My mother left me to freeze to death.

Her lover and my brother helped.

They stole my supplies. My food. My generators.

All for an apocalypse only I knew was coming.

The last thing I felt was the ice in my veins.

Then… I woke up.

It's seven days before the world ends.

My family is waiting for me, smiling.

This time, I’m not bringing supplies.

I’m bringing hell.

————————

1

I once worked for a discreet overseas climate research firm. It was there I discovered an imminent catastrophe we called the “Extreme Cold Apocalypse,” and I quit on the spot.

But before I left, I was bound by company regulations and a strict non-disclosure agreement. I had to keep this terrifying knowledge to myself.

After getting off the plane, I took a cab back to the house I owned in the suburbs of Pennsylvania. I hoped to convince my mother, Peggy Reed, and my younger brother, Mason Reed, to join me in the shelter I’d prepared, where we could hoard supplies and ride out the apocalypse.

My mother, Mason, and his wife, Chloe, were all visibly shocked to see me.

For years, while living abroad, I had faithfully sent money home to cover all their expenses. They were living, rent-free, in a house registered under my name.

The three of them had been living a life of leisure at my expense, and it was clear my return was an unwelcome disruption.

I glanced into what used to be my room and found it cluttered with junk.

When my mother saw me, her face fell. “Why are you back so suddenly?”

Chloe was looking down, scrolling on her phone. She glanced up, a sly look in her eyes as she decided to test the waters.

“Ava, I saw on the news that your research company is going through massive global layoffs. You didn't get fired, did you?”

At her words, Mason paused his game and turned to stare at me.

News of the layoffs at my company had indeed gone viral recently.

Clearly, they had all seen it.

Not wanting to reveal the real reason for my return, I went along with their assumption, claiming I’d been laid off and was home for good.

This time, my mother’s expression completely collapsed. Still, she put on a show of being happy, cooking a few dishes to welcome me home.

Back then, I was naive, blinded by a desperate hope for familial love. Exhausted from jet lag and believing I had a week to prepare, I decided to rest. After dinner, I went to a guest room and slept until dawn.

But I woke to the horrifying sensation of being dragged across the floor.

The person dragging me was our neighbor of many years, David Davies.

As I opened my mouth to scream, he shoved a filthy rag into it.

My mother glared at me, her eyes cold as ice. “You ungrateful brat! Can’t believe you lost your job and still have the nerve to come crawling back! There’s no room for you here!”

“You're going to give us your bank passwords and the deeds to all your properties! Once we have everything, then we’ll think about letting you go.”

A foolish glimmer of hope ignited within me. Unable to speak, I just looked at her pleadingly, trying to convey that I’d agree to anything just to get out of there.

But those bastards locked me in the unheated basement. The emergency generators and heating equipment I'd ordered on my credit card were all delivered right to them. And what was my reward? They locked me in the frigid basement to die on the very first day of the apocalypse. I could hear the hum of the heating system upstairs as my life slowly seeped away in the biting cold.

The agony of freezing to death jolted me awake. I blinked, realizing I was in the back of an Uber.

Rolling down the window, I felt the cool air on my face and finally came to my senses. I was reborn.

The weather was pleasant, deceptively mild. There was only a week left until the end of the world.

Today was the day I returned to Pennsylvania, one week before the Extreme Cold Apocalypse was set to arrive.

This time, I gave the Uber driver a new destination. A short while later, I was dragging my luggage into a nondescript motel.

However, I'd already called home from the airport, so my mother knew I was back. Not showing up would make her suspicious.

After settling in, I went home carrying only a shoulder bag. I told them I was just in town for a business trip and had to leave soon, but wanted to stop by for a quick visit. I added that a colleague was waiting for me downstairs.

My "colleague," of course, was a man I'd hired for this very purpose.

My mother glanced out the window and saw the tall, burly man leaning against a car. Her wariness was immediate, and her tone became much more polite.

“It’s so rare for you to be home. Why don’t you stay for a meal? Chloe, dear, could you pop out and get some groceries?” my mother instructed.

Chloe nudged Mason with her foot, then clutched her stomach and whined, “Oh, but I’m in my early pregnancy! Mom, I’m carrying your grandson. The doctor said I need to rest.”

“I can’t carry heavy things, you know!”

My mother’s concern for Chloe was instantaneous. “My mistake, I forgot! Mason, you go!”

Mason was glued to his computer, engrossed in a game. He had no intention of moving.

I feigned surprise. “Chloe, you’re pregnant? That’s wonderful news! In that case, Mom, don’t cook! Let me treat everyone to a big meal at the best steakhouse in town to celebrate!”

That steakhouse was the most expensive restaurant in the area. As expected, the lure of a free, fancy meal was too much for my mother and Chloe to resist. After a few token protests, they were dragging a reluctant Mason out the door.

I told them to head over first, claiming I’d already made a reservation. I’d meet them there after my colleague and I wrapped up our business.

Of course, they didn’t doubt me for a second and hurried off toward the restaurant.

Once they were gone, I pulled the pinhole cameras I’d bought from my bag and began installing them in hidden corners of the apartment.

As a former top engineering student, I knew my way around electronics. I took a wrench from my bag and got to work on the central heating system and the water heater, tampering with a few key components.

My sabotage ensured they would run normally for exactly six more days before suffering a catastrophic, irreversible hardware failure.

When the time came, every heating device in this apartment would die.

Later, I joined them for dinner at the steakhouse and found my mother had also invited Mr. Davies. Her excuse was that he was such a good neighbor, practically family, so he had to be there for our little celebration.

I scoffed internally at her excuse.

Oh, yes. A helpful neighbor indeed. So helpful he even kept her company at night. And she’d only invited Mr. Davies, not his wife. In a way, this meal was a chance for the real family to get together.

Still, I didn’t skimp. I ordered the most expensive tomahawk steaks and bottles of fine red wine. I was certain it would be the last lavish meal they would ever eat.

After some light chatter, I made my excuses about work and left them to enjoy their feast.

I had already wasted too much time and energy on them.

Now, I had to use my limited time to hoard supplies.

While abroad, I had already rented a remote cabin hidden deep in the Appalachian Mountains.

The next day, I went to the rental agency and signed a one-year lease.

Since I had a license to drive large vehicles, I rented a U-Haul truck.

Then, I began a massive shopping spree at a superstore.

First, I bought cases of canned goods, freeze-dried foods, vitamins, and medicines, and loaded them onto the truck—enough to last a year.

Next, I hit the outdoor section, buying a diesel generator, a wood-burning stove, a massive supply of firewood, and layers of thermal clothing. I even contacted a security installation company and scheduled them to fortify my cabin.

Leaving the superstore, I spotted a pharmacy across the street and went in to stock up on antibiotics, painkillers, disinfectants, and first-aid supplies.

Anticipating the potential for violence during the apocalypse, I had already ordered self-defense gear online: a taser, a retractable baton, a switchblade, and a personal alarm.

These supplies cost me nearly a million dollars, almost half my savings, but they would ensure I could live comfortably for a year.

The cabin had a solid stone foundation, a three-story structure with a spacious basement perfect for storing all my supplies.

To my delight, the cabin's best feature was a well in the yard, from which I could draw clear, fresh water. I immediately filled every container I could find, including the bathtub.

After that, I hired a crew to add extra insulation and steel shutters to every window. The main entrance was replaced with a blast-proof door, and all access points were fitted with fingerprint locks keyed only to me.

Just then, a delivery company called—the supplies I had ordered from overseas for my family had arrived.

Naturally, I had no intention of letting them have it. I intercepted the shipment and paid an extra fee to have them expedite the delivery to my cabin.

Because the cabin was so remote, the comings and goings of the past few days went completely unnoticed.

A week later, the Extreme Cold Apocalypse arrived right on schedule. The temperature plummeted to forty degrees below zero Fahrenheit. I sat comfortably before my roaring fireplace, sipping hot cocoa, and activated the surveillance feed from my mother’s home.

Activating the cameras, I was stunned by what I saw. The apartment was a house of horrors. Every camera angle showed the floor covered in a viscous, dark red liquid—blood—frozen into a grotesque, icy sheen. Even through the screen, I could imagine the coppery, metallic stench mixing with the smell of rot.

Oh? Did they manage to die before the apocalypse even officially started?