Chapter 3
The air conditioning in the signing room was cranked up high, sending cold gusts that made the contract papers on the table flutter and rustle noisily.
The buyers were a young middle-class couple. They couldn't hide their excitement as they stared at the purchase contract, priced way below market value. Their hands shook as they signed, afraid Mona might back out at the last second.
"Ms. Wade, the money's already in escrow. As soon as the transfer goes through, you'll get paid right away," the real estate agent said with a wide grin, handing her a cup of warm water. "I like how direct you are."
Mona didn't even glance at the water. She signed her name with smooth, practiced strokes.
With the final stroke of her pen, the house that had carried her family's entire livelihood and hopes officially changed hands.
Tens of millions poured into Mona's account, just a cold string of numbers on a screen.
Stepping out of the real estate office, Mona wasted no time—she split the money into three different channels.
One chunk was converted into five kilos of gold bars—the only thing anyone would trade for when the apocalypse was in full swing.
Another chunk got wired to an overseas military gear club, scoring her a high-end compound bow, three boxes of carbon fiber arrows, and two sets of Kevlar stab-proof vests.
The bulk of the money went straight into mountains of supplies, packing the underground bunker to the brim.
What about the villa?
Mona took her parents to see it.
It was a luxury show apartment right in the heart of the city, decked out to the max by the developer to flaunt just how extravagant their project could be.
There was a gigantic crystal chandelier, plush imported leather sofas, and even the toilet was a smart model with gold trim—nothing but pure opulence everywhere you looked.
Mona spent a small fortune to rent it for a month, telling her parents it belonged to a friend who had to leave the country in a rush and wanted someone to take over. She assured them they could "live there for free and see how it feels" before making any decisions.
"Wow, now this is what a real home feels like!" Astrid squealed as she burst through the door, flopping onto the huge bed.
She couldn't stop running her hands over the embroidered sheets, practically caressing them, her eyes shining with greedy delight. "Stephen, check out that chandelier! That thing must be worth tens of thousands, right? Are we really going to live here?"
Stephen paced around the living room with his hands behind his back, looking every bit like a boss on an inspection tour. He kept knocking on the marble walls, letting out satisfied little grunts. "Nice, really nice. Baldwin can have his wedding here—now that's what I call fancy."
Baldwin went straight for the sofa, shoes and all, stomping all over the pricey wool carpet. He whipped out his phone, snapping selfies like a madman and blasting them all over his feed with the caption: "Moving into my new crib. From now on, call me King Baldwin."
Mona stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, idly rolling her new archery thumb ring between her fingers.
Outside, the city's sunset burned blood-red, drenching the sky in a strange, ominous shade of crimson.
The lease on this show apartment was just for a month.
A month later, on the very day the apocalypse hit, the real landlord would show up with security guards to take the place back.
That's when her family would get kicked out of this make-believe paradise and tossed straight into a city swarming with zombies.
"Hey Mona, what's that shiny thing in your hand?" Baldwin called out after finishing his selfies, finally catching sight of the metal piece she was fiddling with.
"Oh, it's nothing..." Mona replied, curling her fingers around the thumb ring. She turned back, giving them a soft, warm smile. "It's a surprise I got ready for you all."
*****
The welding torch shot out blue-purple tongues of flame, sizzling against the thick steel plates. The air was thick with the smell of burnt metal and biting ozone.
Mona, wearing bulky industrial goggles, stood at the entrance to the bunker out in the western suburbs, watching with icy focus as two workers fitted the third blast door into place.
This was the kind of heavy-duty alloy door you'd find on a bank vault—nine inches thick, with an old-school mechanical dial lock. It could even take a blast from some explosives.
"Boss, isn't this a bit much?" The foreman wiped the grime off his forehead, staring at the entrance like it was a damn fortress, confusion all over his face. "This thing could probably survive a nuke. Seriously, what are you stashing in this cold storage? Gold bars? Alien tech?"
Mona didn't bother taking off her goggles. She just pulled out a thick stack of cash and pressed it into the foreman's rough, calloused hand.
"I'm storing lives. Add two more layers to the vent filters—I want them so secure that even bacteria can't get through."
The foreman hefted the cash, shut his mouth, and turned around to bark orders at his crew to get back to work.
Deep inside the bunker, it had been turned into a fully independent ecosystem.
The walls were packed with dense soundproof insulation, blocking out all the chaos from the outside world.
Massive solar battery arrays lined up in perfect order, their indicator lights glowing a soft green, all hooked up to the camouflaged solar panels spread across the bunker's roof.
In the corner, where junk used to pile up, towering shelves filled every inch of space.
Mona stepped into the living area, where a brand-new 85-inch TV and an unopened PS5 were set up. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were packed with books—everything from Robinson Crusoe to Advanced Mathematics—and there was even a stash of hundreds of Blu-ray movies.
She traced her fingers across the plastic cases, the chill of the plastic sending a shiver through her fingertips.
She knew better than anyone: when the apocalypse hit, it wouldn't be hunger that crushed people first—it'd be the endless dead silence.
Just then, the TV mounted on the wall was airing the midday news.
"This just in: Sanfranshore has seen a surge in 'rabies' attacks recently. According to eyewitnesses, the victims have displayed extreme aggression and are unusually sensitive to light and water. The health department is investigating. Residents are advised to stay away from stray animals..."
The footage shook as the camera caught a corner of the hospital corridor: a patient on a stretcher suddenly lunged, locking his jaws around a nurse's neck.
Even though the feed was cut almost immediately, the blood that splattered across the white wall—like a blooming poppy—stung Mona's eyes.
She grabbed the remote and cranked up the volume.
The news anchor's forced calm grin looked painfully fake on the HD screen.
Mona turned around, her eyes lingering on the wall stacked high with canned food and bottled water. She let out a long, weary breath.
'It's almost here,' she thought.