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[Dubbed]This Time, We Live - FULL EP 2026
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#FULL EP
#FULL EP 2026
#FULL EPISODE #shortfilm
FULL VERSION #High Quality
#FULL EP
#FULL EP 2026
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Short filmTranscript
00:00The pain was gone. Only my soul shattering in the cold remained. What did minus 70 degrees feel like?
00:04It's when your breath freezes midair, tearing your lungs. It's when your blood moved so slow,
00:07your heart just stopped. It's when steel got brittle and snapped. In my past life,
00:10I watched my own hands and feet turn black and blue, then stiff as stone. And my dear little
00:13sister, Jenny, was bundled up in the last army coat she'd stripped off my back, curled up in
00:16that guy Dave's arms, laughing at me through the steel door. Wendy, you've got more insulation.
00:19You can handle it. We need the coat more. Gotta carry on the family name. Family name? I wanted
00:23to laugh, but the muscles in my face were already dead. In that frozen hell, human cruelty was
00:26colder than the ice. Ha! I bolt upright in bed, cold sweat soaking my back. Hot, stifling. The
00:30cicadas screamed deafeningly outside. I fumbled for my phone. It was July 15th, 2025. 35 degrees. I was
00:35alive. My hand flew to the jade pendant on my chest, reaching for that so-called storage space. Nothing.
00:39I tried to summon the system in my mind. Nothing. Just nothing. Only the balance on my banking app
00:42and the very real sun blazing outside. No superpowers, no magic space, but I had my memories.
00:46I had my mind. And I had mom and dad. Wendy. My bedroom door creaked open. Mom and dad stood
00:50there,
00:50their looks shifting from confusion to shock to pure joy the moment they saw me. They were back too.
00:54The three of us held each other tight. Dad's hands were shaking. Mom's tears were burning hot on my
00:57skin. This time around, we're not being saints. Dad said, wiping his face, his gaze sharp and focused.
01:01So what if we don't have a magic space? We have our hands. We have this house. Until it hits
01:0570 below,
01:05we can build ourselves a shelter to survive. Let's take stock. Mom made a beeline for the safe,
01:09dumping the deed, the car keys, the gold bars onto the bed. Wendy, check every penny we have available.
01:14David, sell the house. Fast for cash. I took a deep breath, opened my banking app. No loans,
01:20no overdraft. This was our family's blood money. Every cent had to count.
01:24Only 30 days left until the end of the world. The doorbell rang. Even through the door,
01:28I could smell that sickly fake kindness. It's Jenny. Last time around, she's here to beg for
01:31money for Dave's business. I opened the door. Jenny dragged a suitcase, acting like the world owed
01:35her everything. Wendy, are mom and dad home? Give me $71,000 now or I'll never come back.
01:39Last life, to scrape that money together, I emptied my entire bank account. This life,
01:43I glanced back at mom and dad on the couch. Mom's furiously punching numbers into a calculator,
01:46not even looking up. Sure. Jenny froze. She didn't expect it to be this easy. A grin started
01:50to spread across her face. Wait. Dad stubbed out his cigarette. He pulled a document from his briefcase,
01:53already prepared. Sign this first. A gift agreement and declaration of severance of relations. Dad,
01:57what do you mean? It means this money buys you out of this family. Dad's voice was cold.
02:02Take the money. From now on, live or die, you're on your own. We're selling this house tomorrow.
02:05You won't have a home to come back to. Selling the house? Are you insane? Jenny stared at us.
02:08You're selling the house just to force me to break up with him? Cut the crap. Sign it or not.
02:11I
02:11tossed the pen in front of her. No signature, no money. Sign it and the $71,000 is yours. Do
02:15whatever
02:15you want. Jenny stared at the check. Her greed won. She thought we were bluffing. Fine,
02:19I'll sign. Once Dave and I are rich, don't come crawling back to us. She scribbled her name,
02:22grabbed the check, and left. As the door clicked shut, mom's hand trembled slightly,
02:25but she steadied herself fast. One less mouth to feed. The leftover grain will last us three more
02:29years. Next comes the real fight. We've got 1.4 million to work with. We need a truck modified
02:33to handle extreme cold. Hundreds of tons of coal. We need to retrofit the old cellar and enough food to
02:37last us a decade. Against the apocalypse, 1.4 million was a drop in the bucket. Back to the village.
02:41Dad looked around the empty house, his gaze resolute. To the bomb shelter. That's the only place
02:44with professional insulation that can survive 70 below. The backyard of the old house in Linton
02:48Village would be our final fortress. With no storage space, we couldn't just wave our hands
02:51and make supplies disappear. Our biggest challenge was storage and preservation. Dad, with all his
02:55years as a design engineer, stepped up. He stood in front of the abandoned bomb shelter, blueprints
02:59in hand, and roared at the construction crew we'd hired from the city. I don't want insulation. I
03:03want a seal. A seal. Even with only 1.4 million, Dad sank 428,000 into construction. Don't sweat the
03:09money. Dad said, seeing the pained look on my face. When it hits 70 below, every inch of insulation is
03:15a
03:15lifeline. Next came my task, the hoarding. No magic space. I had to calculate every cubic meter.
03:21The villagers watched, truck after truck hauling stuff in, and crowded around to gawk. Hey, David,
03:25you opening a supermarket? Sold your city house just to come back to collect junk? I was hauling a 25
03:29-key
03:29box of canned peaches. I just wiped the sweat off my face, gave them a smile, and said, yeah, city
03:33life
03:33didn't work out. Figured I'd try the wholesale business. I looked up at the sky. The sun still blazed,
03:37but only I knew that this clunky, crowded, inelegant stockpile, in just one month, would become a treasure
03:42that even the richest people would envy. Just then, Mom ran over, her face pale. Wendy, we have a
03:48problem. We're running out of money. We haven't bought the diesel generator yet, and we're only
03:52halfway on winter clothes. Sell it. I looked at the van in the yard. Our last hauler, then at the
03:57gold
03:57bangle on my wrist. Sell everything but the clothes on our backs. Only three days left. The temperature
04:02started acting strange. 40 degrees during the day, then plunging to 10 at night. The wild swings had the
04:06village dogs howling all night long. In our courtyard, there wasn't a square inch of floor space left.
04:10Without magic space, stockpiling was a skill. Dad had packed 50 tons of coal into two side rooms,
04:14bricked up the windows, left just a tiny hatch to grab it, and camouflaged it with weeds. Our biggest
04:18crisis is the diesel. Though we had a geothermal heater, the generator was our last line of defense
04:21for electricity. In a country tightly controlled, stockpiling tons of diesel was nearly impossible.
04:24David, the construction crew's gone, but the fuel? Mom stared at the three big but empty steel drums,
04:28stress eating her alive. Dad gritted his teeth, dialed an old army buddy, a contractor he'd worked with
04:32before, a maverick. Alan, I need fuel. Don't ask why. Greenhouse operation. Urgent. I'll pay 50% over. Cash?
04:38Now, late that night, a modified water truck rolled quietly into the yard. No small talk.
04:42Dad just tossed two cases of cash, 85,000, into the cab. The hose connected, a black line pulsing
04:46like an artery, pumping precious diesel into the tank buried in the ground. Mom and I were on
04:49lookout duty at the door. Mrs. Ward from next door came out to use the restroom and craned her neck.
04:53Oh, what's the Linton family up to so late? That was the smell of diesel. My heart seized.
04:56I gripped my flashlight tight and smiled back. Nothing, Mrs. Ward? Just clearing out the biogas
05:00digester. It stinks. You should get inside. Mrs. Ward wrinkled her nose and scurried back in.
05:04The moment the tank was full, Dad slumped against the wall, completely spent. We're set.
05:07Grain, coal, fuel, and medicine. Even if the world goes moonscape, we can last three years.
05:11Then, an emergency weather alert flashed on the TV. Due to an abnormal stratospheric collapse,
05:15temperatures are expected to drop sharply over the next 24 hours. I checked the phone. Jenny sent
05:18a picture of her enjoying seafood in a fancy restaurant. Fools feed mosquitoes in the country.
05:21I enjoy the view from a presidential suite. August 15th, noon. The blinding sun suddenly seemed
05:25snuffed out by a gray cloth. Not a cloud in the sky, yet the sky took on an eerie leaden
05:28hue.
05:29The air went still. Even the cicadas fell silent all of a sudden. Into the shelter. Dad roared.
05:33It was survival instinct etched into his bones. The three of us scrambled into the cellar,
05:36just as we rehearsed. Dad first slammed shut the outer camouflaged wooden door. Then the heavy
05:39blast-proof steel door. Up with a groan from the hand crank, the final seal, an airtight,
05:42insulated door clicked shut with a thud. The world outside ceased to exist. Inside the cellar,
05:45only the pale glow of the battery-powered LEDs lit the space. Though underground, we had periscope
05:48viewports. I pressed my face to one, staring at the outdoor thermometer. 35 degrees. 30 degrees.
05:5320 degrees. In just 10 minutes, the temperature plunged below freezing. Rain began to fall,
05:56freezing instantly on the ground. Then came the snow. Thick, heavy flakes. Each one the size of a palm.
06:00Gray and city. Smelling of sulfur. By 3 p.m., the outside temperature was 20 below.
06:03This wasn't a gradual chill. It was like someone had tossed the entire planet into liquid nitrogen.
06:07The village loudspeakers crackled to life. The village head said, his voice shaking.
06:09Everyone stay inside. Stay warm. Don't go out. The broadcast cut out mid-sentence. Maybe the lines
06:12had snapped in the cold. Or maybe he just frozen solid. Through the viewport, I saw a villager who
06:15hadn't made it home was stumbling toward the village entrance. But his movements grew jerky,
06:19mechanical. Like a rusted wind-up toy. 10 feet from his own front door, he pitched forward and fell.
06:24Outside, the world had become hell. Inside the cellar, it was something else. The insulation was a
06:27godsend. We hadn't even turned on the heat yet, but between the geothermal warmth and our own
06:30body heat. The temperature held at around 15 degrees. A little cool maybe, but perfect for
06:33a fleece-lined hoodie. Checking the seals, dad said. Detector in hand, he did a full circuit of
06:37the door and vents. Carbon dioxide levels are normal. Oxygen's good. No leaks. Mom, meanwhile,
06:41had dug out a small coal stove from our supplies. Let's save the battery. We'll use coal for now.
06:44The smokeless coal burned in the stove, crackling softly. Blue flames licking the bottom of the kettle.
06:48Dinner was simple. Noodles, three fried eggs topped with chili crisp and spam. But at a time like this,
06:52a steaming bowl of broth was nectar of the gods. We huddled around the coal stove,
06:55bowls in hand, not saying a word, just wolfing it down. Cell service was spotty now,
06:58but the towers weren't completely dead yet. I scrolled through my feed. Just people screaming
07:00for help. What's going on? My AC is set to 30 and I'm still freezing. My window shattered. The
07:03coal just shattered them. Then a message popped up. It was from Jenny. Wendy, what's wrong? The
07:07hotel lost power. The AC is down. We're freezing to death. Don't rural houses have heated brick
07:11beds? Come get us. I stared at the screen coldly. Typed back. Roads are closed. Trucks frozen solid.
07:15Can't make it. Then I blocked her. I just put my phone down when a dull, heavy thud came from
07:18the
07:18ventilation shaft above. Thump. Thump. Someone was up there, pounding on our camouflage. The pounding stopped
07:22after a few thuds. Dad signaled for us to be quiet. He put on a stethoscope and pressed it against
07:25the
07:25vent pipe. It's Baldi Rick and his crew. Dad whispered. They're seeking shelter. Good thing
07:29we camouflaged the entrance. Piled it high with scrap wood and bricks. They think it's just a
07:32collapsed ruin. Kicked it a couple times and moved on. Baldi Rick was the village bully. Lazy and
07:35worthless. And he definitely hadn't stockpiled any food. Over the next three days, the temperature
07:38plunged past 40 below. Life in the cellar was dull and suffocating. No internet, no entertainment.
07:42Just dim lights and the endless howl of the wind. To save fuel, we rationed the coal stove to four
07:46hours a day. The rest of the time, we relied on our expensive sleeping bags. On the fourth day,
07:50people in the village started going door to door. Not asking for food, but asking for coal. Through the viewport,
07:53I watched a group of villagers wrapped in quilts, axes, and crowbars in hand, battering on Mrs.
07:57Ward's door. Mrs. Ward, we're all neighbors here. Just lend us some coal. Open up, or we'll break it
08:01down. I could just make out Mrs. Ward's screams. Then the sound of splintering wood. The screaming
08:05stopped in under five minutes. The villagers emerged, dragging two sacks of coal. One of their axes was
08:09smeared with blood. They'll find us soon enough, Dad said, wiping down his compound bow. It was his
08:12only long-range weapon. Our chimneys rigged to disperse the smoke, but that small heat signal won't hide
08:16from thermal imaging or anyone desperate enough to notice. No sooner had he spoken than a face appeared in the
08:19viewport. Baldi Rick, right by our hidden vent, inhaling deeply. A greedy, ecstatic grin spread
08:23across his face. There's meat down there. They'd found us, but Dad wasn't worried. We'd built this
08:27place for exactly this moment. Baldi Rick called the others, and they started digging at the vent.
08:30Zap! The second their fingers touched the vent's protective mesh, a blue-purple arc of electricity
08:34flashed. It was a capacitor Dad had rigged to the battery bank. Not enough to kill, but enough to make
08:37a man lose control of his bladder. Ah, the screams came from outside. It's electrified. That old man was
08:41ready for us. In 40 below weather, if you get hurt, or even just panicked enough to sweat, hypothermia sets
08:46in
08:46fast. They didn't stick around. They cursed a few times and retreated, but this was only the beginning.
08:49The real crisis came that night. The entire region's power grid collapsed. Until then, we'd still seen the
08:53town's faint glow. In an instant, it all went dark. The world was plunged into absolute blackness. Our
08:56phones became useless bricks. The last bars of signal were gone. We were an island. Fire up the
08:59diesel generator. Dad ordered. A low rumble came from the soundproofed room in the back of the cellar.
09:02Even with all the insulation, in the dead silence underground, you could still feel the floor
09:05vibrate. With power back, we switched on the old radio. A crackling voice came through, fading in
09:09and out. Global catastrophe. Shelter in place. Await rescue. Mom was counting the remaining coal when her
09:12face suddenly went pale. Linton. Look at this corner. On the southeast wall of the cellar, a layer of frost
09:16had
09:17formed. Did we mess up the aerogel, or... Dad walked over and touched it. His face turned ashen. No, the
09:20cold's
09:21getting through. The ground outside is frozen 10 feet deep now. The cold is penetrating the
09:24concrete. If it hits 70 below, our insulation might not hold. Cut back to the city. The once
09:28glamorous five-star hotel was now a giant ice coffin. Jenny was wrapped in an expensive mink coat, yet
09:32she's still shaking like a leaf. Dave huddled in a corner, wrapped in every curtain he could find.
09:36All the wooden furniture has been chopped up and burned. Even that pricey European-style bed went
09:39up in flames. No food left. Dave's voice was raw. His eyes cold and predatory. That 71,000 was long
09:43gone.
09:44Spent on designer bags, a watch, and this useless mink coat. They never even bought a single case of
09:47instant noodles. Let's go to your sisters. Dave stood up abruptly, a manic gleam in his eyes.
09:51She must have planned ahead. They've got heated brick beds and firewood. But how? It's 50 below
09:55outside. Jenny wailed. I've got a car. Dave flashed a set of keys he'd taken off a corpse in the
09:59parking
09:59garage. An SUV. It's been modded. It'll still run. As long as we don't die on the road, we live.
10:03They charge out of the hotel like rabid dogs. Frozen corpses littered the streets. Some were stuck
10:07mid-crawl. Others still pounding on shop doors. Tonight, luck sided with the wicked. The SUV actually
10:10roared to life, and the tank was full. They smashed through ice statues and wrecks, barreling toward
10:14Linton Village. One day later, at the village entrance, a smoking SUV slammed into the old locust tree.
10:18The door swung open. Two ghost-like figures crawled out. Jenny's face was already purple from
10:22the cold. She stares at the old Linton house ahead. Its outline not yet buried in snow. Her tears froze
10:25on her cheeks. We made it, Dave. We're gonna live. We were having dinner. To keep warm, we were eating
10:29high-calorie rice mixed with pork lard. Plus, there's a big pot of stew. Suddenly, the buzzer by the
10:32viewport went off. Someone's coming. I leaned over to look, and my pupils shrank hard. It's Jenny and
10:36Dave, but they were not alone. Trailing behind were three more, Baldy Rick's crew. Wendy, Dad, Mom,
10:40it's me, Jenny. Jenny's voice blared through the loudspeaker, jarring in this death-quiet
10:44village. I know you're in there. Dave told me everything. You sold the house and the car and
10:47brought back one four million. You must have food for days in there. Damn it. What a moron. Just so
10:51Baldy Rick would lead them or spare them, she went and spilled all our secrets. Neighbors, Jenny yelled
10:55to the crowd. My parents are right down there. They've stashed a ton of supplies. Bust that door
10:58open, and we all get to live. That kill with the borrowed knife move was brutal. The villagers were
11:01only guessing before. Now they were sure. One point four million worth of supplies. How much food in
11:04coal was that? Rick it down. Baldy Rick snarled. Eyes bloodshot, and he waved his hand. Pickaxes and
11:07sledgehammers rained down on our first blast-proof door. In the cellar, Mom's hands shook, clutching Dad's
11:11arm tightly. Dad's face was like stone. He set down his bowl in chopsticks. He strode to the control panel
11:15and
11:15twisted the valve on the hand pump. It's not hooked to the well, but to a high-pressure water line
11:19he
11:19buried at the entrance. At minus 50 degrees out there, water was the nastiest weapon around. Open
11:22the valve. Dad ordered coldly. I slammed the lever down. Nozzles hidden above the door blasted out a
11:26cloud of mist. And it's not just water. Dad dumped in a mountain of salt, dropping the freezing point,
11:30keeping it liquid until the spray. The moment it hit anything, the windchill flash froze it solid.
11:33Screams erupted outside the door. The ones swinging the tools got drenched, and in seconds their clothes
11:37turned to iron-hard ice. Their hands were welded to the handles. Then I saw Dave ducking behind Jenny,
11:41using her as a human shield. Jenny's coated in frozen shards, locked in place like an ice statue.
11:45Her eyes full of stunned despair. Ah. The scream was torn apart by the savage wind. The high-pressure
11:49sprinkler system Dad built was supposed to rinse hazmat suits. But then it was our deadliest defense.
11:54The brine it spat out was crazy strong. And the second it hit air at 50 below, it turned into
11:57super-cooled mist. The moment that mist hit anything, it ripped the heat right out, forming a rock-hard
12:02ice shell. Baldi Rick was in the lead, raising a homemade shotgun and got blasted full in the face.
12:07Crack. Before he could even pull the trigger, his fingers froze solid. No way to bend them.
12:10Next, his eyelashes. Stubble. Even the steam from his breath turned white with frost in seconds.
12:14He tried to wipe his face in panic, but the glove was stuck to his skin.
12:17Dave, help me! Jenny's scream twisted with terror. Through the viewport, I saw a scene that made my
12:21blood run cold. The instant the mist erupted, the guy who kept saying he loved her, promising he'd
12:25keep her alive, Dave, didn't hesitate. He yanked Jenny over, planting her right in front of him.
12:28That pricey mink coat she was wearing turned into a soaking sponge. Icy water soaked the fur,
12:33clinging to her skinny body. She became Dave's human shield. You are crazy. So cold. Dave,
12:37what are you doing? Jenny struggled desperately, but Dave gripped her shoulders tightly,
12:40hiding behind her shivering body. His eyes were full of desperate survival instinct and hatred towards us.
12:44Don't move. You are my girlfriend. You have to protect me, Dave yelled, his voice trembling.
12:47Wendy, you bitch, open the door, or your sister would freeze to death. At that moment,
12:51Jenny stopped struggling. Well, she wanted to, but she was frozen stiff. That mink coat turned into
12:55dozens of pounds of ice armor, sealing her firmly in place. Her face was turned toward our viewport,
12:58her expression changing from terror to anger, and finally to hopeless stupor. Baldy Rick's two
13:02lackeys were rolling on the ground, but the more they rolled, the thicker the ice layer on them became
13:05until they could only twitch in the snow. Although Baldy Rick was strong, he then knelt on the ground,
13:08like an eerie ice sculpture making a broken bellow sound from his mouth. Was the threat gone? No.
13:11Dad suddenly pointed at a corner of the monitor. Dave isn't dead yet. He didn't get much water on
13:15him. And what is he doing? On the screen, Dave saw that Jenny had stopped moving and actually
13:19pushed her down. He took out a simple Molotov cocktail made from a plastic bottle, lit the
13:22fuse, and charged madly towards our air vent. Die. All of you die. Boom. The Molotov smashed into the
13:27vent's protective cover. Flames shot up, but in this deep freeze, they died in seconds. Dad had already
13:31wrapped the vent with double fireproof insulation. That splash of gas burned for barely 30 seconds
13:34before the wind snuffed it. But Dave didn't stop. Like a crazed gambler, he raised his crowbar and beat the
13:38hell out of our vent pipe. Come out. Give me food. I've got cash. That stupid bitch
13:41gave me all her money. I can pay you. He kept smashing while raving like a lunatic. But he
13:45forgot this was a minus 50 degree hell. That shove earlier, though it spared him most of the mist,
13:49still left his pant legs soaked. Through the viewport, I stared at him. Ice cold. His wings
13:52slowed and slowed. Five minutes later, the pounding stopped. Dave stayed kneeling, hands clawing the
13:56doorframe, face plastered to the frozen steel, eyes wide open, dead and staring. Outside the door,
14:00five ice statues became the Linton Cellar's new guards. This fight erased the threat, but it also blew
14:04our cover. Those statues were both warning and landmark. At dawn, Dad did his routine instrument check.
14:08Suddenly, his face went ghost white, and his fingers shook as he tapped the
14:11barometer. Crap. What's wrong? My heart lurched. Not the gauge. Dad said, turning around,
14:16fear swimming in his eyes. It's the pressure. It's plummeting. That means a super blizzard is
14:20coming. The kind of wind that rips houses out by the roots. And right now, our cellar door,
14:24or after last night's spray, is sealed under a thick sheet of ice. If the exhaust pipe gets buried
14:27in snow, we'll suffocate in here. That legendary blizzard was even nastier than we'd feared. The
14:32surface wasn't howling anymore. All we heard was billions of tons of sand and grit grinding steel.
14:35Then, the cellar's oxygen monitor flashed blinding red. Carbon dioxide levels were rising rapidly.
14:39The vent pipes totally clogged. Snow's too heavy, or the camouflage layer caved in. If we didn't
14:42clear it now, we would suffocate in under three hours. Do it. Dad didn't hesitate. He hauled out
14:46a spare industrial hydraulic jack and an extra-long alloy drill bit, lining them up with the emergency
14:49shaft. I gripped the drill rod with everything I had. Mom cranked the blower like crazy, trying to
14:52squeeze out every last puff of air. The lack of oxygen made me see stars. My lungs burned like fire.
14:56Ten minutes in, the bit jammed with a thud. Metal hit. Dad actually smiled. It's a car's underbelly.
15:01The wind had flipped one and parked it right over the shaft. The jack groaned under the load.
15:04With a dull boom, Tama warped overhead. A blast of icy, blissfully sweet air poured in. We gulped
15:10it down like attics. Dad shoved the hatch open. I slid the periscope through the gap. So it was
15:14Baldy Rick's off-roader. It was a giant lid shielding us from the drifts. I tilted the scope farther out.
15:19My heart clenched. Across the dead, silent white plain, a messy trail of fresh footprints snaked
15:22away. Following the footprints, I tweaked the periscope's focus. Three hunched figures slid into view.
15:26Leading them was Limp Larry from the village. Usually a quiet, harmless guy, now he had two half-starved
15:30villagers in tow, going nuts on the lock of the public granary. The door finally gave way. Inside,
15:33nothing but emptiness. Just a few moldy grains of old rice and rat shit in the corner. In that
15:36moment, the last fig leaf of humanity got ripped off. Without a word, Larry swung half a brick into
15:40the back of his buddy's head. Blood splattered on the snow like a blinding red flower. He wasted no
15:44time finishing off two guys, claimed the bag of rat shit-laced moldy rice all for himself,
15:47grabbed a fistful and crammed it into his mouth. Down in the cellar, I was having lunch. A steaming,
15:50self-heating meal. Curry beef. It's smell filling the room. When hunger takes over, humanity is gone.
15:54Dad lifted a chunk of beef, staring at the monitor, stone-faced. That's the apocalypse for you.
15:57Some murder for a bite of rotten rice, while others feast on meat in a warm cellar. On screen,
16:00Larry dragged the bloody rice bag, heading back, then suddenly froze. Beyond a snowy ridge,
16:04three pairs of eerie green eyes lit up. Those were three starved wolves. Any beast tough enough to
16:08survive this frozen hell is among the elite. Larry never even got the chance to run. The first wolf
16:11struck like lightning, snapping his calves. The second wolf went straight for his throat. His
16:15screams blasted through the cellar mics and lasted a good 10 seconds. Blood splattered across the snow
16:18and froze in an instant. The sack of moldy rice, bought with two lives, spilled everywhere. The wolves
16:21didn't spare at a glance. After filling their bellies, they still didn't leave. The three wolves paced around
16:25our vent. Nostrils flaring, they caught the faintest whiff of human scent. Reinforce it. Dad set down his bowl
16:29and chopsticks. He turned toward the workbench and instantly welded a row of barbed iron grates
16:32behind the blast door. Anyone who forces their way in dies. While mom was sorting the coal for
16:35heating, she suddenly yelped. David, look. At the bottom compartment of the coal bin, a metal case
16:39clattered out. Inside were 10 boxes of amoxicillin. The coal seller had tossed them in for free. We
16:42didn't think much of it back then, but now it's priceless, life-saving stuff. Just as we were
16:45celebrating the windfall, the silent shortwave radio suddenly lit up red. After a burst of static,
16:50a strange man spoke, chuckling like a freak. Found it. Linton Village? Got ourselves a fat sheep.
16:53Tomorrow we'll hit. Bring the flamethrower. Burn through that damn turtle shell. The electric buzz sounded like
16:57nails screeching on a chalkboard. Dad tweaked the old shortwave set. His face flickered red in the
17:00indicator glow. That stranger's voice cut in again. So clear it felt like he was whispering
17:04in my ear. Confirmed. It is that house. Baldi Rick died there a few days ago. Ice statues stood at
17:07the
17:07door, impossible to miss. Our trophies? The corpses that froze right outside ended up nothing but bait
17:11for vultures. It was down underground. There was a big stash for sure. No one even frisked those ice
17:15statues. Dad killed the volume. The cellar fell dead silent. Gear up for a fight. That time we were done
17:19playing defense. Mom dug through the supplies and pulled out a few bottles of high-proof alcohol,
17:22the ones she'd never let us touch on a normal day. But now she smashed the next clean off. She
17:25poured the liquor
17:26into glass bottles, stuffed greasy rags in for wicks. I sat by the whetstone. Compound bow in hand.
17:30The arrowhead rasped against the stone in rhythm. Cold steel flashing. No fear, just adrenaline cool
17:35focus. In a world that prays on the weak, being soft is a death sentence. Late that night, the radio
17:38crackled with that voice again. Cocky as hell, like he'd already won. We'll hit after midnight tomorrow.
17:41Just the three of us. More people means less for everyone. No way those bastards survive a
17:44flamethrower. Midnight. Blizzard raging outside. A roar shattered the silence. Three snowmobiles burst
17:48through the storm like ghosts. They stopped at our cellar door. Through the periscope, I spotted three
17:52figures wrapped up tight. No chit-chat. The leader just waved. A guy with a
17:55huge tank on his back stepped up. A 30-foot fire dragon spewed out instantly. It was an
18:00industrial flamethrower. Orange flames roared in the 50 below, looking downright eerie in this
18:03frozen world. The thick ice sealing the door melted fast, hissing into scalding steam. Right
18:07after that, the outer blast door started to discolor, changing from iron black to dark red,
18:10then cherry red. Beep, beep, beep. The cellar's temperature alarm screamed like mad. A second
18:13ago, it was freezing. Now it's an oven. We tore off our polar suits. Sweat streamed down our
18:17faces. Heat rushed in through the cracks, reeking of burnt metal. This door won't hold much longer.
18:21The sealant's already melting. Mom tightened her grip on a Molotov. Dad stayed cool,
18:24eyes locked on the monitor, hand hovering over a red button. That's a dry powder suppression rig
18:27he'd built for fire safety. But right now, the nozzles aren't loaded with suppressant. They're
18:30packed with pure starch he swiped from the mill. Want fire? I'll give you a damn inferno. Dad,
18:34smash the button. The pressure vent above the doorframe suddenly shot out two streams of
18:39white mist. That wasn't smoke. It was ultrafine flower dust. Under pressure, it blanketed the
18:42whole doorway in an instant. The concentration was insane. It enveloped the flamethrower punk. Clearly,
18:46the guy had skipped physics class. He didn't even have time to react. His fingers still
18:50clamped on the trigger. Open flame, sealed spee plus flower dust. Boom, a deafening blast.
18:54Like thunder. A huge shockwave, all five hours swallowed everything at the door.
18:57The periscope screen went all white. Then the whole place shuddered, dust sifting down on our
19:01heads. A few seconds later, the view cleared. A scorched patch stained the snow. The guy with
19:05the flamethrower was gone. Or rather, he was just a lump of unrecognizable charcoal. Another thug.
19:09Closer in, got hurled 30 feet, left hanging from a dead branch. His fate unknown. We won?
19:12I tightened my grip on my bow. Not yet. Dad stared at the screen. The leader was lucky. He'd stood
19:16farther back, so the blast only knocked him over. His face was a mess of blood. One arm twisted at
19:19a sick
19:19angle, yet he staggered to his feet. He grinned ferociously. With his good left hand,
19:23he pulled out a dark green thing. He pulled the pin, pressed it firmly against the deformed door
19:27gap. Come out, or I'll let go. We'll all be blown to bits. Don't do anything stupid. I flicked on
19:31the
19:31loudspeaker at the door. My voice was so calm, it didn't even sound like me. That thing might blow a
19:36hole at best, but I'm on top of a mountain of dynamite. There's 10 tons of TNT right under my
19:38feet. You drop that pin, and we'll all go up in smoke. Total bullshit, of course. But in this life
19:42-or-death
19:42moment, it's about who's more scared to die. Sure enough, the leader's eyes flickered. The fingers clutching the
19:46grenade pin went stiff. He was weighing his odds, hesitating. And in that split second, Dad stood straight at
19:50the firing port. His compound bow, fully drawn, during humming tight. Through the scope, the guy's
19:54wrist filled the view. The string snapped. A custom carbon steel arrow sliced the air, punching straight
19:59through his right wrist, pinning his hand to the frozen dirt by the doorframe. Ah, the searing pain
20:03made him let go. The grenade clattered down the steps and landed in a snowbank. The blast went off
20:07about 30 feet out, kicking up a cloud of snow, but the blast door didn't even flinch. Before he could
20:11snap back from the pain, Mom had already lit a Molotov and lobbed it clean through the throwport.
20:15Flames instantly engulfed the struggling figure. We stayed inside, watching them through the screen
20:18turn into three charred corpses, emitting black smoke until they stopped moving. Half an hour
20:22later, confirmed safety. Dad went out to clean up the battlefield. In the arms of the leader's
20:24charred body was a fireproof bag. Inside was a hand-drawn map. Linton Village was circled in red.
20:29Next to it was marked, Suspected Groundwater Entrance. That map made Dad's eyes light up like
20:32never before. If we can get running water, our whole life will change. Dad pointed at the contour
20:36lines on the map. Groundwater stays at a steady temperature and never runs dry. Way better than
20:38hoarding cases of bottled water. Following the map, the potential groundwater entrance was right under
20:42our foundation. For the next three days, the cellar became a work site. We took shifts. In this basement,
20:46barely 200 square feet, we started digging down in one corner. That was a tough job. The frozen
20:49ground below was hard as iron. Every shovel strike shook our hands numb. We had to drill pilot holes
20:53first, then chip away with pickaxes inch by inch. Sweat ran down our spines, cooling the second it hit
20:56the cold air. To spare our strength, we added an extra compressed biscuit to every meal. The cramped
21:00space reeked of wet earth and sweat, yet no one complained. We all knew at the end of the world,
21:05water was life, a harder currency than food. Late on the third night, we were nearly 10 feet down.
21:09Dad was swinging the pickaxe when he suddenly froze. Thud, no more dull thump. This one rang hollow.
21:14He tapped again gently. A chunk of solid earth caved in, opening a pitch black hole.
21:18A moist, chilly draft wafted up from below. The flashlight beam sliced through years of
21:22stale darkness. Under that opening, there was a man-made tunnel. Moss carpeted the concrete
21:26walls. Faded red slogans from decades ago were still visible. So this was the abandoned shelter
21:30from famine and war days village elders talked about. Dad clipped onto the safety rope and went
21:33down first. Ten minutes later, his trembling voice crackled over the radio. Get down here now.
21:38It's real flowing water. Mom and I slid down the rope ladder and squeezed through a narrow passage.
21:41Suddenly, the space opened up. At the tunnel's end, an underground river flowed quietly.
21:45It wasn't big, but under the flashlight, the surface shimmered. I dipped a hand in.
21:48The water was actually warmish. Four degrees. Dad read the thermometer. His cheeks flushed
21:51with excitement. This is the underground thermostatic layer. The water hasn't frozen.
21:54We can rig a circulation system, use the heat to warm the cellar, maybe even take a bath.
21:57In this frozen hell of 50 below, liquid water at four degrees feels like a hot spring.
22:00We stared at the river, greedy as if it were liquid diamonds. But then, just as I knelt on the
22:04damp ground for a sample, my beam swept the muddy bank and I froze. On the soft,
22:09wet soil was a clear line of footprints. They were tiny, barefoot, toes dug deep into the mud.
22:13The soil was still wet. Aside from us, in this bottomless underground maze, someone else was
22:16alive. Following the trail of wet little footprints, we crept through the maze-like shelter like
22:20hunters. Around a bend stacked with moldy wooden crates, our flashlight locked onto a dark corner.
22:23Something was huddling there, thin. The kind of sickly thin that comes from way too long without
22:26food. Rags hung off his body and the skin was corpse pale. If not for those wide, terrified eyes,
22:31I'd have sworn it was a skeleton. It was the mute orphan from our village, Noah. He was clutching a
22:34dead
22:35rat, dark blood smeared at the corner of his mouth. Beside him lay a pile of moss-like green plants.
22:39Dad's compound bow snapped up. The arrow aimed right between his eyes. In an era where supplies
22:42are worth more than lives, an extra mouth is a huge risk. Worse, he'd just found out our water
22:46secret. Noah didn't fight back. He just shut his eyes in despair, shaking like a leaf in a storm.
22:49For a few seconds, it was so silent we only heard the water running. Screw it. Dad lowered the bow,
22:52pulled two cold, rock-hard buns, and tossed them over. Noah's eyes flew open, and he pounced like a
22:56starving animal, swallowing them whole without a chew. When he was done, he suddenly crawled over,
22:59slammed his head to the ground in thanks, then pointed straight up. He spread his arms wide,
23:02tracing a huge circle, letting out urgent ah-ah sounds. He clenched his fists and mimed holding
23:06a steering wheel. Then he drew a finger across his throat. He was warning us. Something was up
23:10there, and it killed. Just got back to the cellar. I hadn't even caught my breath. The ground suddenly
23:13started to quake. It's not an earthquake. Some heavy rig was grinding over the frozen earth.
23:16The water glasses on the table were dancing. I pressed my face to the periscope. Through the
23:19blizzard, a convoy of steel beasts ripped apart the quiet of Linton Village. Three massive trucks
23:23tricked out and armored. Each had a grim snowplow bolted to the front. Bright red flags flapped on the
23:27sides marked 9th District Rescue Unit. Government guys? Mom's eyes lit up. Hold up. Dad cranked the scope to Max.
23:31Look at their shoes. The men who jumped down wore camo parkas, but cheap knockoff sneakers.
23:36They aren't carrying standard issue weapons, just random shotguns and pipe guns. Even worse,
23:39the first thing they did wasn't rescue. They punted a frozen corpse off the road,
23:42then laughed and lit up smokes. Wolves in sheep's clothing. This rescue unit was just a big looter
23:46gang flying fake colors. The convoy stopped at the village entrance. They huddled, arguing over the
23:50route. Suddenly, the last truck, packed with coal and generators, coughed black smoke and died.
23:54The lead rigs never even slowed down. They dumped two guys with the busted truck and thundered on toward
23:58the town. That lone truck was just sitting there like a gift, not even 500 meters out. It was a
24:02diesel generator. There were at least five barrels of diesel in the truck. Our fuel stash was almost
24:05gone. If we wanted to keep the heat and lights in the cellar, this might have been our last chance.
24:08Let's hit it. It was past midnight. The blizzard was perfect cover. Dad and I pulled on white camo.
24:12We crawled across the snow like ghosts. The two guards on duty underestimated that hellish weather.
24:17They were curled up in the cab with the heater blasting, dozing off a booze buzz. Dad whipped out a
24:20towel
24:20soaked in ether. I went to work on the lock. Click. The frozen lock cylinder was brittle. It popped right
24:24open.
24:24Dad slapped the towel over the passenger's mouth and nose. The guy twitched a little, then went limp.
24:28I dealt with the driver in the same way. We didn't get greedy, skipped the generator,
24:31snatched three barrels of diesel, and bolted. Just as we were about to pull out,
24:34my flashlight swept under the driver's seat and caught a long black case. We cracked it open and
24:38froze. Two gleaming QBZ-95s plus five full boxes of ammo. They must have jacked these off a real
24:43military checkpoint. Let's go. We slung the rifles, dragged the diesel, and sprinted home. The moment we
24:47vaulted the wall and dived for cover, a distant rumble erupted behind us. Their crew had turned back.
24:50Blinding headlights flooded the truck we had just cleaned out. Furious shouts followed. Then wild
24:54panicked gunfire. Those two missing QBZ-95s were like a loud slap in the face, smacking those
24:58desperados hard. Roars of rage echoed over the village. But that wasn't the scariest part. What
25:02truly chilled the blood was when they hauled out real pro gear, an industrial handheld thermal
25:05imager. On that green screen, every hint of body heat lit up. Through my periscope, I fixed on the
25:09thugs in rescue unit uniforms. They combed the ruins of Linton Village. A shot cracked. Mr. Harper,
25:16hiding in the cellar at the east end, was dragged out. He was 70, and to save every scrap of
25:19food,
25:20he'd withered to skin and bones. He knelt in the snow, no time to beg for mercy, before a big
25:23thug smashed
25:24his jaw with a rifle bud. Where are the rifles and the diesel? Who took them? The thug planted
25:28a boot on the old man's chest, his voice colder than ice. The old man could only let out broken
25:31whimpers. Worthless. Another shot split the air. A blinding red bloom spread across the snow. They
25:34kicked the corpse into a drift, like tossing a bag of trash. Then the second house? The third.
25:39The last few survivors were yanked out like rats and butchered for having no answers.
25:42This wasn't a search. It was pure rage. Suddenly, my heart clenched tightly. The thug holding the
25:46thermal imager stopped in his tracks. He was standing in front of the pile of rubble at the village
25:49entrance. That was the entrance to the abandoned shelter. It was also the hiding place of the
25:52mute, Noah. Boss, there's a heat source underground. It's weak, but it's a live one.
25:55The thugs instantly got excited. Like sharks smelling blood, they swarmed around. They used
26:00crowbars to pry open the stone slab covering the entrance. Noah's terrified screams, even through
26:03the thick layer of soil, seemed to reach my ears. He was discovered. Save him or not? That question
26:07flashed through my head for barely a second. Noah knew the secret of our groundwater. If they tortured
26:11him and he broke and spilled the location, our whole family was toast. Besides, he was just a kid
26:14living off rats in this apocalypse. Gear up for a fight. Dad's eyes went cold. He grabbed the
26:19ABZ-95 we'd just seized. Wendy, take firing port 2. That's the high ground. Use the scoped crossbow
26:23or just grab the gun. Stir up chaos. Pull their fire. I'll drag the kid back. Dad skipped the front
26:28door and slipped into the tunnel we'd just dug, the one tied to the shelter. I drew a deep breath
26:31and sprinted for port 2. Through the scope, I saw the thugs had yanked Noah out. Blood covered his face.
26:36He fought like hell, but a brute dangled him like a chick. Not talking, huh? Mute, huh? The thug sneered
26:41and
26:41whipped out a belt knife. No time left. I steadied the rifle. It was my first real fight, yet raw
26:45survival
26:45instinct locked my aim. Bang. The shot missed, smacking frozen dirt by the thug's boots, kicking
26:50up a spray of grit. But that's enough. The blast cracked over the silent snowfield like thunder,
26:54sending the gang scrambling for covers. Gunfire. Those thieves are over there. Seizing the moment
26:58of chaos, in the shadows of the shelter entrance, a powerful hand suddenly reached out, grabbed
27:01Noah's ankle, dragged him back into the dark tunnel like a sack. Retreat, quick, retreat. I shouted into
27:06the walkie-talkie, fired my gun blindly into the crowd, suppressing their counterattack. The thugs realized
27:09what was happening. Bullets poured like rain towards the shelter entrance. Dad dragged Noah, rolled awkwardly
27:13into the deep tunnel under the rain of bullets. But at the last moment before he disappeared into
27:16the darkness, I saw his body jolt violently. His left leg exploded in a mist of blood. He staggered,
27:20then fell heavily into the tunnel. The air in the cellar was frozen. Only the strong smell of blood
27:23lingered. Dad was lying on the workbench, face as pale as paper. Cold sweat soaked the mat beneath him.
27:28On the outside of his left thigh, there was a hideous bloody hole. Blood was pouring out. I could even
27:31see the white bones. Fortunately, no major artery was injured. But the bullet got stuck in the bone.
27:35It had to be taken out immediately. Mom's hands were shaking. But her eyes were extremely firm.
27:38She used to be a veterinarian. Although she was not treating people, she was no stranger to surgical suturing.
27:41There was no anesthetic. The little lidocaine that was left had long since expired. Bring it on.
27:44Dad bit into a stick wrapped in a towel. The veins on his forehead popped out like earthworms. Don't
27:48waste your time. I have a feeling those bastards are coming in. Mom took a deep breath, heated a
27:51scalpel brightly over an alcohol lamp. The sound of the blade cutting through the flesh made my teeth
27:55sore. Dad's body tightened suddenly. A beast-like growl came from his throat. He held the table with
27:59both hands, scratched fingerprints into the metal table. I held dad's legs. Tears welled up in my eyes,
28:03but I dared not let them fall. Noah huddled in the corner, trembling with fear. His eyes were fixed on
28:07the
28:07bloody hole in my dad's leg. His face was full of guilt. Ten minutes felt as long as a century.
28:11A deformed warhead was thrown onto the iron plate. Mom quickly stopped the bleeding,
28:14cleaned the wound, and stitched it up. When the last stitch was finished,
28:16dad had already fainted from the pain. The wooden stick in his mouth was bitten to pieces.
28:19The operation was successful, but dad's leg would not be able to move for at least a month. We had
28:21lost our strongest fighting force. Before we could breathe a sigh of relief, in the tunnel leading
28:24to the abandoned shelter, there was suddenly a strange hissing sound. I got closer to the viewport
28:27on the door and took a look. My pupils dilated instantly. A thick yellow smoke was flowing along
28:30the cracks in the tunnel, slithering like a serpent. It was chlorine, or their homemade gas bombs.
28:34They couldn't get in and didn't dare to go to the tunnel rashly, so they chose the most vicious way.
28:38They wanted to smoke us to death in the hole. Even though Noah couldn't talk, his clear,
28:41dark eyes were razor sharp, burning with a wolf cub's ferocity. He pointed to a spot on the map,
28:45gestured that it was cracking. It was a natural cavern zone deep inside the shelter,
28:48where the geology was highly unstable. Any significant vibration could cause a collapse.
28:51That would be our graveyard, and the thug's tomb as well. Noah and I strapped on gas masks and
28:55slipped into the tangled underground maze like two ghosts. Noah took the lead, quick as a monkey,
28:59not even needing a light in the dark. We started making noise on purpose, clanging on the pipes,
29:03to fake a panicked escape. Sure enough, the digging overhead stopped. Those greedy bastards heard us
29:07below, thought we were fleeing through a different exit, and charged after us like
29:10sharks smelling blood. Over there. Don't let them get away. Their chaotic footsteps boomed through
29:13the empty tunnel. Noah and I lured them into the cavern zone. The walls were draped with shaky
29:17stalactites, and cracks split the floor. Once we reached the mark, Noah dived into a crawlspace,
29:21barely wide enough for a kid. I ducked behind a boulder, clutching the grenade we had swiped from
29:24their truck. Blinding flashlights sliced around the corner. Their cursing echoed closer and closer,
29:29so I yanked the pin and counted three seconds. Go to hell. The grenade arced through the air and
29:33landed by the cave's central support pillar. Boom. The blast was amplified a hundredfold in the
29:36closed space, loud as fuck. Then came the sickening crack of rock giving way. The ceiling collapsed
29:40like a line of dominoes. Tons of stone and dirt crashing down. Their screams vanished under the
29:44roar and dust. Noah and I clawed our way back, the tunnel crumbling right behind us, like death
29:49nipping at our heels. We tumbled into the safe zone, and with a heavy thud, the tunnel was sealed.
29:53Silence. They were buried down there forever, but we paid for it. Every path to the surface was now
29:58blocked by our own cave-in. We'd really become underground dwellers now. The threat outside was buried
30:01under thousands of tons of earth and rock, shutting us off entirely from that brutal world out there.
30:05We couldn't leave, but in a messed up way, it felt safer like this. Day after day, slipped by beneath
30:08dim lights in the steady drip of water. Dad's leg slowly healed under mom's careful nursing,
30:11even though he still walked with a limb. At least he could stand up again and tinker with his
30:14machinery. Noah was officially part of our family now. The kid couldn't talk, but he worked so hard
30:17it almost broke your heart. He took over the gardening jobs, keeping those dozens of foam
30:20planters in the basement neat and thriving. Thanks to the groundwater and grow lights, we finally
30:23harvested our first bean sprouts and even coaxed mushrooms out of the damp corners. When that pot of
30:26mushroom and canned meat finally hit the table, the smell was so good it made you want to cry.
30:29No killing, no looting, no scheming. Our family sat together around the table. Dad set a piece of
30:34meat on Noah's plate, and Noah grinned so wide I saw nothing but teeth. For a split second,
30:37the apocalypse felt like a bad dream. Half a year flew by. Our hair got longer, our clothes more worn,
30:41but our eyes were brighter than ever. One early morning, I did my usual check on the sensors tied
30:45to the outside world and froze. The thermometer that had been pegged at 50 below shot up to 20 below
30:49in
30:49just a week, and the reading kept rocketing. Dad, look at this. Dad walked over, stared at the screen
30:54for a long while, and instead of relief, his face grew even more serious. It's heating up way too fast.
30:58He muttered, this isn't back to normal. It's the pendulum effect. After the deep freeze,
31:02I'm afraid it's a hellish heat wave. Almost on cue, the sensor data flickered.
31:05The surface temperature was zero degrees. The snow was starting to melt. For us living underground,
31:09that probably meant another nightmare, a flood. The rising temperature wasn't warming. It was
31:13savagery. In just three days, the thermometer went nuts. The mercury shot up from a hellish 50 below,
31:18rocketing nonstop, punching straight past 40 degrees. From deadly cold to blistering heat with
31:21zero transition in between. Boom, boom. A deafening roar shook the space above. It wasn't wind,
31:25it was water. Half a year's snow and ice melted in seconds under the scorching heat. The whole
31:29world turned into a giant steamer, then morphed into a raging flood. Water seeped through the
31:33cellar walls. Condensation beaded on the concrete. The air grew thick, sticky, and hot. Even sitting
31:36still, sweat poured nonstop. Submarine mode now. Dad tossed me a wrench, his voice urgent. We'd prepped
31:41for this long ago. We'd added three two-meter extensions to the vent pipe, so it stuck out of
31:45the ground like a periscope. Every drain was locked shut in reverse, sealed with a thick layer of caulk.
31:49Through the periscope, I saw the outside world. The once-white snow field was gone, replaced by muddy,
31:52roaring yellow waves. The flood dragged dead trees, ice chunks, and smashed up car wrecks from
31:56God knows where, slamming into every bit of ground that stuck up. Our cellar felt like a submarine
32:00lurking in the deep. Glug, glug. The pressure kept climbing. The steel door let out a teeth-grinding
32:04creek. The water level is still rising. It had already swallowed the village rooftops. Dad stared
32:07hard at the pressure gauge. If water gets into the vent, we'll be stuck breathing off those oxygen
32:10tanks. Noah huddled in the corner, eyes wide as a dirty drip fell from the ceiling. I walked over,
32:14wiped the small wet patch with a towel, handed him a compressed biscuit, and shook my head, telling him it
32:17was
32:17fine. But I knew if the water rose another meter, we'd suffocate in this metal can for good.
32:21The flood wasn't just water. It was a boiling pot of corpse soup. Through the periscope's blurry lens,
32:25I saw countless swollen things drifting on the surface. People. Animals. All rotting and
32:28fermenting in that scalding flood, turning the place into one giant petri dish. Even with all
32:31our filters, the air still carried a stench so foul it made you gag. The plague was here. Mom was
32:36wearing two masks, spraying disinfectant into every corner. One drop of water out there was
32:39deadlier than a bullet. That was the most ironic part of the apocalypse. Water was everywhere outside,
32:43yet the survivors were dying of thirst. If anyone cracked and drank that murky crap, cholera,
32:47dysentery, and typhoid would come for them on the spot. And us? We were huddled around a tiny
32:51table, sipping cool, sweet water from an underground river, enjoying canned yellow peaches. That hidden
32:54river was our lifeline. Water bubbled up from deep underground, completely untouched by the
32:57surface filth. To stay safe, we cut off every bit of contact with the outside. We hardly even raised
33:01the periscope, afraid some killer germ would hitch a ride. We lived off our stash of oxygen tanks and
33:04an air purifier that was barely holding on. We kept it up for a solid month. Then one day,
33:08the maddening roar of water finally stopped. Dad slowly cranked up the periscope. Dried mud on the
33:12lens cracked and fell away, revealing a sliver of blue sky. The water's gone down. Through that gap,
33:16I saw the ground turned into a pool of black rotting sludge. Buildings, trees, bodies were
33:19all gone. Only a thick, reeking layer of muck covered the whole world. Yet in all that dead
33:24blackness, I spotted the faintest hint of green. Once the temperature held steady at about 25 degrees
33:27and the dirt firmed up a bit, we decided to head back topside. Back then, to blow up the bastards,
33:31we'd sealed the exit ourselves in a planned cave-in. Now it's the biggest thing keeping us from getting
33:34home. Dad scoped out the weakest spot and used our last little pack of explosives. Dust billowed
33:38everywhere. The long-lost sunlight was like a golden blade, ripping through the cellar's gloom. I squinted,
33:42tears streaming from the glare. I drew a deep breath of the outside air, still earthy, with a hint of
33:46rot, but it tasted like freedom. The four of us crawled out of the hole and stepped on what used
33:50to
33:50be Linton Village. The village was gone. Everything was gone. The old house, the walls, Mrs. Ward's
33:53little place next door, all of it leveled by the flood. The land looked scrubbed clean, like a wiped
33:57blackboard. Only thick silt and random trash remained. This soil, man, it's fertile. Dad crouched down,
34:02scooped up a handful of black soil, and rubbed it between his fingers. Bodies and rotten plants had
34:04turned into first-rate fertilizer. Noah dashed onto a rise, where a lone blade of grass had punched
34:08through the muck. He pointed at that splash of green, cheering,
34:10uh-uh. Let's work. Dad slapped the dirt off his hands. There was no sadness in his eyes,
34:15only a burning urge to rebuild. Treasures buried under all this mud. We can finally plant our seeds.
34:18We carved a veggie patch out of the ruins. After just a week, the first batch of cabbage poked
34:22through. Against the dead black-brown wasteland, those tidy rows of fresh green looked like flags
34:26of hope, fluttering in the setting sun. That's the color of life, brighter than gold. The radio had
34:29been dead silent for ages, until one afternoon, it suddenly sprang back to life. It wasn't that sneaky,
34:33hostile static anymore, nor the chaotic electric hiss. Instead, a woman's voice came through,
34:36so clear it could make you tear up. This is National Safe Zone 3. If you can hear this broadcast,
34:40head southeast and assemble. We're rebuilding our home. Dad's cigarette butt scorched his
34:43fingers, yet he didn't even flinch. He just stared at the battered radio like it was alive.
34:47The authorities are still out there. Order's still out there. Did we go? Mom stopped trimming
34:50the veggies, her eyes wavering. After all, it was a refuge for the group, a return to civilization.
34:54I looked out the window. In the sunset, our rebuilt greenhouse glimmered gold. The shelter
34:57entrance, now reinforced, stood like an unbreakable fortress. Groundwater murmured below. The
35:01generator thundered steadily, and the warehouse held enough food for 10 years. Not going. Dad crushed
35:04the cigarette. His gaze suddenly razor sharp. If we go there, we're just refugees,
35:07numbers waiting for handouts. Here, we're kings of our own land. I nodded. After betrayal,
35:11killing, and brutal trials, we can't turn our backs to strangers anymore. Not even to the
35:15government. Right then, a long-lost rumble rolled across the sky. A helicopter with peeling
35:19camouflage paint skimmed past low, never slowing. And as it flew over Linton Village,
35:22it tossed out a huge bundle. The bundle splashed into the mud, spilling packs of compressed biscuits
35:25and a blizzard of flyers. I grabbed one flyer. It showed the safe zone map and a rallying call.
35:29Looks like the world really is changing back. Dad watched the helicopter fade, a complicated smile
35:33tugging at his lips. But we better just guard our own little place. We stood in the fading sun,
35:36protecting the patch of earth that's ours. As more and more survivors crawled out of hiding,
35:40Linton Village, now better known as the Linton Compound, turned into a legend for 100 miles
35:43around. Across the silent, brown wasteland, our place was the only splash of green. Cabbages,
35:47sprouting potatoes, cucumbers climbing all over the trellises. Rag-clad drifters passed by all the
35:50time, keeping their distance, their starving eyes locked on that patch of green, their Adam's
35:53apples bobbing wildly. You want a bite? Then earn it. That was my rule. No gold or silver,
35:58no cash, just labor. So the ruins suddenly filled with people hustling. Some shoveled out the muck,
36:02others patched the walls, all for a single bowl of hot potato soup. Inside this little,
36:06independent kingdom, Noah was the brightest star. He couldn't talk, but he was born of the soil.
36:10Those small, calloused hands worked straight-up miracles. Seedlings that barely clung to life
36:14with Dad and me would shoot up inches in his hands in just a few days. He never tired,
36:18strutting around like a general on patrol. Every row was his territory. One day,
36:20I caught a few drifters pointing and snickering at Noah, their eyes dripping contempt. He ignored
36:24them, scooped a heap of rich black soil, and spread it down the furrow like a pro. Then he plucked
36:28a
36:28spiny cucumber and bit into it with a loud crunch. The crack echoed across the dead plain.
36:32The drifters instantly shut up, their scorn flipping to raw envy and awe. In an age littered
36:36with starved corpses, anyone munching fresh veggies was royalty at the top of the food chain.
36:39Watching Noah stand tall in the sun, my heart swelled with pride. This is our home,
36:43an oasis blooming in the apocalypse, the legendary Linton compound. We were still
36:46shoveling out the sludge the flood had left behind. I was holding a shovel,
36:48working around the big locust tree that had been knocked sideways. It used to be the village's
36:51landmark, and it was where Jenny and Dave died. Clang! The shovel hit something hard. I bent down,
36:56pulled a shiny object from the black muck. I wiped it on my sleeve, and under the sun,
37:00it flashed blindingly. A hair clip studded with tiny diamonds. My mind snapped back to that
37:03afternoon before the apocalypse. Jenny had waved a $71,000 check, slammed the door, chin high. She
37:07had posted the pic of the clip in moments that same day. Said, some women were born to save,
37:11but I was born to shine. Now this symbol of vanity and greed lay in my mud-stained palm.
37:16Still sparkling, but icy cold. In the sludge beside it, I dug up a few splinters of white bone,
37:20gnawed by wolves, soaked by the flood. Once living souls, my own kin, now just a pile of mud and
37:25a handful
37:26of nameless bones. There was no thrill of revenge, no soul-ripping grief, just a bleak sense of having
37:30seen it all. Wendy, is this pretty? For a moment, I felt like I heard little Jenny pouting behind me
37:34begging for praise. I breathed in deeply, fished out a rusty candy tin from my pocket, polished the
37:38clip spotless, and set it inside. There was no headstone, no ceremony. I dug a deep hole at the
37:42roots, buried the tin, heaped the dirt back, and stomped it down hard. In the next life, let's not be
37:46sisters. Strangers would do. I slapped the dirt and straightened up. The setting sun washed the ruins in gold.
37:51I turned away, walked toward the cellar with smoke curling from it, and never looked back.
37:54Time was the cruelest blade in the world, yet also the softest cure. It was 2028, three years into the
37:58apocalypse. The linting compound was now in phase three of its expansion. What used to be a dank
38:01cellar was now linked to several abandoned shelters we had dug into, forming a vast underground
38:05ecosystem. Sunlight poured through triple-layer bulletproof skylights, glinting off the terrazzo
38:08floor of the rec room. Dad crouched by the generator, wrench in hand, showing Noah how to replace a
38:13worn gear. His wounded legs still had a slight hitch, but it hadn't dulled his spirit one bit. His hair
38:17had
38:17gone gray, but his eyes were sharper, steadier than three years before. Noah was a full-grown young man
38:21these days. The orphan who once looked like a walking skeleton now had a barrel chest.
38:25Arms knotted with muscle. He signed as he worked, swiftly stripping the components. His gaze was as
38:29focused as an old craftsman's. From the kitchen came the rapid thought of a cleaver. Mom, apron on,
38:32was chopping pickles. She had filled out. In a world where people still butchered each other for a
38:35moldy slice of bread, Mom was worried about losing weight. That alone was obscenely luxurious.
38:39Wendy, grab that crock of pickled pothered mustard. We're steaming cured pork for lunch, Mom said.
38:43Voice full of life. I answered and hauled the jar from the climate-controlled room. Passing a mirror,
38:46I caught my reflection. My skin was pale from life underground, but healthy enough. A gun in my hand,
38:51grain in the storehouse, family at my side. That was our life. We weren't scraping by. We were
38:55living for real. The whole family crowded the table, soaking in that hard-won piece. Every dish
38:58there we had grown with our own hands. Looking at it all, I was overflowing with contentment.
39:02Sunlight flooded the room. Everything was perfect. This was our family photo. Three years on,
39:06and we were all still there. The wind chime at the lookout rang. It wasn't an alarm. It was the
39:09visitor signal. A dusty caravan pulled up just outside our perimeter. Their rigs had special emblems
39:12spray-painted on them. They were beat up, but clearly well-maintained. It was a trade crew from the
39:15Southern Safe Zone. After three years, humans had finally pieced together a fragile new order. Trade
39:19had replaced endless raids. I stood on the high wall, guns still in hand, but the muzzle pointed
39:23down. Their leader was a one-eyed guy. He craned his neck, staring at the string of dried chilies
39:27hanging from our wall. He swallowed hard. Ms. Linton, this batch is all here. That one-eyed guy had his
39:31men open the truck bed. Inside were barrels of gasoline, solar panel parts we were desperate for,
39:35and even a few boxes of sanitary pads and shampoo. We want veggies. Potatoes, sweet potatoes, cabbage,
39:40anything fresh, we'd take it all. The deal went down fast and wordless. When Noah hauled out a basket of
39:44cucumbers, still wet with morning dew, the caravan guard's eyes nearly popped. One reached out to
39:48touch, but the one-eyed guy smacked his hand away. Show some respect. This was Linton family produce.
39:52In the new world, we were no longer lambs to the slaughter. We were the ones with real resources.
39:55When the trade wrapped up, the one-eyed guy sparked a cigarette, took a long drag, and eyed our compound
39:58with envy. Word was, the Linton compound was paradise in the apocalypse. Seeing it today, it's true.
40:03I just grinned, saying nothing. Paradise? No. It was a fortress we bled to defend. The caravan rolled off,
40:08hauling our veggies and hauling hope, too. Maybe the world was really getting better. After the trade crew left,
40:12night fell. That night was New Year's Eve. No matter how crazy things got out there,
40:15we still celebrated. The underground dining hall was brightly lit. Warm yellow light washed over
40:18the wooden table, chasing away every trace of cold. That was the biggest meal we had had in
40:21three years. A giant bowl of braised pork with pickles and noodles. It was loaded with thick
40:24slices of pork belly. One plate of cucumber salad, fresh and crunchy, and a heaping platter of
40:27steaming hot dumplings. They were made with white flour. We had milled the flour ourselves from wheat we
40:30grew. It wasn't as white as the store-bought stuff, but the wheat aroma was amazing. Come on, Noah,
40:34that torn-skinned dumpling was the one you wrapped. You've gotta eat it. Dad chuckled and put a split dumpling
40:38into Noah's bowl. Noah scratched his head, embarrassed, then broke into a wide grin, showing a mouthful of bright white
40:41teeth. He stuffed the dumpling in all at once. It was so hot, he started huffing and puffing. Mom switched
40:44on the old TV she had fixed up, hooked to a hard drive. Old comedy skits from decades ago flickered
40:48on the screen. The picture was a bit blurry, the sound crackly, but to us it was pure heaven. Canned
40:52laughter poured from the TV, and we laughed right along. We laughed until mom's eyes grew misty. She
40:56wiped them, raised her glass of juice. To us, to our family, all together, not semen sanging. Our glasses
41:01clinked with a clear, bright ring. Outside the window, the cold wind was still howling. Maybe out there,
41:05people were still starving and killing, but in here, right there, right then, there was hot food, there was light,
41:08there was dad and mom, and my little brother. That was home. Even if it was hell out there, once
41:11the door
41:11was shut, that place was paradise. Looking at it all, I suddenly felt every bit of suffering had been
41:15worth it. Dad's eyes shone with the pride of the man in the family. On mom's face was the simplest
41:19happiness. Noah's eyes sparkled, because he had a home. Right then, I wished time would just stop
41:23forever. After our dinner, I stepped out of the cellar alone. The setting sun drenched the land in
41:27blood red light. Standing atop the high wall, I looked down on this place that had once been nothing
41:31but ruin. Three years ago, it was a frozen hell strewn with corpses. Six months ago, plague swollen
41:34bodies floated everywhere, but now green plants blanketed the wreckage. The terraced fields we carved
41:39snaked down the hillside. Plastic sheeting on the greenhouses gleamed in the sunset.
41:41At the village entrance, the old locust tree where I buried the clip was budding, its new leaves
41:45swaying in the breeze. Smoke curled from the cellar chimney, carrying that wood fire smell,
41:48and shot straight into the sky. This wasn't just smoke. It was proof we were alive. It was
41:51civilization breathing. I touched my chest. No jade pendant. No magic space. No system. No cheat
41:55codes for us. All we had was that one afternoon when mom and dad sold the house in the car
41:58without
41:58blinking, and the countless nights spent hunched over blueprints, retrofitting the cellar, and the guts
42:02to pull the trigger when looters showed up. Kiddo, come grab some fruit. I cut up a watermelon. Mom's
42:06shout drifted over. Dad and Noah grumbled for me to hurry. I turned around and stared at that doorway glowing
42:10warm light. A smile slipped onto my face. Was the apocalypse over? Maybe not. Disasters might come
42:14back. Deep freeze, scorching heat, quakes, plagues. It felt like the earth is running a long immune
42:18response. But I wasn't scared anymore because I knew no matter what tomorrow brought, our family were a
42:22nail-driven deep into this land. Coming. I shouted and sprinted toward the light. The apocalypse would
42:27end, and we would go on living. And we'd live well.
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