Ten

Willow didn't waste her energy chasing the chaos outside, opting instead to stay comfortably isolated within her underground fortress, completely unaware that systemic anarchy was already beginning to bubble up across areas not yet broadcasted on the news networks.

"Dad, is everyone back in the township holding up alright?"

Jack eased his freight truck to a stop, unloading his remaining emergency supplies directly at his family's farm.

Thanks to Willow's timely warning weeks earlier, he had quietly tucked away a substantial personal reserve of provisions.

Facing the sudden, catastrophic municipal water collapse, he couldn't help but feel a profound wave of gratitude toward the enigmatic prepper buyer.

"Everyone's alive, son, but every single well in the county has run dry," Murphy replied grimly, wiping sweat from his brow.

"The county officials haven't given us any timeline for water tankers, and the municipal lines are completely bone-dry."

"It's already that bad?"

Jack felt a sudden surge of cold panic. Looking at the remaining bottled water stacked in his truck bed, a sharp, pragmatic survival instinct kicked in. He glanced over at his father's old farm tricycle parked by the barn, and a plan formed.

"Dad, this heat is completely unnatural. This isn't a summer dry spell, it's going to turn into a multi-year megadrought. We can't leave all our emergency water sitting out in the open."

Jack lowered his voice. "Always be cautious of your neighbors, but never advertise what you have. You know how people get when they get desperate."

Murphy paused, weighing his son's words before giving a slow, sober nod. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, Jack. I'll do whatever you think is smart."

"Dad, I'm going to load ten carboys of water onto your tricycle right now. Take them up to the old root cellar behind the ridge and hide them deep in the stone basement. It's completely hidden from the main road."

Working with practiced speed, Jack unhooked ten heavy water containers and a stack of freeze-dried rations, lashing them securely beneath a tarp on his father's rig.

"Go stash everything safely, Dad. I've got to drive back to the depot."

Father and son parted ways, each locking down their respective preparations. Later on, Jack would look back on this exact morning with immense relief.

For civilians trapped in the major metropolitan centers, however, luck was nowhere to be found.

Municipal water facilities were operating at a fraction of capacity, rationing running water down to a grueling two-hour window each morning.

Every single household scrambled to cram bathtubs, pots, and plastic bins full of water the second the taps hissed open.

Naturally, those at the back of the line walked away with empty pipes, triggering immediate, volatile surges of rage and neighborhood hostility.

"Are you seriously running the taps dry right now? Some of us haven't had a single drop in three days, I haven't even been able to wash my hands!" an angry resident snapped in a local apartment building group chat.

Another chimed in: "Don't even talk about washing hands, I don't even have water to boil pasta!"

"Can't we all just share and conserve like a civilized community?"

"You idiots still arguing on your phones? The grocery stores are completely sold out of bottled water!"

"What?! That's impossible! Where is the municipal emergency supply?"

Mass panic swept through the urban housing blocks. Terrified families grabbed whatever cash and duffel bags they had left and sprinted toward the nearest commercial strip, only to find the supermarket aisles stripped completely bare, the beverage coolers entirely empty.

A crushing wave of despair settled over the crowds. Is this the end of the world?

Meanwhile, miles away beneath the earth, Willow remained completely unbothered by the online panic, emergency alerts, and angry text threads lighting up her phone screen.

Instead, she sat cross-legged on her sectional sofa, digging into a steaming bowl of spicy garlic crawfish paired with an ice-cold artisan cola, absolute, unadulterated bliss.

Thanks to her meticulous planning, she had hundreds of gallons of sanitation water and crystal-clear spring reserves tucked safely away in dimensional storage.

Reading posts online about people going an entire week without a shower made her skin crawl in phantom sympathy; she couldn't stand the thought of going two days without getting clean.

After polishing off her meal, Willow pulled up a high-tension psychological thriller on her off-grid projector system, leaning back into the plush cushions to watch in absolute comfort.

Of course, tranquility never lasts long when toxic people refuse to stay buried in the past.

Her cell phone buzzed brightly across the coffee table. Frowning slightly, Willow paused her movie and wiped her hands clean before picking up the screen.

Who on earth was calling her? She had zero social ties or family left in this timeline.

When her eyes locked onto the caller ID flashing "Best Friend," a cold, sharp smile crept across her lips.

Oh look. The clown was calling.

She tapped accept without a second hesitation.

On the other end of the line, Chloe sounded an absolute wreck.

Having been trapped inside an overpriced downtown hotel room for half a month with dwindling room service, zero air conditioning due to rolling grid blackouts, and barely any drinking water, she looked and sounded like a disaster, a stark, pathetic contrast to her usual polished, radiant self.

The second the call connected, Chloe's voice broke into desperate sobs. "Willow! Thank God…where are you right now? Can you please drive over and pick me up?"

She vividly remembered that Willow had recently rented a massive commercial box truck, and figured the vehicle must still be in her possession.

Furthermore, knowing Willow's old timid, people-pleasing personality, she assumed her former roommate had undoubtedly hoarded cases of instant ramen, canned soup, and bottled drinks.

She was entirely convinced Willow's bunker was stocked to the brim.

Chloe waited anxiously for an affirming reply, but all she met was dead, chilling silence.

A spike of panic hit Chloe's chest. Could Willow still be holding a grudge about the apartment lease?

Faking a soft, fragile tone, Chloe quickly backpedaled.

"Willow... look, I know I've got a few minor flaws that might have caused misunderstandings between us in the past. But I've always considered you my true sister, right? You haven't forgotten our years of friendship, have you?"

"I'm sorry. I can't come pick you up," Willow interrupted coldly. "And for the record, I returned that box truck to the commercial agency weeks ago. It's way too hot outside; I'm staying put."

"You can't just…" Chloe started, her voice sharpening with frustration.

Even if Willow didn't have a truck, she refused to stay stranded in this hellhole!

Beside her in the stifling hotel room, Tyler gave Chloe a sharp, urgent nod, signaling her to change tactics. Catching the cue, Chloe immediately smoothed out her voice into a saccharine, manipulative whine.

"Willow, listen, Tyler managed to secure a vehicle. Where are your coordinates? We'll come swing by and rescue you," Chloe coaxed, pitching her voice to sound like a heroic protector.

"It's way too dangerous for a single girl to be riding out this crisis alone. We're your best friends…let us protect you."

Protect me?

Ha!

Willow let out a dry, venomous laugh. Sure enough, these two shameless parasites hadn't dropped their predatory intentions for a single second.

Since they wanted to drop the mask completely, Willow saw no reason to play along with their pathetic act any longer.

"Chloe, do you take me for a complete idiot?" Willow's voice turned glacial.

"Do you really think I don't see right through you? I used to be blind, letting a user like you bleed me dry and treat me like a doormat. But those days are over. Get it through your thick skulls: you and your trashy boyfriend can stay far, far away from me!"

Chloe flew into an incandescent rage. "Why you ungrateful little…"

Before Chloe could finish shrieking her insults, Willow calmly tapped the end-call button, cutting the line dead.

In the sweltering hotel room, Chloe stared down at her disconnected phone screen in stunned disbelief, then looked up at Tyler with tear-filled eyes. "Tyler... what do we do now?"

A dark, vicious flash of hatred twisted Tyler's features.

His family was stranded hundreds of miles away out of state and couldn't reach them, leaving the two of them trapped in a sweltering, powerless hotel suite as supplies completely evaporated.

Just thinking about it made his blood boil.

Gritting his teeth, Tyler forced a stiff, reassuring smile, wrapping an arm around a weeping Chloe. "Relax, babe... we just have to sit tight and wait for my connections to come take us away."