Seven

Finally, left with no other choice, Willow had to liquidate a few more Reishi mushrooms.

She had severely underestimated modern asset tracking and vehicle financing restrictions. Thinking a couple of wild reishi roots would cover everything, she ended up cycling through several distinct regional apothecaries and changing her glamour disguises across multiple states before safely banking another twenty million dollars.

With the cash cleared, Willow finalized the purchase of the overland expedition RV and tactical SUV she had test-driven.

Of course, she didn't drop the full lump sum; she put down a healthy five-million-dollar cash down payment, financing the remainder through a corporate commercial loan.

With barely two months left before global civilization collapsed into ash, she had zero intention of ever paying off those monthly installments.

After taking delivery of the heavily armored vehicles, Willow inspected every square inch of their chassis and interior fit-outs, nodding with deep satisfaction.

Then, a sudden problem hit her.

Vehicles required fuel, and the expedition RV was a massive, heavy-duty gas guzzler. Willow gritted her teeth in frustration. Standard fuel purchases at commercial service stations were heavily monitored and restricted by state agencies, meaning she could barely top off a hundred liters at a time.

Fine. I'll just siphon it for free once the apocalypse breaks out and nobody is manning the pumps.

With that pragmatic thought settled, Willow pushed the fuel issue out of her mind, drove the vehicles back to her secure warehouse, and pulled out a weathered topographical map.

She remembered her descendant's fragmented memories pointing toward an isolated underground fallout bunker, originally engineered during the Cold War to withstand direct nuclear strikes.

It was remarkably sturdy, strategically isolated, and entirely hidden from modern public registries.

Tracing the geographical markers from her memory, Willow circled and pinpointed the approximate GPS coordinates on the map.

With only sixty days remaining until the climate apocalypse kicked off, it was time for her to pack up and move out.

All her bulk spring water shipments, industrial appliances, and online prepper gear had finally arrived at the bay. With a sweeping wave of her hand, Willow vacuumed the entire inventory straight into the Sanctum's dimensional storage matrix.

Without a second hesitation, she climbed into the driver's seat of her tactical RV and hit the open highway, leaving the city behind.

The target bunker was located in a rugged, mountainous wilderness sector over twelve hundred miles away across state lines, roughly a three-day drive at a steady, cautious pace.

Cruising at an unbothered, leisurely speed, Willow eventually crossed state lines and arrived near a major industrial hub halfway through her journey.

Parking the massive RV out of sight in an abandoned industrial park, she swapped back to her box truck. This rig was valuable, and since cargo transport would be obsolete after society fell, she might as well keep it utilized until the bitter end.

Following her GPS navigation, Willow drove straight to a massive commercial ice manufacturing plant. She placed an immediate order for one hundred tons of block and crushed ice, scheduled for staggered bulk pickup.

Her box truck could only haul twenty tons per run, meaning she would have to camp out in the area for five full days.

Naturally, she didn't let those five days go to waste.

She swept through the city's commercial districts, buying out local artisanal specialties, most notably, thousands of gourmet ice creams, gelatos, and fruit popsicles. Just the mental image of kicking back in an air-conditioned bunker during a scorching heatwave eating frozen treats brought a genuine smile to her face.

Next, she hit a hardware supply depot and picked up fifty heavy-duty, industrial-grade water carboys.

The pristine spring water inside her Sanctum was reserved strictly for drinking and cultivation; she needed a massive reservoir of greywater for daily sanitation, cleaning, and hot showers.

That evening, checking into a modest roadside motel, Willow turned the bathroom taps wide open, letting the tub fill with scalding hot water before siphoning it straight into the empty carboys stored in her spatial inventory.

To avoid raising the suspicions of motel management, she only filled ten containers before shutting off the taps.

Over the next few days, she rotated through different motels and hotels across the city, methodically filling her water reserves under the guise of an eccentric traveler.

By the final day, every single industrial carboy was packed tight with steaming hot water, and her one hundred tons of commercial ice were fully secured within the Sanctum's temporal freezing zones.

Without wasting another minute, Willow pulled into a highway service station, topped off her truck's fuel tanks, drove to a blind spot away from traffic cameras to transfer everything back into her tactical RV, and hit the interstate once more.

She didn't make any more detours, driving straight toward the isolated wilderness sector in the distant mountain territory.

Pulling off the paved highway onto an overgrown dirt trail, Willow parked and surveyed the endless expanse of dense, tangled brush with a critical frown.

Is there really an underground bunker hidden out here?

The landscape was completely desolate, with not a single human dwelling in sight. Towering evergreens choked the skyline, flanked by thick, jagged thorn-bushes that formed a natural, impenetrable perimeter.

According to the memories, this is the exact spot.

Willow killed the engine, stepped down from the cab, and began systematically sweeping the overgrown terrain.

After spending the better part of the afternoon hacking through brush without finding a trace, her stomach let out a loud, insistent rumble.

Stepping back into the RV, she pulled a warm, ready-to-eat meal from her spatial storage. Within seconds, the rich, savory aroma of slow-cooked beef brisket with wild bamboo shoots filled the cabin.

Alongside it, she cracked open a container of spicy garlic-chili chicken over steamed jasmine rice. Willow adored bold, complex spices; the tongue-tingling heat was intensely satisfying after a long day of manual labor.

Wiping her mouth clean after finishing every last bite, Willow stared down at the disposable plastic takeout container in her hand, lost in thought.

I'm going to need to establish a proper waste incineration and disposal protocol once the world ends.

Leaving non-biodegradable trash lying around the bunker perimeter was a rookie mistake that could easily tip off passing scavengers.

After digesting her meal and taking a refreshing power nap in the bunk, Willow resumed her grid search as the afternoon sun began to dip.

Did I mix up the coordinates? A flicker of doubt crossed her mind.

Just as she was about to call it a day and head back to the vehicle, a faint metallic glint caught her eye in the underbrush.

It was a jagged shard of reinforced wire-glass, half-buried under a carpet of pine needles.

Willow dropped to her knees, brushing away the dirt. Right beside the glass shard, her fingers brushed against the edge of a heavy, grass-camouflaged steel hatch locked flush with the earth.

Jackpot!

A wave of pure relief washed over her. Grabbing a heavy iron pry bar from her truck bed, Willow wedged the tool into the seam and threw her weight into it.

With a loud, protesting groan of rusted hinges, the bunker's heavy blast doors gave way, lifting open.

A rush of cold, subterranean air billowed out from the darkness below. Because the structure was buried deep underground, a damp, chilling humidity clung to the threshold, promising absolute protection from the surface elements.

Willow clicked on a high-intensity tactical flashlight, illuminating the steep metal rungs leading downward, and cautiously began her descent.

Planting her boots on the concrete floor at the bottom, she swept her light across the interior.

The space was remarkably clean, level, and structurally sound, spanning roughly two thousand square feet of secure, compartmentalized rooms. Old conduit piping and wiring lined the walls, though the vintage copper cables were degraded and unusable.

She knocked her knuckles against the bulkheads; the reinforced poured concrete was exceptionally thick, easily measuring several feet across. It offered incredible structural integrity and threat mitigation.

No wonder this hidden installation had remained completely untouched and structurally intact years into the apocalypse timeline.

This isn't just a shelter... Willow smiled, her eyes gleaming in the flashlight beam. This is my personal fortress.