded from the earlier stabs—Jimmy's strike to its shoulder and Aryan's to its side.
The wolf pounced once more, its claws slicing through the air. But this time, instead of dodging, Aryan lunged forward. He dropped low at the last second, slipping beneath the beast's swiping paw. Using the Wolf's own momentum against it, he pushed off the ground and drove his knife upward, straight into its eye.
From behind, Jimmy, who had managed to get up once again, plunged his knife into the Wolf's hind leg, twisting it to weaken the beast's movement. He held on tightly, trying to restrain it. At the same time, Aryan relentlessly thrust the knife into the Wolf's eyes, his maniacal smile widening with each strike. The beast, now blinded and in agony, thrashed wildly.
In a desperate frenzy, it snapped its powerful jaws around Aryan's forearm, teeth sinking deep into his flesh. He screamed, his face twisting in agonizing pain, but even so, he kept stabbing. The wolf, panicked and bleeding, tried to flee into the forest. Jimmy's grip faltered, and with one final surge of strength, the beast broke free, running wildly into the deeper part of the mountain.
Aryan, having used up all his strength and bleeding from several wounds, collapsed onto the ground. Yet, a faint smile remained on his lips. His breath was shaky as he muttered, "I wasn't as strong as I thought..." With the last of his energy, he raised a middle finger toward the sky.
Alex struggled to even lift himself as he looked at his friend. He heard Aryan's whisper, his voice barely a breath in the wind. Gritting his teeth, Alex forced his body to move. He had always been the weakest among them—not as strong as Jimmy, not as athletic as Aryan—but they were his friends. His body was already at its limit, screaming for rest, but he refused to let it collapse.
Alex had a condition known as Muscular Dystrophy, specifically Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy (DMD). It was caused by a mutation in the DMD gene, responsible for making dystrophin, a protein that helps keep muscles strong. Without dystrophin, muscles weaken over time and break down. It was an extremely dangerous condition, and he had been suffering from it since childhood.
It was only thanks to Aryan that he had even lived as long as he had. Aryan had spent millions of dollars searching for a cure and had never stopped trying. He and Aryan shared a special bond, and now his friend was dying! He refused to sit!! He refused to be chained by his condition!! He refused to let anything happen to his friends!!
Alex stared at their broken bodies, blood pouring from their wounds. His own body trembled. His nose sniffled, eyes brimming with tears.His mouth opened on its own—words spilling out before he could stop them.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"He pressed his hands over the wounds, desperate to stop the bleeding—only to realize it was useless.
He slapped himself to think calmly as he bandaged them as much as he could with whatever he found. They couldn't lose any more blood! His broken arm throbbed in pain, and his muscles screamed in agony, but he picked both of them up! Their weight pressed down on him, yet his steps remained steady, adrenaline pumping through his body.
His body turned red, his heartbeat quickened, and his vision blurred—but even so, he kept moving forward along the same path he had come from.
As he reached the downhill road where they had parked their car, he heard the wail of a siren. His mind was foggy, but he understood—he had made it.
A gentle hand reached out, steadying him as they took his friends. With the last of his strength, he whispered, "Please… save them!!" before collapsing into unconsciousness.