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Chapter 1 Awakening in the Storm's Eye "Am I not dead?" Henry's eyes snapped open. Wait. This was his old apartment. A deep sense of déjà vu washed over him—he'd seen this room a thousand times in his dreams. He pinched his thigh, hard. A sharp, immediate pain shot through him. This was no dream. He was really back. He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand. 9:00 AM, November 10, 2040. The date felt vaguely familiar, but the next day was seared into his memory. Black Friday. That was when everything went to hell. In this timeline, Black Friday had morphed from a day of frantic shopping into something far worse. People would be up all night, hunting for online deals, completely oblivious that just over twelve hours later, at 11:11 PM on the 11th, their world would shatter. The apocalypse was coming. It started like the sky was ripped apart by some invisible, colossal force. A rain like no one had ever seen began to fall. Within a single hour, the bustling city of Starport was drowning. And it didn't stop. The downpour continued, relentless, for three straight days and nights. By the time it finally ceased, only those lucky enough to be in skyscrapers over twenty stories tall had made it. But that was just the opening act. As soon as the floods peaked, the fire rain began. Crimson droplets fell from the sky, superheating the air and rapidly boiling away the immense floodwaters. A brutal heatwave slammed the city, pushing temperatures to a lethal 140° Fahrenheit. Venturing outside in that was a death sentence. Countless people perished—from dehydration, from heatstroke, from sheer starvation, trapped in their sweltering refuges. That nightmare also lasted three days. When the heat finally broke and the city's water had largely steamed away, an eerie calm settled over the ravaged streets. The handful of survivors, desperate and frail, dared to emerge, hoping for rescue, for order, for anything. What they found was an endless sea of the infected. In his first life, Henry had been among those survivors. His instinct for caution had held him back from immediately rushing out after the fire rain ended, a hesitation that likely saved his life. He'd managed to scrape out a desperate existence for six years in the brutal new world, becoming a hardened scavenger. But on one fateful mission outside the safe zone, he'd been cornered, infected. Rather than turn into one of those... things, he'd made the choice to end it himself. No time for that now. He shook his head, forcing the memories down. The end of the world was just over thirty hours away. He had to move. He threw on some clothes, grabbed his phone and wallet, and bolted from his rented apartment without a backward glance. The keys were worthless now. His third-floor apartment was a death trap. Last time, if he hadn't been a strong swimmer and incredibly lucky, he would have drowned in that first hour. It was mid-November, a time when the air should have been crisp and cold. But today was unnaturally warm. The sun was bright, a gentle breeze rustled the trees. It was a perfect, beautiful day. And it was the last one they'd ever see. He hailed a cab and gave the driver an address for one of the most luxurious hotels in the city center. After tomorrow, money would be meaningless. If he was going to make a stand, it might as well be in style. "I'd like to book the Presidential Suite, please," Henry said, stepping up to the sleek marble front desk. A few people in the lavish lobby glanced his way. The receptionist, impeccably dressed, maintained her professional smile. Staff at a place like this were trained not to react, no matter how a guest looked or acted. "Certainly, sir. The Presidential Suite is 39,888 dollars per night," she said smoothly. Whoa, that's steep. Henry thought, caught off guard. He'd expected a few grand, but nearly forty thousand? The receptionist's smile didn't falter, but a voice echoed in Henry's head. Ugh, another one. Comes in here trying to look big without even checking the price first. How embarrassing. "Who said that?" Henry's head whipped around, but no one had spoken. Oh, great, now he's hearing things? If you can't handle it, just leave. Don't waste my time. The voice again. This time, Henry locked eyes with the receptionist. He realized the voice had her same subtle, condescending tone. A flicker of the cold, predatory instinct he'd honed in his past life surfaced in his gaze. "S-sir? Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice faltering slightly under his intense stare. Henry said nothing, just watched her. After a few seconds, the internal monologue started up again. Why is he staring at me like that? It's seriously creepy. This is a five-star hotel, not a back alley. If you can't pay, just go. A slow smile spread across Henry's face. Now he understood. He could hear her thoughts. He shifted his gaze to the concierge standing a few feet away, focusing. After a three-count, a new voice popped into his head. This guy is giving off major weirdo vibes. Should I signal security? Confirmed. If he focused on someone, he could listen in on their internal monologue. "Alright then," Henry said, his mood lifting considerably. He turned back to the receptionist. "Let's do it. Book the Presidential Suite." Mood elated, Henry didn't bat an eye at the tens of thousands in room charges. Before the apocalypse, Henry was a veteran. He'd enlisted at 16, served six years in the military, and only retired a few months prior. With savings from those six years plus his retirement pay, he now had over 200,000 dollars—more than enough to splurge on a few nights in a presidential suite. "Excuse me?" she blurted out, her professional composure cracking for a second. "Two nights. Don't get it wrong." He needed to be checked out by 1:00 PM tomorrow, before all hell broke loose. "Of-Of course, sir. Will you be paying with a card?" "Card." The distinct chirp of the payment terminal approving the transaction seemed to finally convince her he wasn't some kind of prankster. She processed his key cards with renewed, almost frantic, efficiency. Henry firmly declined the offer to have a butler escort him to the suite. As he waited for the private elevator to the top floor, a genuine sense of optimism surged through him. Reborn. And with a cheat code. Maybe he was meant to be the main character after all. The suite occupied the entire 21st floor. His personal butler was waiting by the double doors. "I won't be needing anything," Henry said before the man could launch into his welcome spiel. "My only instruction is that I am not to be disturbed for any reason for the next two days. Understood?" Once the butler was gone, Henry finally stepped inside. The Presidential Suite was sprawling, opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the doomed city. He barely registered the designer furniture or the extravagant details. His mind was already racing, completely focused on a single, all-consuming task—figuring out how to not just survive, but live comfortably through the apocalypse that was now only hours away. Chapter 2 The Price of Tomorrow Water was the absolute top priority. Bottled water, and lots of it. Salt was a close second. Those were the non-negotiables for keeping a body going. Henry found himself at the largest market in Starport. Even though the initial catastrophe only lasted six days, the relentless rain ruined almost everything that wasn't sealed away or stored high up. When the time came, even if he could fend off the infected, finding edible food would become the real battle. After paying for the hotel, Henry still had a little over hundred grand left. His plan was simple—turn every last dollar of it into usable supplies within the next twenty-four hours. He started with pallets of bottled water and bulk containers of salt. After paying, he gave the warehouse staff the hotel's delivery address and moved on, weaving through the massive aisles. "Canned meat? Now we're talking," he muttered to himself. In the world to come, a single can of this stuff could be traded for almost anything—or anyone. A pretty co-ed from the local university wouldn't be out of the question. "Instant noodles? Solid choice." Not as valuable as the meat, sure, but still a decent barter for a night's comfort. Women always got the short end of the stick when civilization crumbled. "Holy shit, hot sauce! An entire aisle of it!" He turned into another row, shelves stacked high with every brand and variety of hot sauce imaginable. Henry's mouth actually started watering. You have no idea what it's like to see this after surviving in a world where you're lucky to get a pinch of flavoring for weeks. The sheer sensory shock was overwhelming. If not for his last shred of self-control, he might have ripped a bottle open right there and guzzled it. "Damn, this is the motherlode." In the post-apocalyptic economy, one jar of this could probably get him a former sorority president. No hesitation. He was clearing the shelf. He spent the next few hours methodically buying other essentials—batteries, first-aid kits, basic tools. He arranged for every vendor to deliver to the hotel, where he'd already sorted things out with the staff. "High-lumen flashlights. Definitely need these. I'll take a thousand." After the rain had been falling for a full day, the city's power grid would be finished. A reliable light source would be worth its weight in gold. And with flashlights, he couldn't forget candles. Running a flashlight constantly would be a luxury. Candles were the practical alternative—cheap, long-lasting, and compact. He found a wholesaler selling them for just ten cents each. Henry bought ten thousand without blinking. "Damn it, if only I had some kind of spatial storage." Then he could just pack all of this away into a pocket dimension. About a month after the apocalypse hit, rumors would start circulating about advanced tech, including gear that could store items in compressed space. In his first life, he'd only ever heard stories; he never got his hands on one. A spatial storage ring... With one of those, I could live like a king in Future City, never worry about supplies again, and have my pick of women. Now wasn't the time for wishful thinking. If he prepared properly now and used his six years of hard-earned experience, he was confident he could get there. "Rice?" He paused, considering the massive bags. Rice took up a huge amount of space, was a pain to store correctly, and most importantly, it needed to be cooked. The power grid would fail tomorrow night, making electric rice cookers useless. Buying a lot of it now wouldn't help him in the immediate short-term. That thought triggered another, more crucial one—cooking fuel. The municipal natural gas supply would be cut off. He'd need to rely on propane tanks. Very few places in modern Starport still dealt with them, but Henry happened to know a spot on the industrial edge of town where he could get refillable tanks. But he still needed a practical way to eat the rice. He'd already thought of a solution—self-heating meal kits. They were pricier, but incredibly convenient—just add a little water, and the chemical pack did the rest. He could also grab some self-heating stews and chili to mix things up. He spent the entire afternoon running around the wholesale district. By the end, his funds were almost wiped out, with just over ten thousand dollars left for any last-minute purchases tomorrow. By now, hunger was gnawing at him. He'd been so amped up after waking up reborn that he hadn't eaten a thing all day. Sure, in the apocalypse, he'd gone three or four days without food while staying constantly alert, but that was then. No reason to suffer now. When Henry finally walked out of a nearby Texas Roadhouse, full from a hearty steak and potatoes, it was completely dark outside. Winter nights closed in fast. After a moment's thought, he headed back to the hotel. The private elevator took him straight to the 21st floor. The butler was stationed by the door as expected. Seeing Henry, he immediately plastered on a wide, professional smile. "Mr. Shawn, welcome back! I've seen to all the deliveries as you instructed. Everything has been placed in the main living area. Is there anything else I can assist you with tonight?" For Christ's sake, what is all this garbage? Turning the presidential suite into a damned storage locker? Is he planning to open a bodega in there? Henry gave the butler a knowing look but didn't bother calling him out. After tomorrow, it was a coin toss whether this guy would even be breathing. No point wasting energy on a man with no future. "That will be all. Thank you for your help. Remember, I am not to be disturbed for any reason." That's what you said this morning, and then I spent my whole day playing bellhop for your junk. I'm going to make a point of being here at check-out. I want to see the look on your face when they charge you for the damages. The butler's face was all smiles, but his mind was a torrent of profanity. Henry ignored him and closed the door firmly. Lying back on the incredibly comfortable king-sized bed, it still felt somewhat surreal to Henry. Those six years of brutal survival felt like a fever dream now. Or maybe this was the dream. For the first time in what felt like an eternity—six years of constant tension—Henry fell asleep with his mind completely at ease. That night, he even dreamed. In his dream, he was the Lord of Future City, commanding an army of three thousand mutated enforcers. Even a Tier-7 mutant was just one of his lieutenants. Countless beautiful women in the city vied for his attention, all scheming for a chance to share his bed. ***** He opened his eyes again, his mind still hazy with sleep. As his vision cleared, he saw the opulent ceiling of the presidential suite. It seemed this really wasn't a dream. With his second chance at life and the cheat code of reading minds, the fantasy from last night felt like a very plausible future. Shaking off the last dregs of sleep, he focused. Today was the final day. At 11:11 PM, the rain would begin on schedule. An hour after that, the world would descend into pure chaos. After treating himself to the hotel's lavish buffet breakfast, Henry took a cab to a part of town he remembered from his first life. If his memory served him right, this industrial area was where he could find refillable propane tanks. He didn't need a huge supply—two standard tanks would last a single person a very long time. With the fuel sorted, his next stop was a high-end grocery store. He bought some fresh vegetables and fruit, but didn't go overboard. They'd spoil quickly anyway. He picked up some quality steaks and chicken, figuring that after the three days of fire rain, there'd be no refrigeration left to preserve anything. His final stop was a large superstore. Here, he bought a full set of kitchen supplies—a sturdy stockpot, a cast-iron skillet, and two heavy-duty chef's knives. He was pressed for time, so he had to make do with these. Otherwise, he wouldn't have wrapped things up so hastily. Chapter 3 Downpour of the Damned By 11 PM, Henry was standing before the floor-to-ceiling window of his suite, looking down at the city. On a normal night, the streets would be quiet by this hour, but tonight was different. It was Black Friday, and the shopping plazas and malls below were still brightly lit, swarming with crowds hunting for late-night deals. A bitter irony. In my last life, being alone was what saved me. No wonder they say couples who can't spend a second apart die fast. Well, payback's right on schedule. He glanced at the new mechanical watch on his wrist. It wasn't a Rolex or an Omega, but it had cost him his last five thousand dollars. As the second hand completed its sweep, the minute hand clicked precisely into place at 11 minutes past the hour. Outside, the rain began without warning. No drizzle, no buildup—just a sudden, violent downpour. The apocalypse had arrived. The people below hadn't grasped the danger yet. It was just rain and it'll pass. Watching the crowds scatter for cover under the mall's decorative overhangs, a cold, cynical smile touched Henry's lips. Those malls were only five or six stories tall. By morning, they'd be completely underwater. The rain didn't let up. It grew heavier, more intense, hammering against the windowpane. Henry's face remained a mask, showing neither pity nor satisfaction. An hour passed quickly, the floodwaters visibly rising. Where a few stranded cars had been visible earlier, now there was only a churning, dark expanse. After watching for a while longer, Henry felt a strange emptiness. He already knew how this played out. He yawned and retreated to the comfort of his king-sized bed. When I wake up, the world will be a different place. He didn't know how long he slept, but when he awoke, the world outside was still a monochrome of gray and black, the rain continuing its relentless assault. Looking down from his window, the city had transformed into a vast, murky ocean. From the 21st floor, he could just make out the slanted roof of the shopping mall across the way. The day before, it had been buzzing with life. Now, only its top peeked above the waterline. Just in that one building, at least several thousand people must have drowned last night. He felt nothing. In the true apocalypse he remembered, death tolls in the tens of thousands were a daily occurrence. It only got marginally better after humanity managed to establish Future City. A sudden, frantic banging erupted from his door, accompanied by desperate, choked sobs. The presidential suite had excellent soundproofing; for the noise to be this clear, the chaos outside must be overwhelming. Through the peephole, he saw the 21st-floor hallway was jammed with people. Many wore only bathrobes or pajamas, clutching their phones like lifelines. They were survivors who had fled the lower floors. This is just the beginning. Heading for the top floor is pure survival instinct. They don't understand the real horror hasn't even started yet. The suite was fully equipped. Henry headed to the kitchen and got to work. By tonight, the electricity, water, and gas would all be cut. While utilities still functioned, he needed to cook all the fresh vegetables and meat he'd bought. Eating cold food is still better than starving. He spent the whole morning busy in the kitchen, sautéing the greens and searing the steaks and chicken he'd purchased, arranging the cooked food on plates to cool. He also prepared a self-heating beef stew pack for his immediate meal. Time to eat. Smells amazing. Now this is living. The crying and shouting outside his door eventually subsided. Sustaining that level of hysterical noise required energy they simply didn't have anymore. After his meal, Henry happily cracked open a can of soda and took a long, satisfying gulp. Pure bliss. To be living like this while the world ends outside... I never would have dared to imagine this. With nothing else to do, he picked up his phone. He hadn't held one in years and the interface felt foreign. Social media and news sites were flooded with reports of the catastrophic flooding, but most comment sections were filled with people clinging to the hope of rescue. [Don't panic, the rain has to stop eventually. Just stay calm and wait for help.] [My whole family is stuck on our roof now. It's freezing out here. I just wish this damn rain would let up.] [This just proves my point—location is everything! Oceanview Heights—your best investment for a secure future!] Henry thought with a dark chuckle. That guy's a hustler till the end. Still running ads during the apocalypse. The people still active online were mostly those in high-rises, hence they had the luxury to post. But in another day at most, the reality would sink in. At 11 PM, Henry had just finished a hot shower and changed into fresh clothes when all the lights in the suite suddenly died. The power grid had finally collapsed. The hallway erupted into a fresh wave of screams and shouts, this time from multiple people. Before, the dim glow of the emergency exit signs had offered a psychological comfort. Now, even that was gone. Total darkness always bred the fastest panic. No power meant no Wi-Fi. To make it worse, those whose phones still had charge discovered, to their horror, that the cellular networks were down too. Darkness. Hunger. The crowd was growing more desperate by the hour. No one knew how long the rain would last. People started pounding on doors one by one, begging for someone to let them in. Sleeping in a real room was infinitely better than huddling in a cold, dark hallway. Henry's door was inevitably targeted. Standing by the window watching the rain, Henry didn't even bother to turn around. After a while, annoyed by the persistent noise, he simply retreated into his soundproofed bedroom. Closing the bedroom door, the double layer of insulation finally muffled the sounds almost completely. Time to sleep. This is only the first day. It's going to be a long fight. The Second Morning, the rain showed no sign of relenting. The commotion outside his door had quieted significantly. After a day and a night without food, no one had the strength to shout anymore. Even if someone had brought snacks, they were surely long gone by now. BANG! BANG! BANG! Violent pounding started again on his main door. Henry continued to ignore it. "Mr. Shawn! I know you're in there! I was the one who checked you in for two nights!" A woman's voice, sharp and shrill, pierced through the door now, accompanying the banging. It was the receptionist from the front desk. She had somehow made it to the top floor and survived. "We're all in this together! Can't you show some humanity and let us in? The presidential suite is huge—we could even just sleep on the floor in the living room!" "Person inside, open up! I'm the CEO of Apex Dynamics! Let me in, and when this is over, I'll cut you a check for a million! No, five million!" a middle-aged man's voice boomed. Henry just smirked disdainfully and stayed silent. "You inside! If you don't open this damn door, don't blame us for what happens next!" The banging on the door intensified, now sounding like they were using a piece of furniture or a fire extinguisher as a battering ram. Sure enough, when soft pleas failed, threats followed. Human nature never changed. Henry wasn't worried in the slightest. This was a presidential suite in a luxury hotel. The door was solid core, probably reinforced. These people were weak from hunger and lacked any real tools. Breaking it down was impossible. Sure enough, the intense pounding lasted only five or six minutes before it sputtered out, replaced by exhausted murmurs and sobs. Henry leisurely turned on the gas stove, preparing to cook himself a packet of instant noodles. "Ah, the smell is incredible." After six years of living on scraps and stale rations, even simple ramen was a feast for Henry. He opened another bottle, this time choosing a sweet iced lemonade over a soda. Too much soda wasn't good for him, after all. Not great for the bones, or so he'd heard.