STOCKPILING (2)

Sandra's Pov

My heels skidded against the polished floorboards of the wholesale supermarket depot as I slammed through the double doors. The heavy glass rattled violently in its aluminum frame.

The three saleswomen behind the high marble counter froze, their laughter dying instantly. The youngest one dropped a roll of receipt paper, watching it unravel across the floor toward me.

I gripped the edge of the counter, my fingernails digging into the smooth veneer, my chest heaving as I tried to swallow down the taste of iron and adrenaline.

"Do you have industrial delivery trucks on site?" I demanded, my voice raw, dropping into the startled silence of the warehouse.

"Driver-ready. Right now."

The oldest woman, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, slowly blinked at me. "Ma'am? We have two box trucks for regional orders, but—"

"I need five," I interrupted, leaning over the counter until our eyes locked. "Five heavy-duty flatbeds or covered haulers. Fully crewed."

The girl who dropped the receipt paper let out a sharp, nervous giggle. "Five? Ma'am, this is a commercial depot, not a freight yard. We don't just—"

I didn't let her finish. Pulling my phone from my coat pocket, I swiped to my banking app, flicked the screen around, and slammed the glowing display onto the glass between us.

AVAILABLE BALANCE: $5,000,000.00

"I am paying full retail price for every item I purchase today, plus five hundred dollars cash upfront to every single driver who gets behind a wheel in the next sixty seconds," I said, my voice dropping into a razor-thin whisper that vibrated with cold, terrifying authority. "Now call them."

The woman with the bun stared at the numbers on the screen. The color drained from her cheeks. She snatched the landline receiver off its cradle, her hands shaking so violently she misdialed the first time.

Two minutes later, the low, guttural roar of diesel engines rumbled through the rear loading bay. Five heavy trucks of varying sizes pulled up in a ragged convoy, their headlights cutting through the dusk, idling violently against the concrete loading docks.

Five men—two young with ink-stained arms, three grey-haired and thick-waisted—stepped out, wiping oil from their palms.

I turned back to the aisles, my heart pounding against my ribs like a sledgehammer.

A long time had passed since I left the house. Time was bleeding out.

"You, you, and you—follow me!" I shouted to the closest three drivers, snatching a broad wooden flat-bed cart.

I sprinted down the main aisle, my heels clicking like gunfire against the concrete. I didn't scan prices. I didn't look at brands. I reached out with both arms, sweeping entire shelves of bottled water into the cart.

"Twenty crates of alkaline water! Move them to truck one!" I yelled, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

The men didn't ask questions. The promise of cold cash cleared their hesitation. Heavy wooden pallets groaned as they hoisted fifty-pound cases of canned p***o beans, corned beef, vienna sausages, and thick jars of peanut butter into the carts.

I tore through the cold-storage section next. The freezing air hit my flushed skin, sending a phantom shudder through my frame, a sickening reminder of the blizzard that had killed me in my past life. I gritted my teeth, ignoring the ghost of ice on my skin, and hauled fifty-pound slabs of vacuum-sealed pork shoulder, frozen chicken breasts, and whole cuts of beef into insulated thermal bins.

"Tools!" I spat out, rounding the corner into the hardware and utility section. "Hammers, heavy steel nails, industrial wire cutters, bolt cutters, ten pairs of thick leather gloves, waterproof sealant, three dozen utility knives!"

I tossed them frantically into the plastic tubs. One of the saleswomen was trailing behind me with a handheld scanner, the steady, rhythmic beep... beep... beep of the barcode reader cutting through the chaos.

A sudden, sharp sting pricked the back of my neck.

I stopped dead in my tracks. In the air right in front of the row of canned soups, the blue light rippled to life again. The semi-transparent window hovered before my eyes, pulsing with an aggressive crimson border.

[WARNING: TIME REMAINING — 00:29:41]

[QUEST STATUS: INCOMPLETE — $4,200 / $10,000 EXPENDED]

Less than thirty minutes.

Panic slammed into my chest, tight and suffocating. My throat constricted. I looked down the endless, vaulted aisles of the depot. I couldn't move fast enough. My hands were already bleeding from a sharp staple on a cardboard box, my silk blouse soaked in sweat.

I turned to the three saleswomen who were standing nearby, their eyes wide as they watched me handle heavy iron tools with frantic, unnatural energy.

I grabbed the manager by her shoulders. My fingers dug deep into the fabric of her uniform vest.

"Listen to me," I begged, my eyes burning with unshed tears, my voice cracking under the weight of sheer desperation. "I need you to grab everything your hands can touch. Dry rice, grain sacks, salt, sugar, medical kits, sanitary pads and towels, rubbing alcohol, batteries, lard, canned milk. Throw it all into carts. Do not stop until I tell you to stop. I will pay double your monthly salary on the spot. Please!"

The raw, feral terror in my voice broke through their confusion.

"Get the forklifts!" the manager screamed, turning toward the warehouse backroom. "Clear aisles three, four, and seven! Everything onto pallets, now!"

For the next ten minutes, the depot erupted into pure, organized chaos. Forklifts whined as they lowered full wooden pallets of flour and oats. Drivers stacked crates three feet high on their shoulders, running back and forth between the high shelves and the idling diesel trucks.

Every three seconds, the scanner beeped.

TOTAL: $7,840.00

TOTAL: $11,200.00

TOTAL: $16,450.00

I swiped my card across the mobile reader held by the trembling cashier.

The receipt printed out, long and white, trailing onto the floor.

[SYSTEM ALERT: RESOURCE VALUE THRESHOLD EXCEEDED ($16,450.00)]

[TIME REMAINING: 00:19:12]

[LOCATION PENDING: TRANSFER ALL RESOURCES TO A SECURE HOLDING ZONE TO COMPLETE QUEST.]

My breath hitched. A holding zone.

I had nineteen minutes left, five loaded trucks full of survival gear idling in the parking lot, and no warehouse under my name.

My mind raced, tumbling through the map of the city. My parents' old company, the original manufacturing plant they operated before merging into the Duncan portfolio, sat four blocks away from this exact depot. It had been decommissioned two years ago, abandoned and locked behind a chain-link fence, waiting for commercial redevelopment.

"Follow me!" I screamed at the head driver, tearing open the passenger side of the lead flatbed truck and hauling myself into the high cabin.

The driver, a burly man with a grey beard, slammed the gear shift into place. "Lady, what the hell is all this for?" he asked, his eyes darting to me as the truck surged out into the street, four heavy haulers trailing behind us in a convoy. "You setting up a shelter or something?"

"I'm hosting an event," I said flatly, my eyes glued to the glowing blue timer ticking down in the air before me. I had no time to explain the coming danger to anyone. Besides, who would believe the world was coming to an end in less than 19 days?

00:14:02...

00:11:55…

"Turn left here!" I yelled, pointing at the rusted iron gate of the old industrial park.

The truck smashed through the thin security chain, the tires crunching over overgrown weeds and shattered glass as the five vehicles fanned out across the dim, echoing interior of the abandoned concrete warehouse.

"Offload!" I screamed, jumping out

of the truck before it had even fully stopped. "Put everything on the central floor! Just drop it! Go, go, go!"

The men worked like possessed spirits, dumping pallets, hurling crates of canned goods, slamming thermal meat chests onto the dusty floor. I pulled a stack of hundred-dollar bills from my bag and shoved them into the lead driver's hands, not even counting the bills.

"Get out!" I panted, waving them toward the gates. "Leave the premises immediately!"

The trucks roared out of the facility, their taillights disappearing into the dark street. The heavy iron doors echoed as I slammed them shut, sliding the rusted steel deadbolt into place.

Silence fell over the massive, cavernous space.

I checked my watch.

00:07:45 remaining.

I stood alone in the middle of the dark, dusty hall, surrounded by mountains of water crates, meat boxes, dry rice sacks, sanitary pads and towels, and tool chests.

I waited. My heart hammered against my collarbone.

"Come on," I whispered into the darkness, my voice trembling.

"Come on! I did it! Where is it?!"

Nothing happened.

00:05:12…

A cold wave of dread washed over my body, turning my blood into sludge. Had it failed? Was the system a hallucination brought on by my dying brain in the snow? Was I going to freeze again?

"No... no, no, no!" I sobbed, dropping to my knees on the cold concrete.

Nervously, blindly, I reached out my right hand and slammed my trembling palm against the wooden side of a crate of canned p***o beans.

BZZZT.

The heavy crate vanished from beneath my hand.

Before I could even gasp, the shadows of the abandoned warehouse dissolved. The cold concrete floor, the smell of dust and old grease, the towering brick walls—all of it vanished in a blinding flash of light.

I was standing in an endless, seamless plain of pure, radiant white. There was no sky, no ground, no horizon. Just a sterile, silent void stretched out in every direction to infinity. And sitting right in the center of the void was the single wooden crate of canned beans I had touched.

My dimensional storage space.

A quiet, hysterical sob tore through my throat. I stumbled backward, looking down at my bare hands.

[DIMENSIONAL STORAGE SPACE: ACTIVATED]

[TIME REMAINING TO CONSOLIDATE EXTRA-DIMENSIONAL CARGO: 00:03:58]

I closed my eyes, focusing my mind with everything I had, picturing the dusty floor of the warehouse.

Pop.

The blinding light snapped off. The dark, cold warehouse materialized around me again.

Three minutes and fifty-eight seconds.

I sprang to my feet like a wild animal. I broke into an all-out sprint down the rows of stockpiled supplies. I didn't care about my bruised knees or my bleeding fingers. I ran through the center of the pile, stretching both arms wide, my hands brushing against everything in my path.

Touch—vanish.

Touch—vanish.

Pallets of alkaline water flickered out of existence. Sacks of flour vanished into thin air. Thermal chests of raw meat, crates of iron nails, toolboxes, medical kits, sanitary pads, jars of peanut butter—all of them evaporated the microsecond my skin made contact with the packaging.

00:00:45...

00:00:30...

00:00:12…

With twelve seconds to spare, I touched the last carton of utility knives.

It vanished.

I dropped to my hands and knees on the empty concrete floor, gasping for oxygen, my chest heaving as tears of pure, unadulterated relief streamed down my cheeks, washing clean tracks through the dust on my face.

The cavernous warehouse was completely empty again.

The iridescent blue system screen expanded right in front of my face, flashing with brilliant, golden light.

[QUEST COMPLETED!]

[REWARDS UNLOCKED:]

1. 'Apocalypse Survival Manual' (Fully Downloaded to Host Neural Network).

2. Unlimited Dimensional Storage Space (Active).

[NEW MANDATE ISSUED]

[PRIMARY DIRECTIVE:]

Carve and fully fortify a high-grade Doomsday Fortress in the Duncan County Mountain Sector within 4 DAYS.

[REWARD FOR SUCCESS:]

Activation of the 'Automated Base Defense Network' (Energy Shields & Automated Turret Systems) & Tier-1 Genetic Enhancement Serum.

[PENALTY FOR FAILURE:]

Forced 5-Day Unprotected Survival directly in the core of the Apocalypse Outbreak Zone.

I looked at the crimson word FAILURE blinking on the screen, feeling the cold memory of rotting teeth tearing into my neck.

Slowly, I stood up, wiping the tears from my eyes, my expression turning back into hard, unyielding stone.

"Four days," I whispered into the quiet warehouse. "I'll build a mountain they can never burn down.”

Just then, my phone rang. I looked at the screen and it was Drake. The news about their sold out home must have reached him.