The clock in the hotel's presidential suite, with its luminous hands, slowly crept toward 9 p.m. The perimeter was sealed, weapons distributed, backpacks packed. A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant hum of the air conditioning and, occasionally, the muffled cry of one of the children, sensing the strange gravity in the room. The adults, exhausted and apprehensive, tried to rest, but anxiety was a poison that prevented sleep. Thiago, however, could not afford that luxury. There was one final piece on his chessboard against the apocalypse, a move that could mean the difference between survival and annihilation for those who had somehow become his allies.
He walked away from the main group, which had gathered in the living room, and headed to one of the smaller bedrooms, which had been converted into a makeshift command center. The dim light from the lamp illuminated the desk, where his laptop, now connected to a secure hotel network, displayed a list of contacts. They were the numbers of the gun shop owners he had visited, men and women who, for a week, had been his unwitting accomplices in preparing for the end of the world. He had built a relationship of trust with some of them, a connection based on unusual business transactions and an intuition that he, Thiago, knew was the echo of a future lived.
Thiago picked up the hotel phone, the heavy, old-fashioned device in his hands, and dialed the first contact's number. He preferred a conference call, a way to reach everyone at once, to convey the urgency without having to repeat the same story, the same warning, over and over again. The dial tone was a strange noise amid the silence. He waited, his breathing calm, his heart beating steadily, but his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
The first voice to answer was that of a man named Frank, the owner of a large gun shop in Brooklyn, a burly man with a gray beard and eyes that had seen it all. "Hello? Who's speaking?" Frank's voice was hoarse, with a hint of weariness. It was late for him.
"Frank, this is Thiago," he replied, his voice calm but with an authority that would have surprised Frank if he'd met him under other circumstances. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I'm calling you and the other store owners I've done business with this week. It's a conference call."
There was a brief silence, followed by a few clicks and the sound of other voices coming on the line. Thiago recognized the voice of Sarah, a middle-aged woman who owned a luxury gun boutique in Manhattan, and that of David, a young gun enthusiast who ran a smaller shop in Queens. There were a few other voices, some he didn't recognize, but they were the owners he'd met.
"Thiago? What's going on?" Sarah's voice was high-pitched, with a hint of irritation. "It's too late for conference calls. And why are you calling all of us together?"
"I know it's late, Sarah," Thiago replied, his voice unwavering. "And I apologize for that. But what I have to say is urgent. And it's for the good of all of us. I need to know: Are you prepared? Did you see the situation on TV? What's happening in the world?"
There was a chorus of murmurs and sighs on the other end of the line. The television, in the background of the suite, showed news footage with alarming headlines, though the sound was muffled. But Thiago knew they were seeing the same thing he was. The White House announcement made from a secret bunker, the absence of Senate sessions, the disappearance of wealthy and influential figures from social media. These were signs, for those who knew how to see.
"Ready for what, Thiago?" David's voice was skeptical, but with a hint of nervousness. "For the meteor? The government is saying it's just a show, that it will disintegrate in the atmosphere. But... the way they're talking... it's strange."
"Exactly, David," Thiago said, his voice taking on a deeper, almost conspiratorial tone. "It's strange. And what they're saying... isn't the whole truth. The meteor is just the trigger. The beginning of something much bigger. I can't give you all the details, not over the phone. But I'm telling you: the world as we know it will change. And not for the better. It will be a matter of survival."
A heavy silence fell over the line. Frank, the veteran, was the first to react, his voice more serious now. "You're talking about... something else, aren't you, kid? Something they don't want us to know about. I've seen some strange things in my life, but this week... the way you were buying, the urgency... I felt something was coming. My inventory is almost empty, you know."
"Yes, Frank, I know," Thiago replied. "And thank you for your cooperation. You were essential. What's coming... is something that will test humanity like never before. It won't be a conventional war, it won't be a common disease. It will transform life as we know it. And the only way to survive is to be prepared. And to fight. To fight for every ounce of life."
"You're talking about... widespread chaos?" Sarah asked, her voice shaking. "Looting? Anarchy?"
"Much worse, Sarah," Thiago said, his voice a dark whisper. "Think of the worst-case scenario. And multiply it by ten. Society will crumble. Laws will become irrelevant. And the threat... the threat won't just be human. It will be something that will transform the world itself. Plants that will become dangerous. Animals that will evolve into beasts. The sea and sky will become death zones. We need to be prepared for all of this."
There were more murmurs, some of disbelief, others of fear. Thiago could feel the tension, the internal struggle each of them felt to reconcile the normalcy of their lives with the apocalyptic vision he presented to them.
"So, what do you suggest, Thiago?" the voice of one of the owners, a woman named Maria who ran a small gun shop in the Bronx, was hesitant. "What can we do?"
"Take cover," Thiago replied, his voice firm and full of conviction. "Protect your families. Your loved ones. Gather supplies. Fortify your homes if you can. And above all, keep your weapons ready. With silencers, if you have them. Noise will be an enemy. And if someone tries to enter your spaces, don't hesitate. Aim for the head. Not the body. You've seen zombie movies and TV shows, right? The rule is the same. The head is the only weak point. A body shot may not be enough to stop them, and every bullet is precious."
The instruction to shoot in the head, though shocking, seemed to hit a nerve. It was a familiar reference, something they could somehow understand, even if the reality behind it was terrifying.
"When will this happen, Thiago?" Frank's voice was deep, filled with an urgency he could no longer disguise. "You're talking about a deadline. When?"
Thiago hesitated for a moment. He couldn't give an exact time. The System forbade him from revealing details that could unpredictably alter the course of events. "I can't give an exact time, Frank," he said, his voice a little lower. "But I can tell you that after 6:30 AM, the situation will begin to deteriorate rapidly. Be ready. Be alert. And don't trust anyone outside your family. Chaos will spread like wildfire. And humanity... humanity will show its darkest side."
There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line. Thiago could imagine their pale faces, their minds racing, trying to process the information. He had planted the seed. Now it was up to them to decide whether to water it or ignore it.
"I... I understand, Thiago," Sarah's voice was a whisper. "Thank you. For letting me know. I... I'll prepare myself. And my family will too."
"Me too," David said, his voice firmer now, the disbelief replaced by grim acceptance. "I'll tell my parents. And I'll close the store. Thanks, Thiago."
"Take care of yourselves, all of you," Thiago said, his voice thick with the sincerity of twenty years of loss. "And remember: survival is the only rule. Do whatever it takes. But protect your families."
He heard the clicks of the calls ending, one by one. Silence returned to the room, deeper now, heavy with the weight of the words he had spoken. Thiago felt a subtle relief, mixed with melancholy. He had done what he could. He had given them a chance. Now, their fate was in his own hands.
He returned to the main living room. The family was quieter now, some dozing, others staring at the television with renewed apprehension. Thiago glanced at the clock. It was almost 10 p.m. The night would be long. Dawn would bring hell. But this time, they would be ready. The race against time had reached its climax, and the next few hours would determine their fate.