The Last Ten Days, The Apocalypse Countdown

The shopping Spree

Chapter 5

The next morning came fast. Nick was already dressed and downstairs by six, a cup of coffee in his hand and his phone buzzing with delivery confirmations from the overnight orders he had placed before bed.

Michael Romano arrived at seven with his foreman and a crew manifest.

"Before we start," Nick set his coffee down and looked Michael dead in the eyes. "I need to change the deal."

Michael's face tightened. "Change how?"

"Thirty million covers the materials and the work. But it doesn't guarantee the timeline. Eight days, Michael. I don't need you to aim for it. I don't need you to try your best. I need you to guarantee it. Not a single window unsealed. Not a single wire unconnected. Everything done, tested, and operational in eight days flat."

Michael crossed his arms. "Nick, to guarantee that kind of timeline, I'd need to pull every available crew from three other projects. Double shifts. Triple overtime. My accountant would have a heart attack just looking at the payroll."

"Fifty million." Nick didn't blink. "I'll pay fifty million dollars for a guaranteed eight day completion."

Michael opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at Nick for a long five seconds. "You're serious."

"I've never been more serious. But if even one system isn't operational by day eight, I'll find someone who can deliver. And they'll get the fifty million instead."

Michael rubbed the back of his neck, looked at his foreman, then looked back at Nick. He extended his hand. "Fifty million. Eight days. You have my word."

Nick shook it firmly. "Then we have a deal."

By eight thirty, Nick was behind the wheel of the Brabus G800 with Isabella in the passenger seat, heading toward Lakeside Art Institute. She had been at the estate since the previous morning, running on coffee and adrenaline, and she needed to get back to campus for a few things.

The moment the matte black Brabus rolled through the campus gates, every head within fifty yards turned. Students stopped mid step on the walkways. A group of girls sitting on a bench nearly dropped their phones.

"Oh my god, is that a Brabus?"

"That's the G800. That thing costs more than my parents' house and their retirement combined."

"Who is that guy?"

Isabella climbed out, clutching her portfolio bag, her cheeks pink from the sudden attention. Nick rolled down the window.

"Isabella, one more thing."

She leaned back down. "What's up?"

"I need you to put together a complete survival supply list. Everything a group of people would need to live off the grid for years. Food categories, medical supplies, tools, fuel types, clothing for extreme cold, communication equipment, everything. Go as detailed and as extreme as you want. Don't hold anything back."

Isabella pushed her glasses up, and a spark of that same excitement from the blueprint session lit up her tired eyes. "You really are planning for the end of the world, aren't you?"

"Let's just say I believe in being prepared." Nick allowed himself a small smile. "Send it to me by tonight."

She gave him a thumbs up and headed toward the campus buildings, turning back once to wave before disappearing through the glass doors.

Nick pulled away from the campus and merged onto the highway. His smile faded. The clock in his head was ticking louder with every passing minute.

Nine days left. Maybe less.

His first stop was the wholesale produce market on the south side of Bellport City. He parked the Brabus in the loading zone and walked straight into the distribution office. A heavyset man behind a cluttered desk looked up from his computer.

"Can I help you?"

"I want a hundred tons of vegetables. Every variety you carry. Potatoes, onions, carrots, cabbage, peppers, tomatoes, celery, lettuce, broccoli, spinach, everything. If you grow it or stock it, I want a hundred tons of it."

The man put down his pen very slowly. "A hundred tons. Sir, did you say a hundred tons?"

"I did. How much?"

"For that kind of volume..." The manager pulled out a calculator and punched numbers for a full minute. "Roughly a hundred million dollars, depending on seasonal pricing."

Nick pulled out his phone, opened his banking app, and initiated a wire transfer right there in the office. "Done. I also need fifty million dollars worth of seasonings. Salt, sugar, cooking oil, vinegar, spices, dried herbs, every condiment you can source. And ten thousand tons of rice."

"Ten thousand tons?" The man's calculator nearly slid off the desk.

"Another fifty million. I'll send warehouse addresses and truck schedules within the hour."

Nick left the produce market before the manager had even finished processing what just happened and drove straight to the fruit wholesale district. Same approach. A hundred tons of every fruit available. Apples, oranges, bananas, grapes, strawberries, blueberries, watermelons, mangoes, peaches. Two hundred million dollars, transferred before the sellers finished running the totals.

By noon, he was sitting in the executive conference room of DeLuca Fresh Meats, the biggest meat distribution chain in Bellport City. The general manager and four department heads sat across from him, their faces a mixture of disbelief and barely contained excitement.

"Ten thousand tons of pork," Nick read from his phone without looking up. "Three thousand tons of beef. Two thousand tons of lamb. Five thousand tons of chicken and poultry. One thousand tons of organ meats and offal."

The general manager loosened his tie. "Mr. Marchetti, that order exceeds our entire quarterly regional output. We would need to redirect supply from four processing plants to fulfill it."

"Seven hundred million dollars," Nick looked up. "Full payment. Wire transfer. Today."

The room went very quiet. Then the general manager picked up his pen and started writing.

The final stop was the seafood wholesale market down by the harbor. Frozen fish, shrimp, lobster, crab, sea cucumber, scallops, clams, every ocean product available in bulk. Two hundred million dollars, wired while the harbor smelled like salt and diesel.

By the time the sun touched the horizon over Bellport City, Nicholas Marchetti had spent one point two billion dollars in a single day. Five rented warehouses and five commercial cold storage units across the city were already receiving deliveries that would continue through the night.

None of those supplies would stay in the warehouses for long. Under the cover of darkness, Nick would visit each location and transfer every last crate, pallet, and container into his spatial domain, where time stood perfectly still and nothing would ever spoil.

He sat in the Brabus outside the last warehouse, watching forklifts move pallets through the loading dock, and checked his bank balance.

Over half his fortune was gone. Spent in one day. And there was still so much more to buy.

He opened his laptop on the passenger seat and started browsing wholesale websites.

The rest would have to be ordered online.