Mason had survived the first wave in the last apocalypse by relying on instinct and careful planning. In Noah's previous life, Mason had perished anyway, caught in chaos he could have avoided if Noah had acted sooner. Noah would not let that happen again.
A faint metallic clang echoed from a half-ruined alleyway. Noah crouched, moving silently along the walls, and spotted Mason through a gap between two collapsed buildings. Mason was bent over a makeshift barricade, reinforcing it with scraps of wood and rusted metal. He hummed softly, unaware of Noah's presence.
Noah stepped forward, clearing his throat lightly. "Mason."
Mason jumped upright, wrench in hand, eyes wide and alert. "Noah? How… what? Are you—"
"Alive," Noah said calmly, holding up his hands. "Yes. Alive. And I need your help."
Mason's brow furrowed. "Help? With what? What's going on? You're scaring me."
Noah took a deep breath. He had rehearsed this moment in his head countless times. "Listen, Mason. I know this is going to sound crazy, but it's the truth. I… I lived through the apocalypse already. And I remember everything. Everything that will happen. The monsters, the collapse, the chaos, the people who will die… I saw it all. But now, I've been given a second chance. A second chance to change things."
Mason's eyes widened further. "You… what? Are you serious? That's… that's insane. You expect me to just believe—"
"I don't expect you to believe me," Noah interrupted. His voice was calm, measured, but firm. "All I need is for you to trust me enough to follow my lead. For now. That's all. Watch what I do, see that I survive, and then judge for yourself."
Mason glanced at him, suspicion etched on his face. "You… you really think the world's going to collapse again? Just like you say?"
"I know it will," Noah said, his eyes locked on Mason's. "I can't explain everything yet. You wouldn't believe it all even if I tried. But I know how it starts. I know who survives and who doesn't. I know what mistakes we made last time, and I won't let them happen again."
Mason hesitated. He was practical by nature, the kind of man who demanded proof before committing to anything. Noah saw the conflict in his eyes—the skepticism, the fear, and the faint curiosity.
"You're asking me to follow someone who claims to have lived through a future that hasn't happened yet," Mason said finally, voice low. "Do you realize how crazy that sounds?"
"I do," Noah admitted. "But I'm not asking for blind faith. I'm asking you to prepare. To train. To think strategically. And when the time comes, we survive. Together. That's the difference this time."
Mason remained silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he let out a slow breath and nodded reluctantly. "All right… I'll follow—for now. But you'd better not be lying, Noah. I don't survive by following fairy tales."
"No lies," Noah said, relief softening the tension in his chest. "Just preparation. Just survival. And planning."
The next hours were spent reacquainting themselves with the city. Noah led Mason through side streets, abandoned alleys, and makeshift safe zones. Every corner, every ruined building, was cataloged in Noah's mind as a potential trap or haven. Mason followed cautiously, still skeptical, but slowly absorbing Noah's explanations of strategic planning and potential threats.
They passed remnants of the city—shops looted long ago, cars abandoned at intersections, and empty playgrounds echoing with distant sounds of traffic. Noah showed Mason how to survey locations efficiently, spot weaknesses in building structures, and memorize escape routes.
"Remember this building," Noah said, pointing to a collapsed apartment complex. "If a horde comes through, we can use the rubble here to funnel them, slow them down. Think of it like a choke point in a game. You understand?"
Mason nodded slowly. "Yeah… I see it. Makes sense."
By midday, they returned to Noah's apartment. Mason set down his bag, carefully arranging the few supplies he'd brought. Noah spread out his journal, showing detailed maps, lists of potential safe zones, supply caches, and early warning signs of danger.
"We start simple," Noah explained. "Physical conditioning first, reflexes, endurance, mental exercises. Then we move to tactical simulations—evacuation drills, combat practice, escape scenarios. Every move has to be precise. Timing is everything."
Mason raised an eyebrow. "Combat practice? You mean—fighting?"
"Nothing lethal yet," Noah said. "Just drills, learning positions, awareness, anticipating movements. You'll need it when the chaos starts."
Training began immediately. Noah led Mason through sprints along broken sidewalks, push-ups on concrete, and reflex exercises using improvised tools. Mason adapted quickly, correcting mistakes, adjusting his stance, and predicting movement faster than Noah expected.
"Good," Noah said after Mason blocked a simulated strike. "Your reflexes are sharper than I anticipated. Better than last time."
Mason wiped sweat from his brow. "I can't afford to be slow. Not if I want to survive."
"Exactly," Noah said. "This time, mistakes won't kill us. This time, we prepare, we adapt, and we survive. Everyone who died before… we save them."
As the sun sank lower, painting the skyline in molten orange and red, Noah's thoughts drifted briefly to Victor Kane. The man had yet to make a move, but Noah could feel the tension—the calculated, dangerous energy of a man always seeking an advantage. Victor would rise, and when he did, they had to be ready.
"Noah…" Mason said quietly, breaking his train of thought. "This… this all sounds insane. But I… I see you mean it. And I guess… I'll trust you—for now."
"That's all I need," Noah said with a small smile. "Trust enough to act. Execution will prove everything else."
Evening settled over the city, turning glass and steel into fiery silhouettes. Noah and Mason stood on the rooftop, scanning the streets below. Noah explained safe zones, supply caches, and routes they could use if disaster struck tonight. Mason listened, absorbing every word, still skeptical but growing more confident in Noah's resolve.
"You really think we can do this?" Mason asked.
"We have to," Noah replied firmly. "We don't just survive. We plan, we adapt, and we anticipate. The difference this time… is that we won't be caught unprepared. Not again."
Mason clenched his fists, a mix of determination and anxiety on his face. "All right. Let's do it."
Noah nodded, satisfied. The first ally was secured. The foundation for their survival was laid.
Victor Kane's schemes were beginning to stir—but Noah and Mason would be ready.