002: Seventy two hours

Nadia

In my last life, I spent this exact morning in my home office wiring two hundred thousand dollars into Daniel's startup account.

I was so desperate to be a supportive partner that I threw my money at a man who would eventually leave me to die in a labyrinth.

I don't know who gave me a second chance. All I know is I'm here now, and I have five days.

Five days before the System descends with cold for the first seventy two hours, before pulling people into instances.

I was going to use every hour to prepare.

First on my list: Buy Westridge plant.

It is nothing now but an ugly, decommissioned water treatment plant on the northern edge of the city that the state had been trying to lease for years.

But In my last life, it was one of the only permanent Safe Zones in the city. Underground layout, reinforced steel bulkheads, its own water filtration. By the time people realized what it was worth, it was already taken.

This time, it would be mine. My lawyer had already finalized the paperwork.

I hit the call button on my steering wheel.

Three rings.

“Nadia?” I almost cried when my mother's voice came through the speakers, out of breath and warm. “Hold on, sweetie. Let me take off my gardening gloves. These hydrangeas are being absolutely stubborn today.”

In my last life, I was so busy handling Daniel's crises and Chloe's problems that I called her once a month. So when the Awakening happened and the 72 hours count down began, the countryside was cut off.

I never saw her again.

I swallowed it down and forced my voice bright.

“Leave the hydrangeas alone, Mom. Pack a bag and come to the city.”

She laughed. “To the city? You know I hate the traffic. And the Wilsons are expecting my cherry pies for the bake sale on Saturday.”

“The Wilsons will survive without them. I booked us a non-refundable weekend at the spa downtown, so if you don't come, I'm going to be sitting in a mud bath alone. And I've missed you a lot.”

That did it. Guilt always worked on her.

“Oh, honey, you shouldn't waste money like that.”

“Too late. It's booked.”

A sigh. “...I suppose I can ask Mrs. Gable to watch the greenhouse.”

“Tomorrow morning. Drive down first thing.”

“Alright, alright. I'll see you tomorrow.” A pause. Her voice softened. “Sweetie? Are you okay? You sound... different. Like you did after—”

For a second I thought she was going to say his name. It's been ten years since his death after all. But I don't want to go down that road today.

My hands tightened on the wheel as I remember something else.

The heavy thud of boots in the dark. The leather jacket. The blood dripping off a sword.

The one person who didn't step over my body.

“Mom, quick question. Do you remember Julian Cross?”

“Julian? Who?”

“The boy two streets over in middle school. Pushed me into the creek. Ruined my science fair project. You marched to his house and yelled at his father for an hour.”

Silence.

“Nadia, honey, there were no Cross in our neighborhood. The only boy your age was the Miller kid. He moved away in fifth grade.”

That was impossible.

Julian had been my personal nightmare for years. The arrogant smirk when he stole my homework, the way he always found a new way to get under my skin — I could still see it perfectly. I had recognized him instantly in the labyrinth, even after ten years.

“You really don't remember him?”

“I really don't, sweetheart. Are you sure you're not mixing him up with someone else?”

“Yeah,” I forced a small laugh that sounded wrong even to me. “Probably misremembering.”

It was a lie.

You don't misremember someone who made half your childhood miserable. And you definitely don't misremember the last face you saw before you died.

But I couldn't afford to unravel that thread now.

My mother was coming. She would be safe. That was what mattered.

I ended the call as I took the Westridge exit. The tires crunched over gravel.

The facility was exactly as I remembered it, massive fence, weathered concrete, rusted pipes snaking along the side like veins. Ugly and perfect.

I cut the engine and stepped out, purse in hand. The leasing agent wasn't due for another ten minutes. Enough time to walk the perimeter and picture where the generators and medical supplies would go.

But the silent familiar hum of car caught my attention.

A black sedan had pulled up a few feet away. My black sedan. The one I bought him last year because he said his old car was 'embarrassing for business meetings.'

Daniel stepped out.

Tailored suit. Hair perfectly styled. Holding his phone up like I was the one inconveniencing him.

He had no idea that just hours ago, I had watched him close a heavy iron door on my shattered legs and leave me to die.

“There you are,” he said, looking annoyed than relieved. “I've been calling you all morning. Why isn't your phone going through?”