Apocalypse Stockpiler: My Ex-wife gets nothing

Chapter 3

Jayden picked up the hotel keycard.

It was plain white, stamped with the logo of a boutique hotel across town. A room number was written on the sleeve in blue pen.

Summer glanced at it, and for half a second, her smile cracked.

"Oh, that's Dana's," she replied. "She gave me her spare. She's staying there while her apartment is being painted."

"Right."

"Give it back, Jay."

He handed it over. She snatched it and tucked it into her purse.

"You're being weird again," she muttered, and walked to the refrigerator. "We have nothing to eat."

"We have milk and eggs."

"That's not food, Jay. That's a chemistry experiment."

"Then cook something."

"Me?" She laughed, as if he had told a joke. "I have a headache. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about my dad."

"What about him?"

"The restaurant needs another loan, just a small one. Fifteen thousand. He'll pay you back by spring."

Jayden almost laughed. In the last life, he had paid that loan, and the next one, and the one after that. Her father had never repaid a cent.

He watched her the way he used to watch shipments arrive. Quietly. Counting.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, turned the screen toward her chest, and a small smile touched her lips. It was the smile of a woman reading a love letter.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Dana," she answered, too quickly.

Of course.

He turned away so she would not see his face.

**********

The moment Summer disappeared into the bedroom, Jayden snatched his phone and called a number he had not dialed in three years.

It rang twice.

"Jay?" The voice was warm and a little hoarse. "Man, I was literally about to text you."

Marcus.

Jayden closed his eyes. In his last life, Marcus had died on the highway in the first week of the storms, trying to reach his daughter.

"Marcus," he began. "Listen. I need you to do something for me."

"Sure. What's up?"

"If you can, buy some extra food this month. Canned food. Water. Blankets. A good coat for your daughter."

There was a pause.

"You okay, man?"

"I'm serious. Just do it. Get enough for a few months."

"A few months?" Marcus laughed uneasily. "Jay, are you in some kind of cult?"

"No."

"Did you watch one of those doomsday documentaries again?"

"Marcus, I'm telling you, something is coming."

"What's coming?"

Jayden opened his mouth.

Red sky. A cold that kills. Storms that tear the roofs off of houses. Monsters in the snow.

He could hear how it would sound. A man in a quiet kitchen, whispering about the end of the world.

"Never mind," he muttered.

"Jay..."

"Forget it. I'm tired."

"You're scaring me a little." Marcus's voice softened. "Come visit this weekend. We'll grill some burgers. You can tell me everything."

In the background, a small girl's voice shouted, "Daddy, is that Uncle Jay?"

Jayden's throat closed.

"Tell her yes," he managed. "Tell her I'm bringing her a present."

"What kind of present?"

"A good coat."

Marcus laughed. "She'll love that. Fine. Weekend, then. Don't make me chase you."

"I'll try."

"You always say that."

Jayden hung up and fixed his eyes on the wall.

That was the problem. Nobody would believe him. Nobody would stock up, nobody would prepare, and nobody would listen. If he told the truth, they would call him insane. If he kept silent, they would die.

And if he saved only himself, he would be no better than the woman who had left him on the floor.

His chest tightened.

How many people could he save with one year, a rented apartment, and a salary that barely covered his wife's shopping?

How many would he have to leave behind?

He did not have an answer. He only knew that the old Jayden would have tried to save everyone and ended up saving no one.

The new Jayden would have to make harder choices.

And he was not sure he would like the man who made them.

**********

Summer came out of the bedroom in a silk robe, drying her hair.

"Are you going to work?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Before you go, can you pay my mother's electric bill? It's due Friday."

"I'll look at it."

"Look at it?" She frowned. "Jay, it's two hundred dollars. Just pay it."

Jayden turned and studied her.

Really studied her.

The shape of her jaw. The faint gold dust on her cheekbone that had not been there yesterday. The red mark on her neck that she had tried to cover with her hair.

Not from him. He had not touched her in weeks.

"What?" she demanded, her smile slipping. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason."

"You're being so strange lately."

"Lately?" Jayden echoed. "I only woke up an hour ago."

She laughed uncertainly.

"Jay, seriously. My mother is going to sit in the dark if you don't pay it."

"Then your mother can pay it."

Summer blinked. "What did you say?"

"Nothing. I told you I'll look at it."

He had never refused her anything in six years. He watched the shock flicker across her face, and he felt a tiny, bitter pleasure. It was small and petty, and it felt like the first warm breath after a long winter.

Then he made himself bury it. Pleasure was not the goal. Preparation was.

He did the math as he put on his shoes. Eleven thousand dollars in savings. A car worth maybe eighteen. A salary that disappeared into rent and her credit card every month.

It was nothing. It was not even a drop in the bucket of what the end of the world would cost.

But he had one thing nobody else on earth had. Knowledge. And knowledge, handled properly, could be turned into anything.

He walked to the door and picked up his keys. His hand stopped over the hook in the hall closet where he kept the black camping duffel. It was empty and folded, with the tag still on it.

"Not yet," he told the bag under his breath.

Then he opened the door.

Summer's voice floated after him, soft and sweet.

"Jay? You always take care of everything, don't you?"

He froze.

Those were the same words. The same tone. The same smile she had worn when she packed his food into a bag.

His fingers dug into the doorframe.

"Yes," he answered quietly, without turning around. "I used to."

He walked out, and he did not glance back.

But as the door closed, he heard her voice again, low and urgent, speaking into her phone.

"He knows something. I'm telling you, Trevor. Something is different about him."