My brother and I turned to Dad. He was silent for a long moment, then pulled out a card.
"Ten million. Two million for explosives. The rest is yours to figure out."
With cash in hand, we got to work. Ethan handled the warehouse remodel while I tackled supplies.
Two hundred bags each of rice and flour. Several thousand pounds of pork, beef, and lamb—no spoilage risk with temperatures in the negative twenties. Hundreds of cases of dried noodles and instant ramen.
When disaster hit, utilities would be the first to go. I bought over a dozen water storage tanks and ten thousand cases of bottled water. The warehouse filled up halfway.
Dad pulled some strings at an abandoned mine and scored two diesel generators, plus dozens of barrels of fuel. That should keep us running until the grid came back. Fifty propane tanks for cooking.
No heating in the warehouse, so I installed air conditioning units and moved in beds and quilts.
The death toll from my previous life haunted me. I couldn't just save myself and watch everyone else die.
The day the remodel finished, I set up a livestream outside the warehouse doors.
I laid it all out—the unknown planet, the element release, the global animal mutations. My handful of viewers exploded into thousands.
[What did I just hear? Unknown planet causing animal mutations? Streamer's really fishing for clicks here]
[Looking at that setup behind him... why do I kinda believe this guy? Maybe I should prep a little?]
[Whether it's real or not, streamer's got heart. Teaching people how to survive for free. I'm touched]
Then Uncle Raymond stepped into frame and tore the whole thing down.
"Don't listen to this nonsense. My nephew's been unreliable since he was a kid. That rice and flour? New Year bonuses for his family's workers. Mutant cats? Mutant dogs? Keep spreading rumors and I'll have you arrested!"
Before I could respond, a notification popped up—someone wanted to video chat.
I accepted. A timid voice came through: "Streamer, I live alone. I can't handle all this prep by myself. Can I come to your place?"
I froze.
She rushed to explain. "I'll pay. Fifty thousand for one spot."
The comments section went dead silent. Then erupted.
[Ohhhh so THAT'S the angle—he's selling spots? Does he think this is Noah's Ark?]
[That girl's obviously a plant. Fifty thousand? The audacity]
[Don't fall for this fear-mongering. Dude's read too many sci-fi novels. Don't get scammed!]
I opened my mouth to tell her not to pay—
Uncle Raymond snatched the phone right out of my hand.
"Alex, have you lost your mind? Taking money for this? The cops will haul you off for fraud. Stop embarrassing the Larson name!"
He hurled my phone at the ground and stomped on it twice. The screen went black.
My face darkened. My fists clenched until the knuckles cracked. Dad rushed over and caught my arm before I could swing.
He turned to Uncle Raymond, voice heavy. "Raymond. If you've got something to say, say it. Why smash the kid's phone? You breaking it means you're buying him a new one."
"Why should I?" Raymond's face twisted. "Nathan, this isn't right. My son needed eight hundred thousand for a house and you refused. But you hand these two eight million to play around with this junk? And you go along with their delusions? What, you think the family money is yours alone to spend? I put in ten thousand back in the day. Give me eight hundred thousand now—call it my share of the dividends."
