CHAPTER 3: Shelter To Be

FREYA'S POV,

The factory was exactly as I remembered it. The same cracked concrete floors, the same rusted catwalks overhead, and the same smell of dust and old machine oil. But there were no cots lined up against the east wall yet. No scratched tally marks counting the days. Most importantly, no bloodstain at the second-floor entrance.

‘Not yet.’ I thought, remembering the fight between the civilians and the army. ‘Maybe not ever, if I did things right.’

“Water filtration,” I murmured, typing into my phone as James led me through the third floor. “Fuel for the generators. Rope. A lot of rope.”

“You've been doing that since we walked in.” James noticed, stopping in the doorway of what used to be the old break room. I looked up to see him watching me, arms crossed. “The things you mentioned...are you turning this place into some kind of shelter?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. There was no good way to explain without seeming insane. “I know how it sounds, but believe me, I'm doing it for a reason.”

“Does it have something to do with the zombie virus in Asia?”

“What?!” I asked, wondering if he remembered the apocalypse from his previous life like me. “How do you know about it?”

James pulled out his own phone and turned the screen toward me. There was a news article from that morning. A cluster of unexplained deaths in a city I didn't recognise. The health officials and the local government asked people not to panic, but the experts feared it could be a global threat. My stomach dropped as I kept reading on. In my previous life, I hadn't heard a single word about the zombies until it was already too late.

“I've been reading about it for a week.” He put the phone away when he noticed my face. “WHO and our government are saying it isn't serious, but a friend of mine went to the Philippines for his honeymoon, and he told me that it's terrifying in that area.” He looked around the factory, realising why I wanted his factory. “I have been stockpiling essentials in my garage, but this place makes more sense. It's protected and remote.”

“And big enough to support more people from the zombies.” The knot in my chest loosened slightly. I thought I had to do the whole thing alone. “Help me build this shelter. There's a lot to do, and we don't have much time.”

“You are right about that,” he said, looking at the article. “Where do we start? It looks like you already have the whole thing planned, so tell me what I can help with.”

“I haven't planned much, but I do know we need better compound walls than the steel fence you have right now. Tall and topped with barbed wire connected to an electrical supply.” I pulled out my phone to look at the list I have been preparing. “Solar panels, better surveillance systems, weapons and those lights under which plants can grow. We can't stockpile food for decades. We have to grow it, but the open area around the building isn't enough.”

“What about the roof?”

I shook my head. “We need the roof for solar panels.”

We spent the next hour walking the building floor by floor, building the list together: complete clean-up of the building, window replacements, a second water source in case the first failed, a room that could be locked down and defended if it came to that. He knew things I didn't, such as how much propane a generator actually burned through, how to reinforce a door frame so it would hold against more than a stiff kick, and how to shoot a bullet.

Somewhere around the third floor, he started speaking. “Can I tell you something stupid?”

“Go ahead,” I said, looking at what used to be medbay in my previous life.

“I think Selena is cheating on me,” he said in a way that made me feel like he was embarrassed to admit it out loud. “She was texting a lot to some guy about a month ago. When I asked her about it, she denied it. She told me I was being paranoid for no reason.” He shook his head. “I let it go because I had no proof, but I don't know... I have this gut feeling.”

I thought about how easy it would be to tell him right now, but I needed proof.

“For what it's worth,” I said carefully, “I don't think you are being paranoid. But it's not the time for that. We have something much worse at hand.”

He looked at me for a long moment, and whatever he saw in my face told him more than I'd actually said. “You're right about that. We have to rebuild this place. I can hire cleaners, electricians, plumbers and construction workers to make changes to the building.”

“Yeah,” I walked by his side towards the back stairwell. “And make sure these people can complete all the work in two weeks. In the meantime, we can take care of buying essentials. The basement is huge and clean, so we can store everything there for the time being.”

“We also need to remove all the old machines and other trash lying around.” He noticed. “And I know someone who can help us turn the first floor into an indoor farm.”

“That's good.”

I stopped in front of a narrow storage room, and suddenly, for one disorienting second, the smell of gun oil hit me so hard I nearly stumbled. James steadied me and said something, but I couldn't hear him. The memories from my previous life took me back. I was standing in this exact doorway, a pistol in my hands, and a soldier's voice patient in my ears.

‘Elbow in. Breathe out before you squeeze.’ Ronan said, standing behind me and grabbing my hand to show how to hold a gun. ‘Now, focus on the target on the other side of the room and press the trigger.’

“Thank you—”

“Freya! What happened?!” James said, pulling me back to the present. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it was nothing. Sorry!”

“Don't stress about it.” He grabbed my shoulders and turned me towards himself. “Everything is going to be okay. We will survive this together. I am giving my word.”

I smiled and nodded at him because, for some reason, I couldn't help but trust him.