By the time I made it back to the city, the sun had climbed high enough to burn off the morning fog. Traffic thickened as I merged back onto the highway, a river of metal and exhaust fumes and impatience.
Normal.
So painfully normal.
I turned the radio on, flipping past pop songs and morning talk shows until I found the news.
"—unprecedented atmospheric readings continue to puzzle scientists worldwide," a calm, measured voice was saying. "The National Weather Service has confirmed unusual ionospheric disturbances over the Pacific Rim, with similar reports coming from Europe and parts of Africa. Experts stress there is no cause for alarm, though aurora sightings in mid-latitude regions may continue through the week—"
I turned it off.
Seventy-two days, eighteen hours.
The System pulsed faintly at the back of my mind, a quiet heartbeat. I'd grown used to it over the last few hours—less intrusive than it had been in my first life, more like a second layer of awareness than a voice in my head.
Still, every so often, a notification would flicker across my vision.
[GLOBAL ANOMALY TRACKER: ACTIVE]
[ATMOSPHERIC DISTURBANCE INDEX: 14% (RISING)]
[ESTIMATED PUBLIC AWARENESS: <2%]
Two percent.
A handful of scientists, maybe some fringe bloggers, a few survivalists already living off-grid. Everyone else was still sleepwalking.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder.
Alex.
I answered on speaker.
"Hey," he said. "Got your email. The land thing."
"And?"
He paused, and I could almost see him leaning back in his office chair, tablet in hand, numbers scrolling.
"It's… not terrible," he said slowly. "The price is inflated, but if we can negotiate down fifteen, maybe twenty percent, and if the zoning checks out, the long-term appreciation could offset the initial risk. Especially if infrastructure projects come through in that region in the next five to ten years."
Five to ten years.
There wouldn't be infrastructure projects. There would barely be infrastructure.
But I kept my voice light.
"So you think it's doable?"
Another pause.
"I think," he said carefully, "that if this is something you really want—for your mom, for the family—we can make it work. But we'd have to be smart. Maybe leverage some of the stock options vesting next quarter. And we'd need to move fast if we're serious, before someone else grabs it."
Relief and something sharper—satisfaction, maybe—coiled in my chest.
"I want to move fast," I said. "I'll call the seller today."
"Evie." His tone shifted, a little softer. "You sure you're okay? You've been… different today."
Different.
I stared at the brake lights ahead of me, the endless stop-and-go of a city that had no idea it was living on borrowed time.
"I'm fine," I said. "Just… thinking about the future more than usual."
He made a small sound, half-laugh, half-sigh.
"You and me both," he said. "Alright. Keep me posted. And let me know if you need me to run any more numbers."
"I will."
We hung up.
The System chimed.
[FAMILY INFLUENCE: PARTIAL SUCCESS]
[ALEX SHEN – COOPERATION LIKELIHOOD: 71%]
[RESOURCE ACQUISITION TIMELINE: ACCELERATED]
[+10 SURVIVAL POINTS]
SP: 30.
I exhaled slowly.
Thirty points wasn't much. In my old life, a single Stage Three zombie core could net me fifty. A successful multiverse trade, hundreds.
But that had been after the Mist, when everything was already broken.
Now, every point I scraped together before the Fall was a small miracle.
I pulled into the parking garage beneath our apartment complex and killed the engine.
For a moment, I just sat there, hands on the wheel, staring at the concrete pillars and flickering fluorescent lights.
In seventy-two days, this place would be a deathtrap. Underground, enclosed, no natural light, limited exits. The kind of place where people would huddle in the early hours of the Mist, thinking walls would protect them.
By the second day, it would be a tomb.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the elevator, making a mental note: Get the kids out of here early. No matter what excuse I have to use.
The apartment was quiet when I stepped inside.
Lily's school bag was dumped by the door, shoes kicked off haphazardly. From down the hall, I heard the faint thump-thump-thump of Ryan's music leaking through his headphones.
I set my keys on the counter and checked my phone.
Two missed calls from my mother.
A text from Claire:
[CLAIRE]: looked at that listing u sent!! looks good but kinda far lol. u really think land is smart rn?
I typed back quickly.
[ME]: I think it's smart to have options. You don't have to jump in, just keep it in mind.
Her reply came almost immediately.
[CLAIRE]: lol ok. ur always so serious unnie 😅 but ya ill think about it
[CLAIRE]: hey u wanna grab lunch this week? haven't seen u in forever
In my old life, we'd met for lunch three days before the Mist.
She'd been cheerful, a little scattered, complaining about her ex and her job. I'd listened, paid for her meal, sent her home with leftovers.
A week later, she'd shown up at my gates with a convoy and a deal: her manpower for my resources.
By month two, she was already plotting.
I stared at the message.
Meeting her wasn't inherently dangerous. She didn't have powers yet. She didn't even know the apocalypse was coming.
But spending time with her, letting her orbit close, letting her study me—
[ME]: Maybe next week. Swamped right now with work and family stuff.
[CLAIRE]: awww ok. lemme know!
I muted the chat and opened my mother's contact instead.
She answered on the second ring.
"Evie! Finally." Her voice was bright, a little breathless. "I tried calling earlier. Are you busy?"
"Just got back," I said, wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear as I filled a glass of water. "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing urgent," she said. "I just wanted to ask if you and Alex and the kids want to come over this weekend. Your father's been talking about trying that new hotpot place, and you know how he gets when he has an idea—"
"Mom," I cut in gently. "How are you feeling? Really."
A pause.
"I'm fine," she said, but there was a thread of surprise in her tone. "Why?"
"Your heart," I said. "You had that appointment last month. Did they say anything new?"
Another pause, longer this time.
"They said my medication's working," she said slowly. "Blood pressure's stable. I'm supposed to watch my sodium and keep exercising, but… Evie, I'm okay. Why are you asking?"
Because in seventy-two days, the Mist would fall, and anyone with a preexisting condition would be at higher risk during the first wave of mutations. Because I needed her strong, mobile, and somewhere safe when it happened.
"I've just been thinking," I said carefully. "About the future. About making sure everyone's taken care of."
"You sound like you're writing a will," she said, half-joking.
"Maybe I should be."
The joke fell flat.
"Evie." Her voice shifted, concerned now. "What's going on? You're scaring me a little."
I closed my eyes, pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose.
"I'm fine," I lied. "I just—I want to make sure we're all okay. That's all."
"Well, we are," she said firmly. "And we'll be even better if you come over this weekend and let me feed you. You work too hard."
I smiled despite myself.
"I'll try," I said. "I'll talk to Alex."
"Good." She paused. "And Evie?"
"Yeah?"
"If something's bothering you, you can tell me. You know that, right?"
My throat tightened.
In my old life, I'd told her too late. By the time I'd tried to warn her, tried to get her to leave the city, she'd thought I was having a breakdown. She'd stayed.
I'd found her three weeks into the Mist, in her apartment, windows shattered, the door clawed open from the inside.
"I know," I whispered.
We said our goodbyes, and I hung up before my voice could break.
The System pinged softly.
[FAMILY ALERT: RISK ASSESSMENT]
[MOTHER (SHEN LIN) – HEALTH: MODERATE RISK]
[SURVIVAL LIKELIHOOD (URBAN ZONE, UNASSISTED): 21%]
[RECOMMENDATION: EARLY RELOCATION TO RURAL BASE]
Twenty-one percent.
I set the phone down, hands shaking.
"I know," I said aloud, to the empty kitchen, to the cold System watching through my eyes. "I'm working on it."
The next three days blurred together in a carefully controlled frenzy.
I worked my day job on autopilot, attending meetings, filing reports, smiling at the right times. At night, I researched.
Survival supplies. Water filtration systems. Seed banks. Solar generators. Medical kits.
I opened new credit lines. Liquidated some investments early, taking the penalty hits. Rerouted money into accounts Alex wouldn't check too closely.
I wasn't hiding it, exactly. Just… managing the information.
If I dumped everything on him at once—the apocalypse is coming, we need to buy a fortress in the hills and stockpile food for a hundred people—he'd think I'd lost my mind.
So I moved in pieces.
On day two, I called the seller of the land.
An older man, tired voice, eager to offload the property. His kids had moved to the city years ago. The land was too much for him to manage.
We negotiated.
I played the role of the concerned daughter, the dutiful wife, someone looking for a quiet place for aging parents and future family holidays.
He bought it.
By the end of the call, we'd agreed on a price eighteen percent below asking, with a fast closing timeline.
I hung up and immediately called a lawyer I'd worked with in my previous life—a sharp woman who'd survived the first year of the Mist by being ruthless and adaptable.
She didn't know me yet, of course. But her reputation was already solid.
"I need a rural property deal closed in two weeks," I said. "And I need the zoning permits expedited. Can you do that?"
She named her fee.
I agreed without haggling.
"I'll send the paperwork," she said. "But I have to ask—why the rush?"
"Personal reasons," I said.
She laughed. "Fair enough. I'll be in touch."
The System chimed as I hung up.
[MAIN QUEST PROGRESS: SECURE BASE SITE]
[STATUS: 68% COMPLETE]
[ESTIMATED COMPLETION: 11 DAYS]
[+20 SURVIVAL POINTS]
SP: 50.
I allowed myself a small, grim smile.
On day three, the first public cracks appeared.
It started with a news article buried on page six of the science section:
"Migratory Birds Exhibit Unusual Behavior; Experts Baffled"
Flocks of geese, normally heading north for the season, had reversed direction. Entire colonies of seabirds had abandoned their nesting sites overnight.
Marine biologists were "concerned but monitoring."
I read it over breakfast while Lily scrolled through her phone and Ryan built a precarious tower out of cereal boxes.
"Mom," Lily said suddenly, not looking up. "Is it true the sky's been weird lately?"
I glanced up.
"Weird how?"
She shrugged. "People are posting about it. Auroras and stuff. In places where they're not supposed to happen."
"Where'd you see that?" I asked carefully.
"Some group chat." She finally looked up, eyes narrowed. "You've been acting weird too. Is something going on?"
Ryan looked over, interest piqued.
"Like what?" he asked.
I set my coffee down, met Lily's gaze.
She was twelve. Smart. Observant in ways I sometimes forgot.
In my old life, she'd been fourteen when the Mist fell. Old enough to understand, young enough to be terrified.
Now she was younger—but maybe that was an advantage.
"People are noticing some strange things in the environment," I said slowly. "Weather patterns, animal behavior. It's probably nothing serious, but… it's good to pay attention."
"You think something bad's going to happen," she said flatly.
Ryan's eyes went wide.
"Like what?" he asked. "Like a storm? Or—or an earthquake?"
"I don't know," I said, which was technically true. "But I think it's smart to be prepared. Just in case."
Lily studied me for a long moment, then shrugged and went back to her phone.
"Okay," she said. "But if you're building a bunker, I want my own room."
I laughed, startled.
"Noted."
Ryan looked between us, confused, then went back to his cereal tower.
But as I watched them, the System pulsed.
[FAMILY AWARENESS: INITIATING]
[LILY SHEN – PERCEPTION CHECK: PASSED]
[TRUST FOUNDATION: LAYING]
[NOTE: CHILDREN ADAPT FASTER THAN ADULTS TO PARADIGM SHIFTS]
I hoped that was true.
On day four, I received the call I'd been waiting for.
"Ms. Shen," the lawyer said. "The seller's accepted your offer. We can close in eight days if you can get the funds ready."
"I can," I said.
"Good. I'll send over the final documents tonight."
As soon as I hung up, I texted Alex.
[ME]: Land deal's moving forward. Closing in 8 days. I'll handle the logistics, but I need you to sign off on the loan docs tonight.
His reply came a few minutes later.
[ALEX]: That fast? You sure about this?
[ME]: I'm sure.
[ALEX]: Alright. I trust you. Send them over.
I stared at those three words.
I trust you.
In another timeline, he'd said those words too—right before he'd handed my System authorization to a woman who wanted me dead.
But that was later. That was after the world had broken him, after fear had turned him into someone I didn't recognize.
Right now, he was still the man I'd married.
And maybe—maybe—if I kept us all alive, kept us strong, kept the worst of the pressure off him, he wouldn't become that other version of himself.
Or maybe he would anyway.
The System pulsed, as if sensing my thoughts.
[WARNING: EMOTIONAL BIAS DETECTED]
[RECOMMENDATION: TRUST, BUT VERIFY]
"I know," I muttered.
I forwarded him the documents, then opened a new browser tab.
Time to start the next phase.
I pulled up a list I'd been building over the last few days—names, faces, people I remembered from my first life.
Some had been allies. Some had been strangers who'd become allies. A few had been enemies.
And some… some had simply been good people, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I couldn't save everyone.
But I could save some.
I started with the easy ones.
My parents. Alex's parents. My younger brother, if I could pry him away from his startup long enough to listen.
Then the harder ones.
Old coworkers who'd proven resourceful. A former neighbor who'd been a medic. A professor I'd met at a conference once who'd survived by sheer stubbornness and an encyclopedic knowledge of edible plants.
People who would be useful.
People who wouldn't ask too many questions.
People who, in seventy days, would be desperate enough to listen when I said, Come with me. I have a place.
I started drafting messages—casual, careful, planting seeds.
"Hey, long time no talk. I'm putting together a little countryside retreat project. Thought of you. Interested in hearing more?"
One by one, I sent them.
And one by one, the System tallied.
[POTENTIAL ALLIES CONTACTED: 6]
[RESPONSES PENDING]
[NETWORK FOUNDATION: ESTABLISHING]
[+15 SURVIVAL POINTS]
SP: 65.
I leaned back, rubbing my eyes.
Outside, the sun was setting, staining the sky a deep orange.
In seventy-one days, that sky would turn green.
But by then, I'd be ready.
We'd be ready.
I opened a new tab and searched for one more name.
Dr. Kenna Okoye – Botanical Geneticist
In my old life, I'd met her two years into the Mist. She'd been half-starved, brilliant, and desperate. She'd helped me engineer the mutated crops that had kept my base alive through the first famine.
She'd died in year four, defending a greenhouse from raiders.
Now, she was still working at a university an hour south of the city, publishing papers no one read.
I drafted an email.
Subject: Research Collaboration Opportunity – Accelerated Growth Agriculture
Dr. Okoye,
I came across your recent work on stress-resistant crop variants and was fascinated. I'm coordinating a private rural agriculture project and would love to discuss potential collaboration or consulting. Flexible terms, and I'm happy to work around your schedule.
Best,
Evelyn Shen
I hit send before I could second-guess myself.
The System chimed.
[SPECIALIST RECRUITMENT: INITIATED]
[DR. KENNA OKOYE – SURVIVAL VALUE: HIGH]
[+10 SURVIVAL POINTS]
SP: 75.
I closed the laptop and stood, stretching.
Down the hall, I heard Lily's laughter and Ryan's indignant shout—some sibling argument over a video game.
Normal.
For now.
I walked to the window and looked out over the city.
Lights glittered in the dusk, thousands of them, millions of lives layered on top of each other, unaware.
Seventy-one days.
"I'm coming," I whispered to the distant hills I couldn't see. "And I'm bringing everyone I can."
The Mist didn't answer.
But deep in my mind, the System pulsed.
[PREPARATION PHASE: ACCELERATING]
[HOST PERFORMANCE: EXCEEDING BASELINE EXPECTATIONS]
[RECOMMENDATION: MAINTAIN PACE]
I smiled, cold and sharp.
"Oh," I said softly. "I'm just getting started."