Reborn Three Days Before the Apocalypse

Chapter 4

Just after midnight, Ethan checked the storage space again and froze when he saw the timer.

It had refreshed.

There were now one hundred and thirty minutes available.

His eyes narrowed as he tested it again. The unused time had carried over.

That changed everything.

Every second mattered in a disaster. Sometimes a single minute could mean the difference between escaping alive and being trapped somewhere forever. Ethan immediately decided that unless absolutely necessary, he would avoid entering the storage space and save the accumulated time for the worst moments.

With his supplies secured and the storage space serving as a final safety net, he finally felt somewhat prepared for what was coming.

He slept through the rest of the night without dreaming.

The next morning, a phone call woke him.

The contractors installing his reinforced doors had arrived.

One of the workers looked around in surprise. “You're really replacing the apartment doors with these?”

“There have been break-ins around here,” Ethan replied. “I want something stronger.”

The man pointed toward the locking mechanism. “These bolts are secure, but we'll need to drill into the floor and ceiling.”

“Do it.”

Ethan wasn't concerned about the apartment's condition anymore. His landlord had already moved out of the city for work, and after the coming disasters, the building wouldn't remain standing anyway.

The blast-resistant window installers arrived shortly afterward. Both teams worked throughout the morning, their drills echoing through the apartment.

Since it was the weekend, Ethan sent a quick message to the building's group chat explaining the noise and transferred a little money to the residents as an apology.

While the workers continued, he kept ordering food and supplies through delivery apps, spending most of what remained in his account.

Less than two hours later, the work was finished.

Ethan stood in front of the reinforced doors and impact-resistant windows, finally allowing himself to relax.

Then his phone rang.

He expected another delivery driver.

Instead, it was Marcus.

“Ethan, it's my birthday today. Are you coming?”

Marcus sounded cheerful, with music and laughter in the background.

Ethan's expression turned cold.

“Sure. Just wait for me.”

He already knew who was behind the invitation.

Claire.

In his previous life, Ethan had spent years chasing Marcus's approval while Marcus treated him like an inconvenience. Yet Claire had always been around, smiling sweetly whenever Ethan brought gifts or mentioned the pendant.

Now Marcus suddenly wanted him at his birthday party.

It made no sense.

Then Ethan heard Claire's voice faintly in the background.

His instincts immediately screamed at him.

How much did she know about the pendant?

Marcus clearly didn't know its secret, which meant Claire was probably the one pushing him to make the call.

Ethan grabbed his keys and went downstairs.

Marcus lived on the eighth floor, and even before Ethan reached the apartment, he could hear laughter spilling through the door.

He didn't stop.

He walked straight past and left the building.

Outside, the air was thick and oppressive, but powerful winds had already begun sweeping through the streets. A weather alert appeared on his phone moments later.

Typhoon Orion expected to make landfall at 9 p.m.

Ethan stared at the notification.

It had moved forward.

That wasn't good.

He immediately changed his plans and headed for Graybridge University.

The library would eventually be destroyed by the floods, so Ethan spent the next hour collecting medical textbooks, disaster-response manuals, survival guides, martial arts books, psychological conditioning materials, and anything else he believed could be useful.

He knew stealing from the library wasn't right, but those books wouldn't survive the coming floods. If civilization ever recovered, he would find a way to replace what he had taken.

Once outside, Marcus called again.

Ethan blocked the number.

He then drove to a large supermarket and walked around the building several times without buying anything. He knew there were still countless supplies inside, but his storage space was already packed, and he had no reason to waste money on bulky items.

As he left, the rental company called.

The storm had arrived earlier than expected, and they were shutting down operations. Ethan was supposed to return the vehicle by three.

He agreed, but didn't make it back until four.

By then, the wind was howling violently through the streets. The rental owner inspected the vehicle, then returned Ethan's $400 deposit.

Ethan took the money and decided to stop spending.

Back at the apartment, he opened his laptop, tablet, and phone and began downloading everything he could find: medical references, survival guides, cooking recipes, offline maps, emergency manuals, movies, music, documentaries, and practical guides.

Then a shipping notification appeared.

Ethan's heart jumped.

The polar-grade cold-weather suits.

He had completely forgotten about them.

They were supposed to have arrived the previous evening, but the seller had shipped late, and the storm had delayed the courier. The packages had finally reached the local station.

Ethan called immediately.

“We've suspended deliveries,” the employee told him. “But you can pick it up yourself before six.”

Ethan looked out the window.

The trees outside were bending violently, and the sky had darkened to an almost unnatural gray.

Without those suits, surviving the extreme temperatures that would follow the later disasters would be nearly impossible.

Ride-hailing services had already stopped accepting requests.

Ethan had no choice.

He grabbed his helmet, scanned a shared bicycle, and rode toward the courier station.

It was only about two miles away, but the journey felt much longer. Cardboard, branches, and pieces of trash were being thrown across the road by the wind. By the time Ethan reached the station, his clothes were soaked with sweat.

Inside, packages were piled everywhere because of the weather delays.

He rolled up his sleeves and began searching.

After more than ten minutes, he finally found the three enormous boxes.

Ethan grabbed them and headed outside.

The wind had become terrifying.

The sky was so dark it looked like night.

The moment he stepped beyond the doorway, a powerful gust struck him.

His feet left the ground.

Ethan barely had time to react before someone grabbed his arm and pulled him backward.

“Typhoon's here,” a man's voice said. “You shouldn't be carrying that outside.”

Ethan looked up.

The stranger was young, perhaps in his early twenties, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a sharp jawline and unusually calm expression despite the chaos around them.

Ethan thanked him, but the wind swallowed most of his words.

The man finished loading several packages into a large Hummer before glancing back at him.

“Where do you live?”

“Crownview Residences,” Ethan replied. “Could you give me a ride? I'll pay.”

The man nodded.

The back seat was already packed, so Ethan opened the front passenger door and stopped when he saw a little girl sitting there.

She looked about five years old, wearing a pink dress, with pale skin and large, frightened eyes.

The man glanced at her.

“Poppy, let him sit with you.”

Ethan carefully lifted the girl onto his lap and placed the boxes beneath his feet.

The Hummer pulled away.

Outside, the city had begun to disappear beneath the storm.

Branches flew across the road. Metal sheets clattered against buildings, and rain began pounding the streets.

A woman in a thin summer dress clung desperately to a utility pole, screaming for help as the wind tried to tear her away.

Ethan watched through the window, his expression hardening.

The storm had arrived.

The disasters had officially begun.