Ethan and the two women pushed three heavily loaded carts back into the residential complex.
Along the way, many neighbors saw them and couldn't help whispering to each other.
Ethan didn't care.
Some neighbors had already seen him shopping earlier, and with Rachel and Ashley spreading gossip like wildfire, the whole complex would know soon enough.
There was no point in hiding.
He already knew that when the end came, many people would try to storm his apartment for supplies.
He had lived through it once before.
But this time?
He would be ready.
Let them see.Let them starve.Let them rage—while he sat back and watched.
Ethan lived in one of the apartment towers with Rachel and Ashley.
Because he worked as a warehouse supervisor at Walmart, neighbors often asked him to help score discounted goods.
Everyone knew him.
Now, seeing him return with cartloads of groceries, one nosy old lady walked over with her grandson in tow.
She was Mrs. Lindell, a self-important woman who served on the neighborhood committee and acted like she ran the place.
In the past, she always tried to get free or cheap stuff from Ethan.
And in his previous life, when the neighbors broke into his apartment, she was one of the most aggressive.
Now, spotting the fresh cuts of beef and lamb in Ethan's cart, her eyes lit up.
"Ethan, my dear, what's with all this food? Warehouse clearance?"
"So much! You can't finish it all. Why not share a little with your neighbors?"
Ashley quickly spoke up, not wanting to get involved."This is all Ethan's. We're just helping him carry it."
Mrs. Lindell turned her eyes back to Ethan, smiling wide.
"I see, I see! Warehouse leftovers, huh? Mind sharing a bit with good ol' Mrs. Lindell?"
As she spoke, her grandson—a snot-nosed little brat—climbed into one of the carts and snatched a box of imported chocolates.
The kind that went for over $30 a box.
Ethan snatched it back without a word.
His eyes were cold.
"Sorry. I'm keeping this for myself."
He didn't bother pretending to be polite.
Mrs. Lindell's smile vanished."You…"
Her voice trembled with suppressed anger.
Especially when the brat started wailing, demanding the chocolate.
"Oh come now, he's just a child. Why not give him a box? I'll pay you back later."
Ethan sneered.
"You want it? Go buy it yourself."
He turned to Rachel and Ashley. "Let's go."
They walked off as Mrs. Lindell started shouting behind them.
Ethan didn't look back.
Her son and daughter-in-law worked out of town.She raised the kid alone.She only ever bought enough groceries for a day or two.
When the world froze over, they were one of the first to run out.
Last time, Ethan gave them food out of pity.
This time?
Let them rot.
It wasn't cruelty. It was survival.
After unloading everything at his place, Ethan dismissed the two women.
"Don't forget that dinner you promised!" Rachel said playfully, winking at him.
Ethan almost gagged.
He forced a smile and waved them off.
They were hoping to snoop around for more signs that he was secretly rich.
But seeing how uninterested he looked, they gave up—for now.
Once they left, Ethan opened his spatial dimension and stored all the supplies.
Then he watched.
Would the space affect them? Would they spoil?
He needed to know.
By the time he finished, it was late.
He didn't rest.He grabbed a notebook and started planning.
"To live comfortably in the apocalypse, food comes first."
That part was easy.
He could stock up from Walmart's warehouse.But he needed to time it right.Wait too long, and it would be too risky.
"I'll hit the warehouse right before the collapse. Don't want anyone catching on."
Next:
"Heat."
Once power and gas were gone, electric heaters would be useless.
He needed something primitive.
A fireplace.
Simple. Effective. Time-tested.
"I'll have to renovate. Add insulation. Reinforce the structure."
He shuddered, remembering how his home was broken into before.
"No. I'm turning this place into a fortress."
Steel panels. Reinforced walls.Strong enough to withstand explosives.
People would do anything to survive.He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Luckily, in Oceanview City, private security companies offered high-end panic room services.
He remembered one billionaire building a fortress that could withstand small-scale explosives.
"Next: Medicine."
Walmart's stock included basic over-the-counter drugs—cold meds, fever reducers.
But that wasn't enough.
The ice age could last decades.
He needed everything.
Thankfully, he had connections.Hospital warehouse workers.With the right price, anything could be bought.
Ethan tapped the pen against the notebook.
"Last thing… weapons."
When society collapses, fighting becomes the norm.
You want to live?You need power.
He wasn't some martial arts master, but who needed kung fu when you had gear?
"Machetes, crowbars, axes. Easy.""Crossbows, air rifles—I can source them.""The good stuff? American steel. That'll require black market connections."
He rubbed his chin.
It wouldn't be easy.
But with money and time?He'd make it happen.
After three hours of planning, Ethan finally stepped into a hot shower.
Then curled up on his soft bed.
The next morning, he woke groggy.Nightmares had interrupted his sleep several times.
But waking up in a warm bed brought a wave of relief.
He would not go through that again.
He made himself breakfast, then opened the spatial dimension.
The fruits and vegetables were still perfectly fresh.Not a single spot of decay.
Even the meat looked untouched.
"This space… it must have a different time flow. Maybe even frozen time."
If that were true, he could store anything.
Except…
The fish he'd stored had all died.Still lifelike, but clearly dead.
"So living creatures can't survive in there for long. Guess I won't be moving in myself."
That was fine.His own home was more comfortable anyway.
And now he had another idea.
If he could store fresh produce… what about prepared meals?
He could cook for himself, sure.But that would get old quick.
Why not stock up on gourmet meals?
He picked up his phone and dialed the most luxurious five-star hotel in the city.
"Good morning, this is Providence Grand Hotel. How may I assist you?"
Ethan didn't hesitate.
"I'm hosting a multi-day event and need to order five hundred banquet tables' worth of food. Can you handle that?"
There was a long pause.
Even for a five-star hotel, this was an enormous request.Each table cost at least $500–$600, meaning the order was well over $300,000.
The receptionist stammered, "Uh… please hold. I'll get the manager."
A moment later, a calm voice came through.
"Hello, sir. This is Charles Denton, General Manager of the Providence Grand. May I have your name?"