Cold Apocalypse: My Wife's Betrayal

The Zero-Degree Betrayal

The wind that was blowing at sixty degrees below zero did not merely freeze my skin; it tore through my bones like glass.

However, the physical pain could not be compared to the sound of my wife laughing on the other side of the steel door.

Let the useless dog freeze, Marcus. The sweet, familiar voice of Elena was heard drifting through the ventilation grate. And he is too stupid to live long anyway. Gimme that last slice of steak.

I was lying on the frozen concrete balcony, my blood literally becoming ice in my veins. I could not see clearly as I gazed at the frost that was on my hands. I had struggled through a hungry, mad crowd at the meat depot to carry that meat home. I had cut a knife to the ribs and bled three miles in the fatal snow, just to feed the woman I loved.

And she handed the food over to the man she had been hiding in our bed.

"You're so bad," Marcus chuckled, his shadow moving across the frosted windowpane. "But you're right. Why share our heat with a loser? He fulfilled his mission. He took us dinner.

I tore at the frozen door, and my fingernails broke off and left bloody streaks upon the white metal. I was no longer able to feel my legs. My heart beat became slow; each beat was like a hammer beating a frozen anvil.

During three years I acted as the poor, faithful son-in-law. I had to bear the daily insults of her mother. I cleaned their floors. I gave Elena my entire paycheck. I even concealed my real name, as I was the only heir to the trillion-dollar Vance Conglomerate because Elena once told me that she despised rich, arrogant men and wanted a simple life.

How feeble a jest. She did not want a humble life. She desired a sightless slave.

When at last the hypothermic darkness began to drag me down, I ceased to scratch at the door. I stood and watched the snow falling, and my heart had become as numb as it could possibly be, both physically and emotionally.

And should heaven be blind and grant me a second opportunity... I will spare no mercy. I will allow them all to freeze.

My heart stopped.

Then, I gasped.

My eyes were opened. I did not find myself in the midst of blinding white snow. I was looking at a plaster ceiling that was of low quality. It was not less than sixty degrees; it was stiflingly hot. My lungs were burning, and I was sucking huge gulps of air, and my body was dripping with cold sweat.

I got off the little living room couch and fell on the floor. My hands leaped about my ribs. There was no knife wound. I examined my fingers. They did not have frostbite and were not black. They were even in good health.

Shaking, I took my phone out of my pocket. The bright screen almost blinded me.

November 12th.

I felt my breath stuck in my throat. My mind was racing as I stared at the date. On November 15th the eternal winter, the day the sky turned grey and the temperature dropped to fatal levels, occurred.

I had not just survived. I had regressed. I was precisely three days prior to the cold apocalypse, which wiped out ninety percent of mankind.

The voice of a news anchor was buzzing through the television in the corner. A sudden, large, cold front is heading towards the northern hemisphere, and the citizens are being advised to remain indoors over the weekend.

I slowly stood up. I went up to the mirror that was hanging in the hallway. The man who was looking back at me was a young, healthy man, but his eyes were absolutely different. The gentle, servile look of the affectionate husband was dead. Behind me were the eyes of a cold-blooded survivor. A beast.

I was interrupted by the opening of a bedroom door.

Elena entered the hall in a transparent silk robe. Her hair was dishevelled, and there was a slight red spot on her neck. I would have believed that it was a bug bite in my previous life. Now I knew just what it was. Marcus was probably cowering in the closet at the moment as he always did when I came home early on my shift.

She stared me in the face, her lovely features at once turning into a sneer of horror.

What the hell are you doing lying on the floor like a dog? she demanded, crossing her arms. You will only stand there? Make breakfast and transfer your paycheck to my account today; I need to get new winter boots. Don't be useless once in your life, Kaelen.

I heard her voice, the very voice which had laughed, and I had stood stock still to die.

My fists clenched. I had a momentary urge to put my hands around her neck and break it. But that was too easy. The apocalypse was a mercy, death. The real penalty was to survive in the freezing hellscape with no food, no heat, and no hope.

I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I just smiled. It had been a cold, blank smile, which made Elena step back abruptly.

What... what do you smile at, you creep? She stammered, her pretense to confidence crumbling.

Without a word, I walked past her. I headed directly to the loose floorboard of the corner of the living room. I tore it open, and her shouts were disregarded. Out of the concealed compartment I drew a shiny, obsidian-black credit card. The card of the Vance Family Trust. It owned ten billion dollars.

I got on my feet and took my duffel bag by the door.

What are you doing? Elena screamed, and her face flushed with simulated indignation. I am addressing you! What do you suppose you are going to do?

I stood in the front door and glanced over my shoulder. I looked at the woman I once bled for.

"I'm leaving," I said, my voice as hard and cold as the ice that killed me. We're over. You can have the apartment, Elena.

I opened the door, and the cool autumn breeze fell on my face.

"Consider it your tomb."

I banged the door behind me, silencing her shrill voice. I didn't have time to waste on dead meat. I had now seventy-two hours in which to prepare. I needed an underground fortress. I required loads of food, arms, and medicine. And I had to be prepared when the mutated creatures would breach the city walls.

I strolled out of the apartment building and hailed a taxi, throwing the driver a hundred-dollar bill.

"First Imperial Bank," I said. "Step on it."

An hour later I entered the marble lobby of the most exclusive bank in the city. I went to the VIP desk. A fat, arrogant man, who was called Mr. Sterling, looked me up and down. Seeing my cheap clothes, he sneered.

Excuse me, sir, this is a section of elite clients only, so I am waving my hand like it is a fly that I am shooing away. The normal teller lines are out of doors.

I didn't speak. I just put the obsidian-black Vance card on his mahogany desk. The cracking noise reverberated in the quiet lobby.

Sterling's arrogant smile froze. His eyes were bulging as he gazed at the gold dragon crest impressed on the black metal. He started sweating immediately, as he knew the symbol of the richest family in the continent.

"I need to take out fifty million dollars in cash, and I need a wire transfer to a private military bunker," I said, leaning over the desk to make him see how absolutely the murder was in my eyes. And when you keep me waiting above five minutes, I will purchase this bank and send you into the streets.

Do you understand?"