Rebirth in the Age of Eternal Winter

Chapter 3: The Price of Warmth

The first scream tore through the hallway before dawn, sharp and panicked, shattering what little calm remained in the building.

Ethan had not been asleep.

He sat on the edge of his bed, fully dressed, his breath faintly visible in the dim light. The power had been out for hours, and the temperature inside the apartment had continued to fall despite every measure he had taken. Even the walls seemed to radiate cold, as though the entire structure had become a frozen shell.

The scream came again. This time, it was followed by frantic pounding on a door somewhere down the corridor. “Open up! Please just let me in! I’m freezing!”

Ethan’s gaze shifted toward his own door, his expression hardening as memories resurfaced unbidden. In his previous life, this had been the beginning, the moment when fear overpowered dignity.

When neighbors stopped being neighbors and began measuring each other by what they had and what they could take.

He stood slowly and walked toward the door, careful and silent. The pounding grew louder, accompanied by muffled voices arguing, pleading, and cursing.

Through the peephole, Ethan observed the scene.

A young man in a thin jacket stood outside Apartment 1007, his face pale, his lips trembling uncontrollably. His hands struck the door again and again, desperation evident in every movement.

Inside, a woman’s voice responded, tense and defensive. “I told you already, we don’t have space!”

“Please!” the young man cried. “My heater stopped working. I just need somewhere warm just for a few hours!”

A second voice joined from inside, deeper and colder. “If we let you in, others will come. Then what? We all freeze together?”

The young man’s shoulders sagged, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned against the door, his body shaking violently.

Ethan watched without intervening. This was the moment his past self had stepped in. He had opened his door, he had offered help, and he had paid for it with his life. This time, he remained still.

The hallway grew quieter, though the tension did not fade. The young man eventually slid down against the door, curling into himself in a futile attempt to conserve warmth.

Ethan stepped back from the peephole. His chest felt tight, though his expression remained composed. A part of him mall, persistent, and unwelcome, questioned his decision. Could he have helped? Would it have mattered?

He closed his eyes briefly, forcing the thoughts aside. Survival came first. Morality could follow if there was anything left of it.

A sudden knock broke his thoughts. Three firm, controlled knocks. Not frantic. Not desperate. Measured.

Ethan’s eyes sharpened instantly. He approached the door again and looked through the peephole.

Lena Carter stood outside, her posture steady despite the cold. She wore multiple layers, and her face, though pale, remained composed.

Ethan opened the door slightly, keeping the chain lock in place. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

Lena exhaled, a faint cloud forming in the freezing air. “The building’s heating system is completely down,” she said. “And the backup generators aren’t working.”

Ethan nodded once. “I figured.”

Lena studied him for a moment, her gaze flickering briefly to the faint mist of his breath. “You prepared,” she said, not as a question but as a statement.

Ethan didn’t deny it. “I started early.”

There was a brief pause before Lena spoke again. “I have medical supplies,” she said. “Basic ones. Bandages, antibiotics, painkillers. But I don’t have enough food or heating.”

Ethan remained silent, waiting. “I’m not asking for charity,” she continued, her voice steady despite the situation. “I’m proposing an exchange.”

That caught his attention. “Go on,” Ethan said.

“If things get worse, and they will, people will start getting injured. Frostbite, infections, panic-related accidents. You’ll need someone who knows how to treat those conditions.”

Ethan considered her words carefully. She wasn’t wrong. In his previous life, many survivors had died not from the cold itself, but from untreated injuries and illness. “You’re suggesting cooperation,” Ethan said.

“I’m suggesting survival,” Lena replied.

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Neither trusted easily, but both understood reality.

Ethan slowly removed the chain and opened the door fully. “Come in,” he said.

Lena stepped inside without hesitation.

The temperature in Ethan’s apartment was noticeably higher than the hallway, though still far from comfortable. A small portable heater hummed quietly in the corner, powered by one of the generators he had already set up.

Lena’s eyes flickered with recognition. “You moved fast,” she said.

“I had a head start,” Ethan replied.

He gestured toward a chair. “Sit. We’ll talk.”

As Lena settled down, Ethan retrieved a bottle of water from his storage space, careful to do so out of direct view. He placed it on the table in front of her.

She accepted it with a nod. “Thank you.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Then A loud crash echoed from outside. Both of them turned toward the door instantly. The sound had come from the hallway, followed by shouting.

Ethan moved swiftly, grabbing a metal rod he had prepared earlier. He approached the door and looked through the peephole.

His expression darkened.

The young man from earlier lay on the ground, unmoving. Standing over him were two figures. One of them was the tall man from the supermarket.

The other held a crowbar. “They’re looting,” Ethan said quietly.

Lena stood, her expression tightening. “They’re attacking residents already?”

Ethan nodded. “It’s starting earlier than expected.”

Through the peephole, he watched as the two men searched the young man’s pockets, then dragged his body toward the stairwell.

One of them laughed. “First one down,” the crowbar-wielding man said. “Plenty more to go.”

Ethan’s grip tightened around the metal rod.

Lena noticed. “You’re not thinking of going out there, are you?” she asked.

Ethan didn’t answer immediately; his mind raced. In his previous life, he had avoided conflict early on, focusing only on defense, but that approach had cost him. By the time he acted, the strong had already taken control. This time, he had an advantage: Preparation Resources, and now A partner.

Ethan turned to Lena. “If we let people like them grow stronger now, they’ll become a bigger threat later,” he said.

Lena frowned slightly. “That may be true, but confronting them now is risky. We don’t know how many there are.”

Ethan nodded. “I know.”

He looked back through the peephole. The hallway was empty again. The bodies were gone, but the message was clear. The rules had changed.

Ethan stepped away from the door slowly. His expression settled into something colder, more decisive. “Then we don’t confront them,” he said.

Lena raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Ethan met her gaze. “We outpace them.”

He walked toward the window, staring out at the raging snowstorm. “The stronger they become, the more they’ll rely on taking from others,” he continued. “But if we control resources… we control survival.”

Lena’s eyes narrowed slightly as she understood his meaning. “You want to build something,” she said.

Ethan nodded. “A system,” he corrected.

“A place where survival isn’t left to chance.”

The wind howled louder outside, rattling the frozen glass. For a moment, silence filled the room, not empty, but heavy with implication.

Then Lena spoke again. “And what happens to those who try to take it from you?”

Ethan’s gaze didn’t waver. “They won’t succeed.”

His tone carried no hesitation, no doubt, only certainty. But as he spoke, something strange happened. A faint pulse echoed through the air, subtle, almost imperceptible.

Ethan froze. He felt it again, not outside, but within. His chest tightened as a cold sensation spread through his body, deeper than the surrounding temperature. It wasn’t painful, but it was unfamiliar.

Lena noticed immediately. “What is it?” she asked.

Ethan didn’t respond because at that moment, a thin layer of frost began forming along his fingertips, and this time, it wasn’t coming from the cold.