Chapter 81

Thursday, October 9th, 2059

7 days to Armageddon

Late Afternoon

More Preparation

“Flashlight. Small camp stove. Spare batteries. Water filters. One thousand dollars cash. Some precious metals for trade. Bug repellent...” Mr. Osmond read down his list of Leo's supplies.

School had been uneventful. Leo and Brick had moved warily around each other, avoiding confrontations. After school, he'd texted Mom, telling her he'd be helping Mr. Osmond with physics research, which was essentially true. They were planning to test firearms, studying the effects of bullets on a variety of targets.

To Leo's amusement, he'd gotten several texts from his sister asking where he'd put her stuff.

“Hey, creep. Where did you hide my hairbrush? I searched your room, but I couldn't find it.” She'd texted.

He'd texted back.

“I sold it to a pawnshop with the rest of your stuff. Got a couple dollars for it.”

“Creep! You creep! I'm telling Mom!” was her response.

Leo chuckled. He'd put her brush in her upper right dresser drawer, along with her lucky silver dollar, hair dryer, and silver bracelet with the yin/yang symbol on it, all of which she'd been unable to find for some reason. It figured her own stupid dresser was the one place she hadn't thought to look.

Later, Mom texted him.

“Leo Edwards! Quit making up stories! Lydia is very gullible. She came to me crying, and I had to help her find her things.”

Good riddance. The little brat deserved far worse for sneaking around his room all the time and messing with his stuff.

Standing in Mr. Osmond's dining room, Leo struggled to put on his new, slightly oversized body armor. “Thank you, Mr. Osmond. You don't know what this means to me.”

The size of his new armor should give his body a little leeway for growth. In addition to the body armor, he'd requested a pile of stuff to keep him alive, comfortable, and sane, along with a backpack to carry it all.

In his previous future, he'd seen people using the armor to good effect. Of course, he'd never gotten any himself. Until now.

“If you don't mind me asking, how are your finances?” Leo asked. “Between the supplies and your gaming pods, I wouldn't think you'd have much left.”

Mr. Osmond chuckled. “I made another half million dollars today. I invested in a military supply company with a huge stockpile of weapons and ordinance rapidly approaching their expiration dates.”

“Doesn't sound like a good investment,” Leo said.

“Au contraire, Leo,” Mr. Osmond responded. “You see, I knew as soon as Congress voted to declare war on yet another third-world country, that stock would go through the roof. And Congress did that first thing this morning.”

Teach: I have an implant skill that helps me connect the dots and figure odds. Between what you and The Professor have told me, it was a 99.8% probability Congress would declare war, and that this stock would go through the roof when they did.

“Wait. Congress declared war?” Leo said. “I don't remember anything about a war in the previous history and I'd think I'd remember that.”

“You wouldn't have. I'm sure Congress declared war last time around too, but officially, it's a 'police action,' and if the news does what I expect, they'll devote 30 seconds to this 'police action,' after spending an hour covering those idiot starlets Tomi and Maxine's drug rehab therapy.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Wow,” Leo said. Funny how different the pre-Change world looked this time around.

“I was expecting you to ask for far more expensive items than you did,” Mr. Osmond said. “I ordered the Duke Ultra 800 rifle for myself. It's a lot more powerful than the gun you requested, also faster to operate, and comes with a twenty-bullet magazine.”

“Nothing wrong with that gun, but it shoots a hard-to-find bullet, and when the gun gets dirty, it's prone to jamming,” Leo responded, fighting with his armor. It was heavier than he'd expected, not to mention making movement more difficult and the visor of his helmet inhibited his vision. But it felt solid. “After the Change everything gets dirty.”

Next, he took his gun out of its box and examined it carefully, pulling the bolt action and peering down the gun sights and wishing he knew more about guns so he'd know more about what he was looking at.

“What happened to your mother?” Leo asked curious.

“Sent her on an around-the-world cruise,” Mr. Osmond said, looking unhappy. “She'll be back by the end of the month.”

“You got armor for yourself and the others, didn't you?” Leo asked.

“Obviously,” Mr. Osmond answered. “The armor is heavy and awkward. I intend to get used to it slowly.”

In addition to the gun, armor, and camping equipment, Leo had requested a sword.

His new sword was a large kukri, built for strength and durability, made with some of the toughest steel known to man. The short sword would take a razor edge, and could cut down trees as easily as people, and he could swing with all his future superhuman strength and not have to worry about it breaking. In his previous future, he'd lost quite a few swords doing just that.

There was a knock at the door. It was Trent. “You guys about ready?” he asked.

“Coming,” Leo responded. “Where are we going?”

“We know a guy with property on the outskirts of the city. We've set up a shooting range there. Let's go. We're burning daylight.”

While helping them load their stuff in his truck, Trent made implant contact with Leo.

Pyro Mage 43:2: Do you still think it's going to happen, Leo? My gut's telling me it is.

Future Man 10/16: My gut's telling me it's going to happen too, Trent, or something just as bad. I hope my gut's wrong.

Pyro Mage 43:2: My gut's seldom wrong.

They piled in the truck and drove off.

“That gun looks underpowered for monster hunting, Leo,” Trent said. “The Standard Hunter 700 is a good rifle for moose or bear. But from what you've been saying, I'd think you'd want an elephant gun or some military anti-tank weapon. Something like Mr. Osmond has.”

“I was thinking something similar,” Mr. Osmond said.

“Well, I gave my gun a lot of thought,” Leo responded. “The gun's meant to be a backup weapon, small and portable, but powerful enough to do a little damage. And in my previous future, I met several people with this gun and they all loved it. Easy to shoot, doesn't jam, and hits what you point it at.”

“You keep saying there will be 'powers,” Trent looked around nervously. They were, of course, being tailed by five drones. “I've got to admit that I find it a lot harder to believe that I'll be able to throw around fireballs than the world will end.”

Future Man 10/16: We'll know in 7 days, Trent. Between the two of us, the implant powers were great, but not worth the end of the human race.

“Have you done much shooting?” Trent asked Mr. Osmond.

“Guns have never been part of my skill set. I've always tried to avoid them.”

“Shooting isn't hard. We'll teach you the basics,” Trent responded, looking over at Mr. Osmond's huge gun. “You might want to start with something smaller, to get the feel for things. There's a larger turnout today because I told them Leo was coming. Hope that's okay, Leo. People will definitely want to talk to you.”

They left the city, turned off the freeway, and spent the next fifteen minutes on bumpy dirt roads. Then, without warning, Trent stopped the truck. He took out his cellphone and pretended to look at the blank screen, like he'd just received a text.

“Uh, guys. When I told a few of our people Leo would be coming, I expected twenty people, thirty at the most. But I'm guessing they told all their friends, because, according to our pastor, Gretchen just texted me that there are over two hundred people waiting for Leo. If Leo shows up, someone will take pictures or videos of him that could get out online, which could really mess up Leo's life.”

Mr. Osmond nodded. “If your picture gets online, it's a matter of time before someone finds out where you live. Not to mention your parents may find out.”

Leo laughed. “It's a church group. Have a little faith. The way I see it, every person I convince to prepare for the Change is a life I might save if the Change actually happens. On the downside, I have a feeling I won't get much shooting done.”

“Okay, if you're sure you want to do this,” Trent put the truck in gear. “I texted Gretchen to tell them no pictures or videos, but with this many people, someone's gonna ignore her.”

Soon they arrived at a large field covered with vehicles, next to a hill that was clearly being used as a bullet stop, littered with targets, broken bottles, and other refuse. Trent parked next to the other vehicles. There was, however, no shooting. The pastor had climbed partway up the hill so she was looking down on her audience, and she was speaking.