Chapter 4

When civilization's delicate climate control systems were shattered by merciless cold, people's spirits would break down right along with them.

I picked up my pace, darting through streets that were strangely familiar yet somehow alien.

Back then, I'd combed every nook and cranny of this city, supermarkets, wholesale markets, and outdoor gear shops, hunting for supplies to hoard.

Now, I made sure to steer clear of main roads and anywhere with cameras, slipping through narrow alleys and old apartment blocks instead.

I'd been walking for over an hour, and it was still pitch black outside. The damp, bone-chilling air felt heavier and more ominous with every step.

I made it to the outskirts, to a patch of land nobody had touched yet, and found that plain old three-story office building I'd been searching for.

I used a hydraulic cutter to snap the rusty chain, then shoved open the heavy iron door. It groaned, and dust showered down.

Inside, the darkness was even deeper, and the air was thick with dust. I flicked on my high-powered flashlight and made my way straight to the staircase I remembered, heading down.

I pulled open the heavy iron basement door, and a blast of cold air hit me. But compared to the brutal chill outside, it almost felt cozy in there.

The beam of my flashlight swept across a space of about 800 square feet.

It was square, no windows, just a couple of vents high up on the walls. It was bone dry and just perfect.

I shut the door behind me, pulled out a few rechargeable LED emergency lights from my storage space, and switched them on. Soft, bright light chased away the darkness.

Next up, I grabbed a camping mat, an extra-thick air mattress, a down blanket, a sleeping bag, and a portable kerosene heater.

The orange flame sprang up, and the heat started to fill the place.

I set out a folding table, a couple of camping chairs, some big jugs of water, a small water purifier, a portable gas stove, and all the pots, pans, and utensils I'd need.

My survival base was taking shape fast. Finally, I grabbed my tablet, a power bank, a solar charger, and that matchbox-sized wireless camera.

The living room feed appeared on my tablet. The camera was hidden in the corner by the curtain box, giving me a perfect angle.

In the dim light, everything was silent.

I set up the tablet at just the right angle on the table, lit the gas stove, and boiled water for some soup.

With each sip of hot broth, warmth spread through me, driving out the last traces of cold.

I ate slowly, my eyes glued to the screen the whole time.

Time ticked by. Through the vents, a faint, bleak light from outside seeped in, casting a ghostly pallor across the room.

It was probably around 7:30 AM.

Click.

The living room light snapped on. My mom shuffled out of the master bedroom in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes. "What's going on? Did the heat go out? Why is it so cold?"

Jemma poked her head out from under the covers, her voice thick with a stuffy nose and irritation. "Mom, I'm freezing! Is the heat broken? Call the property manager!"

My mom walked over to the window, pulled the curtain aside just a bit, and looked out.

She suddenly froze, her hand paused mid-rub, mouth slightly open.

"Mom? What are you looking at?" Jemma asked.

Jemma shuffled over in her slippers, joining her at the window.

The next second, both of them went rigid.

My mom's hand started trembling as she pointed outside, her voice caught in her throat, and she couldn't get a word out.

Jemma shrank back, smacked into the sofa armrest, then practically slammed herself against the window, her nose almost squashed against the glass and her eyes huge and round.

I had begun.

I drained the last drop of soup.

"Is it snowing? Why is it coming down so hard?" My mom's voice cracked with disbelief and fear.

"Wait! Mom, check the thermometer, the one out on the balcony!" Jemma's voice shot up, urgent and frantic.

My mom stumbled to the balcony door, flung it open, and a cloud of freezing white fog poured into the living room.

She fumbled for the thermometer with stiff fingers.

"Wh-What's the temperature?" Jemma hugged her arms tight to her chest, teeth chattering as she shivered, eyes wide with fear.

My mom brought the thermometer up close, stared at it for several long seconds, then snapped her head up, her face twisted with terror, disbelief, and maybe even a hint of relief.

"Only -22°F... and it's still dropping..." Mom rasped. "And it's only just morning...

"Is this... is this really the end of the world?"

Jemma screamed, but her fear melted away in a flash, replaced by a wild, almost gleeful look. "Mom! Mom! Do you see this?

"It's really happening! Hattie was always jinxing things... but she was actually right!"

Jemma grabbed Mom's arm and shook it, practically bursting with excitement. "We don't have to be scared. We've got food, so much food, more than we could ever eat.

"And we've got heat! The basement, the attic, that little room, they're all packed to the brim, overflowing with stuff!"

Mom snapped out of it, her fear fading, replaced by a sharp, calculating, and greedy glint in her eyes, the look of someone who'd just survived a disaster and was already thinking about how to make the most of it.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her trembling hands gave her away.

"That's right... We've got everything we need. We don't have to be scared!" Mom said, her voice shaky but determined.

She straightened up, forcing a twisted smile onto her face. "Quick! Go check. Make sure none of our stuff is missing or messed up!"

She said "our stuff" like it was just a given, totally justified.