Chapter 2 · The Saint Is Dead, Long Live The Survivor

Water came first. It was the most important supply.

I wiped out the water section in three supermarkets, grabbing two thousand five-gallon jugs and five hundred cases of bottled water.

I stacked everything perfectly in the Space and bought plenty of water purification tablets and filters, making sure I'd always have safe water to drink.

Food meant security. Without it, I was already dead.

I bought around five thousand pounds of flour, countless ship biscuits, pasta, cans of meat, salmon, fruits, and veggies.

I grabbed about eight hundred meal kits and stocked up on chocolate, jerky, nuts, candy, and other high-calorie snacks until half the Space was packed.

I stored massive quantities of sauces and condiments, along with frozen staples like pizzas, burgers, fries, chicken wings, steaks, and seafood, all kept perfectly fresh inside the temperature-controlled Space.

I had to prepare for both extreme heat and cold.

Too much heat could dry me out and kill me, and cold could turn me into ice. I couldn't afford even the smallest mistake.

I bought twenty portable air conditioners, cooling units, and industrial fans, plus hundreds of winter jackets, thermal gear, blankets, boots, hats, gloves, and scarves.

I stocked coal, firewood, heaters, and heating systems, making sure I'd stay warm even when the cold hit hard.

Power was everything.

I bought five heavy-duty generators and stored thousands of gallons of gas and diesel in sealed drums.

I installed twenty solar panel setups with big battery packs to keep power running 24/7.

I bought flashlights, headlamps, candles, lighters, and matches by the box, plus batteries in every size. As long as I had power, I'd be fine in the dark.

Medicine mattered more than money.

Shelves were filled with cold medicine, fever reducers, anti-inflammatory drugs, pain killers, and antibiotics, while carts loaded with antiseptics, gauze, bandages, rubbing alcohol, masks, and disinfectants kept rolling in.

Trauma treatments, antiviral drugs, digestive medicines, heatstroke remedies, and specialized treatments for infectious outbreaks. I bought out everything available. First-aid kits and essential medical equipment were stocked in full.

When the world collapsed, there wouldn't be hospitals or doctors. Medicine would be my only lifeline.

And I needed security.

I spent a fortune hiring contractors to completely renovate my eighteenth-floor apartment.

All the windows were ripped out and replaced with triple-layer bullet-resistant glass, then covered with thick steel plates on the outside.

I replaced the front door with a heavy-duty blast-resistant door and installed ten reinforced locks, making it nearly impossible to break in.

The balcony was fully sealed, and the vents got reinforced mesh and carbon filters so air could flow, but threats couldn't get in.

Then came the little things that made life manageable.

I stocked huge amounts of toilet paper, wipes, toiletries, detergent, soap, and hygiene products. It was way more than I'd ever need.

I filled dozens of sealed barrels with vegetable and grain seeds so I could grow my own food if the disaster dragged on.

My golden retriever, Milo, was my only companion in the apocalypse. I bought five hundred pounds of dog food, plus treats, toys, and flea meds. I wasn't letting him struggle through this.

For ten straight days, I barely slept. Every dollar I had went into supplies and upgrades.

The over ten thousand square feet of Space was stuffed full; there wasn't even a single inch left unused.

I stood in the finished safehouse and double-checked everything.

Solar panels worked, generators ran fine, doors and windows were solid, and supplies were ready.

Milo lay beside me, wagging his tail and nudging my palm.

My phone popped up with a nationwide emergency weather alert: [Extreme heat conditions expected within the next ten days. Citizens are advised to prepare for the heat.]

Online, people joked about the heat and made summer complaints. Nobody really took it seriously.

I looked out at the peaceful city, feeling completely calm.

*****

Ten days later, the apocalypse came.

On June 26th, the first disaster, the extreme heat, hit.

Before sunrise, the heat was already choking the air.

By eight in the morning, temperatures had already exceeded 100 °F, and the sunlight felt sharp against the skin.

By noon, the heat had soared to 113 °F, and by three in the afternoon, it was stuck at a brutal 120 °F.

The ground was baked until it burned to the touch. Asphalt softened and warped, leaving deep tire marks wherever vehicles passed.

Trees along the streets sagged under the heat, leaves curling like dried paper. Flowers withered, and the world seemed stripped of its former vitality.

Five minutes outside left one drained. Ten minutes, and one could pass out from heatstroke.

There were barely any people outside, and those who were moved fast, sweating heavily.

Chapter 2

Water came first. It was the most important supply.

I wiped out the water section in three supermarkets, grabbing two thousand five-gallon jugs and five hundred cases of bottled water.

I stacked everything perfectly in the Space and bought plenty of water purification tablets and filters, making sure I'd always have safe water to drink.

Food meant security. Without it, I was already dead.

I bought around five thousand pounds of flour, countless ship biscuits, pasta, cans of meat, salmon, fruits, and veggies.

I grabbed about eight hundred meal kits and stocked up on chocolate, jerky, nuts, candy, and other high-calorie snacks until half the Space was packed.

I had to prepare for both extreme heat and cold.

Too much heat could dry me out and kill me, and cold could turn me into ice. I couldn't afford even the smallest mistake.

I bought twenty portable air conditioners, cooling units, and industrial fans, plus hundreds of winter jackets, thermal gear, blankets, boots, hats, gloves, and scarves.

I stocked coal, firewood, heaters, and heating systems, making sure I'd stay warm even when the cold hit hard.

Power was everything.

I bought five heavy-duty generators and stored thousands of gallons of gas and diesel in sealed drums.

I installed twenty solar panel setups with big battery packs to keep power running 24/7.

I bought flashlights, headlamps, candles, lighters, and matches by the box, plus batteries in every size. As long as I had power, I'd be fine in the dark.

Medicine mattered more than money.

When the world collapsed, there wouldn't be hospitals or doctors. Medicine would be my only lifeline.

And I needed security.

I spent a fortune hiring contractors to completely renovate my eighteenth-floor apartment.

All the windows were ripped out and replaced with triple-layer bullet-resistant glass, then covered with thick steel plates on the outside.

I replaced the front door with a heavy-duty blast-resistant door and installed ten reinforced locks, making it nearly impossible to break in.

The balcony was fully sealed, and the vents got reinforced mesh and carbon filters so air could flow, but threats couldn't get in.

Then came the little things that made life manageable.

I stocked huge amounts of toilet paper, wipes, toiletries, detergent, soap, and hygiene products. It was way more than I'd ever need.

I filled dozens of sealed barrels with vegetable and grain seeds so I could grow my own food if the disaster dragged on.

My golden retriever, Milo, was my only companion in the apocalypse. I bought five hundred pounds of dog food, plus treats, toys, and flea meds. I wasn't letting him struggle through this.

For ten straight days, I barely slept. Every dollar I had went into supplies and upgrades.

The over ten thousand square feet of Space was stuffed full; there wasn't even a single inch left unused.

I stood in the finished safehouse and double-checked everything.

Solar panels worked, generators ran fine, doors and windows were solid, and supplies were ready.

Milo lay beside me, wagging his tail and nudging my palm.

My phone popped up with a nationwide emergency weather alert: [Extreme heat conditions expected within the next ten days. Citizens are advised to prepare for the heat.]

Online, people joked about the heat and made summer complaints. Nobody really took it seriously.

I looked out at the peaceful city, feeling completely calm.

*****

Ten days later, the apocalypse came.

On June 26th, the first disaster, the extreme heat, hit.

Before sunrise, the heat was already choking the air.

By eight in the morning, temperatures had already exceeded 100 °F, and the sunlight felt sharp against the skin.

By noon, the heat had soared to 113 °F, and by three in the afternoon, it was stuck at a brutal 120 °F.

The ground was baked until it burned to the touch. Asphalt softened and warped, leaving deep tire marks wherever vehicles passed.

Trees along the streets sagged under the heat, leaves curling like dried paper. Flowers withered, and the world seemed stripped of its former vitality.

Five minutes outside left one drained. Ten minutes, and one could pass out from heatstroke.

There were barely any people outside, and those who were moved fast, sweating heavily.