[A/N: Hello everyone.
New chapter, and this time I'm a bit long-winded, but I've included a movie character I'd really like to see in the novel.
There are several cinematic references.
By the way, at the end of the chapter, I'll leave the titles of several upcoming chapters, and that might give you a hint of when it all begins.]
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In the evening.
The phone buzzed on the nightstand, yanking me out of an exhaustion that had me teetering on the edge of collapse. It was a message from Ron: "Alex, I talked to David", he wrote. I was sprawled on the bed, my body aching after an endless afternoon hauling supplies to the containers. I'd crossed paths with David several times, both of us filling them with the same urgency. Between trips, I added some of his suggestions to my shopping list—flashlights, ropes, sturdy clothing—and started thinking about other items that could make a difference when the world fell apart, like portable water filters or more comprehensive first aid kits.
I've spoken with the owner of the container rental company to add more to our inventory: some standard ones and others with temperature regulation to preserve medicines and perishable food. He assured me they'd be ready tomorrow or, at the latest, Saturday. The thought of having secure storage for essentials gave me a small sense of relief, but the countdown to day 0 kept pounding in my head like a relentless drum, reminding me of the chaos looming just days away.
"Everything okay?", I replied, forcing my fingers to type despite the fatigue.
"Yeah, we've got the vehicles picked out", Ron answered almost instantly. "David gave me some recommendations. Your friend's sharp", he added, and I could imagine the respect in his tone.
"He is", I wrote, feeling a faint pride for David. "Any news on the weapons?", I asked, cutting to the chase. The weapons were a critical piece of our plan, and any delay or issue could leave us vulnerable.
"Yeah, the deal's happening tomorrow… But I need your help", he replied, the ellipsis in his message making me frown.
"How can I help?", I asked, intrigued but with a knot forming in my stomach.
"I need David too", he clarified.
"What do we need to do?", I responded after a brief pause, trying to stay calm. I didn't think Ron would deliberately put us in danger, but the possibility of trouble with the weapons worried me. What if the deal went south? Without them, we'd be stuck relying on the spears and edged weapons David had suggested—not a bad backup but hardly reassuring against zombie hordes.
"I need you to act as my guards", he wrote.
"What?!", I replied, tossing in some shocked emojis as my heart raced like I was already in a shootout.
"I'm organizing protection for a lot of people, so I had to send two of my trusted guys on other tasks tomorrow. I forgot about the deal with the 'Drugos,' so I need two people to back me up during the exchange. Plus, you'll get to see the weapons firsthand", Ron explained in a lengthy message, trying to justify his request.
"Well, he's got a point", I thought, though the idea of playing bodyguard in a deal with criminals set my nerves on edge. "Drugos? What's with that weird name?", I asked, curious about what sounded like a gang straight out of a dystopian novel.
"They're a criminal gang that used to be called 'Native Americans.' The original leaders stepped back when their kids started wreaking havoc in their businesses, to protect them from the shadows and avoid getting caught up in their madness", Ron explained, giving me more context than I'd expected. "Be careful with them—I mean the young ones running things now. They're not exactly dangerous, but they're psychopaths. They're selling us weapons because they got bored of them, not because it's one of their main gigs", he warned, his tone conjuring images of unpredictable lunatics.
"Psychopaths?", I asked, my surprise growing alongside my unease.
"Yeah. We can't give them any reason to focus on us. We go in, grab the weapons, and get out. That's it", he insisted, his tone almost pleading.
"No problem", I assured him, though fear gnawed at me. Guards? With a gang of psychopaths? This was insane, but there was no turning back. The weapons were essential, and if Ron thought we could handle them, I had to try.
"I hope everything goes okay tomorrow", I muttered, setting the phone aside. Exhaustion overpowered me, and I fell asleep with chaotic images of a shootout swirling in my mind, mixed with echoes of my old visions.
Friday, November 13, 2026. Two days until day 0.
At noon.
"Alex, the vehicles are ready. They're in great shape. Thanks to Ron, they agreed to installment payments, though with sky-high interest", David said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as we met at one of the warehouses, surrounded by crates and containers.
"Great news!", I replied, forcing a smile. My face must have betrayed my exhaustion, because David gave me a look that mixed concern and curiosity, as if trying to read my mood.
"We're switching up the plans today", he announced. "Since we're going with Ron for the weapons this afternoon, we need to move the medicines to the containers now. Once the houses are ready and the vehicles are prepped, we can put together key medical kits for each one", he explained, laying out the schedule with the precision of a general.
"So, Ron told you?", I asked, embarrassed for dragging him into something so risky. "Aren't you scared?", I added, searching for any sign of nervousness or annoyance in his expression.
"Nah, we'll be fine", he assured me with a calm that threw me off. How could he be so relaxed about facing a criminal gang?
"I hope so", I mumbled, lowering my voice. "It'd suck to die before this whole thing even starts", I joked, trying to lighten the tension I'd created.
"Haha, true", David laughed, playing along, his chuckle easing the mood a bit.
"Ready to go?", I asked, getting back to the task at hand.
A couple of hours later, on the city outskirts.
"Here", Ron said, handing David and me two large rifles and two pairs of dark cloths as we prepped at an isolated rendezvous point, a dusty lot surrounded by dry brush.
"What's this for?", I asked, clumsily holding the rifle and cloths, the weapon's weight feeling like it could crush me.
"The cloths are to cover the license plates when we get close to the exchange spot. The rifles… well, I think that's obvious", Ron replied with an enigmatic smile that did nothing to calm me.
"I don't even know what this thing's called… They'll know I'm not a guard", I admitted, my voice shaky with nerves.
"It's an assault rifle, an HK 416. Not ideal, but it'll do", David explained with a calm that clashed with my panic. "Hold it like this, grip it firmly here, this is the trigger, and this is the stance for better accuracy and stability", he instructed, guiding me patiently as he pointed out each part, like a coach at a firing range.
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[A/N: I'm waiting for your corrections.]
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"Like this?", I asked, a bit excited, aiming at them as if it were a game, until I realized how ridiculous I must've looked.
"Yeah, could you stop pointing it at us?", Ron said wryly, raising an eyebrow.
"Are they loaded?", I asked, alarmed, noticing I'd nearly brushed the trigger.
"Relax, the safety's on, but you should be more careful next time… And yeah, that's the right stance for carrying this kind of weapon", Ron said, downplaying what could've been a disaster.
"Uh… Thanks", I stammered, still rattled by my own clumsiness, my heart pounding in my ears.
A few minutes later.
We headed to the exchange site, a barren lot that looked ripped from a low-budget gangster flick. Abandoned buildings, scattered trash, and an air of decay gave the scene a theatrical flair, like we were acting in a crime drama. We traveled in a convoy: Ron's sleek car in the lead, followed by two trucks driven by David and me, with road dust swirling in our wake.
Ron's two trusted men rode in the car. When we arrived, they stepped out, scanned the area with precise movements, and, after confirming everything was clear, opened the door for Ron to step out with an almost choreographed elegance. Meanwhile, David and I parked the trucks near the car, leaving the engines running and the low beams illuminating the scene. We got out, rifles in hand, trying to project confidence that, in my case at least, was pure bluff.
"Dear Ron", exclaimed a young man dressed in white, sporting an extravagant hat and a cane that seemed more theatrical prop than tool. His outfit was absurd: silk shirt, tight pants, and a fake eyelash that flickered like a neon sign. "How's your daughter?", he asked with an exaggeration that carried through his voice and theatrical gestures, his hands flailing like a stage actor's.
"Watch your mouth, kid", Ron growled, aiming a pistol at the guy's temple with an agility that belied his age. The tension sliced through the air like a blade, and time seemed to freeze.
Ron's men drew their weapons swiftly, aiming first at the young man, then at the figures emerging from the shadows—presumably the kid's cronies. The situation caught David and me off guard, but we got swept up in the moment and raised our rifles, targeting the men approaching from a nearby building. It felt like a movie set, with each of us playing a role in this bizarre production.
The 'Drugos' gang members reacted with an unsettling calm. Two carried rifles like ours, while the rest had low-caliber pistols, knives, or steel bats. Their faces bore sinister smiles, as if the prospect of a standoff amused them. Clearly, they didn't care about their leader's predicament, like this kind of drama was just another day for them.
Ron's men, on the other hand, aimed with professional precision, unfazed by the apparent madness of the opposing side. David and I tried to mimic them, but while he seemed calm and moved naturally, I was a mess. My hands shook slightly, and only the dim light from the trucks, which half-illuminated me, kept the 'Drugos' from noticing my nerves.
"Easy, Ron. I was just being polite. Besides, my friend over there already learned the hard way not to mess with your family", the young man said with exaggerated flair, pointing to another guy nearby who tipped his hat in a mocking salute. This second character looked as unhinged as the one talking, his smile teetering between taunting and menacing.
"Let's hope so", Ron said, tucking his pistol back into his clothing, though his gaze remained sharp as a blade.
"Alright, we're here for the cash", the cane-wielding kid said, shifting gears without losing his theatrical edge. "We need to build a playground to have some fun with a gang that hurt our dear Georgi, and we couldn't find volunteers to build it, so we've got to resort to this paper gold", he explained, waving a high-denomination bill like it was a trophy.
"That's exactly what we brought", Ron replied, staying cool and resisting the kid's lunacy.
"Splendid news!", the kid exclaimed with flair. "But we want to sell everything at once. We're not waiting around to play with the folks we've got waiting in the warehouse", he added, dropping a disturbing hint about people being held against their will.
"That's an issue", Ron said, glancing at us with a questioning look. "How much money are we talking?", he asked.
"This", the kid said, raising several fingers on both hands. "And this price is only because we're in a bit of a rush… Haha", he added, laughing with a cackle that sounded more maniacal than amused.
"Fine", Ron said after seeing us nod, signaling we had the cash. David and I had come prepared for almost any scenario, bringing nearly all the money we had. The amount the kid indicated was within our budget, but just barely.
"Alex, get the money", Ron said, looking straight at me.
"Alex?", a surprised voice called out. It was the extravagant kid, and his tone made my blood run cold. I'd turned to head to the truck for the bags of cash, but his voice stopped me dead. "What a beautiful name!", he added with flair, hopping toward me like an excited child.
My mind was short-circuited. I knew I'd caught his attention, but I didn't immediately grasp why. Then, as he approached in what felt like slow motion, it hit me: Ron had said my name. It didn't take a genius to figure out—he was also named Alex. I glanced at Ron for confirmation, and his tense expression told me he'd realized the same disastrous coincidence. He'd warned me not to draw their attention, and now, thanks to a stupid fluke, I was the center of it. I just hoped he wasn't the egomaniacal psychopath type who thinks only one person can have his name.
"What an incredible coincidence, don't you think?", he said, standing inches from my face. "It's got to be fate. Just as I'm getting gold to pay the system's slaves and punish the villains who hurt my friend, you show up… My other half", he added, slinging an arm around my shoulders in an embrace that gave me goosebumps.
"I've got so many ideas with you by my side", he went on, not waiting for me to speak. "You could form your own crew, like mine. We'd split the city: me in the east, you in the west. Then, when the world falls into chaos, we'd have an epic cane duel to decide who's the better Alex and who gets the city… Haha!", he continued, his monologue growing more deranged.
"Wait a sec", he said suddenly, as if noticing something critical. "One, two, three, four, five… We've got a problem here", he said, counting our group with a theatrical finger.
"For it to be fair, it should be four versus four", he declared, pulling a pistol out of nowhere. "Who should we cut from your little friend group?", he asked, still hugging me, as he slowly aimed at David, Ron, and their men, like he was picking a target in a twisted game.
The tension skyrocketed. Everyone was aiming at everyone else: Ron's men at the 'Drugos,' the 'Drugos' at us, and us trying to keep it together. I noticed, though I didn't process it then, that none of this Alex's men, his men never aimed at me—a detail that would matter later. The air was thick with danger, and the slightest move could spark a catastrophe.
"What do I do?", I thought, fighting the panic threatening to paralyze me. Then, like a flash, I remembered the version of myself from my visions: decisive, brave, ready to face chaos. I summoned my courage, let instinct take over, and acted.
"That's my call", I said with a seriousness I didn't recognize in my own voice, staring him down. I slung my arm over his shoulders, mirroring his gesture, but this time I gripped his neck firmly, making sure he felt my resolve. I didn't know if I was making a fatal mistake or seizing control, but there was no turning back now.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Thanks everyone for reading.
As you noticed, this chapter introduces a rather unique character, who will give the story many dramatic twists in the future.
By the way, I'd like you to comment on the cinematic references, if you find them clear.
Titles:
Chapter 40: Last Day (N)
Chapter 41: Day 0, Morning (Z)
Chapter 42: Day 0, Evening (Z)
Chapter 43: First Encounter (Z)
Read my other novel called Vinland Kingdom: Race Against Time.
You can find it on my profile.]