WarehouseThey filled the SUV until there was barely room to breathe.Boxes of notebooks. Laptops. Tool kits. Bottled water. Folded tables. Whiteboards. Bags of clothes that leaned practical over sentimental. Harold drove, hands steady on the wheel, eyes scanning mirrors more often than necessary.The city looked different now.A gas station hummed with tension, its old neon sign sputtering to stay lit beneath the gathering night. Someone argued loudly with a clerk through a cracked window. A handwritten sign flapped on a grocery door: LIMITS ENFORCED. A police cruiser idled at an intersection that never needed one before.Josh watched it all pass by. "People are already panicking.""It'll only get worse," Beth said.Harold didn't comment. He didn't need to. This part was familiar.The warehouse sat near the river, a long stretch of reinforced concrete and steel set back from the road, its exterior lights casting pale cones across cracked asphalt. It looked empty, but not abandoned. It was maintained and waiting.A man stood near the loading doors.He was shorter than Harold remembered, compact and deliberate, dressed in a pressed jacket despite the hour. His hair was gray at the temples, his posture straight, and his expression unreadable. Two men stood a few steps behind him, hands clasped in front of them, eyes alert without being aggressive.The SUV rolled to a stop. They stepped out together.The man didn't move until Harold approached, then extended a hand."Harold," he said, his calm voice carrying a Southern drawl that lingered in the air. As he spoke, his thumb brushed subtly against the sleeve of his pressed jacket—a slight movement betraying a trace of tension beneath his polished exterior. "Been a while.""Mr. Caldwell," Harold replied, shaking his hand firmly.Caldwell's grip was solid. Assessing."You said you needed space," Caldwell continued. "Didn't say why, just that it mattered.""It does," Harold said at once.Caldwell nodded once, accepting that as a starting point. "You did right by me a few years back," he said. "That load you fixed would've sunk half my contracts if it'd gone public. I don't forget favors."He glanced past Harold, taking in Beth and Josh, the boxes still stacked in the back of the SUV. "So I'm listening."Harold didn't waste time."There's an asteroid," he started, hesitating slightly. The weight of the words seemed to tighten the air, make it feel alive and responsive. Caldwell leaned forward, sensing the gravity of what was left unsaid."You know that part already," Harold continued, selecting his words with the precision of a chess player. Then, he paused, as if considering whether to withhold the next critical move. Caldwell's eyes sharpened, probing for more."What I'm about to tell you goes beyond it," Harold finally added, trailing off, leaving Caldwell no choice but to fill the emerging silence with questions of his own, drawing the story out piece by piece.Caldwell's eyebrow twitched. No offense. Amusement, reluctant, and brief. "You always did suck at explaining."Harold nodded toward the building. "Let me explain inside."Caldwell hesitated only a second, then turned and keyed in a code. The massive doors rolled open, metal groaning softly as the dark interior of the warehouse was revealed."Alright," he said. "You've got my attention."Caldwell led Harold through a side door and into a smaller office tucked behind the main floor. It was sparse but functional. Steel desk. Old leather chair. A whiteboard that had seen better days. The warehouse hummed faintly around them; the lights were still turning on.Josh and Beth peeled off toward another office down the hall, already on their phones. Their voices drifted back in fragments as they worked."…no, I'm serious…""… don't bring tools, money…""…tonight if you can…"Caldwell's two bodyguards stayed put.They hadn't spoken yet, but Harold felt their eyes on him. One of them shifted his weight, then frowned slightly."I know you," the guard on the left said after a moment. "You're the chemist."Harold glanced at him. "Yeah.""You fixed that shipment in Savannah," the other guard added. "The one everyone thought was contaminated."Harold snorted. "It was a labeling error."The first guard snorted quietly. "Saved us a lot of trouble."Caldwell took his seat and gestured Harold toward the desk. "Alright," he said. "Explain."Harold didn't start at the beginning. He hit the same points he'd already covered before. The asteroid. The timeline. The movement. The other world is waiting on the other side of it.Gravesend.While he talked, he worked.He unpacked his bag carefully, laying out ingredients with practiced ease. Water. Salt. Honey. Crushed herbs. A small burner. A glass vial. His hands were steadier now, motions smoother and familiar. He started up the burner and began his demonstration.Caldwell watched without interrupting. The guards watched his hands."You're saying this happens whether we like it or not," Caldwell said finally."Yes, I am," Harold said, his eyes on his task."And you're here to keep preparing.""Yes," Harold said. He looked up..."I need the space."Caldwell leaned back, studying him. "That's a hell of a claim.""I know," Harold said, chuckling. "Luckily...I have proof."Harold finished sealing the vial and set it down gently. "I told the others the same thing," he said. "I know you'll need proof."He reached under his jacket.The movement was subtle, but not nuanced enough.The nearest guard stepped forward immediately. "Hey—"Harold drew the knife free and dragged it across his forearm in one clean motion. A sharp sting flared at the edge of the blade, followed by the hot, metallic scent of iron as the blood welled dark and heavy."Dammit," he muttered as blood welled fast and dark. "There has to be a better way to do this."The guards moved at once, hands coming up, but Caldwell raised one sharp finger."Wait." He commanded.Harold uncorked the vial and poured the contents directly onto the cut.The bleeding slowed, then held—a pause that extended a heartbeat longer, as if the world itself took a breath. Finally, it stopped entirely. The wound pulled itself closed, skin knitting together in front of them until only a faint pink line remained.Clean pink skin was all that was left.The room went dead silent.One of the guards swore under his breath.The other stared openly. "That ain't possible.""No," Harold agreed calmly. "It isn't."He wiped his arm with a cloth and looked at Caldwell. "I made that right now in front of you."Caldwell didn't speak for a long moment.Caldwell leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "Alright," he said quietly. "You have my attention. But I'm still not completely convinced."Harold nodded. He'd expected that."That's fair," he said. "What I'm asking you for isn't belief. It's positioning."Caldwell's eyes narrowed slightly. "Explain."Harold rested his hands on the desk, palms flat. "Think of this like a trade. Let's start with the downside." He met Caldwell's gaze with intention. "If you back me and I'm wrong, you lose some warehouse space, a few weeks of logistics, and some goodwill with people who panic anyway. In three weeks, the world ends regardless.""Upside," Harold continued, "if I'm right, you're not scrambling or reacting. You're already organized when the transition happens. You'll be surrounded by people who know how to build, plan, and execute. You're weeks ahead of everyone else."He paused. "And I already have a role in mind for you."Caldwell leaned back slightly. "That's convenient, son.""It is," Harold agreed. "That's the point of preparation," Harold said with a slight smirk.Silence stretched. Caldwell tapped one finger against the desk, thoughtful.Then he looked up. "Why wouldn't I just choose to be a Lord myself?"The guards shifted. Curious themselves.Harold didn't answer immediately. He studied Caldwell's face, weighing the amount of honesty the moment required.Then he said it."Because I'd beat you." Harold stated.Caldwell's eyebrows lifted a fraction."Humanity lost last time because of exactly this," Harold continued. "Capable men splitting effort instead of consolidating it. Competing instead of coordinating. Everyone convinced they were the exception."He leaned in slightly. "And if you try to go it alone, you'll die the same way you did before."The room went very still.Caldwell's voice was quiet. "You're awfully sure of that."Harold held his gaze. "I am.""Why?" Caldwell drawled out."Because I know how you lost last time." Strangely, the shaking was gone in his hands. His voice was more solid than it had ever been since he returned.That landed harder than anything else he'd said.Caldwell sat back slowly, eyes searching Harold's face for bluff, for bravado, for anything that made this sound like a play.He didn't find it.Outside the office, a phone rang again, sharp in the quiet. Inside, a decision awaited.The guards by the door shifted, unease creeping in despite themselves.Caldwell exhaled slowly through his nose, then leaned back in his chair. He didn't look at Harold at first. He stared at the far wall, thinking in numbers instead of fears."Alright," he said finally. "Here's how I see it."He turned his gaze back to Harold. "I've mitigated worse odds than this. If I back you and nothing happens, I lose warehouse space I wasn't using, some overtime pay, and a few favors. I've thrown away more money than that on bad forecasts."One corner of his mouth twitched. "And if you're right, I'm not scrambling with everyone else, to use your words."He nodded once, decision made. "So I'll hedge."The guards straightened, looking at each other."I'll put resources behind you," Caldwell continued. "Facilities. Transport. People who already know how to move freight without asking questions."He pointed a finger at Harold. "But I'm not doing this blind. My people stay together, and I expect transparency.""You'll have it," Harold said. "I'm going to need you and your contacts when the world ends."Caldwell stood and adjusted his jacket. He turned to the guards. "Get word out. Anyone we trust, anyone who can listen and work. I want them here tonight."The guards nodded and moved immediately.Caldwell looked back at Harold. "You're either the best investment I've made in twenty years," he said, "or the worst."Harold inclined his head. "I'll take those odds."Caldwell gestured toward the door. "Come on. Let's go join your engineers before they redesign my whole operation."They stepped out into the hall together, the low murmur of voices growing louder as they approached the other office. A flickering warehouse light sputtered above them, casting intermittent shadows that danced erratically on the walls, echoing the uncertainty of their venture. Somewhere in the distance, a solitary clock ticked, each tick a reminder that time was moving relentlessly forward. Now it was just a matter of time.
