All Chapters of This Time I Keep the Keys : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Fifty-one days before the apocalypseNessa asked the venue to read the request aloud.Not because she doubted the coordinator. She wanted to hear exactly how little Adrian thought her answer mattered.Transfer the refundable portion to the revised event. Same date. Same room. Updated couple details to follow.“No,” Nessa said. “Refund any amount due to me to its original payment source. Please send the calculation.”“Of course. We wanted your confirmation.”After the call, she sat among unopened boxes and laughed so hard she frightened herself.He had wanted her to pay for marrying Celia.The thought was absurd enough to be funny, until she remembered the dress hanging in the cupboard at her apartment. She had chosen it on a rainy afternoon with Leila. There were photographs of her turning in front of a mirror, smiling at a future that had never existed quite as she imagined it.She didn't have to keep the dress to prove she had once been happy.Nessa called a specialist resale servic

Forty-nine days before the apocalypseNessa carried the last box out of her apartment at ten in the morning.The corridor smelled of somebody's breakfast. A neighbor waved from the lift and asked whether the wedding was soon.“It's canceled,” Nessa said.The woman looked horrified. “Oh. I'm sorry.”“Thank you.”No explanation followed her into the lift. Nessa stood beside her box and watched the floor numbers descend. She had expected telling people to feel like a public failure. Instead, it felt like putting down something heavy she had forgotten she was carrying.The apartment keys went to the agent. Adrian's remaining belongings had already been collected by an agreed courier, documented and sealed. His mail had been redirected to his own address. The dress had gone to the resale service.There was nothing left for her to return and use as a reason to speak to him.By afternoon, the sale completed. The expected net proceeds, six hundred and twenty thousand dollars, arrived after th

Forty-seven days before the apocalypseThe map had changed, and Nessa had not.She stared at the road-closure notice until she could admit what frightened her. Remembering the disaster wasn't the same as knowing every road that would exist when it arrived.If she followed her old route without checking, she could drive straight into a barrier with everything she needed behind her and nowhere left to turn.She collected the used van she had reserved after the independent inspection. Forty-five thousand dollars bought an unglamorous vehicle with ordinary parts and room she could measure. It didn't make her a skilled driver on bad roads. She booked additional training and listened carefully at the handover.Then she drove the reservoir route in daylight.Tamsin came along to collect an order on the far side of town. She put a paper map on her knees and rejected Nessa's first offer of coffee.“Not while you're learning where the controls are.”“I thought we were friends.”“That's why I wa

Forty-five days before the apocalypseThe replacement offer arrived with a photograph of a green indicator light.Nessa asked when the engineer would arrive with it.The installation company's coordinator paused. “Our technician can fit it this afternoon. That should put your mind at rest.”“I want it to run the equipment on the agreed plan.”Downstairs, the backup supply remained isolated. The electrician had restored the ordinary house supply before leaving yesterday, and the freezer was cold. Nessa had checked it twice before bed, then once more when she couldn't sleep.She had bought good equipment. She had hired people. For several dreadful minutes in the lane, none of that had prevented the smell of hot plastic.“We'll repeat the test,” the coordinator said.“Send the fault report first, please.”She wrote the independent verification fee beneath the appointment: four hundred and eighty dollars. The replacement and corrective work belonged under the original installation guarant

Forty-two days before the apocalypseThe apple should have browned.Nessa stood over the snack tin, trying to remember whether she had put lemon juice on the slices yesterday. She hadn't. She had cut them in a hurry, packed some for the walk, and put the rest in the Stillroom.When she'd retrieved them that evening, they had still been cool. She had covered the tin and put it in the refrigerator without looking properly.Now, beside the browned leftovers from the same apple, the pale slices made her forget her aching calves.She didn't taste either sample.Her first comparison had already proved that ordinary food deteriorated inside the Stillroom. One unexpected tin didn't undo that result. Perhaps she'd remembered the timing badly. Perhaps the lid had made a difference.She wrote down everything she could actually establish.The tin had rested beside the folded towel, low on the left. A packet of crackers had occupied the space above it. Nothing else had looked different when she re