Chapter 05

"Rent is seven hundred fifty dollars a month," the old woman said. She folded her arms across her chest. "Three months up front. Plus one extra month as a security deposit."

I looked past her at the farmhouse. The white paint was peeling. The porch steps were crooked. But behind it stood a huge red barn with wide double doors, big enough to fit two trucks inside.

That barn is exactly what I need.

"Mrs. Garrity," I said politely, "I'll pay you eight hundred fifty. But only for one month, and no deposit."

She squinted at me. "One month? What do you need my farm for one month?"

"I just need it as a temporary warehouse."

"No way." She shook her head hard. "Three months or nothing."

"Then I'll look somewhere else." I turned and started walking back toward my car. Maple followed close behind me.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

"All right, all right!" Mrs. Garrity called after me. "Eight fifty it is!"

I stopped and turned around with a small smile.

"Just don't mess up the place," she grumbled.

"Got it."

She handed me a rusty set of keys and walked off toward her truck, still mumbling to herself.

I tucked the keys into my pocket. Paying an extra hundred is better than losing a whole deposit. I won't be here long anyway.

---

For the next two days, trucks came and went from the farmhouse from early morning until late at night.

I ordered from every food supplier I could find within a hundred miles. I told them I was opening a chain of grocery stores. Nobody asked questions when the money cleared.

"Where do you want these, miss?" a delivery driver asked, pushing a tall stack of boxes on a cart.

"Inside the barn, please. Just put them anywhere."

"Anywhere?" He looked inside and whistled. "Lady, this barn is already full to the roof."

"Then I'll make room," I said.

When he drove away, I walked into the barn and closed the doors behind me.

"Store. Store. Store."

Pallets of flour vanished into thin air. Then crates of bread. Then rows and rows of canned meat, giant jugs of cooking oil, and heavy bags of salt.

The barn was empty again within ten minutes.

Maple sat by the door, watching with her head tilted. She had seen me do this many times now, but she still looked confused every time.

"Hundreds of tons of flour," I said to her, counting on my fingers. "Tens of thousands of loaves of bread. More cans of meat than I can count. Oil. Salt."

I let out a long breath.

*In the apocalypse, these are the things that keep people alive. One can of meat could buy a whole gun. One bag of salt could buy a person's loyalty.*

I sat down on an old hay bale and pulled out my phone. I opened my bank app and checked my balance.

My smile slowly faded.

*After selling the apartment and adding my savings, I had over two point two million dollars.*

I scrolled through the list of payments. Food supplier. Food supplier. Trucking company. Food supplier again.

*Six hundred fifty thousand dollars. Gone.*

"Maple," I said quietly, "I've barely started stocking up, and almost a third of my money is already gone."

Maple whined and rested her heavy head on my knee.

"I still need medicine. Weapons. Fuel. A generator. Building supplies for the tunnel." I rubbed my forehead. "Money disappears so fast."

I stared at the barn wall and thought hard.

The apartment is still in my name. Dad paid me, but the transfer hasn't gone through at the county recorder's office yet. On paper, I still own it.

A slow smile spread across my face.

And in two weeks, banks won't exist anymore. Nobody will be around to collect a single cent.

I searched for the nearest bank and dialed the number.

"Good afternoon, Keystone Valley Bank. How can I help you today?"

"Hello," I said in a calm voice. "I own a property in downtown Pittsburgh, and I'd like to take out a home equity loan."

"Absolutely, ma'am. We can help you with that." The woman's voice turned bright and cheerful. "Please bring your ID to our office tomorrow at nine-thirty in the morning for an in-person meeting. We'll make sure to offer you the highest loan amount possible."