The November wind howled through the shattered windows of the abandoned shopping mall, cutting to the bone. A small group of survivors huddled around a makeshift fire, their faces hollow with exhaustion, their gazes fixed on the flickering flames. Outside, the world lay in ruins, torn apart by a man-made virus that had turned most of humanity into mindless predators—“maulers,” as they were grimly called. For these few, every breath was an act of defiance against extinction.

Jack stood, his frame stooped but his presence commanding. The firelight etched deep lines into his weathered face as he surveyed the group: Irina, with her quiet resolve; Danny, sharp-jawed and skeptical; Sarah, pale and shivering under a moth-eaten blanket. They and all the rest were his family now, the last remnants of hope in a world gone dark.

“Today is Thanksgiving,” Jack began, his voice steady despite the weight in his chest. “And I know what you’re thinking—what’s left to be thankful for? But we’re alive. We have each other. That’s something. And as long as we have that, there’s a chance we can fight for more.”

His voice caught, the words a reminder of everything they’d lost. His gaze drifted to the shattered storefronts and the long-empty corridors of the mall. “I remember Thanksgivings when my mom’s house was so packed you couldn’t hear yourself think. Too much food, too much noise, too much everything. It was chaos. I thought it’d never end. Now I’d give anything for that kind of chaos again.”

The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the crackle of the fire. Then, from the shadows of a long-abandoned storefront, came a voice.

“Hope is a powerful thing.”

Every head snapped toward the sound. A woman stepped into the light, her movements unnervingly fluid, her pale skin almost luminous in the dim glow. Her eyes, an unnatural green, shone like lanterns in the dark.

“Who the hell are you?” Danny barked, rising to his feet, a length of rebar clutched tightly in his hand. Around him, the others scrambled for their makeshift weapons, muscles tensed to fight or flee.

The woman raised her hands in a gesture of peace, her expression calm but urgent. “Wait. I’m not your enemy. My name is Yulia. I came to help.”

“Help?” Danny spat. “You look like one of them.”

“I’m not a mauler,” Yulia said firmly. “But I am…changed. And so are all of you, whether you realize it or not.”

Jack stepped forward, putting himself between Yulia and the others. “Changed how exactly?”

Yulia hesitated, her luminous eyes softening as she looked at him. “You’re special. Every one of you carries something in your blood—something we’ve been able to synthesize and augment in my time. It’s the key to saving what’s left of the world.”

“Your time?” Irina’s voice was sharp with disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“I’m from the future,” Yulia said simply. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m here because of you. My future, our future, depends on what you do now.”

As her words settled over the group, a distant, guttural howl echoed through the corridors, raising the hair on their necks. Irina clutched her crowbar tighter, her knuckles white.

Danny’s lip curled. “Right. And while we sit here listening to her fairy tale, they’re closing in.”

Yulia stepped closer, undeterred. “I’m telling the truth. Without you, humanity won’t survive the mutations to come. Your blood carries an immunity we’ve never been able to replicate—one we can use to create a vaccine. This serum…” She pulled a small vial of glowing liquid from her jacket. “It will make you stronger, faster, and resistant to new strains of the virus. It might even reverse early mauler transformations. It’s not an easy process, but it’s the best hope we have.”

Jack’s gaze narrowed. “And why risk coming back here? If your future survives, why not leave us to…whatever this is?”

Yulia’s composure faltered, her voice breaking. “Because we’re not going to survive in my time. Not like this. Your children won’t inherit your immunities, and when the virus mutates…” Her gaze flicked to Irina, her voice softening. “I won’t be able to give you the grandchildren you want. All our babies are stillborn.”

The group froze. Irina’s sharp intake of breath cut through the silence. “What?”

“It’s true,” Yulia said, stepping closer. Her voice trembled. “Mom, Dad—this could be the moment that changes everything. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ve risked everything coming here. Believing you will save us all.”

Jack turned to Irina, his voice low and strained. “We have a daughter? How is that even possible?”

Irina shook her head, her face a mix of disbelief and hope. “I can figure out how it happens…I just never thought you and I would…you know. No offense.”

“None taken,” Jack said. “And, same.”

Danny stepped forward, his rebar tapping against the floor. “Her story’s insane. We don’t even have a clue what that stuff is, and you’re going to trust her just because she says she’s your kid…from the future?”

“She’s not lying,” Irina said quietly, her eyes fixed on Yulia. “Look at her. She’s…us.”

Jack stared at the vial in Yulia’s hand, the glow casting eerie shadows on her face. Every instinct told him to turn away, to reject this impossible story. But something in Yulia’s eyes—something familiar—pulled at him.

“If there’s even a chance she’s right,” he said finally, his voice heavy, “we have to try. Because if we don’t, what’s left?”

Irina stepped beside him, her hand brushing his. “We do it together.”

Jack and Irina took the vial, sharing a long, steady look. Then, as the others watched, they drank.

The transformation was immediate. Jack doubled over, a wave of searing heat coursing through his veins. Irina fell to her knees, her body convulsing. Around them, the survivors froze, too horrified to intervene. The pain was excruciating, every nerve aflame as the serum worked through them, tearing apart and rebuilding.

When it was over, they staggered to their feet, gasping. Their eyes glowed green, the world sharper and more vivid. They looked at each other, something unspoken passing between them—a shared pulse, a connection deeper than words.

Yulia stepped forward, her smile tinged with sadness. “This is just the beginning. Together, you’ll create a future where humanity thrives again.”

Danny muttered, “If this kills me, at least I won’t have to deal with the next Thanksgiving speech,” before finally drinking his dose.

Later, around the fire, the group shared what little they had, thankful for each other, for hope, and for the strange new path before them. For the first time in years, they allowed themselves to dream—not just of survival, but of something greater. Something worth fighting for.

On this New Thanksgiving, they were grateful not for what they’d lost, but for what might still be.

In this world of diverse traditions,
Where cultures blend and intertwine,
We pause to share a simple mission,
A heartfelt wish, a thought divine.

Whether you gather 'round the table,
With family, friends, or loved ones dear,
Or simply cherish moments stable,
In quiet solitude this year.

May gratitude fill every corner,
Of hearts and homes, both far and wide,
Let kindness be the reigning order,
And peace the guest that does abide.

For those who celebrate Thanksgiving,
We wish you joy, a feast to savor,
May blessings flow, forever living,
In memories you'll fondly favor.

And if this day holds no tradition,
Within your land or in your home,
Know that our wish is no partition,
But sent to all, wherever they roam.

So on this day, let's lift each other,
With words of thanks and acts of grace,
For in this world, we're all one another,
United in this human race.

Happy Thanksgiving, one and all, Whether near or far, let love call.