Chapter 2 · She Turned Off The Lights And The World Begged

Philip clenched his fists. "Hannah, don't forget, you're living off what I provide now."

"Is that so?" I cut him off. "For the past three years, every bit of status, resources, and connections you got came from my research. What exactly did you provide?"

Lyla couldn't hold back anymore. "Hannah, stop pretending. Philip made it on his own."

"On his own?" I shot her a look. "Three years ago, when you started interning in my lab, you couldn't handle a pipette. Who walked you through it step by step?"

Her face flushed bright red.

Philip slammed his hand on the desk. "Enough."

He walked over to me and lowered his voice. "Do you still have the updated data for the cold-resistance antibody?"

"I do," I replied.

His eyes lit up.

I continued, "But you'll never have it. The key lives in my mind. And three years ago, you wiped it out yourself."

Lyla cut in. "Philip, stop arguing with her. Take her away and—"

"And what? Kill me? Well, when everyone's cold-resistance antibody fails in three months, what's Philip supposed to say to the Northern Alliance?" I sneered.

Philip paced back and forth in his office, then he called over Henry Jones, his assistant. "Move everything Hannah owns to the square. And tell everyone she gets no rations from now on."

I said nothing.

*****

Half an hour later, the square was packed with people. All my data drives, notebooks, and sleeping bag were piled up in the middle, looking like a heap of trash.

I was dragged to the center of the square.

Philip stood by his office window, waiting for me to break down and beg.

However, I didn't do a thing.

Lyla stepped forward. "Hannah, you always have a sharp tongue. Why are you so quiet now?"

I stared at her. "What do you want to hear? Should I tell everyone Philip stole my research? That he doesn't get how the cold-resistance antibody works? Or that in three months, you'll all be coming to me for help?"

The crowd started murmuring.

"Or maybe—" I glanced up at the office window. "You want me to tell them who's really been supplying the fuel for this base?"

I pulled out my encrypted communicator from my pocket and turned it on. The screen lit up, the signal bars full.

Philip rushed downstairs.

My finger hovered over the communicator while I watched him getting closer. Then I hit send.

A message popped up on the screen: [Command confirmed. Executing.]

The next second, every light in the base went out. The heating pipes stopped humming. Heat, lights, and power died at once.

The temperature started to drop. Frost spread across the walls quickly.

Philip stormed into the square, standing right in front of me, his face twisted with rage. "What did you do?"

"I shut down the heating for Base 3," I said.

"Are you out of your mind? There are thirty thousand people—"

"So what? Did you ever think about how cold it was when you locked me in that warehouse? Did you think about how important that data was when you burned my notes?

"When you tossed all my stuff in the square like garbage, did it ever cross your mind who you're messing with?"

A new message popped up on my communicator: [Base 1 has cut off all fuel supply to Base 3.]

I lifted my head and locked eyes with him. "I forgot to mention, 80% of the fuel in this world belongs to my family."

The square was dead silent.

I walked to the cage at the edge of the square, punched in a code, and the lock popped open.

I said, "I designed the control system for this cage. The heating, the power, and the fuel distribution system in this base were set up by me.

"Every room you live in, every drop of fuel you use, and every bit of warm air you breathe all have my name behind it."

I stepped into the cage and closed the door. "You all think I'm the one locked up here, but actually, for the past three years, I'm the one who locked you all in.

"From now on, I decide who gets heat in this base. Anyone who sides with Philip gets no fuel."

Philip rushed to the cage. "Hannah, I'm sorry. I'll give you whatever you want."

"I want you to admit in public that you stole my research and tell them you're nothing but a fraud," I said.

He froze.

"No?" I pressed.

He looked back. Hundreds of people were staring at him.

He gave in. "I'm sorry. I stole Hannah's research. I'm a fraud. Please, turn the heat back on."

I stared at him for a long time, letting the silence drag on.

"That's not enough," I said, pressing the button. The cage door swung open.

I walked out, passing by him without sparing him a single glance.

"In three days, I'll review the heating supply for Base 3. Take your time and figure out who you actually want to stick with if you want to live," I said.

I headed toward the warehouse area. Behind me, the temperature kept dropping.

Someone rushed after me, shouting, "Dr. Samuels, I'm with you."

More people hurried after me, but I never looked back.

*****

For three days straight, the temperature held steady at -58 °F.

On the first day, the base's top brass all switched sides. On the second, middle managers lined up outside the warehouses to check in with me. By the third, survivors were rallying in the square, demanding Philip step down.

I didn't do a thing. I sat on the windowsill, reviewing my notes.

The data on my communicator screen kept scrolling. Fuel reserves, antibody production capacity, and personnel movement in every base all lay within my control.

"Dr. Samuels," Henry stood at the warehouse door, way more humble than he was three days ago. "The Governing Council wants you at a meeting."

"Where's Philip?" I asked.

"He's been holed up in his office for three days and hasn't come out once."

"And Lyla?"

"She took off. She stole a snowmobile and headed south."

"Let her go. The south is all frozen wasteland, with no fuel stations at all. That vehicle won't make it past 120 miles."

*****

Half an hour later, the seven members of the Governing Council were all squeezed into the warehouse. They'd all been Philip's closest people before. Now they stood there in front of me, heads down.

I sat on the windowsill, looking down at them. "Go ahead."

Deputy Commander Donald Carter said, "Philip has been stealing your research for the past three years. He put his name on all the patents and technical documents."

"I know. Tell me something new," I said.

Logistics Chief Eva Flores started. "He secretly held back at least 30% of the fuel for shady deals, trading it for cosmetics, furs, and high-end liquor, all for Lyla."

I couldn't help but laugh. Here we were, three years into the apocalypse, with the temperature at -94 °F, and someone was trading life-saving fuel for makeup.

Security Captain John Russell couldn't hold back anymore. "Is the cold-resistance antibody thing for real?"

Chapter 2

Philip clenched his fists. "Hannah, don't forget, you're living off what I provide now."

"Is that so?" I cut him off. "For the past three years, every bit of status, resources, and connections you got came from my research. What exactly did you provide?"

Lyla couldn't hold back anymore. "Hannah, stop pretending. Philip made it on his own."

"On his own?" I shot her a look. "Three years ago, when you started interning in my lab, you couldn't handle a pipette. Who walked you through it step by step?"

Her face flushed bright red.

Philip slammed his hand on the desk. "Enough."

He walked over to me and lowered his voice. "Do you still have the updated data for the cold-resistance antibody?"

"I do," I replied.

His eyes lit up.

I continued, "But you'll never have it. The key lives in my mind. And three years ago, you wiped it out yourself."

Lyla cut in. "Philip, stop arguing with her. Take her away and—"

"And what? Kill me? Well, when everyone's cold-resistance antibody fails in three months, what's Philip supposed to say to the Northern Alliance?" I sneered.

Philip paced back and forth in his office, then he called over Henry Jones, his assistant. "Move everything Hannah owns to the square. And tell everyone she gets no rations from now on."

I said nothing.

*****

Half an hour later, the square was packed with people. All my data drives, notebooks, and sleeping bag were piled up in the middle, looking like a heap of trash.

I was dragged to the center of the square.

Philip stood by his office window, waiting for me to break down and beg.

However, I didn't do a thing.

Lyla stepped forward. "Hannah, you always have a sharp tongue. Why are you so quiet now?"

The crowd started murmuring.

"Or maybe—" I glanced up at the office window. "You want me to tell them who's really been supplying the fuel for this base?"

I pulled out my encrypted communicator from my pocket and turned it on. The screen lit up, the signal bars full.

Philip rushed downstairs.

My finger hovered over the communicator while I watched him getting closer. Then I hit send.

A message popped up on the screen: [Command confirmed. Executing.]

The next second, every light in the base went out. The heating pipes stopped humming. Heat, lights, and power died at once.

The temperature started to drop. Frost spread across the walls quickly.

Philip stormed into the square, standing right in front of me, his face twisted with rage. "What did you do?"

"I shut down the heating for Base 3," I said.

"Are you out of your mind? There are thirty thousand people—"

"So what? Did you ever think about how cold it was when you locked me in that warehouse? Did you think about how important that data was when you burned my notes?

"When you tossed all my stuff in the square like garbage, did it ever cross your mind who you're messing with?"

A new message popped up on my communicator: [Base 1 has cut off all fuel supply to Base 3.]

I lifted my head and locked eyes with him. "I forgot to mention, 80% of the fuel in this world belongs to my family."

The square was dead silent.

I walked to the cage at the edge of the square, punched in a code, and the lock popped open.

I said, "I designed the control system for this cage. The heating, the power, and the fuel distribution system in this base were set up by me.

"Every room you live in, every drop of fuel you use, and every bit of warm air you breathe all have my name behind it."

I stepped into the cage and closed the door. "You all think I'm the one locked up here, but actually, for the past three years, I'm the one who locked you all in.

"From now on, I decide who gets heat in this base. Anyone who sides with Philip gets no fuel."

Philip rushed to the cage. "Hannah, I'm sorry. I'll give you whatever you want."

"I want you to admit in public that you stole my research and tell them you're nothing but a fraud," I said.

He froze.

"No?" I pressed.

He looked back. Hundreds of people were staring at him.

He gave in. "I'm sorry. I stole Hannah's research. I'm a fraud. Please, turn the heat back on."

I stared at him for a long time, letting the silence drag on.

"That's not enough," I said, pressing the button. The cage door swung open.

I walked out, passing by him without sparing him a single glance.

"In three days, I'll review the heating supply for Base 3. Take your time and figure out who you actually want to stick with if you want to live," I said.

I headed toward the warehouse area. Behind me, the temperature kept dropping.

Someone rushed after me, shouting, "Dr. Samuels, I'm with you."

More people hurried after me, but I never looked back.

*****

For three days straight, the temperature held steady at -58 °F.

I didn't do a thing. I sat on the windowsill, reviewing my notes.

The data on my communicator screen kept scrolling. Fuel reserves, antibody production capacity, and personnel movement in every base all lay within my control.

"Dr. Samuels," Henry stood at the warehouse door, way more humble than he was three days ago. "The Governing Council wants you at a meeting."

"Where's Philip?" I asked.

"He's been holed up in his office for three days and hasn't come out once."

"And Lyla?"

"She took off. She stole a snowmobile and headed south."

"Let her go. The south is all frozen wasteland, with no fuel stations at all. That vehicle won't make it past 120 miles."

*****

Half an hour later, the seven members of the Governing Council were all squeezed into the warehouse. They'd all been Philip's closest people before. Now they stood there in front of me, heads down.

I sat on the windowsill, looking down at them. "Go ahead."

Deputy Commander Donald Carter said, "Philip has been stealing your research for the past three years. He put his name on all the patents and technical documents."

"I know. Tell me something new," I said.

Logistics Chief Eva Flores started. "He secretly held back at least 30% of the fuel for shady deals, trading it for cosmetics, furs, and high-end liquor, all for Lyla."

I couldn't help but laugh. Here we were, three years into the apocalypse, with the temperature at -94 °F, and someone was trading life-saving fuel for makeup.

Security Captain John Russell couldn't hold back anymore. "Is the cold-resistance antibody thing for real?"