The Apocalypse Exchange: I Can Trade Anything

Chapter 2: A Sliver of Hope

Ryan stayed braced against the door, the paring knife trembling slightly in his grip.

Someone was slamming a fist against it from the other side, hard enough to rattle the frame.

"Open the door, you bastard! Open it right now!"

Ryan sucked in a few slow breaths, forcing his hammering pulse to settle.

"You think I'm stupid? Get lost."

"You son of a bitch if we starve, you're not walking away clean either."

"Don't tempt me to drag those things up here and let them sort us all out together."

That landed. Ryan's eye twitched.

"...Together, huh?"

"Think it through before you get us all killed. You'll turn first. Then you'll go after your own parents. Your wife. Your kid."

"You really want that?"

The pounding on the door stopped cold.

"...Man, I don't have a choice."

"I can't just sit here and watch my kid starve. That's not something I can live with."

"So your solution is to rob me and let me starve instead?"

"I already gave you food."

"I know what I'm doing is messed up, man. But nobody knows when help's actually coming."

"We can ask once. Can we really ask you again? A third time?"

"You've clearly thought this through. But I'm no saint, so don't push your luck."

"Come on, man you already said you'd help us."

"That's all we're asking. Just enough to keep the kid going a little longer. Please."

Ryan shut his eyes and muttered to himself.

"I'm not a saint. I am not a saint."

"...God, I'm such a pushover."

He grabbed the plastic bag he'd already packed and peered through the peephole as he spoke.

"This is the last time. All of you stand by the door."

Once the couple across the hall was in position, he continued.

"Back into your own apartment. I want to see your whole family first."

They obeyed. The woman pulled the elderly man out into the hallway, while an older woman carried the baby.

Ryan exhaled and rested his hand on the doorknob.

"Now close your door."

The second their door clicked shut, Ryan cracked his own open, hurled the bag across the hall, and slammed it again.

Through the peephole, he watched the woman dart out, scoop up the bag, bow toward his door, and hurry back inside.

Ryan retreated to his bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress, thoroughly disgusted with himself.

Not because he'd shared food if help never came, that little bit wouldn't have kept him going much longer anyway.

What bothered him was that he'd handed supplies to someone who'd just tried to break down his door with clear, hostile intent. Sure, the baby had been the deciding factor. But did that really excuse being an easy mark?

He smacked himself in the forehead a couple times.

"Ryan. Wake up."

"This might genuinely be the end of the world. You understand what that means?"

"Everybody's desperate right now. Survival comes first. Full stop."

Somewhere between the self-lecture and the exhaustion, he drifted off.

He dreamed of an impenetrable bunker. He dreamed his old plan had actually worked the millions saved, the interest rolling in, enough to buy every supply he'd ever need and ride out the apocalypse in comfort.

He woke to screaming and crying rising up from the street below.

Groggy, he looked down at people sprinting in every direction and couldn't make sense of it who would risk the infection just to go outside?

Then he noticed the power flickering, and his stomach dropped.

He grabbed the remote and started flipping channels.

Static. Static. Static. Every single one.

His heart sank straight through the floor.

Between the weather and the infected, people had been holding on by threads. Now even the broadcasts were gone the last lifeline for everyone still waiting at home for rescue, severed.

Ryan understood exactly what that meant. No more communication meant whatever fragile order still existed was about to collapse completely.

This was it. The real end.

That's when he remembered the dream.

"Man, I wish that dream had actually been real."

He picked up his phone, ready to scroll through three years of banking history his hard-won proof that he'd once tried to build something.

The balance staring back at him made his chest tighten.

But then the phone did something it had no business doing.

It flickered and appeared to hover in front of him, even though, when he glanced at the mirror across the room, there was no phone reflected in his hand at all.

"...Huh? What is going on?"

"Did my phone mutate?"

His pulse spiked. A wild theory started forming.

The screen shifted. Every app he'd ever downloaded vanished, replaced by a single icon he didn't recognize.

"The Exchange of All Things?"

"The Exchange no way. This is it. This is the golden ticket."

"All Things. That's about as broad as it gets."

Say what you want, but Ryan had read enough web fiction to know exactly what this was the second he saw it.

Hands shaking, heart pounding, he tapped the icon.

Four modules loaded: Mailbox. Bank. Exchange. Search.

He opened the mailbox first.

The Exchange of All Things.

Every account holder earns 1 Survival Point per day, simply for staying alive. Survival Points may be redeemed for supplies including but not limited to weapons, food, transportation, energy, and shelter.

Survival Points may be deposited into your Bank.

Reach 50 points and unlock Tier 1 status: earn 1 point of interest daily.

Reach 300 points and unlock Tier 2 status: earn 2 points daily.

Reach 600 points and unlock Tier 3 status: earn 3 points daily.

Tier status also unlocks higher Exchange tiers.

Note: reaching a certain point threshold will automatically grant VIP status.

Ryan scrolled to the bottom, looking for details on VIP perks.

Nothing. The page just ended.

Not that it mattered right now. He clicked straight into his balance, practically laughing.

Even with interest compounding, hitting a serious number would take a decade minimum. And without any points banked right now, survival wasn't exactly guaranteed either.

After backing out of the mailbox, Ryan opened the Exchange module.

A quick scroll showed row after row of everyday survival gear, all priced in points.

Then he spotted a magnifying glass icon in the corner a search bar.

He typed:

"Freezer."

Not quite what he wanted. He tried again.

"Biological cryo-chamber."

"Still not it..."

"Hibernation quick-freeze pod."

"Carbon-based organisms may be flash-frozen and safely revived after standard thawing. Requires Exchange Tier 6. Cost: 600 Survival Points."

"Any notes on it? ...Requires an external power source to operate."

He searched again external power source, hibernation pod and pulled up the pricing.

"Damn, a full year of freezing runs 30 points. So a decade would be 300 points. That's... actually not insane."

He scoffed at himself. "Not insane he says, when he can't afford it anyway."

Still, no harm in window shopping. He pulled the listing back up and noticed a smaller line of text underneath.

**"WARNING: Hibernation pod integrity must be maintained at all times during use. Unauthorized activation or tampering voids any guarantee of successful revival."**

"...Yeah. Useless. Completely useless."

His little daydream popped instantly. He'd been hoping to find some miracle setup freeze for ten, twenty years, wake up, and just cash out on accumulated interest. Dead end.

Deflated, he backed out of the Exchange and checked the Bank module instead. His eyes went wide.

"Wait 15 Survival Points?"

"A sign-up bonus?"

"That's a pretty stingy welcome gift."

Then another thought hit him. His real-world savings had been just over $1.5 million.

If the conversion rate was roughly 100,000-to-1... that tracked almost exactly.

"Come on, it was $1.58 million. Round up and that should've been at least 16 points."

The complaint was mostly just adrenaline talking the giddy arrogance of someone who'd just discovered they had a cheat code.

Points in hand, Ryan reopened the Exchange. Whatever happened, he needed to actually spend something partly to shake off the frustration of having currency he couldn't use, and partly because he wanted to see how exchanged items would even show up in his hands.

Shopping with actual purchasing power felt entirely different from window browsing.

He settled on four items fast:

Nutrient Formula Oral supplement providing a full day's essential nutrients, gradually improving physical condition over time. 1 point.

Combat Suit Moderate defense rating. Effective against piercing damage. 5 points.

Handgun Includes two 17-round magazines and a suppressor. 5 points total.

Straight Sword, Carbon Steel 2 points.

He'd weighed these carefully. Sure, flashier gear existed in the catalog but the price tags matched the hype.

The suit and the gun were pure self-preservation. If staying in the apartment stopped being an option, they'd be non-negotiable.

"Alright nutrient formula first, just to test it. Then the gun and the blade."

The moment he confirmed, the items registered as purchased. A package icon blinked twice at the bottom of the screen.

His balance dropped to 7 points.

He mentally reached for the package icon, and sure enough, the interface shifted to an inventory screen.

A second later, just by thinking about it, the item materialized directly in his hand.

The nutrient formula was small barely a mouthful. He tossed it back; it tasted like watered-down lemonade. No dramatic surge of energy, no glow, nothing cinematic. He just rolled his stiff shoulders and felt marginally looser.

Next he turned his attention to the knife and the gun.

The combat suit was simple enough just put it on. The weapons were another matter entirely.

The handgun, especially. Ryan's entire firearms experience consisted of plastic toys as a kid. Without practice, he wouldn't even manage to flip the safety off in an emergency.

Over the following three days, he stuck to ramen and sausage for meals. He knew the nutrient formula was a strict upgrade with zero downsides but he wanted to hit 50 banked points first, so he could start living off the interest instead of burning through principal.

During those three days, he got a real feel for his new ability especially the Search function, which turned out to be just as valuable as everything else combined.

It worked like a search engine, surfacing exactly the knowledge he needed. A hundred ways to prepare instant noodles. Proper technique for rigging a snare trap.

Out of curiosity, he searched: how to survive the apocalypse.

The top result: eliminate the self-sacrificing do-gooder within yourself first.

Ryan nodded along, dead serious.

He glanced at his balance 10 points saved then at his dwindling food supply, and figured the internet had a point.