CHAPTER 5 — THE FIRST MAN WHO BELIEVED ME

Adrian Kane didn't believe Nora when she told him the world was going to end.

But he believed in the bridge.

For now, that was enough.

“How long?”

They sat inside Adrian's office at Blackridge, the door locked behind them.

“Until what?”

“Until whatever you're preparing for.”

Nora looked at him.

“Twenty-six days.”

Adrian's expression barely changed.

Only his fingers stopped tapping the desk.

“You're certain?”

“Yes.”

“How bad?”

“Power failure. Communications collapse. Food shortages. Contaminated water. Rioting.”

“And the government?”

“Overwhelmed.”

“Military?”

“Fragmented.”

“Duration?”

“I don't know.”

That answer caught his attention.

“You can predict a bridge collapse within two minutes, but you don't know how long the crisis lasts?”

“My information has limits.”

“What limits?”

Nora hesitated.

She wasn't going to tell him she'd died.

Not yet.

“I know the first thirty-seven days better than anything after that.”

Adrian watched her carefully.

“Why?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Then I can't trust you.”

“I didn't ask you to.”

“You're asking me to help build a fortified sanctuary.”

“I'm paying you.”

“That buys my work. Not blind obedience.”

Good.

Nora had chosen correctly.

A desperate man might have agreed to anything. A greedy one wouldn't have asked questions.

Adrian Kane was neither.

“What would convince you?” she asked.

“Answers.”

“You can't have those yet.”

“Then give me another prediction.”

Nora considered the coming weeks.

“June 12. St. Vincent Hospital receives seven patients with an unidentified fever. Four are members of the same family.”

Adrian's expression changed.

The bridge was one thing.

A disease was another.

“Contagious?”

“Yes.”

“Fatal?”

Nora remembered crowded emergency rooms.

Bodies covered with sheets.

Doctors collapsing beside their patients.

“Yes.”

Adrian stood.

“If this is real, we should contact authorities.”

“And tell them what?”

“That you have information about an outbreak.”

“Where did I get it?”

His jaw tightened.

“Exactly.”

Nora rose.

“You have twenty-six days to decide whether I'm crazy. Until then, I need generators.”

Adrian stared at her.

Then picked up his phone.

“How many?”

Nora smiled.

“As many as we can get.”

* * *

The next four days became controlled chaos.

With Adrian helping, Nora's purchasing accelerated.

Industrial generators.

Portable generators.

Replacement parts.

Fuel containers.

Protective masks.

Respirators.

Goggles.

Heavy gloves.

Rain gear.

Work boots.

Radios.

Satellite communication equipment.

Security cameras.

Motion sensors.

Flashlights.

Batteries.

Axes.

Crowbars.

Shovels.

Saws.

Nails.

Rope.

Adrian added things Nora hadn't considered.

Fire extinguishers.

Smoke detectors.

Manual water pumps.

Locking storage cabinets.

Spare tires.

Repair kits.

Physical maps.

“You can't depend on GPS,” he told her.

Nora immediately ordered maps of the entire region.

Every purchase taught her something.

That bothered her.

She had survived thirty-seven days.

Adrian had spent years preparing for emergencies.

Experience wasn't the same as expertise.

In her first life, Nora had confused surviving with understanding.

She wouldn't make that mistake again.

Her Survival Space filled rapidly.

Food occupied row after row.

Medicine had its own section.

Water storage was climbing toward ten thousand liters.

Tools, equipment and protective clothing filled new shelves.

For the first time since waking on June 3, Nora began to feel prepared.

Then, on June 11, her phone rang.

“Nora?” Patrick, the warehouse manager, sounded uncomfortable. “We've got a problem.”

“What happened?”

“Your second canned-goods shipment isn't coming.”

Nora stopped cataloguing batteries.

“Why?”

“Supplier canceled.”

“I already paid.”

“I know. They're refunding you.”

“Reason?”

Patrick hesitated.

“Another buyer purchased their remaining inventory.”

Nora frowned.

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

Something cold moved through her.

“Who?”

“I don't know.”

“Find out.”

An hour later, a fuel supplier called.

“Ms. Vale, I'm sorry, but we'll only be able to fulfill half your order.”

Nora stood slowly.

“Why?”

“Unexpected demand.”

“What demand?”

“A commercial buyer.”

Adrian looked up from across the warehouse.

Nora put the call on speaker.

“How much did they order?”

The supplier hesitated.

“Everything remaining after existing contracts.”

Adrian's eyes narrowed.

“When was the order placed?” Nora asked.

“This morning.”

She ended the call.

Neither spoke.

Then Nora's email chimed.

ORDER CANCELED.

Industrial filters.

Another notification followed.

ORDER MODIFIED.

Emergency medical equipment.

A third arrived minutes later.

OUT OF STOCK.

Adrian walked toward her.

“Coincidence?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

Nora showed him her phone.

“Food. Fuel. Medical equipment. Water purification.”

“The same things we're purchasing.”

“Yes.”

“That doesn't prove anyone's following you.”

“No.”

Nora opened her order records.

“But this does.”

She pointed.

Every affected supplier was one she'd contacted within the previous week.

Someone wasn't merely stockpiling.

They were tracing her purchases.

Adrian's face became unreadable.

“How many people know what you're doing?”

“You.”

“Employees?”

“They see pieces. Nobody sees everything.”

“Accountant?”

“Limited access.”

“Your husband?”

Nora's mouth tightened.

“He knows I've moved money. He doesn't know where it's going.”

Adrian crossed his arms.

“Who knows?”

“Nobody.”

“Somebody does.”

Nora knew.

And that was the problem.

In her first life, there had been panic buying only days before the collapse.

Not now.

Nobody bought entire inventories of generators and purification systems in early June.

Nobody needed that much fuel.

Unless they knew.

Her phone rang.

ETHAN CROSS.

Nora stared at the screen.

She had blocked his personal number.

This was his office line.

“Ignore it,” Adrian said.

Nora almost did.

Then instinct stopped her.

She answered.

“What?”

No anger came through the phone.

No command.

For the first time in their relationship, Ethan sounded uncertain.

“Nora.”

She waited.

“I need your help.”

Nora nearly laughed.

Thirty-seven days of hunger flashed through her mind.

Her bloody hands against an armored door.

Please. Just let me inside.

“How unfortunate.”

“Nora, I'm serious.”

“So was I.”

“Something's happening.”

Her amusement vanished.

“What?”

“Our procurement contracts are falling apart.”

Nora looked at Adrian.

“What are you purchasing?”

Silence.

There it was.

The secret shelter Ethan still believed she knew nothing about.

“Nora—”

“Then solve it yourself.”

“Wait.”

There was something in his voice now.

Fear.

“We've lost two generator orders. Our fuel supplier canceled this morning. Medical equipment too.”

Nora's fingers tightened around the phone.

Same categories.

Same timing.

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because some of the suppliers came through your contacts. I need you to call them.”

“No.”

“Nora, please.”

The word shocked her more than shouting would have.

Ethan Cross had never liked begging.

“Someone is buying everything before us,” he said.

Nora went still.

Adrian saw the change in her face.

“What?” he mouthed.

Nora didn't answer.

Her mind raced through thirty-seven days of memories.

Ethan had prepared secretly because he'd known something was coming.

But even his preparations hadn't begun like this.

This was different.

Systematic.

Food.

Water.

Fuel.

Medicine.

Power.

Someone was buying exactly what would become priceless.

Exactly when it was still cheap.

Exactly before the public knew there was any reason to prepare.

“Nora?” Ethan said.

She hung up.

Adrian stepped closer.

“What happened?”

She looked at the canceled orders on her screen.

Until this moment, she'd believed she had one advantage nobody else possessed.

The future.

Now she wasn't sure.

Adrian's voice hardened.

“Nora. Who else knows?”

“Nobody.”

“Then explain this.”

She couldn't.

Unless—

Nora stared at the countdown floating at the edge of her vision.

[22 days remaining.]

A chill traveled down her spine.

The bridge.

The outbreak.

The collapse.

Her death.

She had assumed she'd been the only person given a second chance.

Maybe that assumption had been her first serious mistake.

Nora slowly looked at Adrian.

Someone else was preparing.

Nora stared at the canceled orders.

Food.

Fuel.

Medicine.

Water purification.

Power.

Exactly the things she had been buying.

Her stomach tightened.

She had spent days believing her greatest advantage was simple.

She knew the future.

But what if she wasn't the only one?

Nora slowly looked at Adrian.

“Someone else knows.”