The World Ends In 27 Days

Zeyu had never designed a vehicle for the end of the world before.

He’d designed cars that reached impossible speeds, armored vehicles for people with too many enemies and luxury interiors containing features no reasonable person required.

His companies had produced emergency transports, military prototypes and amphibious machines intended for places without roads.

None of those projects had required a kitchen, sleeping space for six people, medical storage, weapons compartments, water purification and the ability to remain operational through Heat, Flood and Freeze.

The amphibious mobile base had all of them.

Zeyu stood beneath its unfinished forward section while the fabrication teams installed the final armor panels. The vehicle occupied most of the secure production bay, dwarfing the engineers and equipment surrounding it.

Its tires reached above his shoulder.

The sealed lower body could cross deep water without flooding the living compartment. Independent tracks could be attached when ice and debris made the tires useless. Solar panels, fuel generators and high-capacity batteries gave it three methods of producing power, while mechanical overrides existed for every system that would otherwise depend upon electronics.

It was excessive... which was probably why Zeyu loved it.

"The secondary water tank passed its pressure test," the chief engineer reported. "The kitchen plumbing will be connected tonight, and the medical refrigeration is already operating."

"What about the roof access?"

"The hydraulic seal is finished. Jingwei’s team requested another locking mechanism."

"Give him two."

The engineer added it without asking why one lock wasn’t enough.

Everyone working on the mobile base believed it had been commissioned for disaster-response operations. That explanation justified the armor, communications equipment and medical facilities.

It didn’t explain the concealed weapons compartments.

Jingwei’s company handled those separately.

Zeyu walked along the vehicle while reviewing the final equipment list. Spare tires had been purchased in quantities capable of supporting years without manufacturing. Replacement batteries, belts, seals, filters, lubricants and mechanical components filled two warehouse sections.

Anything likely to fail existed in multiples.

Anything impossible to repair had a manual alternative.

Hanchuan had asked for a vehicle capable of surviving ten years of disasters.

Zeyu intended to give him one.

Whether those disasters occurred remained a separate question.

He looked through the open production-bay doors.

The afternoon sky was blue. Traffic moved along the distant highway, aircraft continued descending toward the city airport and workers outside the facility complained about ordinary deadlines.

Nothing looked as though it had seven days left.

Zeyu opened the weather report on his phone.

Seasonal temperatures. Clear skies. No warnings beyond a minor air-quality advisory expected to lift overnight.

Meteorologists weren’t panicking.

Governments weren’t issuing emergency statements. Financial markets hadn’t collapsed, scientists weren’t arguing on television and no country had begun moving its population underground.

The world couldn’t become lethally hot without anyone detecting a warning sign.

Probably.

Hanchuan believed it would.

Zhiyi didn’t merely believe it. She treated the apocalypse as a fixed event with the same certainty she applied to gravity. She didn’t wonder whether the Heat would begin. She calculated what needed to be completed before it did.

Zeyu believed them.

More accurately, he believed that they believed themselves.

That distinction hadn’t changed anything he was willing to do.

If Hanchuan demanded nine shelters, Zeyu would move supplies to nine shelters. If Zhiyi said six people required four years of food at every property, he would find trucks capable of transporting it. If they wanted vehicles prepared for three different global disasters, Zeyu would build machines no one else had imagined needing.

Taking the preparations seriously cost him money.

He had more than he could reasonably spend.

It disrupted his companies.

They had been operating too predictably anyway.

And he’d been bored.

Playing at the apocalypse was considerably more interesting than approving another minor change to next year’s luxury sedan.

Zeyu continued toward the rear compartment, where engineers were installing six secured evacuation cases. Each contained clothing, medical supplies, protective equipment and enough food and water to keep one person alive if separated from the main vehicle.

The cases had been labeled with all of their names.

Seeing his own name made the project feel slightly less like a game.

Zeyu opened his case.

Everything inside had been selected according to measurements and medical information he didn’t remember providing. Qinghe had added medication. Jingwei had included protective equipment and a weapon sealed beneath a false compartment. Zhiyi had created the supply list.

Hanchuan had approved all of it.

Five people had prepared for Zeyu to remain alive.

He closed the case more carefully than he’d opened it.

If the Heat didn’t happen, none of this would become meaningless.

The mobile base could support rescue operations, military contracts or the most unreasonable vacation ever attempted. The shelters would remain valuable properties. Stored food could be donated before it expired, while medical equipment could be transferred to hospitals.

The money also didn’t matter.

The part Zeyu didn’t know how to recover was whatever happened to Hanchuan and Zhiyi after the date passed.

Hanchuan had built their marriage around a future he remembered. Zhiyi had abandoned her university, her family and every ordinary plan because she expected the world to disappear.

If the sun rose eight days from now and the temperature remained normal, they wouldn’t simply return to their previous lives.

Zeyu had started considering what he would do then.

He wouldn’t tell Hanchuan he’d been wrong. Hanchuan would already know.

He wouldn’t allow Qinghe to treat either of them like an interesting shared delusion.

He would take all six of them somewhere beyond the reach of reporters, boards and family members until Hanchuan and Zhiyi decided what remained after survival was no longer required.

Possibly an island.

Zhiyi still didn’t like that suggestion, but it would finally become useful.

His phone rang before he could improve the imaginary vacation.

Hanchuan didn’t waste time greeting him. "How long until the mobile base can move?"

"Under its own power? Tonight. Fully finished, two days."

"It moves tonight."

Zeyu looked toward the open rear section. The interior walls remained unfinished, two storage systems hadn’t been installed and the kitchen contained plumbing without cabinets.

None of that prevented the engine from starting.

"Where do you want it?"

"My house."

Zeyu smiled. "You finally admit it’s better than your cars."

"I want every evacuation vehicle fueled, supplied and together. The five of you are also moving into the house tonight."

That was new.

Zeyu didn’t object. Remaining together reduced the time required to leave, and Hanchuan’s house contained enough bedrooms for them to avoid one another when necessary.

"Do I get to choose my room?"

"No."

"The largest television?"

"No."

"A garage bay?"

Hanchuan ended the call.

Zeyu sent the movement order to the production supervisor. The mobile base would leave the facility at ten that night with temporary interior panels covering the unfinished sections. The fabrication teams could complete the remaining work inside Hanchuan’s secured garage.

He also instructed his assistant to send clothing, computers and anything else he needed for the week to Hanchuan’s house.

The decision required less than three minutes.

Believing the world would end was difficult.

Packing for it wasn’t.

By sunset, the mobile base’s engine started for the first time. The sound filled the production bay as lights activated across the control panels and the enormous vehicle moved forward beneath its own power.

Workers stopped to watch it.

Zeyu watched with them, unable to keep the satisfaction from his face.

Maybe the Heat would come.

Maybe eight days from now he would discover that he had spent several weeks preparing for nothing.

Either way, he had built something extraordinary.

Seven days remained before they learned which future was real.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!