When The World Ended, I Stole Tomorrow

Shut the gates; lock him out.

The voice on the intercom was frantic. It was Julian, the man Ronan Steele had saved from the ruins of the sectors just a year ago. Ronan recognized that voice away.

The sound of sirens and a burning sky filled the air. Ronan slammed his hands against the steel doors of the underground fortress. He had built this place with his hands. It was his masterpiece, a sanctuary.

Every bolt, every layer, every defense grid was his creation. He had given up a lot to build this place. He had spent three years designing and building it. Ronan had sacrificed his wealth, his health, and his sanity to make sure the people he loved would have a place to hide when the sky fell.

Now he was on the wrong side of the door.

Ronan could see them through the window. Julian was at the control panel, his hand over the lock. Clara, Ronan's fiancée, was standing behind him. She was wearing the gear Ronan had found for her. Leo, Ronan's brother, was beside her. He would not look at Ronan.

Let me in, Ronan screamed. He was coughing badly. Toxic ash was filling his lungs. The raiders are right behind me, Julian. Open the door.

We can't, Ronan, Clara said. Her voice was trembling. Firm. Commander Vance's faction is taking over the sectors tomorrow. He offered us protection and food. Only if we give him the sanctuary.

Leo looked up; his face twisted in guilt. You're badly hurt, bro. You won't survive the radiation sickness. You'll just use up resources we need to trade with Vance.

The people Ronan had helped were turning against him. These were the people he had starved himself to feed. He had run through minefields to bring Leo medicine. He had built this place to keep Clara safe.

You bastards Ronan whispered. His voice was cracking. I built this place. You would be dead without me.

A shadow fell over the trench behind him. Ronan turned slowly. Three big distorted figures came out of the fog. Their eyes glowed with a light.

Ronan looked back at the window. Clara had turned her back. Julian pulled the lever. The emergency seals locked with a thud. The people inside his fortress were safe. They had locked him out.

As the monster's claws tore into his shoulder, Ronan let out a loud, bloody laugh. The pain was bad. The hatred in his chest was worse.

If I ever get another chance, Ronan swore, I will never build a future for people who do not deserve it. I will let you all burn.

The world went white. Then there was silence.

Are you still alive? Wake up, Ronan.

Ronan's eyes snapped open. He threw himself forward, gasping for air. His hands were clawing at his chest and shoulders. There was no blood. No burned skin. No ash.

He was sitting at a desk in a high-rise office building. The air was cool and clean. Clara stood in front of him holding magazines. She looked confused. Did you pass out? I asked you about the wedding theme.

Ronan did not answer. His heart was pounding. He grabbed his phone. Looked at the calendar. It was July 13, 2026. One hundred days before the apocalypse.

He had gone back in time. The world outside was normal. People were. Driving, unaware of the danger that was coming.

Ronan looked at Clara. He felt a wave of disgust. Get away from me, he said. His voice was flat.

Clara took a step back. What is wrong with you? she asked.

The wedding is canceled, Ronan said. He looked her in the eye. Do not call me.

Before she could say anything, Ronan walked out of the office. He slammed the door behind him. The relationship he had spent four years building was over in four seconds. He felt nothing but relief.

Ronan spent the rest of the day in a blur. He checked into a motel and analyzed geological data. He was trying to understand what was happening. The data was clear. Everything was lining up exactly as he remembered.

By nightfall, Ronan was sitting on the edge of the motel bed. He was staring at the clock. He had one hundred days. He had to build a fortress, a sanctuary. He had to do it alone.

At 11:59 PM, the lights in the motel room flickered and died.

Ronan stood up, reaching for his knife. Before he could find it, a big glowing interface appeared in front of him.

Future Archive System Activated.

Ronan froze. The text was glowing with a light.

Every midnight, the archive opens tomorrow's record. You are given three chances. You can choose one. The other chances will disappear forever.

Below the text, three glowing files appeared.

File One: Tomorrow's Winning Lottery Numbers. The jackpot was forty-five million dollars.

File Two: Tomorrow's Military Supply Convoy Route. This included security codes and weapon transport manifests.

File Three: Tomorrow's Structural Collapse of Eastbridge Tunnel. This included the coordinates and timing of the incident.

Ronan's mind was racing. This was a decision. If he chose the convoy, he would have advanced weapons. He would also be a fugitive. If he chose the tunnel collapse, he could save lives. He had already decided not to sacrifice himself for people who would betray him.

Ronan needed money. He needed millions of dollars to build his sanctuary.

He raised his hand. Pressed his finger against the first file.

File One Selected: Tomorrow's Winning Lottery Numbers.

The other two files disappeared. The interface. The motel room was pitch black again.

Ronan exhaled. He pulled out his phone to check the lottery numbers. The website had changed. The drawing had already happened. The winning numbers were the same as the ones he had chosen.

A cold sweat broke out across Ronan's neck. The system had not just given him information. It had changed the past. It had rewritten the timeline.

Before he could understand what was happening, an emergency alert flashed across his phone screen.

Breaking News: The Eastbridge Tunnel had collapsed. Many people were dead. The eastern district was in a blackout.

Ronan stared at the screen. The phone was vibrating in his hand. He was in shock.

The Eastbridge Tunnel was not supposed to fall until tomorrow afternoon. He recalled it clearly from his past life. It was a big deal that happened during a traffic jam when lots of people were on their way to work on day ninety-nine. Because he took the lottery numbers, things changed. The bad thing happened early when it was dark, which made it much worse.

Ronan looked out the window of his motel room. He could see that the first sirens of this timeline were starting to sound in the distance.

He was not just getting ready for the end of the world anymore. By taking control of tomorrow, he had changed the plan. The future he knew was already becoming completely different. The Eastbridge Tunnel disaster was the start, and Ronan had to think about what would happen next, with the new timeline and the lottery numbers he stole.