Day 112, 4/10, Saturday
The weather had turned chilly, and the morning mist had yet to disperse.
Doleia drove her newly modified off-road vehicle slowly along the outskirts of the city. The phone mounted in front of her displayed the GPS destination: Life Pharmacy.
Thanks to Cassidy's expert modifications, the engine now purred with a steady, powerful hum, and the tires rolled over the pavement with a low, reassuring rumble.
A small, well-hidden solar panel on the roof quietly fed electricity to the vehicle. While long distances still required fuel from the tank, it was clear that the solar panel was more than enough for short trips.
Today's mission was simple: Doleia needed to pick up the medical supplies she had pre-ordered online from Life Pharmacy, pay the remaining 50% of the deposit, and store everything in the abandoned warehouse she had rented long ago, sealing it all together with the furniture she had stockpiled previously.
The warehouse, located in a far corner of an industrial zone, looked dilapidated from the outside but had a solid internal structure.
No one ever came by this place—if they did, they certainly wouldn't venture inside. It was discreet enough, and only ten minutes' drive from her base.
Doleia was very satisfied with that.
Keeping a low profile, she lightly pressed the gas pedal and made her way through the city, eventually stopping in front of the pre-arranged Life Medical Supplier.
This supplier only served wholesale clients, and it was rare to see individual customers here. Before stepping out of the car, Doleia donned a mask and a baseball cap. Once inside, she walked straight to the front desk and showed her account number.
Upon seeing it, the receptionist picked up the walkie-talkie clipped to her chest, brought it close to her lips, turned slightly toward the mic, and said softly, "Client 3362 has arrived. Escort her to the warehouse for pickup."
Then, she nodded at Doleia and motioned for her to follow the employee who had just approached.
Doleia silently followed the staff member, weaving through towering shelves into the back storage area.
Shelves were stacked with all kinds of medicines and medical equipment. The air was thick with the mingled scent of disinfectant and plastic.
She pulled out the invoice from her previous order and began methodically matching each item, loading them into the metal cart prepared by the staff.
Cold medicine, fever reducers, antibiotics, antiviral drugs, gauze, antiseptic solution, a portable blood pressure monitor, first-aid kits…
She also took several useful medical devices along.
Her movements were swift and precise, like a soldier executing a calculated military operation.
Suddenly, a quiet dispute broke out on the other side of the shelves.
"Ma'am, like I said, we have no surplus stock. Everything was ordered days ago!"
"Please, I'm begging you. My child's had a fever for days, and it won't go down. All the pharmacies are out of stock…"
Doleia turned her head slightly and saw a middle-aged woman holding a frail child, anxiously pleading with a staff member. The child's cheeks were flushed, and he leaned weakly against his mother, clearly lacking strength.
The staff member spread his hands helplessly, indicating there was nothing he could do.
A thought flashed across Doleia's mind.
Out of stock? Could it be that someone else also knows about the zombie outbreak two months from now and has started stockpiling supplies?
Her gaze lingered on the mother and child for two seconds before she turned away. She didn't step forward, didn't get involved.
—She had a mission. She couldn't afford to expose her resources recklessly.
After gathering all the supplies, she returned to the counter to settle the remaining 50% of the bill, including the medical equipment she had just taken. Then, she quietly picked up a box of fever medicine from the cart.
As she passed by the mother and child on her way out, she discreetly slipped the box into the woman's shopping cart without leaving a trace—and walked away without looking back.
The apocalypse hadn't begun yet, and in the apocalypse, pity could be fatal.But the child needed medicine. And if he had medicine—he might have a chance to live when the end comes.
Mission complete, Doleia loaded all the medical supplies and equipment into her vehicle and returned to her rented warehouse. Inside, she neatly stacked everything alongside the beds, desks, kitchenware, and other materials she had purchased earlier.
The iron doors slammed shut. Dust swirled in the still air, as if nothing had ever happened.
Everything was in order.
-----
One month had passed in a blur of relentless activity.
At the construction site, machines roared, and the crew worked around the clock, never stopping, even for a moment.
The survival base was gradually taking shape—
The waterproofing layer was reinforced, and the foundation stood dry and solid;
The walls were coated in thick layers of anti-mold paint, gleaming faintly in shades of grey and white;
Doors and windows were fully installed, all made of tempered glass and heavy-duty blast-proof materials—security to the highest degree;
The lighting system had been powered on, with every single tube glowing like daylight, illuminating every corner;
The underground drainage system had passed all tests, and even the backup generator had gone through three rounds of load experiments.
Whenever she wasn't training, Doleia personally supervised the construction, checking every detail with precision.
Gradually, those in the construction team who had doubted her from the start fell silent.
Though her blueprints weren't perfectly technical, her demanding standards and insightful suggestions always hit the mark.
Marc—the once-proud veteran who leaned on his past experience—finally called her "teammate" instead of "Miss Doleia" during a training session.
That day, the air at Marc's house was still and quiet.
Doleia only nodded slightly, her expression unchanged, as if all this had been rightfully earned through her persistence.
But deep within, a subtle yet burning sense of emotion began to bloom.
She didn't need everyone's approval—just time, and a little unshakable resolve.
-----
Day 139, 18/11, Tuesday
It's now less than a month remaining before the apocalypse comes.
The wind at the end of autumn grows ever sharper, carrying dry dust as it whips through the alleys and streets.
Once again, Doleia takes the wheel of her car, which she was already getting used to from practicing these two months. On the road, James truck was driving alongside her car. The two vehicles move side by side, both heading toward the city's largest supermarket.
All Doleia told James was that these items were to be stored in the shelter for her when she decided to go over. But in truth, she knew this was her final sprint to stock for the apocalypse, for her and her loved ones.
James didn't suspect anything at all and agreed to go along with her and give her a hand, helping her in whatever he could. After all, he really did earned lots and lots of money from her.
Besides what they are paid for the construction project, she also gave incentives for working 24 hours by shift and for completing something perfectly according to her requests.
Today's goal is not hard yet not easy: to stockpile long-lasting food, cooking oil, canned goods, seasonings, snacks, and essential daily supplies.
They need to take as much as they can in their trolley, pay for the items, put them in Doleia's car and James' truck, then repeat the process.
Hopefully, they don't look weird for people who realizing them doing what they are doing.
Upon arrival, she and James swiftly begin bulk purchasing. Time and discretion were of equal importance.
The supermarket, being a weekday, has only a handful of scattered shoppers.
Most people remain unaware of the looming storm. Their minds are still wrapped in the mundane rhythms of everyday life—rice, oil, groceries, and the little things.
Doleia and James split up, each pushing a cart, weaving quickly through different aisles to fasten up the process.
Rice sacks, flour, corn oil, bottled water, canned goods… Everything was loaded systematically, item by item into Doleia's cart.
Suddenly, a small, skinny, pale hand reached out from beside her, trying to grasp a tin of powdered milk on the high shelf.
A little boy, on his tiptoes, strained but couldn't reach it. He tried and fail, but still doesn't give up.
Doleia paused and looked down at him.
After a brief moment of hesitation, she asked in a calm, even voice, "Need help?"
The boy looked up at her, cautious beyond his eyes.
His big eyes blinked as he silently assessed her. Then, slowly, he gave a small, shy nod.
Doleia grabbed the milk powder and handed it to him after she sees the hardly noticeable nod.
The boy took it from her hands slowly and hugged it to his chest and murmured quietly while looking at her, "Thank you…"
The brief interaction ended quickly.
But just as she was about to leave, she noticed a woman walking briskly from a distance—clearly the boy's mother.
She looked deeply exhausted. She was carrying a few cheap canned goods and packs of instant noodles. Her expression was flustered, her clothes worn, and hair in a messy low ponytail. The dark circles under her eyes made her look like a skinny panda.
Doleia couldn't help but imagine—what if this was her own mother? She wouldn't bear to see her like this…
How much was she going through to end up in this situation?
Without thinking further, she pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, tore a portion, and scribbled a few lines before folding it and slipping it swiftly into the boy's coat pocket as he passed by.
"Stock up. As much as you can. Keep whatever you can eat or use at home. And do it fast."
No name. No explanation.
She watched the mother and son walk away, her hand clutching the corner of her coat.
Then she shook her head, pulling her thought back to reality.
She couldn't be like this.
She couldn't save everyone when the apocalypse came.
She didn't expect to change the world—only to try and offer a warning.
Just as she was doing for herself.
-----
Nightfall.
Under the warehouse's bright lights, workers were busy moving truckloads of furniture, preparing to transport them to the shelter.
James' team was clearly ahead of schedule, a lot, as usual.
The already-installed steel doors and windows shimmered with cold metallic light in the dark.
The greenhouse had nearly been completed; the transparent domes trembled softly in the night wind.
In the future, vegetables would grow there, and fish would swim in the artificial pond—offering the shelter a measure of self-sufficiency.
Chickens, ducks, pigs, cows, and sheep had already been arranged for relocation to the livestock pens.
Though James' team specialized in construction, it turned out they weren't that bad at handling at livestock either.
All that remained was to complete a full disinfection to the pens and animals.
Inside the shelter, everything was steadily falling into place.
Darryn had just finished helping to move the last duck into its new pen when Doleia called out to him.
He was James' guy in charge of the electrical system—technically brilliant, along with a bit free-spirited.
Per Doleia's earlier instructions, he now crouched nearby, inspecting the newly installed solar panels and the various trap-trigger systems they had salvaged from the city. He'd already helped on the surveillance cameras and PC's before he's got into this.
From time to time, he raised her an "OK" gesture, assuring her his progress was going smoothly and successfully.
Everything was slowly approaching the beginning of the end.
-----
Standing at the shelter's front gate, the wind howling around her, Doleia took a deep breath. Her heart beat a little faster.
Tension. And something else—something like anticipation.
She knew these five months had only been the beginning.
The true test would come in just one more month.
Though the shelter was not fully from completed, what lay before her was enough to stir heat in her chest.
The sunset bathed the compound in a soft golden glow, outlining its silhouette in hope.
Doleia withdrew her gaze, turned, and walked towards the command room where her PC's are set-up. There, she placed her working table as well, already imagining her future daily routine in this room.
There were plans to finalize—internal drills, inventory inspections, new task rotations...
From this point on, every day would come with a goal, a checklist, a purpose.
The world was quietly approaching its own end. But she had already taken the first step.
She had built a last line of defense—for herself,for her family,and for the friends she hoped to bring into safety before it was too late.
Once construction was fully complete, she would find a way to bring her loved ones here.
She would make excuses if necessary—anything to get them into the shelter.
She couldn't bear to see those she loved—those who loved her—turn into lifeless, mindless corpses that bit and clawed at every living human they got into.
Even the thought of it was too terrifying, they brought tears to her eyes.
One warm droplet slipped silently down her cheek, landing on the fabric of her shirt, blooming like a delicate, tragic flower.
In a whisper that sounded almost like a vow, she said:
"This… will be the place we survive. Our new home. Our new hope..."