CHAPTER 5 - Arming for the End 

Two hours later, the final forklift backed away.

Nearly three-quarters of the massive Harrison wholesale warehouse had been completely drained. 

Hundreds of crates of canned beans, preserved pork, bags of rice, flour, sugar, salt, commercial water filtration units, batteries, solar lamps, and medical gear were now neatly organized inside her infinite space, totally fresh and preserved.

Mr. Harrison walked out of his office, looking at his nearly empty warehouse floor with wide, gleaming eyes. 

He wiped his hands on his apron and beamed at Felicity, handing her the final receipt copy.

"Miss Felicity, you are without a doubt my most valued client!" Mr. Harrison chuckled, shaking her hand warmly. "Your company single-handedly cleared out my inventory for the quarter! I'll have the invoice sent over to your accounting head by Friday as usual."

"Thank you for the quick service, Mr. Harrison," Felicity said with a polite nod, taking the paper and slipping into the driver's seat.

"Have a great day! Call us anytime!" Mr. Harrison waved enthusiastically as she started the engine and pulled out of the industrial lot.

Looking in her rearview mirror at the waving man, Felicity let out a quiet, dark laugh.

‘Enjoy the paper receipt, Mr. Harrison. In seven days, paper money won't even be good enough to start a fire.’

She didn't stop there. 

Knowing every major wholesale supplier in the city due to her position as procurement manager, she drove straight to a second warehouse on the eastern edge of the industrial zone.

Using the exact same tactic, she authorized a massive purchase under her hotel group's corporate account. 

Within another hour, thousands of boxes of spices, dried fruits, energy bars, vacuum-sealed cured meats, and gallons of cooking oil vanished into her domain.

Next, she targeted the city's largest cold-storage distributor, a major supplier that handled high-grade meats and fresh produce directly for her hotel chain.

Standing in the chilling air of the walk-in freezer facility, she met with the site manager, who greeted her eagerly.

"Miss Felicity! Are you here to check on the weekend hotel delivery?"

"Change of plans," Felicity said crisply, holding up her official manager badge and tablet. "The executive board wants to lock in a bulk stockpile of fresh beef, pork, chicken, seafood, and imported produce before prices spike next month. Pack everything you have in stock into freezer crates and bring it out to my utility van immediately."

"Right away, ma'am!"

Because her company only ran its internal audit and payment clearings at the end of every week, no one would notice the multi-million-dollar inventory drain until next Monday. 

By then, the zombies would be roaming the streets, and the corporate executives who would have reported her would be running for their lives.

After loading hundreds of pounds of high-grade wagyu beef, salmon fillets, fresh vegetables, and fruits into her domain, where its time-stasis feature ensured they would remain perfectly fresh, she drove toward the rural outskirts of the city.

This time, she stopped using the company name.

She pulled her van up to a large local farming hub and livestock market. 

Stepping out into the dusty air, she met directly with local farmers.

"I'm buying in cash," Felicity told an old farmer tending to crates of fresh eggs, honey, and organic produce.

Using her personal life savings, money she no longer had any use for in the bank, she bought hundreds of dozens of fresh farm eggs, jars of raw honey, sacks of potatoes, and entire crates of apples and oranges.

"Do you happen to know any local fishermen or dock suppliers nearby?" Felicity asked as she handed the farmer a thick stack of bills.

"Sure do!" the farmer replied, his eyes lighting up at the cash. "Head two miles down the creek road to Old Man Miller's docks. He brought in his morning catch an hour ago."

Felicity drove down to the docks, meeting the local fishermen and buying out their entire catch of fresh fish, crabs, and oysters right off the boats using the rest of her liquid savings. 

The moment the wooden crates were pushed into her van, she absorbed them into the sanctuary domain.

By late afternoon, her bank account was nearly empty, but her hidden world was packed to the brim with enough food and water to feed a small army for years.

There was only one critical category left on her list before the sun went down.

Felicity turned the steering wheel, driving the heavy van back into the city and stopping outside a major medical supply depot and pharmacy hub.

It was time to secure the medicine.

Walking inside the pharmaceutical depot, Felicity cleared out entire shelves of antibiotics, painkillers, bandages, antiseptics, surgical tools, and fever medications. 

By the time the transaction went through, her bank balance sat at a miserable double-digit figure.

‘Money is useless after today anyway,’ she thought, unfazed.

To fund her final, most crucial preparations, she moved fast. 

Over the next few days, she put her luxury apartment up for an urgent, below-market cash sale. 

A desperate buyer jumped at the offer, transferring a massive sum directly to her account.

With her fresh influx of cash, Felicity worked around the clock. 

She filled thousands of gallons of gasoline and diesel into heavy-duty drums, buying specialized vehicle parts, solar battery banks, and reinforced steel modifications to upgrade her van's exterior armor.

Now, with two full hours left before the apocalypse struck, Felicity stood in a dimly lit, underground black-market armory hidden beneath an old industrial basement.

Finding this place had taken days of digging through underground contacts. 

It was a massive gamble: purchasing untraceable military-grade weapons and heavy ammunition was illegal, and a single mistake could have landed her in prison before the outbreak even began. 

That was why she had saved this dangerous stop for the very last minute.

"Is this everything, lady?" the heavily tattooed dealer grunted, tapping his fingers against a glass display case packed with assault rifles, handguns, tactical knives, and crates of ammo. "Cash only, no questions asked."

Felicity didn't say a word. 

She threw a heavy duffel bag packed with thick stacks of cash onto the counter.

"I'll take all of it," she said, her voice icy and firm. "Load the crates into the back of my van."

The dealer blinked, surprised by her cold composure, before grinning greedily at the pile of money.

Outside, the sky was already turning an eerie, bruised shade of purple. 

The air felt heavy, suffocating, and tense.

Felicity glanced down at her watch: 10:00 p.m.

Two hours remaining.

As the workers loaded the heavy ammo crates into the rear of her van, Felicity swept her hand over the boxes, vanishing them into her domain one by one. 

She climbed into the driver's seat, gripped the steering wheel tight, and locked the doors.

Her base was packed, her weapons were loaded, and her mobile sanctuary was fully armed.

The two-hour countdown had begun, and she was completely ready for the end of the world.