All Chapters of Transmigating into the Apocalypse:I won't Be Your Cannon: Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

"You'd be dead in a day," Brett typed. "You wouldn't last one chapter.""One chapter?" I typed back. "I'd be at the hardware store buying water while your heroine's in her closet."I hit send and grinned. An hour earlier, I'd posted a one-star review of Dawn of Ruin, the biggest zombie romance on the planet, and four thousand strangers had come to burn me for it.The review had taken me eleven minutes, which was ten more than the author seemed to have spent on Vera Lockhart's personality.She stocks the pantry. She locks the doors. She writes the list. Then she dies in one paragraph. Cannon fodder with a clipboard. Would not mourn.My name is Nell Hartley. I review books for a living, if forty dollars a review counts. Online I'm NellNoMercy, forty-one thousand followers, and my whole brand is saying what readers think at chapter thirty and are too polite to type. I read the last page of every book first. I hate surprises.That morning, my editor had laid me off. Budget cuts. So tonigh

I had two dollars, twelve days, and exactly one plot hole worth exploiting."Seven, fourteen, twenty-two, thirty-one, thirty-eight, forty," I told the clerk.He frowned at the slip of paper in my hand. "You don't want a quick pick?""No.""Those are very specific numbers, ma'am.""I'm a very specific person.""You know the odds are one in three hundred million?""Then I'll be a rounding error." I slid my last two dollars across the counter. "Please hurry. Sales close in four minutes."He sighed and printed the ticket. "Good luck."I almost laughed. The last voice to say that to me had come with a survival rate of 0.03 percent.I checked the ticket twice. The author had used these numbers in five different chapters and never once let anyone claim the prize. Tonight, somebody would. I had thirty-seven cents left in the world.I spent the evening in the diner next door, nursing a coffee that the waitress had put in front of me without asking. Her name tag said DEE."Rough day?" she asked

I had thirteen hundred cases of noodles and no weapon."A crossbow," I told the man behind the counter at Dunn's Outdoor & Surplus. "Four hundred bolts. Two hatchets, paracord, and a medical kit."His name tag said GREG. He had a red face and a ponytail, and he looked me up and down."Honey, hunting gear is for hunters.""I'm a customer.""You're a girl with a list. Where's your husband?""Divorced.""Figures." He raised his voice. "Calder! Take care of her. And don't oversell. She'll bring it all back by Friday."A man came out of the back room. He was in his mid-thirties, with buzzed dark hair and a faded medic's patch on his jacket. He read my list and looked at me."What are you hunting?""Plot holes."His mouth twitched. "The crossbow's the quiet option."Rhys Calder. In chapter thirty-nine, the author gave him one paragraph. He held the pharmacy door on Alder Street so the others could run, and he was never seen again. I had read that page twice, hoping somebody would hold a fun