When The World Ended, I Stole Tomorrow

Chapter 5: Erased Futures

Flush him out. Tear down the walls if you have to.

The furious command blared through the mercenary's earpiece as Ronan kicked open the rusty ventilation grate. A hail of sniper fire shredded the motel roof above him. Fiberglass and wood rained down on his shoulders. He didn't flinch. The commander's combat reflexes drove him forward. He forced his way through the ductwork with brutal efficiency.

He dropped into the drainage ditch behind the motel. A massive blast blew out the windows. Smoke billowed into the morning sky. Sirens wailed in the distance. It was a symphony. It was becoming the soundtrack of his messed-up timeline.

Ronan stayed low. He sprinted through the knee- muck. He reached the shadow of the highway overpass. Then he stopped. He collapsed against the pillar.

He closed his eyes to think. The terrifying reality of the system's price hit him hard.

Vertigo seized his mind. He tried to recall October 2026. He needed to remember when the food riots started. He needed to recall where the military set up their zones. He needed to know when the predators broke through the atmosphere.

Nothing.

It was a void. He remembered the heat of September. He remembered the winter of November. October was gone. The faces of the people he saved, the hidden caches, the coordinates of the tear. All gone. Replaced by noise.

A violent tremor shook his hands. The Future Archive wasn't a savior. It was a parasite. It gave him the tools to survive. It was eating his map of the apocalypse. If he relied on it much, he'd become a lethal weapon. He'd have no memory of how to save humanity. He'd be another monster.

I need to know what's happening now Ronan whispered. I need eyes on everything.

He needed a network. He needed Elias Thorne.

In his life, Elias was a legend. He was a hacker. He fought a war against warlords. Now Elias was a low-level data architect. He worked in a cyber-cafe in the sectors. He was unaware of the apocalypse coming their way.

Ronan checked his rifle. Twelve rounds left. He wiped the mud from his face. He pulled his jacket tight. He merged into the morning crowd on the subway.

The city was spiraling out of control. The news feeds on the subway walls showed the Eastbridge Tunnel collapse. The death toll was rising. Financial markets were bleeding. Panic over terrorism was spreading. The countdown was at ninety-nine days. It felt like the final week.

By the time Ronan reached the sectors, it was raining. The neon signs of the market glowed.

He found the cyber-cafe behind a noodle stand. It was a cramped room. It was filled with the hum of fans and the glow of monitors. As Ronan entered, his instincts flared.

The air was too quiet. The keyboards weren't clicking.

Three men in raincoats stood in the center. They had their hands near their guns. They surrounded a man with disheveled hair. He was typing frantically. Elias Thorne.

Away the lead man said. His voice was smooth but deadly. The Vance Group owns your firm. They own your side projects. Hand over the encryption keys. We'll break fingers.

Ronan's heart went cold. The Vance Group again. Vance wasn't after Ronan's real estate. He was taking control of the city's infrastructure.

This was a shift in the timeline. If Vance secured Elias, Ronan would lose his chance to hack the Blackwood Silos grid. Humanity would lose a mind.

Ronan didn't hesitate. He stepped into the room.

You want him to finish typing Ronan said. His voice cut through the hum of the servers.

The three men turned. Their coats parted. They reached for their guns. They were fast. They were highly trained.

Ronan was operating on a special forces commander's neural pathways.

He didn't draw the rifle. He lunged forward. He closed the distance. He crushed the lead enforcer's windpipe.

The first man crumpled. The second enforcer drew a pistol. Ronan grabbed the falling man. He used him as a shield. Two shots buried themselves in the man's back.

Ronan used the momentum to pivot. He swept his leg low. He shattered the shooter's knee. The man screamed. Ronan finished it with a heel strike to the temple.

The third man panicked. He grabbed Elias. He pressed a pistol to the hacker's temple.

Drop it. The enforcer screamed. His eyes were wild. I will blow his brains out. Drop it.

Elias was trembling. His face was pale. He was terrified.

Ronan stood still. His face was a mask of indifference.

I don't care if you shoot him Ronan said. His voice was entirely dead.

The enforcer blinked. You're bluffing.

If you kill him, I have one problem Ronan said. Taking a step forward. If you pull that trigger, I promise you. I'll peel your skin.

The psychological pressure was suffocating. The enforcer's hand shook. He looked into Ronan's eyes. He saw an abyss.

In that moment, the enforcer's grip loosened.

Ronan moved. His hand snapped to his hip. He drew his knife. He threw it. The blade spun through the air. It buried itself in the enforcer's shoulder.

The man dropped the gun. He screamed in agony. Ronan closed the gap. He grabbed the man. He slammed his head into the server rack.

The room went silent. Elias collapsed into his chair. He stared in horror at the trail of broken bodies.

Who... Who are you? Elias stammered.

My name is Ronan Steele, Ronan said. Calmly retrieving his knife. I need you to build a ghost network for a silo.

Elias stared at him. His mind was racing. You just killed a Vance Group executive enforcer. They're going to hunt you.

They're already hunting me Ronan replied. Pulling out a stack of hundred-dollar bills. After today, they're hunting you too. The timeline has changed. You can stay here. You can come with me. Survive what's about to happen.

Elias looked at the money. He looked at the bodies. He looked at Ronan. He swallowed hard. Give me two minutes to wipe the drives.

Ronan nodded. Standing guard by the entrance. The relationship was established. He secured the Architect of the grid.

As Elias typed on the console, a sharp beep echoed from the terminal.

Elias froze. His fingers hovered over the keys.

What is it? Ronan asked. Are they sending reinforcements?

No, Elias whispered, his voice shaking again. I just checked the Vance Group's communication channels to cover our exit. Ronan... Vance didn't order a hit on you because of the estate.

Ronan turned around, feeling a sense of fear in his stomach. Then why did they send a team to kill him?

Elias showed Ronan the computer screen. On it was a contract from a shady website. It was a reward for killing Ronan Steele away. The payout was ten million dollars in money that couldn't be tracked.

It wasn't the price that scared Ronan. It was the info attached to the reward. The file had his eye scans, his blood type, his daily routines and the codes to his private accounts.

One person in the world had this information.

You're asking me to fight the Vance Group Elias said, looking up at Ronan with a mix of admiration and fear. Do you even know that your own fiancée sold you to them three hours ago?

Ronan stared at Clara's name at the bottom of the contract.

The hurt hadn't gone away. It had only gotten worse. Clara hadn't just left him after the wedding was called off; she had immediately sold him to the bidder to save herself in the city that was falling apart.

The Future Archive System alert suddenly flashed in the corner of his vision.

Warning. Target lock acquired. Weird things happening nearby.

Before Ronan could read the rest of the message, the concrete floor beneath their feet cracked loudly. A weird purple light started coming up through the broken tiles.

The Executors had found him.