Chapter 3
That afternoon, things got a whole lot worse.
The power went out. The entire district plunged into darkness.
Air conditioners shut down, and the fans were nothing but useless decorations. Every house became a suffocating oven, sweat pouring down bodies until the air itself felt impossible to breathe.
Then the water died. Pipe pressure dropped fast, and soon, nothing came out. Faucets twisted open produced nothing but hollow bursts of air.
Water became the hardest thing to get overnight.
Panic swept across the city like wildfire.
The store downstairs was cleared out in less than an hour, shelves knocked over everywhere.
Bottled water went from a couple of bucks to dozens of dollars. Even at those insane prices, people still grabbed every last bottle.
Some fought violently over a single bottle of water. Others collapsed on sidewalks in tears, while heatstroke victims lay unconscious on the ground, no one daring to help.
Screams, curses, and desperate cries blended into a grim symphony of despair.
Meanwhile, I was up on the 18th floor, settled comfortably in my safehouse.
The solar power system activated automatically, keeping the air conditioning running at a steady 78 °F, cool air flowing evenly through every corner.
Cold water from my Space was always within reach. Watermelon was sliced and ready on the table, and the ice cream was so tasty that it sent chills with every bite.
Milo was sprawled out under the air conditioner, sleeping on his back without a care in the world.
I was lounging on my soft couch, watching movies and TV shows I'd downloaded ahead of time, munching on fruit and sipping ice-cold drinks. No heat. No water shortages. No panic. I only knew comfort and peace.
In my previous life, I was so thirsty that my lips bled. I even begged people for half a bottle of water, enduring endless humiliation.
This time, however, I had my Space packed with supplies, and I was just chilling in my safehouse, living the good life.
The contrast filled my chest with a cold, vengeful satisfaction.
*****
As the evening rolled around, noise finally came from outside the door. It was definitely not a polite knock. Someone was banging on the door, hard and mean, full of malice.
Each strike slammed into the reinforced door, sending vibrations through the walls.
I put my drink down and went to check the peephole.
There was Maggie from across the hall, Alicia from downstairs, and that lazy guy from the third floor. A whole bunch of neighbors who were always looking for a free ride or stirring up drama were blocking my door.
They were sweating heavily, staring at my door with greedy looks.
They'd noticed me hauling in a ton of supplies over the past ten days, so they knew I had a huge stash of water and food.
To them, a woman living alone was the easiest target.
Seeing their twisted faces through the peephole made me feel sick with disgust.
In my previous life, these same neighbors had joined forces with my family and Wendy, breaking into my home, stealing all my supplies, and beating me until I was covered in wounds.
They talked about helping others, but acted like robbers. They were selfish, greedy, and shameless to the core.
How dare they come back again?
"Rebecca, I know you're in there. Open the door," Maggie shouted, her voice sharp and hoarse from the heat, yet still demanding.
She said, "We all saw you storing water and food. Bring it out and share. We're neighbors. We should help each other in times like this. You don't need that much."
Alicia chimed in right away, sounding annoyed. "Yeah. How much can one person use? Share it, or we'll keep knocking until you can't stand it."
Someone else snarled, "If you don't open up, we'll grab some tools and break the lock. Once this blows up, don't expect anyone to respect you."
They kept yelling, thinking guilt-tripping threats would scare me into opening.
I took a deep breath and spoke calmly, my voice cold and steady through the thick reinforced door. "I paid for my supplies. Why should I share them with you?"
Maggie hadn't expected me to push back. She paused for a second, then yelled, "How can you be so selfish? When the apocalypse hits, everyone is equal. Stop hoarding everything for yourself.
"I'll report you and tell everyone what you're doing."
"Go ahead," I replied, my tone cold and flat. "Power and water are already gone. No one is coming to help you, no matter how loud you scream.
"This door is blast-proof. Even if you break your hands, you won't get it open."
Maggie was too angry to keep talking.
They kept pounding on the door, cursing and yelling for almost half an hour.
With the heat beating down on them and barely any food or water left, their energy was shot. Soon, they were panting and weak all over. The banging got softer, and their curses turned into tired mumbling.
In the end, they could only grumble and curse as they shuffled off, their footsteps echoing down the hallway until they disappeared.