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This Time, We Live
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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 that guy
00:16Dave's arms, laughing at me through the steel door. Wendy, you've got more insulation. You can
00:19handle it. We need the coat more. Gotta carry on the family name. Family name? I wanted to laugh,
00:23but the muscles in my face were already dead. In that frozen hell, human cruelty was colder than
00:27the ice. Ha! I bolt upright in bed, cold sweat soaking my back. Hot. Stifling. The cicadas
00:30screamed 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.
00:38Nothing. I tried to summon the system in my mind. Nothing. Just nothing. Only the balance on my
00:42banking app and the very real sun blazing outside. No superpowers, no magic space, but I had my
00:46memories. I had my mind. And I had mom and dad. Wendy. My bedroom door creaked open. Mom and dad
00:50stood there. Their look shifting from confusion to shock to pure joy the moment they saw me. They were
00:53back too. The three of us held each other tight. Dad's hands were shaking. Mom's tears were
00:56burning hot on my skin. This time around, we're not being saints. Dad said, wiping his face, his
01:00gaze sharp and focused. So what if we don't have a magic space? We have our hands. We have this
01:04house.
01:04Until it hits 70 below, we can build ourselves a shelter to survive. Let's take stock. Mom made a
01:08beeline for the safe, dumping the deed, the car keys, the gold bars onto the bed. Wendy, check every
01:13penny we have available. David, sell the house fast for cash. I took a deep breath, opened my banking app.
01:19No loans, no overdraft. This was our family's blood money. Every cent had to count. Only 30 days left until
01:25the end of
01:25the world. The doorbell rang. Even through the door, I could smell that sickly fake kindness.
01:30It's Jenny. Last time around, she's here to beg for money for Dave's business. I opened the door.
01:34Jenny dragged a suitcase, acting like the world owed her everything. Wendy, are mom and dad home?
01:37Give me $71,000 now or I'll never come back. Last life to scrape that money together, I emptied my
01:41entire bank account. This life, I glanced back at mom and dad on the couch. Mom's furiously punching
01:45numbers into a calculator, not even looking up. Sure. Jenny froze. She didn't expect it to be this easy.
01:49A grin started to spread across her face. Wait. Dad stubbed out his cigarette. He pulled a document from his
01:53briefcase already prepared. Sign this first. A gift agreement and declaration of severance of
01:56relations. Dad, what do you mean? It means this money buys you out of this family. Dad's voice was
02:00cold. Take 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 toss the
02:11pen in front of her. No signature, no money. Sign it and the $71,000 is yours. Do whatever you
02:15want.
02:15Jenny stared at the check. Her greed won. She thought we were bluffing. Fine, I'll sign. Once Dave and I
02:20are rich,
02:20don't come crawling back to us. She scribbled her name, grabbed the check, and left. As the door
02:24clicked shut, mom's hand trembled slightly, but she steadied herself fast. One less mouth to feed. The
02:28leftover grain will last us three more years. Next comes the real fight. We've got 1.4 million to
02:32work with. We need a truck modified to handle extreme cold. Hundreds of tons of coal. We need
02:35to retrofit the old cellar and enough food to last us a decade. Against the apocalypse, 1.4 million was
02:40a
02:40drop in the bucket. Back to the village. Dad looked around the empty house, his gaze resolute. To the bomb
02:43shelter. That's the only place with professional insulation that can survive 70 below. The backyard of the
02:47old house in Linton Village would be our final fortress. With no storage space, we couldn't
02:51just wave our hands and make supplies disappear. Our biggest challenge was storage and preservation.
02:54Dad, with all his years as a design engineer, stepped up. He stood in front of the abandoned
02:58bomb shelter, blueprints in hand, and roared at the construction crew we'd hired from the city.
03:02I don't want insulation. I want a seal. A seal. Even with only 1.4 million, Dad sank 428,000
03:08into
03:09construction. Don't sweat the money. Dad said, seeing the pained look on my face. When it hits 70 below,
03:14every inch of insulation is a lifeline. Next came my task, the hoarding. No magic space. I had to
03:19calculate every cubic meter. The villagers watched, truck after truck hauling stuff in and crowded
03:23around to gawk. Hey, David, you opening a supermarket? Sold your city house just to come
03:27back to collect junk? I was hauling a 25-key box of canned peaches. I just wiped the sweat off
03:31my
03:31face, gave them a smile, and said, yeah, city life didn't work out. Figured I'd try the wholesale
03:35business. I looked up at the sky. The sun still blazed. But only I knew that this clunky, crowded,
03:39inelegant stockpile, in just one month, would become a treasure that even the richest people
03:43would envy. Just then, Mom ran over. Her face pale. Wendy, we have a problem. We're running out
03:49of money. We haven't bought the diesel generator yet. And we're only halfway on winter clothes.
03:53Sell it. I looked at the van in the yard. Our last hauler. Then at the gold bangle on my
03:58wrist.
03:58Sell everything but the clothes on our backs. Only three days left. The temperature started acting
04:03strange. 40 degrees during the day, then plunging to 10 at night. The wild swings had the village dogs
04:06howling 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.
04:18Our biggest crisis is the diesel. Though we had a geothermal heater, the generator was our last
04:20line of defense for electricity. In a country tightly controlled, stockpiling tons of diesel was
04:24nearly impossible. David, the construction crew's gone, but the fuel. Mom stared at the three big but
04:27empty steel drums, stress eating her alive. Dad gritted his teeth, dialed an old army buddy,
04:31a contractor he'd worked with before, a maverick. Alan, I need fuel. Don't ask why.
04:35Greenhouse operation, urgent. I'll pay 50% over. Cash, now. Late that night, a modified water truck
04:40rolled quietly into the yard. No small talk. Dad just tossed two cases of cash, 85,000, into the
04:44cab. The hose connected, a black line pulsing like an artery, pumping precious diesel into the tank
04:48buried in the ground. Mom and I were on lookout duty at the door. Mrs. Ward from next door came
04:51out
04:51to use the restroom and craned her neck. Oh, what's the Linton family up to so late? That was the
04:55smell
04:55of diesel. My heart seized. I gripped my flashlight tight and smiled back. Nothing, Mrs. Ward? Just clearing out
04:59the biogas digester. 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. Grain,
05:07coal, fuel, and medicine. Even if the world goes moonscape, we can last three years. Then an
05:11emergency 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 a
05:18picture of her enjoying seafood in a fancy restaurant. Fools feed mosquitoes in the country.
05:22I enjoy the view from a presidential suite. August 15th, noon. The blinding sun suddenly seemed snuffed
05:26out by a gray cloth. Not a cloud in the sky, yet the sky took on an eerie leaden hue.
05:29The air went still.
05:30Even the cicadas fell silent all of a sudden. Into the shelter, Dad roared. It was survival
05:34instinct, etched into his bones. The three of us scrambled into the cellar. Just as we'd rehearsed,
05:37Dad first slammed shut the outer camouflaged wooden door, then the heavy blast-proof steel door.
05:40The groan from the hand crank, the final seal, an airtight, insulated door clicked shut with a
05:44thud. The world outside ceased to exist. Inside the cellar, only the pale glow of the battery-powered
05:46LEDs lit the space. Though underground, we had periscope viewports. I pressed my face to one,
05:50staring at the outdoor thermometer. 35 degrees. 30 degrees. 20 degrees. In just 10 minutes,
05:55the temperature plunged below freezing. Rain began to fall, freezing instantly on the ground.
05:57Then came the snow. Thick, heavy flakes. Each one the size of a palm. Gray and city. Smelling of
06:01sulfur. By 3 p.m., the outside temperature was 20 below. This wasn't a gradual chill. It was like
06:05someone had tossed the entire planet into liquid nitrogen. The village loudspeakers crackled to
06:08life. The village head said, his voice shaking. Everyone stay inside. Stay warm. Don't go out.
06:11The broadcast cut out mid-sentence. Maybe the lines had snapped in the cold. Or maybe he just
06:14frozen solid. Through the viewport, I saw a villager who hadn't made it home was stumbling toward the
06:17village entrance. But his movements grew jerky, mechanical. Like a rusted wind-up toy. 10 feet from his own
06:22front door, he pitched forward and fell. Outside, the world had become hell. Inside the cellar, it was something else.
06:27The insulation was a godsend. We hadn't even turned on the heat yet, but between the geothermal warmth
06:30and our own body heat, the temperature held at around 15 degrees. A little cool maybe, but perfect
06:34for a 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, had dug out
06:41a small coal stove from our supplies. Let's save the battery. We'll use coal for now. The smokeless coal
06:45burned in the stove, crackling softly. Blue flames licking the bottom of the kettle. Dinner was simple.
06:49Noodles, three fried eggs topped with chili crisp and spam. But at a time like this, a steaming bowl of
06:53broth was nectar of the gods. We huddled around the coal stove, bowls in hand, not saying a word, just
06:56wolfing
06:57it down. Cell service was spotty now, but the towers weren't completely dead yet. I scrolled through my
07:00feed. Just people screaming for help. What's going on? My AC is set to 30 and I'm still freezing. My
07:03window's shattered. The coal just shattered them. Then a message popped up. It was from Jenny. Wendy,
07:07what's wrong? The hotel lost power. The AC is down. We're freezing to death. Don't rural houses have
07:11heated brick beds? Come get us. I stared at the screen coldly. Typed back. Roads are closed. Truck's
07:15frozen solid. Can't make it. Then I blocked her. I just put my phone down when a dull, heavy thud
07:18came from
07:18the ventilation shaft above. Thump. Thump. Someone was up there, pounding on our camouflage. The pounding
07:22stopped after a few thuds. Dad signaled for us to be quiet. He put on a stethoscope and pressed it
07:25against
07:26the vent pipe. It's Baldi Rick and his crew. Dad whispered. They're seeking shelter. Good thing we
07:29camouflaged the entrance. Piled it high with scrap wood and bricks. They think it's just a collapsed
07:33ruin. Kicked it a couple times and moved on. Baldi Rick was the village bully. Lazy and worthless.
07:36And he definitely hadn't stockpiled any food. Over the next three days, the temperature plunged past
07:3940 below. Life in the cellar was dull and suffocating. No internet, no entertainment. Just dim
07:43lights and the endless howl of the wind. To save fuel, we rationed the coal stove to four hours a
07:47day.
07:47The rest of the time, we relied on our expensive sleeping bags. On the fourth day, people in the village
07:50started going door to door. Not asking for food, but asking for coal. Through the viewport, I watched a group
07:54of
07:54villagers wrapped in quilts, axes, and crowbars in hand, battering on Mrs. Ward's door. Mrs. Ward,
07:59we're all neighbors here. Just lend us some coal. Open up, or we'll break it down. I could just make
08:02out Mrs. Ward's screams. Then the sound of splintering wood. The screaming stopped in under
08:05five minutes. The villagers emerged, dragging two sacks of coal. One of their axes was smeared with
08:09blood. They'll find us soon enough, Dad said, wiping down his compound bow. It was his only long-range
08:13weapon. Our chimneys rigged to disperse the smoke, but that small heat signal won't hide from thermal
08:16imaging or anyone desperate enough to notice. No sooner had he spoken than a face appeared in the
08:20viewport. Baldi Rick, right by our hidden vent, inhaling deeply. A greedy, ecstatic grin spread across his face.
08:24There's meat down there. They found us, but Dad wasn't worried. We'd built this place for exactly
08:28this moment. Baldi Rick called the others, and they started digging at the vent. Zap! The second
08:32their fingers touched the vent's protective mesh, a blue-purple arc of electricity flashed. It was a
08:35capacitor Dad had rigged to the battery bank. Not enough to kill, but enough to make a man lose
08:38control of his bladder. Ah, the screams came from outside. It's electrified. That old man was ready
08:42for us. In 40 below weather, if you get hurt or even just panicked enough to sweat, hypothermia sets in
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 town's faint
08:53glow. In an instant, it all went dark. The world was plunged into absolute blackness. Our phones
08:56became useless bricks. The last bars of signal were gone. We were an island. Fire up the diesel
09:00generator. Dad ordered. A low rumble came from the soundproofed room in the back of the cellar.
09:03Even with all the insulation, in the dead silence underground, you could still feel the floor
09:06vibrate. 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
09:13face suddenly went pale. Linton. Look at this corner. On the southeast wall of the cellar, a layer of
09:17frost had formed. Did we mess up the aerogel, or... Dad walked over and touched it. His face turned ashen.
09:20No, the cold's getting through. The ground outside is frozen 10 feet deep now. The cold is
09:24penetrating the concrete. If it hits 70 below, our insulation might not hold. Cut back to the city.
09:28The once glamorous five-star hotel was now a giant ice coffin. Jenny was wrapped in an expensive
09:32mink coat, yet she's still shaking like a leaf. Dave huddled in a corner, wrapped in every curtain
09:36he could find. All the wooden furniture has been chopped up and burned. Even that pricey European-style
09:39bed went up in flames. No food left. Dave's voice was raw. His eyes cold and predatory. That 71,000
09:43was
09:44long gone. Spent on designer bags, a watch, and this useless mink coat. They never even bought a single
09:47case of instant noodles. Let's go to your sisters. Dave stood up abruptly. A man
09:50gleam in his eyes. She must have planned ahead. They've got heated brick beds and firewood.
09:54But how? It's 50 below outside. Jenny wailed. I've got a car. Dave flashed a set of keys he'd
09:58taken off a corpse in the parking garage. An SUV. It's been modded. It'll still run. As long as we
10:02don't die on the road, we live. They charge out of the hotel like rabid dogs. Frozen corpses littered
10:06the streets. Some were stuck mid-crawl. Others still pounding on shop doors. Tonight, luck sided
10:10with the wicked. The SUV actually roared to life, and the tank was full. They smashed through ice statues
10:13and wrecks, barreling toward Linton Village. One day later, at the village entrance, a smoking SUV slammed
10:18into the old locust tree. The door swung open. Two ghost-like figures crawled out. Jenny's face
10:21was already purple from the cold. She stares at the old Linton house ahead. Its outline not yet
10:24buried in snow. Her tears froze on her cheeks. We made it, Dave. We're gonna live. We were having
10:28dinner. To keep warm, we were eating high-calorie rice mixed with pork lard. Plus, there's a big pot
10:31of stew. Suddenly, the buzzer by the viewport went off. Someone's coming. I leaned over to look,
10:34and my pupils shrank hard. It's Jenny and Dave, but they were not alone. Trailing behind were
10:38three more, Baldy Rick's crew. Wendy, Dad, Mom, it's me, Jenny. Jenny's voice blared through the
10:43loudspeaker, jarring in this death-quiet village. I know you're in there. Dave told me
10:47everything. You sold the house and the car and brought back one four million. You must have
10:49food for days in there. Damn it. What a moron. Just so Baldy Rick would lead them or spare them,
10:53she went and spilled all our secrets. Neighbors, Jenny yelled to the crowd. My parents are right
10:57down there. They've stashed a ton of supplies. Bust that door open, and we all get to live.
11:00That kill with a borrowed knife move was brutal. The villagers were only guessing before. Now they
11:03were sure. One point four million worth of supplies. How much food and coal was that? Break it
11:05down. Baldy Rick snarled. Eyes bloodshot, and he waved his hand. Pickaxes and sledgehammers rained
11:09down on our first blast-proof door. In the cellar, Mom's hands shook, clutching Dad's arm tightly.
11:12Dad's face was like stone. He set down his bowl and chopsticks. He strode to the control panel
11:16and twisted the valve on the hand pump. It's not hooked to the well, but to a high-pressure
11:19water line he buried at the entrance. At minus 50 degrees out there, water was the nastiest
11:22weapon around. Open the valve. Dad ordered coldly. I slammed the lever down. Nozzles hidden above
11:26the door blasted out a cloud of mist. And it's not just water. Dad dumped in a mountain of salt,
11:30dropping the freezing point, keeping it liquid until the spray. The moment it hit anything,
11:33the windchill flash froze it solid. Screams erupted outside the door. The ones swinging the tools
11:36got drenched, and in seconds their clothes turned to iron-hard ice. Their hands were welded to the handles.
11:40Then I saw Dave ducking behind Jenny, using her as a human shield. Jenny's coated in frozen shards,
11:44locked in place like an ice statue, her eyes full of stunned despair. Ah, the scream was torn apart
11:49by the savage wind. The high-pressure sprinkler system Dad built was supposed to rinse hazmat
11:52suits. But then it was our deadliest defense. The brine it spat out was crazy strong. And the
11:56second it hit air at 50 below, it turned into super-cooled mist. The moment that mist hit anything,
12:01it ripped the heat right out, forming a rock-hard ice shell. Baldi Rick was in the lead,
12:05raising a homemade shotgun and got blasted full in the face. Crack! Before he could even pull the trigger,
12:09his fingers froze solid. No way to bend them. Next, his eyelashes. Stubble. Even the steam from
12:13his breath turned white with frost in seconds. He tried to wipe his face in panic, but the glove
12:16was stuck to his skin. Dave, help me! Jenny's scream twisted with terror. Through the viewport,
12:21I saw a scene that made my blood run cold. The instant the mist erupted, the guy who kept saying
12:24he loved her, promising he'd keep her alive, Dave, didn't hesitate. He yanked Jenny over,
12:28planting her right in front of him. That pricey mink coat she was wearing turned into a soaking sponge.
12:33Icy water soaked the fur, clinging to her skinny body. She became Dave's human shield.
12:36You are crazy. So cold. Dave, what are you doing? Jenny struggled desperately,
12:39but Dave gripped her shoulders tightly, hiding behind her shivering body. His eyes were full
12:43of desperate survival instinct and hatred towards us. Don't move. You're my girlfriend. You have
12:46to protect me. Dave yelled, his voice trembling. Wendy, you bitch. Open the door, or your sister
12:50would freeze to death. At that moment, Jenny stopped struggling. Well, she wanted to, but she
12:53was frozen stiff. That mink coat turned into dozens of pounds of ice armor, sealing her firmly in place.
12:58Her face was turned toward our viewport, her expression changing from terror to anger, and finally to
13:01hopeless stupor. Baldi Rick's two lackeys were rolling on the ground, but the more they rolled,
13:04the thicker the ice layer on them became, until they could only twitch in the snow. Although
13:07Baldi Rick was strong, he then knelt on the ground, like an eerie ice sculpture making a broken bellow
13:10sound from his mouth. Was the threat gone? No. Dad suddenly pointed at a corner of the monitor.
13:14Dave isn't dead yet. He didn't get much water on him. And what is he doing? On the screen,
13:17Dave saw that Jenny had stopped moving, and actually pushed her down. He took out a simple
13:21Molotov cocktail made from a plastic bottle, lit the fuse, and charged madly towards our air vent.
13:25Die! All of you die! Boom! The Molotov smashed into the vent's protective cover. Flames shot up,
13:29but in this deep freeze, they died in seconds. Dad had already wrapped the vent with double
13:32fireproof insulation. That splash of gas burned for barely 30 seconds before the wind snuffed it.
13:35But Dave didn't stop. Like a crazed gambler, he raised his crowbar and beat the hell out of our
13:39vent pipe. Come out! Give me food! I've got cash! That stupid bitch gave me all her money! I can
13:43pay
13:43you! He kept smashing while raving like a lunatic, but he forgot this was a minus 50 degree hell.
13:47That shove earlier, though it spared him most of the mist, still left his pant legs soaked. Through
13:51the viewport, I stared at him, ice cold. His wings slowed and slowed. Five minutes later,
13:54the pounding stopped. Dave stayed kneeling, hands clawing the doorframe, face plastered to the frozen
13:58steel, eyes wide open, dead and staring. Outside the door, five ice statues became the Linton Cellar's
14:02new guards. This fight erased the threat, but it also blew our cover. Those statues were both
14:06warning and landmark. At dawn, Dad did his routine instrument check. Suddenly, his face went ghost
14:10white, and his fingers shook as he tapped the barometer. Crap, what's wrong? My heart lurched.
14:15Not the gauge, Dad said, turning around, fear swimming in his eyes. It's the pressure. It's
14:19plummeting. That means a super blizzard is coming, the kind of wind that rips houses out by the roots.
14:23And right now, our cellar door, after last night's spray, is sealed under a thick sheet of ice. If the
14:27exhaust pipe gets buried in snow, we'll suffocate in here. That legendary blizzard was even nastier
14:31than we'd feared. The surface wasn't howling anymore. All we heard was billions of tons of
14:35sand and grit, grinding steel. Then, the cellar's oxygen monitor flashed blinding red. Carbon dioxide
14:39levels were rising rapidly. The vent pipes totally clogged. Snow's too heavy, or the camouflage layer
14:42caved in. If we didn't clear it now, we would suffocate in under three hours. Do it. Dad didn't
14:46hesitate. He hauled out a spare industrial hydraulic jack and an extra-long alloy drill bit, lining them
14:49up with the emergency shaft. I gripped the drill rod with everything I had. Mom cranked the blower like
14:52crazy, trying to squeeze out every last puff of air. The lack of oxygen made me see stars. My lungs
14:56burned
14:56like fire. Ten minutes in, the bit jammed with a thud. Metal hit. Dad actually smiled. It's a car's
15:02underbelly. The wind had flipped one and parked it right over the shaft. The jack groaned under the
15:05load. With a dull boom, talma warped overhead. A blast of icy, blissfully sweet air poured in.
15:10We gulped it down like attics. Dad shoved the hatch open. I slid the periscope through the gap.
15:14So it was Baldy Rick's off-roader. It was a giant lid shielding us from the drifts. I tilted the
15:18scope
15:19farther out. My heart clenched. Across the dead, silent white plain, a messy trail of fresh footprints snaked
15:23away. Following the footprints, I tweaked the periscope's focus. Three hunched figures slid
15:27into view. Leading them was Limp Larry from the village. Usually a quiet, harmless guy, now he had
15:30two half-starved villagers in tow, going nuts on the lock of the public granary. The door finally gave
15:34way. Inside, nothing but emptiness. Just a few moldy grains of old rice and rat shit in the corner.
15:37In that moment, the last fig leaf of humanity got ripped off. Without a word, Larry swung half a brick
15:41into the back of his buddy's head. Blood splattered on the snow like a blinding red flower. He wasted no
15:45time finishing off two guys, claimed the bag of rat shit-laced moldy rice all for himself, grabbed a
15:48fistful, and crammed it into his mouth. Down in the cellar, I was having lunch. A steaming,
15:51self-heating meal, curry beef. Its smell filling the room. When hunger takes over, humanity is gone.
15:55Dad lifted a chunk of beef, staring at the monitor, stone-faced. That's the apocalypse for you. Some
15:58murder for a bite of rotten rice, while others feast on meat in a warm cellar. On screen, Larry
16:01dragged the bloody rice bag, heading back, then suddenly froze. Beyond a snowy ridge, three pairs
16:05of eerie green eyes lit up. Those were three starved wolves. Any beast tough enough to survive this frozen
16:10hell is among the elite. Larry never even got the chance to run. The first wolf struck like lightning,
16:13snapping his calves. The second wolf went straight for his throat. His screams blasted through the
16:17cellar mics and lasted a good 10 seconds. Blood splattered across the snow and froze in an instant.
16:20The sack of moldy rice, bought with two lives, spilled everywhere. The wolves didn't spare at a
16:22glance. After filling their bellies, they still didn't leave. The three wolves paced around our
16:26vent. Nostrils flaring, they caught the faintest whiff of human scent. Reinforce it. Dad set down his
16:30bowl in 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 heating,
16:36she suddenly yelped. David, look. At the bottom compartment of the coal bin, a metal case clattered out.
16:40Inside were 10 boxes of amoxicillin. The coal seller had tossed them in for free. We didn't think much of
16:44it back then, but now it's priceless, life-saving stuff. Just as we were celebrating the windfall,
16:47the silent shortwave radio suddenly lit up red. After a burst of static, a strange man spoke,
16:51chuckling like a freak. Found it. Linton Village? Got ourselves a fat sheep. Tomorrow we'll hit.
16:55Bring the flamethrower. Burn through that damn turtle shell. The electric buzz sounded like
16:58nails screeching on a chalkboard. Dad tweaked the old shortwave set. His face flickered red in the
17:01indicator glow. That stranger's voice cut in again. So clear it felt like he was whispering in my ear.
17:05Confirmed. It is that house. Baldi Rick died there a few days ago. Ice statues stood at the door,
17:09impossible to miss. Our trophies? The corpses that froze right outside ended up nothing but bait for
17:12vultures. It was down underground. There is a big stash for sure. No one even frisked those ice statues.
17:16Dad killed the volume. The cellar fell dead silent. Gear up for a fight. That time we were
17:19done playing defense. Mom dug through the supplies and pulled out a few bottles of high-proof alcohol,
17:23the ones she'd never let us touch on a normal day, but now she smashed the next clean-off.
17:26She poured the liquor into glass bottles, stuffed greasy rags in for wicks.
17:29I sat by the whetstone. Compound bow in hand. The arrowhead rasped against the stone in rhythm.
17:33Cold steel flashing. No fear, just adrenaline cool focus. In a world that preys on the weak,
17:37being soft is a death sentence. Late that night, the radio crackled with that voice again.
17:40Cocky as hell, like he'd already won. We'll hit after midnight tomorrow. Just the three of us.
17:43More people means less for everyone. No way those bastards survive a flamethrower.
17:45Midnight, blizzard raging outside. A roar shattered the silence. Three snowmobiles
17:49burst through the storm like ghosts. They stopped at our cellar door. Through the periscope,
17:52I spotted three figures wrapped up tight. No chit-chat. The leader just waved. A guy with
17:56a huge tank on his back stepped up. A 30-foot fire dragon spewed out instantly. It was an
18:01industrial flamethrower. Orange flames roared in the 50 below, looking downright eerie in this
18:04frozen world. The thick ice sealing the door melted fast, hissing into scalding steam. Right
18:08after that, the outer blast door started to discolor, changing from iron black to dark red,
18:11then cherry red. Beep, beep, beep. The cellar's temperature alarm screamed like mad. A second ago,
18:15it was freezing. Now it's an oven. We tore off our polar suits. Sweat streamed down our faces.
18:19Heat rushed in through the cracks, reeking of burnt metal. This door won't hold much longer.
18:22The sealant's already melting. Mom tightened her grip on a Molotov. Dad stayed cool. Eyes locked
18:25on the monitor. Hand hovering over a red button. That's a dry powder suppression rig he'd built
18:28for fire safety. But right now, the nozzles aren't loaded with suppressant. They're packed
18:32with pure starch he swiped from the mill. Want fire? I'll give you a damn inferno. Dad smashed the
18:35button.
18:38The pressure vent above the doorframe suddenly shot out two streams of white mist. That wasn't smoke.
18:41It was ultrafine flower dust. Under pressure, it blanketed the whole doorway in an instant.
18:45The concentration was insane. It enveloped the flamethrower punk. Clearly, the guy had skipped
18:48physics class. He didn't even have time to react. His fingers still clamped on the trigger. Open
18:52flame, sealed spay plus flower dust. Boom. A deafening blast. Like thunder. A huge shockwave,
18:57all five cars swallowed everything at the door. The periscope screen went all white. Then the whole
19:00place shuddered, dust sifting down on our heads. A few seconds later, the view cleared. A scorched patch
19:05stained the snow. The guy with the flamethrower was gone. Or rather, he was just a lump of
19:08unrecognizable charcoal. Another thug. Closer in. Got hurled 30 feet. Left hanging from a dead branch.
19:12His fate unknown. We won. I tightened my grip on my bow. Not yet. Dad stared at the screen. The
19:16leader was lucky. He'd stood farther back, so the blast only knocked him over. His face was a mess
19:19of blood. One arm twisted at a sick angle, yet he staggered to his feet. He grinned ferociously.
19:23With his good left hand, he pulled out a dark green thing. He pulled the pin. Pressed it firmly
19:27against the deformed door gap. Come out, or I'll let go. We'll all be blown to bits. Don't do anything
19:31stupid. I flicked on the loudspeaker at the door. My voice was so calm, it didn't even sound
19:34like me. That thing might blow a hole at best, but I'm on top of a mountain of dynamite. There's
19:39ten tons of TNT right under my feet. You drop that pin, and we'll all go up in smoke. Total
19:41bullshit, of course. But in this life-or-death moment, it's about who's more scared to die.
19:45Sure enough, the leader's eyes flickered. The fingers clutching the grenade pin went stiff.
19:48He was weighing his odds, hesitating. And in that split second, Dad stood straight at the firing
19:51port. His compound bow fully drawn, drink humming tight. Through the scope, the guy's wrist filled
19:56the view. The string snapped. A custom carbon steel arrow sliced the air, punching straight
20:00through his right wrist, pinning his hand to the frozen dirt by the doorframe. Ah! The searing
20:04pain made him let go. The grenade clattered down the steps and landed in a snowbank. The blast went
20:08off about 30 feet out, kicking up a cloud of snow, but the blast door didn't even flinch. Before he
20:12could snap back from the pain, Mom had already lit a Molotov and lobbed it clean through the
20:15throw port. Flames instantly engulfed the struggling figure. We stayed inside, watching them through the
20:19screen turn into three charred corpses, emitting black smoke until they stopped moving. Half an hour
20:23later, confirmed safety. Dad went out to clean up the battlefield. In the arms of the leader's
20:26charred body was a fireproof bag. Inside was a hand-drawn map. Linton Village was circled in red. Next to
20:30it
20:30was marked, Suspected Groundwater Entrance. That map made Dad's eyes light up like never before.
20:34If we can get running water, our whole life will change. Dad pointed at the contour lines
20:37on the map. Groundwater stays at a steady temperature and never runs dry. Way better
20:39than hoarding cases of bottled water. Following the map, the potential groundwater entrance was
20:43right under our foundation. For the next three days, the cellar became a work site. We took shifts.
20:47In this basement, barely 200 square feet, we started digging down in one corner. That was a tough job.
20:50The frozen ground below was hard as iron. Every shovel strike shook our hands numb. We had to drill
20:54pilot holes first, then chip away with pickaxes inch by inch. Sweat ran down our spines, cooling the second
20:57it hit the cold air. To spare our strength, we added an extra compressed biscuit to every meal. The cramped
21:01space reeked of
21:02wet earth and sweat. Yet no one complained. We all knew at the end of the world, water was life,
21:07a harder currency than food. Late on the third night, we were nearly 10 feet down. Dad was swinging
21:11the pickaxe when he suddenly froze. Thud, no more dull thump. This one rang hollow. He tapped again
21:16gently. A chunk of solid earth caved in, opening a pitch black hole. A moist, chilly draft wafted up
21:21from below. The flashlight beam sliced through years of stale darkness. Under that opening, there was a
21:26man-made tunnel. Moss carpeted the concrete walls. Faded red slogans from decades ago were still
21:30visible. So this was the abandoned shelter from famine and war days village elders talked about.
21:33Dad clipped onto the safety rope and went down first. Ten minutes later, his trembling voice
21:38crackled over the radio. Get down here now. It's real flowing water. Mom and I slid down the rope
21:41ladder and squeezed through a narrow passage. Suddenly, the space opened up. At the tunnel's
21:44end, an underground river flowed quietly. It wasn't big, but under the flashlight, the surface
21:48shimmered. I dipped a hand in. The water was actually warmish. Four degrees. Dad read the thermometer.
21:52His cheeks flushed with excitement. This is the underground thermostatic layer. The water hasn't frozen.
21:55We can rig a circulation system, use the heat to warm the cellar, maybe even take a bath. In this
21:59frozen hell of 50 below, liquid water at four degrees feels like a hot spring. We stared at the
22:02river, greedy as if it were liquid diamonds. But then, just as I knelt on the damp ground for a
22:06sample, my beams swept the muddy bank, and I froze. On the soft, wet soil was a clear line of
22:11footprints. They were tiny, barefoot, toes dug deep into the mud. The soil was still wet. Aside from us,
22:16in this bottomless underground maze, someone else was alive. Following the trail of wet little
22:19footprints, we crept through the maze-like shelter like hunters. Around a bend, stacked with moldy
22:23wooden crates, our flashlight locked onto a dark corner. Something was huddling there, thin. The
22:26kind of sickly thin that comes from way too long without food. Rags hung off his body, and the skin
22:29was corpse pale. If not for those wide, terrified eyes, I'd have sworn it was a skeleton. It was the
22:33mute orphan from our village, Noah. He was clutching a dead rat, dark blood smeared at the corner of his
22:38mouth. Beside him lay a pile of moss-like green plants. Dad's compound bow snapped up. The arrow
22:42aimed right between his eyes. In an era where supplies are worth more than lives, an extra mouth is a
22:45huge
22:45risk. Worse, he'd just found out our water secret. Noah didn't fight back. He just shut his eyes in
22:49despair, shaking like a leaf in a storm. For a few seconds, it was so silent we only heard the
22:52water running. Screw it. Dad lowered the bow, pulled two cold, rock-hard buns, and tossed them
22:55over. Noah's eyes flew open, and he pounced like a starving animal, swallowing them whole without a
22:59chew. When he was done, he suddenly crawled over, slammed his head to the ground in thanks, then
23:02pointed straight up. He spread his arms wide, tracing a huge circle, letting out urgent ah-ah
23:05sounds. He clenched his fists and mimed holding a steering wheel. Then he drew a finger across his
23:09throat. He was warning us. Something was up there, and it killed. Just got back to the cellar. I hadn't
23:13even
23:14caught my breath. The ground suddenly started to quake. It's not an earthquake. Some heavy rig was
23:17grinding over the frozen earth. The water glasses on the table were dancing. I pressed my face to
23:20the periscope. Through the blizzard, a convoy of steel beasts ripped apart the quiet of Linton
23:23Village. Three massive trucks, tricked out and armored. Each had a grim snowplow bolted to the
23:27front. Bright red flags flapped on the sides marked 9th District Rescue Unit. Government guys? Mom's
23:30eyes lit up. Hold up. Dad cranked the scope to max. Look at their shoes. The men who jumped down
23:35wore
23:35camo parkas, but cheap knockoff sneakers. They aren't carrying standard issue weapons, just random
23:39shotguns and pipe guns. Even worse, the first thing they did wasn't rescue. They punted a frozen corpse
23:43off the road, then laughed and lit up smokes. Wolves in sheep's clothing. This rescue unit was just a big
23:47looter gang flying fake colors. The convoy stopped at the village entrance. They huddled, arguing over
23:51the route. Suddenly, the last truck, packed with coal and generators, coughed black smoke and died.
23:55The lead rigs never even slowed down. They dumped two guys with the busted truck and thundered on
23:59toward the town. That lone truck was just sitting there like a gift, not even 500 meters out.
24:03It was a diesel generator. There were at least five barrels of diesel in the truck. Our fuel stash was
24:07almost gone. If we wanted to keep the heat and lights in the cellar, this might have been our last
24:09chance. Let's hit it. It was past midnight. The blizzard was perfect cover. Dad and I pulled on white camo.
24:14We crawled across the snow like ghosts. The two guards on duty underestimated that hellish weather.
24:18They were curled up in the cab with the heater blasting, dozing off a booze buzz. Dad whipped
24:21out a towel soaked in ether. I went to work on the lock. Click. The frozen lock cylinder was brittle.
24:25It popped right open. Dad slapped the towel over the passenger's mouth and nose. The guy twitched a
24:28little, then went limp. I dealt with the driver in the same way. We didn't get greedy, skipped the
24:32generator, snatched three barrels of diesel, and bolted. Just as we were about to pull out, my flashlight
24:36swept under the driver's seat and caught a long black case. We cracked it open and froze. Two gleaming QBZ
24:41-95s,
24:41plus five full boxes of ammo. They must have jacked these off a real military checkpoint. Let's go.
24:46We slung the rifles, dragged the diesel, and sprinted home. The moment we vaulted the wall
24:48and dived for cover, a distant rumble erupted behind us. Their crew had turned back. Blinding
24:51headlights flooded the truck we had just cleaned out. Furious shouts followed, then wild,
24:56panicked gunfire. Those two missing QBZ-95s were like a loud slap in the face, smacking those
25:00desperados hard. Roars of rage echoed over the village, but that wasn't the scariest part. What truly chilled
25:04the blood was when they hauled out real pro gear, an industrial handheld thermal imager. On that green
25:07screen, every hint of body heat lit up. Through my periscope, I fixed on the thugs in rescue unit
25:12uniforms. They combed the ruins of Linton Village. A shot cracked. Mr. Harper, hiding in the cellar
25:18at the east end, was dragged out. He was 70, and to save every scrap of food, he'd withered to
25:21skin
25:22and bones. He knelt in the snow, no time to beg for mercy, before a big thug smashed his jaw
25:26with
25:26a rifle bud. Where are the rifles and the diesel? Who took them? The thug planted a boot on the
25:30old
25:30man's chest, his voice colder than ice. The old man could only let out broken wimpers. Worthless.
25:33Another shot split the air. A blinding red bloom spread across the snow. They kicked the corpse
25:36into a drift, like tossing a bag of trash. Then the second house? The third. The last few survivors
25:41were yanked out like rats and butchered for having no answers. This wasn't a search. It was pure rage.
25:46Suddenly, my heart clenched tightly. The thug holding the thermal imager stopped in his tracks. He was
25:49standing in front of the pile of rubble at the village entrance. That was the entrance to the
25:52abandoned shelter. It was also the hiding place of the mute Noah. Boss, there's a heat source underground.
25:55It's weak, but it's a live one. The thugs instantly got excited. Like sharks smelling blood,
25:59they swarmed around. They used crowbars to pry open the stone slab covering the entrance.
26:03Noah's terrified screams, even through the thick layer of soil, seemed to reach my ears. He was
26:07discovered. Save him or not? That question flashed through my head for barely a second. Noah knew
26:11the secret of our groundwater. If they tortured him and he broke and spilled the location, our whole
26:14family was toast. Besides, he was just a kid living off rats in this apocalypse. Gear up for a fight.
26:19Dad's eyes went cold. He grabbed the QBZ-95 we'd just seized. Wendy, take firing port two. That's the
26:23high ground. Use the scoped crossbow or just grab the gun. Stir up chaos. Pull their fire. I'll drag the
26:28kid back.
26:28Dad skipped the front door and slipped into the tunnel we'd just dug, the one tied to the shelter.
26:32I drew a deep breath and sprinted for port two. Through the scope, I saw the thugs had yanked
26:36Noah out. Blood covered his face. He fought like hell, but a brute dangled him like a chick.
26:40Not talking, huh? Mute, huh? The thug sneered and whipped out a belt knife. No time left. I
26:44steadied the rifle. It was my first real fight, yet raw survival instinct locked my aim. Bang. The shot
26:49missed. Smacking frozen dirt by the thug's boots, kicking up a spray of grit. But that's enough. The
26:53blast cracked over the silent snowfield like thunder, sending the gang scrambling for covers.
26:58Gunfire. Those thieves are over there. Seizing the moment of chaos, in the shadows of the shelter
27:01entrance, a powerful hand suddenly reached out, grabbed Noah's ankle, dragged him back into the
27:04dark tunnel like a sack. Retreat! Quick! Retreat! I shouted into the walkie-talkie, fired my gun
27:08blindly into the crowd, suppressing their counterattack. The thugs realized what was
27:11happening. Bullets poured like rain towards the shelter entrance. Dad dragged Noah, rolled awkwardly
27:15into the deep tunnel under the rain of bullets. But at the last moment before he disappeared into the
27:18darkness, I saw his body jolt violently. His left leg exploded in a mist of blood. He staggered,
27:21then fell heavily into the tunnel. The air in the cellar was frozen. Only the strong smell of blood lingered.
27:25Dad was lying on the workbench, face as pale as paper. Cold sweat soaked the mat beneath him.
27:29On the outside of his left thigh, there was a hideous bloody hole. Blood was pouring out.
27:33I could even see the white bones. Fortunately, no major artery was injured. But the bullet got
27:36stuck in the bone. It had to be taken out immediately. Mom's hands were shaking. But her
27:39eyes were extremely firm. She used to be a veterinarian. Although she was not treating people,
27:42she was no stranger to surgical suturing. There was no anesthetic. The little lidocaine that was left
27:45had long since expired. Bring it on. Dad bit into a stick wrapped in a towel. The veins on his
27:48forehead
27:48popped out like earthworms. Don't waste your time. I have a feeling those bastards are coming in.
27:52Mom took a deep breath, heated a scalpel brightly over an alcohol lamp.
27:55The sound of the blade cutting through the flesh made my teeth sore. Dad's body tightened suddenly.
27:59A beast-like growl came from his throat. He held the table with both hands,
28:01scratched fingerprints into the metal table. I held Dad's legs. Tears welled up in my eyes,
28:05but I dared not let them fall. Noah huddled in the corner, trembling with fear.
28:08His eyes were fixed on the bloody hole in my Dad's leg. His face was full of guilt.
28:11Ten minutes felt as long as a century. Cling! A deformed warhead was thrown onto the iron plate.
28:14Mom quickly stopped the bleeding, cleaned the wound, and stitched it up. When the last stitch was
28:17finished, Dad had already fainted from the pain. The wooden stick in his mouth was bitten to pieces.
28:20The operation was successful. But Dad's leg would not be able to move for at least a month. We had
28:23lost our
28:23strongest fighting force. Before we could breathe a sigh of relief, in the tunnel leading to the
28:26abandoned shelter, there was suddenly a strange hissing sound. I got closer to the viewport on
28:29the door and took a look. My pupils dilated instantly. A thick yellow smoke was flowing
28:32along the cracks in the tunnel, slithering like a serpent. It was chlorine, or their homemade gas
28:35bombs. They couldn't get in and didn't dare to go to the tunnel rashly, so they chose the most
28:39vicious way. They wanted to smoke us to death in the hole. That yellow gas moved like a living demon,
28:43sliding through cracks from the abandoned shelter and silently permeated into the cellar. The air
28:46instantly filled with a choking bleach stench. It was concentrated chlorine or an even deadlier
28:50cocktail. Hurry! Opened the PIV system, Mom shouted, her voice sharp with panic. She slammed
28:55Dad, still struggling up, back onto the bed and dove for the control panel. Dad built this as our
28:59last line of defense. The idea's simple. High-power fans would frantically pump filtered air inside,
29:03cranking the indoor pressure above outside, so poison can't blow back in. Boom! The backup motor roared
29:07awake. The blade spun like crazy. I glued my eyes to the gauge, watching the needle crawl right.
29:11At the same time, that acrid reek hit my nose, but it was thinning, getting shoved out.
29:14The sealed door to the tunnel had stopped most of the smoke, yet under the flashlight's glare,
29:18I still saw the steam fizzing as it corroded. Weird foam popping. They can't get in,
29:22but we can't get out. I gripped my gun, my palms slick with sweat. The gas attack dragged on for
29:25half an hour, then they can't. Obviously, they didn't want to waste their precious ammo,
29:28but a worse sound followed overhead. Thud. A muffled grinding sound and the shudder of a
29:33drill chewing into frozen ground. They're planting explosives. Dad rasped from the bed,
29:36his face ghost gray. Gas failed. Now they'll blow the roof, bury us alive, or rip the lid clean off.
29:41Once the roof caves even a corner, the 50 below air will flood in. We won't stand a chance.
29:45Sitting around doing nothing means certain death. We have to strike first. I glanced at Dad,
29:48still trying to rise, and pressed his shoulder down. Rest, Dad. Noah and I will go this time.
29:52Even though Noah couldn't talk, his clear, dark eyes were razor sharp, burning with a wolf cub's
29:55ferocity. He pointed to a spot on the map, gestured that it was cracking. It was a natural cavern
30:00zone deep inside the shelter, where the geology was highly unstable. Any significant vibration
30:03could cause a collapse. That would be our graveyard, and the thug's tomb as well. Noah and I strapped
30:07on gas masks and slipped into the tangled underground maze like two ghosts. Noah took the lead,
30:10quick as a monkey, not even needing a light in the dark. We started making noise on purpose,
30:14clanging on the pipes, to fake a panicked escape. Sure enough, the digging overhead stopped.
30:18Those greedy bastards heard us below, thought we were fleeing through a different exit,
30:21and charged after us like sharks smelling blood. Over there. Don't let them get away.
30:25Their chaotic footsteps boomed through the empty tunnel. Noah and I lured them into the cavern
30:28zone. The walls were draped with shaky stalactites, and cracks split the floor. Once we reached the
30:32mark, Noah dived into a crawlspace, barely wide enough for a kid. I ducked behind a boulder,
30:36clutching the grenade we had swiped from their truck. Blinding flashlights sliced around the corner,
30:39their cursing echoed closer and closer, so I yanked the pin and counted three seconds.
30:43Go to hell. The grenade arced through the air and landed by the cave's central support pillar.
30:47Boom. The blast was amplified a hundredfold in the closed space, loud as fuck. Then came the
30:51sickening crack of rock giving way. The ceiling collapsed like a line of dominoes, tons of stone
30:55and dirt crashing down. Their screams vanished under the roar and dust. Noah and I clawed our way back,
31:00the tunnel crumbling right behind us, like death nipping at our heels. We tumbled into the safe zone,
31:03and with a heavy thud, the tunnel was sealed. Silence. They were buried down there forever,
31:07but we paid for it. Every path to the surface was now blocked by our own cave-in. We'd really
31:12become underground dwellers now. The threat outside was buried under thousands of tons of earth and
31:15rock, shutting us off entirely from that brutal world out there. We couldn't leave, but in a
31:18messed up way, it felt safer like this. Day after day slipped by beneath dim lights in the steady drip
31:21of water. Dad's leg slowly healed under mom's careful nursing, even though he still walked with a
31:25limp. At least he could stand up again and tinker with his machinery. Noah was officially part of our
31:28family now. The kid couldn't talk, but he worked so hard it almost broke your heart. He took over the
31:31gardening jobs, keeping those dozens of foam planners in the basement neat and thriving. Thanks to the
31:34groundwater and grow lights, we finally harvested our first bean sprouts and even coaxed mushrooms
31:38out of the damp corners. When that pot of mushroom and canned meat finally hit the table, the smell
31:41was so good it made you want to cry. No killing, no looting, no scheming. Our family sat together
31:45around the table. Dad set a piece of meat on Noah's plate, and Noah grinned so wide I saw nothing
31:48but
31:49teeth. For a split second, the apocalypse felt like a bad dream. Half a year flew by. Our hair got
31:53longer, our clothes more worn, but our eyes were brighter than ever. One early morning, I did my usual
31:57check on the sensors tied to the outside world and froze. The thermometer that had been pegged at 50 below
32:01shot up to 20 below in just a week, and the reading kept rocketing. Dad, look at this. Dad walked
32:06over,
32:06stared at the screen for a long while, and instead of relief, his face grew even more serious. It's
32:10heating up way too fast. He muttered, this isn't back to normal. It's the pendulum effect. After the
32:14deep freeze, I'm afraid it's a hellish heat wave. Almost on cue, the sensor data flickered. The surface
32:19temperature was 0 degrees. The snow was starting to melt. For us living underground, that probably meant
32:23another nightmare, a flood. The rising temperature wasn't warming. It was savagery. In just three days,
32:27the thermometer went nuts. The mercury shot up from a hellish 50 below, rocketing non-stop,
32:31punching straight past 40 degrees. From deadly cold to blistering heat with zero transition in
32:35between. Boom, boom. A deafening roar shook the space above. It wasn't wind. It was water. Half
32:38a year's snow and ice melted in seconds under the scorching heat. The whole world turned into a giant
32:42steamer, then morphed into a raging flood. Water seeped through the cellar walls. Condensation beaded
32:47on the concrete. The air grew thick, sticky, and hot. Even sitting still, sweat poured non-stop.
32:51Submarine mode now. Dad tossed me a wrench, his voice urgent. We'd prepped for this long ago.
32:55We'd added three two-meter extensions to the vent pipe, so it stuck out of the ground like a
32:58periscope. Every drain was locked shut in reverse, sealed with a thick layer of caulk. Through the
33:02periscope, I saw the outside world. The once-white snowfield was gone, replaced by muddy, roaring
33:06yellow waves. The flood dragged dead trees, ice chunks, and smashed up car wrecks from God knows
33:10where, slamming into every bit of ground that stuck up. Our cellar felt like a submarine lurking in the
33:13deep. Glug, glug. The pressure kept climbing. The steel door let out a teeth-grinding creek. The water level
33:18is still rising. It had already swallowed the village rooftops. Dad stared hard at the pressure gauge. If water
33:21gets into the vent, we'll be stuck breathing off those oxygen tanks. Noah huddled in the corner,
33:24eyes wide as a dirty drip out from the ceiling. I walked over, wiped the small wet patch with a
33:27towel, handed him a compressed biscuit, and shook my head, telling him it was fine. But I knew if
33:31the water rose another meter, we'd suffocate in this metal can for good. The flood wasn't just
33:35water. It was a boiling pot of corpse soup. Through the periscope's blurry lens, I saw countless swollen
33:38things drifting on the surface. People. Animals. All rotting and fermenting in that scalding flood,
33:43turning the place into one giant petri dish. Even with all our filters, the air still carried a stench
33:46so foul it made you gag. The plague was here. Mom was wearing two masks, spraying disinfectant
33:50into every corner. One drop of water out there was deadlier than a bullet. That was the most ironic
33:54part of the apocalypse. Water was everywhere outside, yet the survivors were dying of thirst.
33:57If anyone cracked and drank that murky crap, cholera, dysentery, and typhoid would come for
34:01them on the spot. And us? We were huddled around a tiny table, sipping cool sweet water from an
34:05underground river, enjoying canned yellow peaches. That hidden river was our lifeline. Water bubbled up
34:08from deep underground, completely untouched by the surface filth. To stay safe, we cut off every bit of
34:12contact with the outside. We hardly even raised the periscope, afraid some killer germ would hitch a ride.
34:16We lived off our stash of oxygen tanks and an air purifier that was barely holding on. We kept it
34:19up for a solid month. Then one day, the maddening roar of water finally stopped. Dad slowly cranked up
34:24the periscope. Dried mud on the lens cracked and fell away, revealing a sliver of blue sky. The
34:27water's gone down. Through that gap, I saw the ground turned into a pool of black rotting sludge.
34:31Buildings, trees, bodies were all gone. Only a thick, reeking layer of muck covered the whole world.
34:36Yet in all that dead blackness, I spotted the faintest tint of green. Once the temperature held steady
34:40at about 25 degrees, and the dirt firmed up a bit, we decided to head back topside. Back then,
34:43to blow up the bastards, we'd seal the exit ourselves in a planned cave-in. Now it's the
34:46biggest thing keeping us from getting home. Dad scoped out the weakest spot and used our last
34:50little pack of explosives. Dust billowed everywhere. The long lost sunlight was like a
34:52golden blade, ripping through the cellar's gloom. I squinted, tears streaming from the glare. I drew
34:57a deep breath of the outside air, still earthy with a hint of rot, but it tasted like freedom.
35:01The four of us crawled out of the hole and stepped on what used to be Linton Village. The village
35:04was
35:04gone. Everything was gone. The old house, the walls, Mrs. Ward's little place next door,
35:07all of it leveled by the flood. The land looked scrubbed clean, like a wiped blackboard. Only thick
35:11silt and random trash remained. This soil, man, it's fertile. Dad crouched down, scooped up a
35:15handful of black soil, and rubbed it between his fingers. Bodies and rotten plants had turned into
35:17first-rate fertilizer. Noah dashed onto a rise, where a lone blade of grass had punched through
35:21the muck. He pointed at that splash of green, cheering. Ah, ah, let's work. Dad slapped the
35:26dirt off his hands. There was no sadness in his eyes, only a burning urge to rebuild. Treasures
35:29buried under all this mud. We can finally plant our seeds. We carved a veggie patch out of the ruins.
35:33After just a week, the first batch of cabbage poked through. Against the dead black-brown
35:36wasteland, those tidy rows of fresh green looked like flags of hope, fluttering in the setting sun.
35:40That's the color of life, brighter than gold. The radio had been dead silent for ages, until
35:43one afternoon, it suddenly sprang back to life. It wasn't that sneaky, hostile static anymore,
35:47nor the chaotic electric hiss. Instead, a woman's voice came through, so clear it could make you
35:50tear up. This is National Safe Zone 3. If you can hear this broadcast, head southeast and assemble.
35:54We're rebuilding our home. Dad's cigarette butt scorched his fingers, yet he didn't even flinch.
35:58He just stared at the battered radio like it was alive. The authorities are still out there.
36:01Order's still out there. Did we go? Mom stopped trimming the veggies, her eyes wavering. After all,
36:05it was a refuge for the group, a return to civilization. I looked out the window. In the sunset,
36:08our rebuilt greenhouse glimmered gold. The shelter entrance, now reinforced, stood like an unbreakable
36:12fortress. Groundwater murmured below. The generator thundered steadily, and the warehouse held enough
36:16food for ten years. Not going. Dad crushed the cigarette. His gaze suddenly razor sharp. If we go
36:19there, we're just refugees, numbers waiting for handouts. Here, we're kings of our own land.
36:23I nodded. After betrayal, killing, and brutal trials, we can't turn our backs to strangers anymore.
36:28Not even to the government. Right then, a long-lost rumble rolled across the sky. A helicopter with peeling
36:32camouflage paint skimmed past low, never slowing. And as it flew over Linton Village, it tossed out a huge bundle.
36:36The bundle splashed into the mud, spilling packs of compressed biscuits and a blizzard of flyers.
36:39I grabbed one flyer. It showed the safe zone map and a rallying call. Looks like the world really
36:43is changing back. Dad watched the helicopter fade. A complicated smile tugging at his lips,
36:46but we better just guard our own little place. We stood in the fading sun, protecting the patch
36:50of earth that's ours. As more and more survivors crawled out of hiding, Linton Village, now better
36:54known as the Linton Compound, turned into a legend for a hundred miles around. Across the silent brown
36:57wasteland, our place was the only splash of green. Cabbages, sprouting potatoes, cucumbers climbing all
37:01over the trellises. Rag-clad drifters passed by all the time, keeping their distance,
37:04their starving eyes locked on that patch of green, their Adam's apples bobbing wildly.
37:07You want a bite? Then earn it. That was my rule. No gold or silver, no cash, just labor.
37:12So the ruins suddenly filled with people hustling. Some shoveled out the muck, others patched the
37:16walls, all for a single bowl of hot potato soup. Inside this little independent kingdom,
37:20Noah was the brightest star. He couldn't talk, but he was born of the soil. Those small calloused
37:24hands worked straight up miracles. Seedlings that barely clung to life with Dad and me,
37:28would shoot up inches in his hands in just a few days. He never tired, strutting around like a general
37:31on patrol. Every row was his territory. One day, I caught a few drifters pointing and snickering at
37:35Noah, their eyes dripping contempt. He ignored them, scooped a heap of rich black soil, and spread it
37:40down the furrow like a pro. Then he plucked a spiny cucumber and bit into it with a loud crunch.
37:43The crack echoed across the dead plane. The drifters instantly shut up, their scorn flipping to raw envy
37:48and awe. In an age littered with starved corpses, anyone munching fresh veggies was royalty at the top
37:52of the food chain. Watching Noah stand tall in the sun, my heart swelled with pride. This is our home,
37:56an oasis blooming in the apocalypse, the legendary Linton compound. We were still shoveling out the
37:59sludge the flood had left behind. I was holding a shovel, working around the big locust tree that
38:02had been knocked sideways. It used to be the village's landmark, and it was where Jenny and
38:05Dave died. Clang! The shovel hit something hard. I bent down, pulled a shiny object from the black
38:10muck. I wiped it on my sleeve, and under the sun it flashed blindingly. A hair clip, studded with
38:15tiny diamonds. My mind snapped back to that afternoon before the apocalypse. Jenny had waved a $71,000
38:19check, slammed the door, chin high. She had posted the pic of the clip in moments that same day,
38:22said some women were born to save, but I was born to shine. Now this symbol of vanity and greed
38:27lay in my
38:27mud-stained palm. Still sparkling, but icy cold. In the sludge beside it, I dug up a few splinters of
38:33white bone, gnawed by wolves, soaked by the flood. Once living souls, my own kin, now just a pile of
38:38mud and a handful of nameless bones. There was no thrill of revenge, no soul-ripping grief, just a
38:42bleak sense of having seen it all. Wendy, is this pretty? For a moment, I felt like I heard little
38:46Jenny pouting behind me, begging for praise. I breathed in deeply, fished out a rusty candy tin from
38:50my pocket, polished the clip spotless, and set it inside. There was no headstone, no ceremony. I dug a deep
38:54hole at the roots, buried the tin, heaped the dirt back, and stomped it down hard. In the next life,
38:59let's not be sisters. Strangers would do. I slapped the dirt and straightened up. The setting sun washed
39:03the ruins in gold. I turned away, walked toward the cellar with smoke curling from it, and never
39:07looked back. Time was the cruelest blade in the world, yet also the softest cure. It was 2028,
39:11three years into the apocalypse. The linting compound was now in phase three of its expansion. What used to
39:14be a dank cellar was now linked to several abandoned shelters we had dug into, forming a vast
39:18underground ecosystem. Sunlight poured through triple-layer bulletproof skylights, glinting off the
39:21rodzo floor of the rec room. Dad crouched by the generator, wrench in hand, showing Noah how to
39:25replace a worn gear. His wounded leg still had a slight hitch, but it hadn't dulled his spirit one
39:30bit. His hair had gone gray, but his eyes were sharper, steadier than three years before. Noah was
39:34a full-grown young man these days. The orphan who once looked like a walking skeleton now had a barrel
39:37chest. Arms knotted with muscle. He signed as he worked, swiftly stripping the components. His gaze was
39:42as focused as an old craftsman's. From the kitchen came the rapid thought of a cleaver. Mom, apron on,
39:45was chopping pickles. She had filled out. In a world where people still butchered each other for a moldy
39:48slice of bread. Mom was worried about losing weight. That alone was obscenely luxurious. Wendy, grab that
39:53crock of pickled pothered mustard. We're steaming cured pork for lunch, Mom said. Voice full of life.
39:57I answered and hauled the jar from the climate-controlled room. Passing a mirror, I caught
40:00my reflection. My skin was pale from life underground, but healthy enough. A gun in my hand, grain in the
40:05storehouse, family at my side. That was our life. We weren't scraping by. We were living for real. The
40:09whole family crowded the table, soaking in that hard-won piece. Every dish there we had grown with our own
40:12hands. Looking at it all, I was overflowing with contentment. Sunlight flooded the room. Everything was
40:17perfect. This was our family photo. Three years on, and we were all still there. The wind chime at the
40:20lookout rang. It wasn't an alarm. It was the visitor's signal. A dusty caravan pulled up just
40:24outside our perimeter. Their rigs had special emblems spray-painted on them. They were beat up,
40:27but clearly well-maintained. It was a trade crew from the southern safe zone. After three years,
40:30humans had finally pieced together a fragile new order. Trade had replaced endless raids.
40:34I stood on the high wall, guns still in hand, but the muzzle pointed down. Their leader was a one
40:38-eyed
40:38guy. He craned his neck, staring at the string of dried chilies hanging from our wall. He swallowed hard.
40:42Ms. Linton, this batch is all here. That one-eyed guy had his men open the truck bed. Inside were
40:46barrels of
40:46gasoline, solar panel parts we were desperate for, and even a few boxes of sanitary pads and
40:50shampoo. We want veggies. Potatoes, sweet potatoes, cabbage, anything fresh, we'd take it all. The
40:54deal went down fast and wordless. When Noah hauled out a basket of cucumbers, still wet with morning
40:58dew, the caravan guard's eyes nearly popped. One reached out to touch, but the one-eyed guy smacked
41:03his hand away. Show some respect. This was Linton family produce. In the new world, we were no longer
41:06lambs to the slaughter. We were the ones with real resources. When the trade wrapped up, the one-eyed guy
41:09sparked a cigarette, took a long drag, and eyed our compound with envy. Word was, the Linton compound was
41:14paradise in the apocalypse. Seeing it today, it's true. I just grinned, saying nothing. Paradise? No.
41:19It was a fortress we bled to defend. The caravan rolled off, hauling our veggies, and hauling hope
41:22too. Maybe the world was really getting better. After the trade crew left, night fell. That night
41:26was New Year's Eve. No matter how crazy things got out there, we still celebrated. The underground
41:29dining hall was brightly lit. Warm yellow light washed over the wooden table, chasing away every trace
41:33of cold. That was the biggest meal we had had in three years. A giant bowl of braised pork with
41:36pickles
41:36and noodles. It was loaded with thick slices of pork belly. One plate of cucumber salad, fresh and crunchy,
41:40and a heaping platter of steaming hot dumplings. They were made with white flour. We had milled the flour
41:43ourselves from wheat we grew. It wasn't as white as the store-bought stuff, but the wheat aroma was
41:46amazing. Come on, Noah, that torn-skinned dumpling was the one you wrapped. You've got to eat it.
41:50Dad chuckled and put a split dumpling into Noah's bowl. Noah scratched his head, embarrassed,
41:53then broke into a wide grin, showing a mouthful of bright white teeth. He stuffed the dumpling in
41:55all at once. It was so hot, he started huffing and puffing. Mom switched on the old TV she had
41:58fixed up, hooked to a hard drive. Old comedy skits from decades ago flickered on the screen. The
42:02picture was a bit blurry, the sound crackly, but to us it was pure heaven. Canned laughter poured from
42:06the TV, and we laughed right along. We laughed until Mom's eyes grew misty. She wiped them, raised her glass
42:10of
42:10juice. To us, to our family, all together, not Semang Sanyi. Our glasses clinked with a clear,
42:15bright ring. Outside the window, the cold wind was still howling. Maybe out there, people were
42:18still starving and killing, but in here, right there, right then, there was hot food, there was
42:21light, there was Dad and Mom and my little brother. That was home. Even if it was hell out there,
42:24once
42:24the door was shut, that place was paradise. Looking at it all, I suddenly felt every bit of suffering
42:28had been worth it. Dad's eyes shone with the pride of the man in the family. On Mom's face was
42:32the
42:32simplest happiness. Noah's eyes sparkled because he had a home. Right then, I wished time would just
42:37stop forever. After our dinner, I stepped out of the cellar alone. The setting sun drenched
42:40the land in blood-red light. Standing atop the high wall, I looked down on this place that had
42:44once been nothing but ruin. Three years ago, it was a frozen hell strewn with corpses. Six months
42:47ago, plague-swollen bodies floated everywhere. But now, green plants blanketed the wreckage.
42:51The terraced fields we carved snaked down the hillside. Plastic sheeting on the greenhouses
42:54gleamed in the sunset. At the village entrance, the old locust tree where I buried the clip was
42:57budding. Its new leaves swaying in the breeze. Smoke curled from the cellar chimney, carrying that
43:01wood-fire smell, and shot straight into the sky. This wasn't just smoke. It was proof we were
43:04alive. It was civilization breathing. I touched my chest. No jade pendant. No magic space. No system. No cheat codes
43:08for us. All we had was that one afternoon when mom and dad sold the house in the car without
43:12blinking,
43:12and the countless nights spent hunched over blueprints, retrofitting the cellar, and the guts
43:15to pull the trigger when looters showed up. Kiddo, come grab some fruit. I cut up a watermelon. Mom's
43:19shout drifted over. Dad and Noah grumbled for me to hurry. I turned around and stared at that doorway
43:23glowing warm light. A smile slipped onto my face. Was the apocalypse over? Maybe not. Disasters might
43:27come back. Deep freeze, scorching heat, quakes, plagues. It felt like the earth is running a long
43:31immune response. But I wasn't scared anymore because I knew no matter what tomorrow brought, our family were
43:36a nail-driven deep into this land. Coming. I shouted and sprinted toward the light. The apocalypse would
43:40end, and we would go on living. And we'd live well.
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