CHAPTER 4 — THE MAN WHO THINKS I'M CRAZY

Food could keep Nora alive.

It couldn't stop someone from putting a gun to her head and taking it.

That lesson had cost thousands of lives during the apocalypse.

Nora had no intention of relearning it.

She needed security.

Not a bodyguard who looked intimidating in a suit. Not the guards Ethan hired for parties.

She needed someone who understood what happened when laws stopped mattering.

There was only one name she remembered.

Adrian Kane.

On Day Eleven of the apocalypse, Nora had seen him outside St. Vincent Hospital.

People were rioting over antibiotics. Police had already abandoned the district.

Adrian and six others had held the hospital entrance long enough to evacuate dozens of patients.

Nora remembered him carrying an elderly man through gunfire.

Later, survivors talked about Commander Kane as if he were some kind of legend.

Then, around Day Thirty, he disappeared.

Some said he died.

Others claimed he'd left the city.

Nora didn't know which was true.

She only knew one thing.

When everyone else had been fighting for themselves, Adrian Kane had protected strangers.

He was exactly the kind of man she needed.

Finding him took four phone calls and one expensive favor.

At 11:20 a.m., Nora parked outside Blackridge Security Training Center.

Gunshots cracked in the distance.

The receptionist led her through a reinforced door toward an indoor training floor.

Nora spotted Adrian immediately.

He was fighting two men.

At once.

One swung.

Adrian slipped aside, caught the man's wrist and put him on the mat so quickly Nora almost missed the movement.

The second attacked from behind.

Adrian turned.

Three seconds later, that man was down too.

“Again,” Adrian said.

Neither man moved.

Nora understood why.

Adrian Kane was taller than she remembered.

Black T-shirt.

Dark training pants.

Short brown hair.

A faint scar crossed his left eyebrow.

Nothing about him was flashy.

That made him more intimidating.

He looked like someone who didn't need people to know he was dangerous.

“Mr. Kane?”

Adrian turned.

His eyes swept over Nora once.

Shoes.

Hands.

Bag.

Face.

Assessing.

“You're Nora Vale.”

Not Mrs. Cross.

Interesting.

“You researched me?”

“You requested a private consultation and offered triple my normal rate.”

He picked up a towel.

“I research everyone.”

Smart.

“I need your professional advice.”

“On?”

“Survival.”

That finally earned a reaction.

Small, but there.

“Survival from what?”

“Civil disorder. Infrastructure failure. Long-term power loss. Contaminated water. Violent intrusion.”

One of the men on the floor stopped pretending not to listen.

Adrian studied her.

“You expecting a war?”

“I'd like to be prepared.”

“For all of that?”

“Yes.”

Adrian gestured toward an office.

“Let's talk.”

Inside, Nora placed a notebook on the table.

She had already made a list.

Perimeter fencing.

Reinforced doors.

Surveillance.

Fire suppression.

Generators.

Independent communications.

Water purification.

Emergency shelter.

Defensive equipment.

Adrian read the page twice.

Then looked at her.

“This isn't home security.”

“No.”

“This is a fortified compound.”

“Yes.”

“How many people?”

“For now? One.”

His gaze sharpened.

“Where?”

“I haven't purchased the final property yet.”

“So you want me to help select it?”

“And design the security.”

“For what threat?”

Nora leaned back.

“The kind where emergency services don't come.”

Adrian was silent for several seconds.

“Mrs. Cross—”

“Nora.”

“Nora. If someone threatened you, say so.”

“No one threatened me.”

“Your husband?”

She almost smiled.

“Not in the way you mean.”

Adrian pushed the paper toward her.

“You're talking about redundant power, protected water access and a defensible perimeter. That's serious money.”

“I have serious money.”

“That wasn't my concern.”

Of course it wasn't.

Nora looked at him more carefully.

This was the same man she'd remembered.

“Then what's your concern?”

“That you're spending it because you're afraid of something you won't name.”

Nora considered lying.

Instead, she said, “A disaster is coming.”

“What disaster?”

“I can't tell you everything yet.”

“Can't or won't?”

“Both.”

He leaned back.

“And you expect me to build your apocalypse bunker?”

“Not a bunker.”

Nora thought about the system's words.

Build a sanctuary.

“A sanctuary.”

His eyebrow moved slightly.

“That's less reassuring.”

Nora stood.

“I don't need you to believe me today.”

“Convenient.”

“I need you to remember this conversation.”

Adrian's expression didn't change.

“Why?”

“Because three days from now, at approximately 4:40 in the afternoon, the eastern section of Hawthorne Bridge will collapse.”

Silence.

Adrian stopped moving entirely.

Nora remembered the news report.

One hundred and twelve vehicles on the bridge.

Seventeen dead.

Dozens injured.

Officials initially blamed structural failure.

In her first life, Nora had barely paid attention.

Three weeks later, she would have given anything to return to a world where a bridge collapse could dominate the news.

“Hawthorne was inspected last month,” Adrian said.

“I know.”

“Do you have information about a planned attack?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

Nora picked up her bag.

“You'll find out in three days.”

Adrian stood.

“If you're making a threat, you're not leaving.”

“I'm giving you a warning.”

She met his eyes.

“At 4:40, don't be on that bridge.”

* * *

Three days passed.

Nora bought supplies.

Adrian investigated her.

She knew because one of her contacts mentioned that someone had asked about her recent financial activity.

Good.

Let him investigate.

He wouldn't find an explanation.

At 4:47 p.m. on June 7, every television in the electronics store Nora was visiting changed to breaking news.

HAWTHORNE BRIDGE PARTIALLY COLLAPSES.

Nora stopped.

Even though she'd known, the images tightened something inside her chest.

Concrete buried in the river.

Cars hanging over broken asphalt.

Emergency vehicles racing toward the scene.

Her phone rang.

Unknown number.

She answered.

“Where are you?”

Adrian.

“Shopping.”

“I need to see you.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Now.”

Nora looked at the television.

“Blackridge?”

“No. Stay where you are.”

Twenty-eight minutes later, Adrian Kane walked into the store.

He found her beside a display of portable solar chargers.

His usual calm was gone.

Not entirely.

But enough.

“The bridge collapsed at 4:42.”

Nora looked at him.

“Two minutes later than I expected.”

“This isn't a joke.”

“I know.”

“Police haven't released the cause.”

“They won't find sabotage.”

“How do you know?”

Nora said nothing.

Adrian moved closer.

“I checked you.”

“I assumed you would.”

“No government connections. No engineering contacts related to Hawthorne. No credible way you could have known.”

“Correct.”

“And yet you did.”

“Yes.”

His eyes searched her face.

Nora wondered what he saw.

A wealthy woman buying survival supplies?

A liar?

A lunatic who had somehow predicted the impossible?

“Who are you?” Adrian asked.

Nora remembered another version of him, standing outside a hospital while frightened civilians fled behind him.

“Someone who knows what's coming.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

Then his voice lowered.

“What happens next?”

Around them, customers watched the bridge collapse on television.

They were shocked.

Afraid.

But by tomorrow, most of them would return to work.

They would order coffee.

Complain about traffic.

Make plans for next month.

They had no idea they were watching one of the last ordinary disasters of their lives.

Nora did.

She looked at Adrian.

“The world ends.”