004: No one important

Nadia

[Unseasonable cold front approaching. Temperatures expected to drop 25 degrees overnight. Residents advised to prepare for power fluctuations.]

All Tv stations were reporting the same problem, but everyone were still going about their way, oblivious to the fact that the world they know is coming to an end.

I pulled up to Westridge parking lot, the abandoned building from yesterday was practically vibrating with noise.

Three different crews were already on-site. I’d spent yesterday afternoon calling the best engineering and contracting firms in the city.

When I told them I wanted the entire facility overhauled, reinforced, and made habitable in five days, they laughed and told me it was impossible.

Then I told them how much I was willing to pay.

The laughter stopped immediately.

Money had a beautiful way of changing people’s minds.

By sunset, I’d secured round-the-clock crews working in staggered shifts.

I parked and walked toward Mr. Cole. He was already waving me over, blueprint flapping in the wind from the cold front.

“Ms. Nadia, lower levels are cleared,” he said. “Insulation starts today, ventilation tomorrow. Plumbing tomorrow night. And those custom doors you wanted, the heavy ones with deadbolts, they’ll be hung on Day 4.”

“Good,” I said. “I want interior livable by the fourth day.”

He nodded, tapping his pen. “We can do that by the fourth night. Then we'll do the finishing touch the next morning.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Finish interior by Day 4 night, go home and rest. Come back early on Day 5 for the touch-ups.”

That was the key. In my past life, the countdown didn't appear in the morning. It appeared in the evening, just as people were heading home from work.

That meant I had the whole morning of Day 5. The workers would think they're coming back to do final paint, but by then the inside would already be done. I could send them home early, that'll give me a few hours to bring in my supplies.

I walked the lower level once. Unlike yesterday, it was clean now. Soon it would be proper rooms. Not a miserable bunker. A place my mother could actually live.

Cole followed me. “One thing, Ms. Nadia. You said not to worry about power. But are you sure? For a facility this size—”

“I’ve handled power separately,” I said.

Which was true. I’d already spent a small fortune off-books ordering for Industrial generators separately. Massive battery banks. Solar array for the roof. Enough rechargeable batteries to keep us running if generators had to be shut down.

If you want to keep food secret, you keep EVERYTHING secret.

I learned that the hard way. After all , I'd watched what people did when there was no food. Siblings killed themselves for a can of soup. Scavengers were everywhere, looking for any food they could ruthlessly take.

People aren't savage after the apocalypse. They're savage the second they realize the supermarket is empty.

So none of the workers knew nothing about food. As far as he knew, I was building a weird, luxury underground apartment.

And that's exactly how I wanted it.

The real deliveries — food, water, fuel — I had scheduled separately, under a different company name, for day four's night after his crews left.

I would bring ninety percent straight downstairs, behind the bullet doors. Ten percent would stay in the surface warehouse as a decoy.

If someone broke into the top, I wanted them to think they'd taken everything.

I left Westridge by noon and drove home. All I wanted was a shower and wait for my mom.

But I notice my Porsche was back in the driveway, It hadn't been there last night.

My front door was also wide open.

“Get your filthy hands off! You people think you can just walk into anyone's house?” I heard Chloe's sharp voice and I ran inside.

My mother stood in the entryway, her bag clutched against her ribs. Her wrist was red, four fresh fingertip marks.

Chloe had her other hand locked around the strap, trying to rip it away from her. My silk robe half off her shoulder.

Then she saw me.

She instantly let go of the bag like she'd been caught stealing then covered it with a bright, pretentious smile.

“Nadia! Thank God you're back! I caught this thief old hag trying to sneak into your house! She said she was your mom, can you imagine? Who knows what she would've taken if I wasn't here!”

She looked at me, waiting for praise.

I didn't look at her. I stepped past her and took my mother's wrist gently in both of mine and tucked her behind me.

Then I turned and slapped Chloe.

Chloe stumbled back against the wall, one hand flying to her cheek. Her eyes went wide.

“You... you hit me.” Her voice was small at first, disbelieving. Then it sharpened. “You hit me for this old hag?”

“You touch my mother again, I will break your hand.”

For a second she just stared at me, cheek reddening. Then she scoffed and crossed her arms. “Oh, come on. Why are you overreacting? I didn't know who she was! She looks, I mean, look at her, Nadia, she just barged in! Anyone would have thought she was a beggar!”

“Apologize,” I said.

“What?”

“To my mother. Now. Apologize to her and get the hell out of my house.”

Chloe laughed incredulously. “I'm not apologizing to her! You should be thanking me! I stayed here all day, guarding your house while you were off—”

“You took my car for over a day without asking, curbed my rim, only to return today and put your hands on my mother.”

“It's just a scratch, God. And Daniel said I could use it! His girlfriend's car is also his car. I know you're just upset. Okay, I get it. But you can't kick me out. Where am I supposed to go?”

She walked past me and sat down on my sofa like she owned it. She patted the cushion. “Let's be reasonable. I'll apologize, okay? Sorry. Happy? Now let's all calm down and—”

I pulled out my phone.

“What are you doing?” she said, sitting up straighter.

I didn't answer. I tapped the screen.

“Hello? Police? I need to report a trespasser and assault. Someone took my vehicle without a license, damaged it, and just assaulted my elderly mother. Yes, I have evidence. Address is—”

Chloe shot up. “Are you insane! You can't call the cops on me!”

“You have two choices,” I said, holding the phone to my ear. “You walk out now with your things, or they walk you out in handcuffs. Your choice.”

Her face twisted as she screamed. “Fine! Fine! You want to be like this? Wait until Daniel hears this! Wait until I tell him you hit me for some old hag and called the cops on me! He's going to leave you! You hear me? He's going to dump you!”

She fumbled her phone out of her robe pocket, fingers shaking with rage, and stabbed Daniel's name.

“Daniel! Daniel, pick up!”

The call goes to voicemail.

“Daniel it's Chloe, can you believe your crazy girlfriend just hit me! Yes, she hit me! She slapped me in the face! Over some old hag she says is her mom! She called the police on me, Daniel! You need to get here right now!”

She paced, sobbing loudly into the phone, glancing at me to see if I would flinch.

I didn't. I ended the call I hadn't actually dialed yet — and said, “You have three minutes.”

She stared at me, breathing hard, realizing Daniel wasn't picking up fast enough to save her.

“This isn't over,” she hissed, backing towards the door, knocking over a lamp on her way.

“Take it off.”

She froze.

“Take. My robe off.”

She yanked it out and threw it on the floor. “There, your stupid robe.”

I opened the front door and held it.

She stood in the doorway for one last second, cheek swollen, mascara running, holding her phone like a weapon.

“You're going to regret this. Both of you.”

I didn't answer.

She stepped out and I locked the door.

I turned. My mother was still standing exactly where I'd left her, her bag clutched too tight. The marks on her wrist were darker now.

“Mom,” I whispered, rushing to her. “Are you hurt? Did she hurt you anywhere else?”

She slowly set her bag down and shook her head. “I'm okay, honey. I'm okay. Who... who was that girl?”

“No one important,” I said.

I hugged her so hard my shoulders started to shake. I buried my face in her shoulder like I was seven again. In my last life I rarely called. I told myself I was busy. I told myself I'd visit later.

I never did.

She died alone while I was screaming her name at a System screen that wouldn't answer.

Never again.

I didn't know I was crying until she cupped my face in her cold hands and wiped my cheeks with her thumbs.

“Why are you crying, my sweet girl?” she whispered.

“I just missed you so much,” I said, my voice cracking.

I wanted to tell her about the sky tearing open. About the countdown. About how tomorrow the world would end mid-sentence. But I couldn't. It would only scare her.

So I swallowed it and told her the only true thing I could.

“Something really bad is coming,” I whispered. “And I brought you here because I want us to be together when it does.”

She didn't call me crazy like Daniel did.

She just stroked my cheek softly, the way she did when I had nightmares as a child.

“Then we will be together,” she said. “Always.”