Chapter 3: Twelve Hours to Survive

My heart leapt. I quickly said a friend wanted to rent it as a grocery warehouse, and asked if he could show me around first.

Mr. Grady agreed, and I followed him out into the blazing sun to the stand-alone building. He opened the main door.

The metal handle scorched my palm, but I kept my poker face. I needed to see this place for myself.

I checked the place out carefully.

Last time, I’d been too desperate to notice the layout. Now I saw everything.

The building had two floors. Upstairs, office space. Downstairs, a massive open area—over 2,000 square feet per floor.

They’d connected the basement warehouse below and even built a ramp for moving goods.

As soon as we entered the underground storage, a chill hit me.

Even with 100-plus outside, it was maybe 50 down here.

I touched the wall. Insulation and heatproofing—just as I’d hoped.

Perfect.

There was also a small room in the warehouse, even colder.

Inside were five or six huge freezers, probably left behind by the last company.

The door connecting the warehouse to the basement was a thick security door.

Most important, just steps from that door was the massive blast door of the underground parking’s storm shelter.

Once locked, it was totally cut off from the garage. Even explosives might not get through.

This was it. I nearly wanted to shout with excitement.

I tamped down my emotions and nodded at Mr. Grady. This place was perfect; my friend would be thrilled.

I pretended to make a phone call to discuss, then rented the place on the spot.

As for the freezers left inside—perfect, I could use them.

So I contacted the previous tenant and bought all the freezers for a depreciated price.

Back at management, we signed the contract in record time.

I’d already checked my savings at the office.

I maxed out my credit cards and online loans—over $80,000 ready to go.

Last time, I only remembered the warehouse after the apocalypse started.

Honestly, even if I’d gotten in, I wouldn’t have lasted long without proper prep.

So now, these next twelve hours were my lifeline. I had to prep as much as possible.

Anyway, soon, money would be the least valuable thing in the world.

Mr. Grady was clearly happy to see me act so fast—probably thinking about his commission.

He offered me a cigarette and asked if there was anything else he could help with.

I paused, thinking about the upstairs layout.

Last time, I’d broken a window and climbed in from outside. That was my next problem to fix.

Time was way too tight to hire a full crew to reinforce every door and window.

But I’d figured it out: if I could get someone to weld steel bars onto all the windows and seal them with boards, it’d keep out trouble.

By then, with nearly 160 degrees outside, no one would last long trying to break in.