Chapter 2

Nine months felt like a long countdown.

I signed the mortgage agreement on the bank's thick document, and the $300,000 loan arrived within 24 hours. For the next two weeks, I worked like a perfectly functioning machine. By day, I was running between banks and loan sharks—three different ones, using fake identities to borrow money separately to avoid arousing suspicion from any of the lenders. By night, I was cleaning up the ruins of the Apex chemical plant and meeting with Marcus's engineering team to check on progress. All the money was deposited into an offshore account and then transferred to Marcus in installments. I promised to settle the remaining amount in a year. Of course, only I knew that this empty promise would never be honored. A few months later, water was more valuable than gold.

For the first three months, we cleaned up the Apex chemical plant. The abandoned buildings were converted into laboratories and production workshops. Marcus poached four engineers from Raytheon: Elena for mechanical systems, Owen for electronic controls, and the other two specializing in chemical filtration. I spent $80,000 to furnish them with a fully equipped office.

In the fourth month, the main structure of the water purification station was completed. Three industrial-grade filtration units were installed side by side, forming a circulation system—one in operation, one under maintenance, and one on standby. The radiation filter membrane designed by Marcus uses military-grade materials and is theoretically capable of handling high-radiation pollution from external celestial bodies.

"What if the radiation level is higher than expected?" Marcus asked me, with deep dark circles under his eyes. "We don't have any actual samples to test."

“It will succeed,” I said.

He stopped asking questions. Over the past nine months, he had grown accustomed to my occasional "wild ideas."

In the sixth month, I began the covert modification project. The water purification station's basement was transformed into a secret weapons arsenal. I had Marcus extract concentrated corrosive liquid from simulated acid samples in the lab—four times more effective than natural acid rain. Elena's hands trembled as she loaded it into the drone's payload container. "This stuff is more terrifying than military incendiary bombs," she said. "That's the purpose," I replied. Five drones, their hulls coated with acid-resistant material. Owen was in charge of programming the automated turrets—infrared and facial recognition to ensure friendly fire wasn't a problem.

In the eighth month, I started stockpiling supplies. Medical kits, protective suits, canned food, generators, diesel fuel—everything I could buy was shipped to the evolution plant. I also hired five veterans, telling them there would be "big trouble" in nine months and they would need to guard the facility. Their wages were paid in advance plus payment after the missions were completed. They all thought I was crazy.

In the last week of the ninth month, the whole of Phoenix was talking about the same thing.

"The space agency has issued an emergency statement that a high-radiation meteor shower will enter the atmosphere this Friday..." On the television news, the space agency's scientists looked solemn, but the host's tone was relaxed: "Experts say it will not have a substantial impact, and the public does not need to panic."

Bottled water on the supermarket shelves was still sold out. Everyone thought it was some kind of marketing tactic. Dale Hoffman stood at the entrance of the Grey Road community center, watching me drive by, and shouted, "Hey, Travis! The end of the world is coming! Is your crappy chemical plant ready?" The people around him laughed.

I didn't stop the car; I just looked at his face in the rearview mirror. Three more days.

The meteor shower will begin at 11:47 p.m. on Friday.

I stood on the rooftop observation deck of the water purification station, surrounded by Marcus, Elena, and the other team members. The Phoenix night sky should have been pitch black, but at that moment, the entire heavens seemed to be ablaze.

As the first meteor streaked across the sky, it lit up. Not ordinary white, but an eerie blood red. The meteors trailed long, fiery tails, like wounds tearing through the heavens. Then came the second, the third, and hundreds and thousands of meteors falling simultaneously, turning the sky into a burning hell.

The roar was deafening. I felt the floorboards beneath my feet shaking. In the distance, the silhouettes of Phoenix's skyscrapers flickered in and out of focus in the firelight. Alarms blared from all directions, but were quickly drowned out by the roar of the meteors.

Marcus gripped the railing, his face deathly pale: "Oh my God..."

Elena knelt on the ground, covering her mouth. Owen was trembling.

I watched all of this silently, without fear, only a cold sense of satisfaction. Exactly the same, not a second off.

The meteor shower lasted seventeen minutes. As the last meteor disappeared below the horizon, an eerie silence fell over Phoenix. All the streetlights went out, and the power grid failed. Only the occasional sound of a car crashing in the distance and screams from people could be heard.

“What should we do?” Marcus asked, his voice trembling.

“Let’s go downstairs,” I said. “Let’s check the water purification station. We’ll know in 48 hours if it’s really working.”

The explosion caused by the meteorite impact was only the least significant direct damage. The truly lethal factor was the intense radiation carried within this asteroid belt.

The next morning, I was awakened by a piercing alarm. It wasn't from the water purification station, but an emergency broadcast on my cell phone. Red text scrolled across the screen: "Do not drink any tap water! Repeat: Do not drink any tap water! The federal government has declared a state of emergency; all water sources must be tested before use. Please wait for further notice."

I went to the bathroom and turned on the tap. Instead of clear tap water, a milky white liquid flowed out, emitting a pungent, metallic smell. I collected some in my palm; the liquid was viscous, like diluted milk, but icy cold to the touch.

Marcus burst in, grabbing a handheld radiation detector: "Travis! The radiation readings are off the charts! All the surface water is contaminated!"

“I know,” I said calmly, “to start the water purification station.”

In the control room, everyone was busy. Elena checked the pipe connections, Owen started the electronic system, and Marcus stared at the instrument panel of the filtration equipment. I pressed the main switch. The three machines roared to life, the vibrations reverberating throughout the building. Contaminated water was drawn in through the inlet, passed through three layers of filtration membranes, and finally flowed out through the outlet.

The first batch of water was cloudy. The second batch was slightly clearer. Marcus filled a glass with the third batch and examined it closely under the light. It was colorless, odorless, and crystal clear. He scanned it with a detector, looked at the data, then looked up at me, his eyes wide with shock: "Radiation reading...within the normal range. The filtration was successful."

Cheers erupted in the control room. Only I walked to the window, looking out at the gray dirt road community.

Chaos reigned there. I could see people gathered in the community center, some scrambling for the last remaining bottled water. An old man lay on the ground, and no one helped him up. Two men were fighting over a case of water. Scenes from my past life overlapped in my mind—I was among those people, desperately searching for anything to drink.

“Travis,” Marcus walked over, “we did it. We really did it.”

“This is just the beginning,” I said. “The real end is yet to come.”

Surveillance footage shows Cheryl Hoffman standing outside the gate. Dale's wife, 42, a former supermarket cashier, now has sunken cheeks and cracked lips. Behind her are eight or nine community residents.

I turned on my external communicator: "What is it?"

Cheryl's voice was hoarse: "Travis...we know you have a water purification system...please, give me some water...my husband is dehydrated..."

Dale didn't come. Of course, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had absolutely no face to ask someone who had mocked him for water. I watched Cheryl through the security camera. In my past life, she and Dale tricked me into going to my death. She pretended not to know anything, but when Dale was drawing the map, she stood there silently.

I made her wait five minutes. Then I opened the door a crack and tossed out two one-gallon buckets of water.

“Take this,” I said. “This is the last time you get free water. From now on, you’ll have to earn it through labor.”

Cheryl hugged the bucket as if it were a priceless treasure, tears streaming down her face: "Thank you! Thank you so much, Travis! We'll remember this! We'll pay you back!"

She turned and left, and the others followed suit.

Marcus stood behind me: "Why did you give her water?"

“If he drinks water, he will have the will to live,” I said. “I want to see how much he will struggle.”

That night, I sat in the control room, staring at the monitor screen. The night in the Huitu Road community was pitch black, with only a few bonfires burning.