"Here's an idea, Uncle Garrett. Maybe you and Ronnie ought to wear those steady paychecks as hats. They're clearly thicker than your skulls and might keep off the wind.

"Or Uncle Garrett, why don't you try doing a few more squats? I recall you had a pretty good form doing those back when you were locked up."

The group chat went deathly silent.

A few seconds later, Garrett sent a voice clip that was nothing but a string of curses, though his voice grew noticeably weaker.

With a chime, the system's voice echoed in my mind. "Uncle Garrett's family is raging helplessly in the freezing wind. Physical and mental trauma detected. +200 rage points!

"Congratulations, Flint. Rewards include 50 infinite-charge hand warmers and elite combat mastery."

A surge of warmth spread through my body, and I could feel my muscles rippling with power. I clenched my fist and threw a quick punch that cut through the air with a sharp gust of wind.

Perfect.

The first night of the apocalypse was off to a peaceful start, but I couldn't let my guard down because something even more terrifying would come after the freezing doomsday—the zombie outbreak.

People who froze to death on the side of the road would soon stand back up with twisted limbs and bite anything they saw.

Garrett's family was surprisingly lucky. They managed to ditch the car and retreat to their high-end apartment complex, but the water, power, and gas were cut. All that fancy interior design meant nothing against -112 degrees Fahrenheit.

With no food stockpiled, they probably had to gnaw on their expensive leather couch.

Driven mad by hunger, Ronnie kept arguing with Garrett until they nearly came to blows.

Finally, hunger won out over fear and pride, so Garrett led a small group of neighbors he'd rallied and showed up at the front of the grocery store.

Heavy pounding shook the door as the neighbors banged on it.

"Open up, Milton! It's me, Garrett!" Garrett's voice was hoarse and desperate.

"The power's out at our place, the heating's gone, and even the windows are freezing and cracking! Let us warm up! We're all starving out here!

"We're family, Milton. You can't just stand by and let us die!"

When Mom and Dad heard the voices, they instinctively moved to open the door, but I stopped them. "Check the camera, Dad."

On the security screen, Garrett was clutching a crowbar, while the men behind him were armed with steel pipes. They weren't here to take shelter; they were here to loot.

More deafening bangs sounded when someone started hacking at the door with an ax.

Dad broke into a cold sweat from panic. "What do we do, Flint? There's a whole mob out there; if they actually break in…"

Mom was already in tears. "Should we just give them some food?"

I looked at Garrett's treacherous face on the screen and let out a cold laugh.

In my past life, he'd used this exact guilt-tripping trick to force my parents into opening the door and letting the wolves right into the fold. But unfortunately for him, I was not about to fall for the same trick.

I flipped the switch for the external loudspeaker by the door.

"Well, well, if it isn't Uncle Garrett, the man with the recession-proof paycheck!

"What happened? Did that steady paycheck of yours fail to put food on the table, so you came a long way just to beg for scraps at my doorstep?"

Behind the door, Garrett froze for a second, then snapped in anger. "Cut the sarcasm and open the door, Flint. I'm your uncle!"

"That's right! Don't be so heartless, kid. Share the food with everyone!"

As more voices joined, I smiled and paused before saying, "Relax, everyone. I'm fine if you want food, but Uncle Garrett, we play by my rules now that we're in the middle of an apocalypse."

"What rules?" Garrett barked.

"Give me five million dollars, or you can start calling me 'boss.'"

A few of the neighbors behind him couldn't help but let out a series of snorts and muffled laughs.

Garrett's face turned dark red, and his body was shaking with rage.

That was when they heard the faint, guttural moans of zombies in the distance. Their shouting and commotion had drawn the zombies in.

Fighting zombies in the open was a death sentence, so Garrett gritted his teeth and stared into the camera. Then, he forced the words out through clenched teeth.

"B-Boss!"

With a chime, the system announced, "Uncle Garrett's dignity is completely trampled, and humiliation levels are maxed out. +300 points!

"Rewards include a fully automatic multi-functional fishing rod with a 500-pound weight capacity!"

"That's a good lad," I cooed. "But I've got enough underlings, so you might as well stay out in the cold and enjoy the breeze. My place is too small for someone of your stature anyway."

"Flint, I'm going to kill you!"

Garrett completely lost it. He swung the crowbar and slammed it against the rolling shutter while screaming at the top of his lungs, "The zombies are coming, so break it down! This place is packed with food; whoever grabs it keeps it!"

The neighbors behind him went feral at his words. They charged at the door with their steel pipes raised high, but the system-reinforced titanium-alloy door didn't even budge. Not even a single flake of paint was chipped off.

Instead, the force of Garrett's slam recoiled so hard that it split the skin between his thumb and forefinger. While he screamed in pain, a horde of zombies rounded the corner of the street, just less than 300 feet away.

Sweating profusely from panic, Garrett suddenly looked up at the second-story window of the grocery store, where it was still open.

His eyes lit up as he barked an order, "Quick! Get a ladder and climb up so we can hide inside!

"Once we're in, the two old farts and that brat are at our mercy. We'll toss them out to feed the zombies and keep everything for ourselves!"

In the control room, Dad was shaking with rage as he crushed the teacup in his grip. "Monsters! They're absolute monsters!

"We've never treated Garrett badly. Now, to think he'd kill us over food and treat his nephew like that…"

I patted Dad on the shoulder, and my gaze turned cold. "This is who he really is, and he'd always hidden it well, Dad. We're the ones who'll die if we don't act."

Dad closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Do you know what you need to do, and don't worry about me, Flint."

"Alright."

A cruel smile curved at my lips. I'd intentionally left the window open.

"Come on up, Uncle Garrett."

Holding the newly rewarded, fully automatic and multi-functional fishing rod, I headed over to the window on the second floor, where the mob had propped up a ladder outside.

Garrett scrambled up the rungs with a greedy grin plastered across his face, as if he could already see a house full of food and me begging for mercy.

Slowly, he got closer until his hands gripped the windowsill. After hauling half his body inside, he laughed and excitedly shouted, "I'm in! Flint, you little piece of—"

Before he could finish, my size 11 slipper slammed right into his face.

I looked down at him, casually dangled the cold, shimmering fishing line in front of his eyes, and bared my teeth in a wide grin.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle Garrett.

"I know how much you used to love fishing, so I decided to go for a big catch today too. Would you be interested in helping me out?"