Brotherhood of the Last Shelter

Open the door and eliminate the threat

The steel door shook so violently that I thought it would come off its hinges.

Something growled on the other side, its heavy breathing audible through the metal. Donald stood beside the door with his wrench raised, while Luggard gripped a rusted iron pipe he had picked up from the floor.

Neither of them looked ready for another fight, and I couldn't blame them.

"Stay quiet," I whispered.

The creature slammed into the door again. The metal bent inward, and dust fell from the ceiling.

A blue screen appeared before my eyes.

Warning: Shelter door integrity dropping. Recommended action: Open the door and eliminate the threat.

I almost laughed at the stupidity of the suggestion. The system might as well have asked us to offer our throats to the monster.

"We're not opening that door," I said. "Donald, find us another way out."

He swept his flashlight around the cramped room until its beam settled on a square ventilation grate near the ceiling.

"That might work."

The creature struck again. One of the hinges groaned, and a sharp metal claw pushed through the widening gap.

"Then stop looking and get up there!" Luggard shouted.

Donald hurried over. Luggard and I joined our hands to form a step, allowing him to climb onto our shoulders. He wedged his wrench behind the grate and pulled.

Nothing happened.

"Donald, hurry!" I called.

"I'm trying!"

He pulled harder, and the rusted screws finally snapped. The grate fell with a crash, revealing a narrow, dark shaft.

Donald hauled himself inside, then reached down for Luggard.

I remained below, watching the door buckle under another blow. The creature's red eyes appeared through the gap, and its claws scraped against the steel as it tried to force its way through.

"James, now!" Donald shouted.

I jumped and caught his hand. He pulled while Luggard grabbed my leg, helping me scramble into the shaft just as the door crashed to the floor.

The hound lunged into the room, snapping its jaws where I had been standing seconds earlier.

I didn't look back again.

We crawled through the ventilation shaft until it sloped downward and ended at another grate. Donald kicked it loose, and we dropped into a storage basement that smelled of damp concrete and rain.

For several seconds, none of us spoke.

Luggard sat against the wall, breathing heavily. "All right, James. I believe you now. The world is ending, monsters are trying to eat us, and that strange screen wants us dead. What do we do next?"

I looked at the empty bags beside us.

"First, we get supplies. We need steel plates, welding equipment, heavy tools, and enough food to keep us alive. The inventory gives me ten storage slots, so I can carry more than either of you."

Donald wiped the sweat from his face. "There's an industrial hardware store about ten blocks from here. They sell generators, steel beams, and power tools."

"Then that's where we're going."

We found a staircase leading to a fire exit and stepped into an alley near the city's industrial district. Sunlight fell across the road, and cars passed at the end of the street. People were buying breakfast, arguing over taxi fares, and going about their business as though the world would remain the same forever.

I watched a woman cross the road with a bag of groceries and felt a familiar heaviness settle in my chest.

In seven days, ordinary moments like that would become memories people would beg to experience again.

We hurried toward the hardware store. The journey took about twenty minutes, but we stopped before reaching the entrance.

Black transport trucks filled the parking lot. Armed men in dark uniforms guarded the doors while others carried generators, water filters, steel plates, and boxes of tools into the vehicles.

Donald pulled me behind a brick wall.

"What is this? The store should be open to the public."

"Not anymore," I muttered.

A tall man in an expensive suit emerged from the building, studying a tablet in his hand. Even from across the street, I recognized him.

Elias Thorne.

The billionaire owned one of the largest private security companies in the country. In my previous life, his organisation had seized warehouses, hoarded medicine, and controlled access to clean water. While desperate families begged outside his fortified compound, he and his associates lived comfortably behind armed guards.

I remembered watching a mother carry her sick child toward his gates. His men had turned them away without even checking the child's condition.

The memory made my hands curl into fists.

"Who is that?" Luggard asked.

"Elias Thorne. He'll do anything to protect his wealth, even if thousands of people die because of it."

Donald peered around the wall. "Can we find another store?"

"We could, but we'd probably find the same thing."

Thorne wasn't the sort of man who bought a few generators and went home. If he suspected trouble was coming, he would secure every useful supply he could reach. By the time the apocalypse began, his warehouses would be full while ordinary people fought over scraps.

I had seen how that ended.

"We need those supplies," I said. "If we leave now, we might not find another chance."

Luggard stared at the armed guards. "James, those men have guns. We've got a wrench, a pipe, and three bags."

"I can see that."

"So what exactly is your plan?"

I studied the parking lot. The guards were focused on loading the trucks, and several workers were moving between the store and the vehicles. One truck stood near the side entrance with its rear doors open.

Inside were stacks of steel plates, a generator, and several boxes of power tools. Everything we needed to strengthen our shelter was sitting in one place.

Then I noticed something else.

The driver had stepped away, leaving the engine running and the keys in the ignition.

I looked at Donald.

"Can you drive a truck?"

He followed my gaze, then turned to me with disbelief written all over his face.

"You're not serious."

"We need the supplies. That truck has them."

"And there are armed men standing ten feet away!"

"Which is why we're not fighting them."

I watched the driver disappear into the store. For a brief moment, the truck stood unattended.

I tightened the straps of my bag and took a slow breath.

"Listen carefully. When I give the signal, we move together. No shouting, no arguing, and no heroics. We get into that truck, take the supplies, and leave before those men realise what's happening."

Luggard swallowed hard. Donald looked toward the guards again, then back at me.

"You'd better have a good reason for dragging us into this."

"I do."

I waited until the nearest guard turned his back.

"Now."

We slipped out from behind the wall, heading straight for the truck. I had almost reached the driver's door when a voice rang out behind us.

"Hey! You three! Step away from that vehicle!"

I turned.

A guard was pointing his rifle directly at my chest.