The Apocalypse Reborn; No more Sacrifice

Two

CHAPTER TWO

When Julian unlocked his apartment door late that evening, the place was dead silent. He expected Clara to be waiting with folded arms, ready to scream her head off about his absence and the frozen credit cards. Instead, the lights were dimmed, and her designer handbag was missing from the front hallway table.

He walked into the kitchen. The refrigerator was nearly empty, save for a carton of sour milk and half a loaf of moldy bread. On the marble counter sat a handwritten note scrawled in Clara's angry handwriting.

"Julian, you are a selfish, miserable failure of a husband. Because of your pathetic games and financial nonsense, my mother had to pay for her own groceries today. I am staying at my mother's house with Marcus until you grow up, apologize, and transfer five million naira into my personal account. Do not bother calling me until you are ready to beg."

Julian stared at the note, a slow, cold smile spreading across his face. Beg? She thought he was going to beg. She had packed her bags and walked right out of his life, saving him the trouble of throwing her out himself.

He picked up the note, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it straight into the trash can. Then he walked over to her side of the master closet. True to her word, half of her expensive clothes, shoes, and cosmetics were gone. She had taken all her favorite things, leaving behind only junk and broken promises.

Without wasting a single second, Julian called a locksmith. Within forty minutes, a professional locksmith stood at his door, replacing the heavy front door deadbolts and installing high-security digital smart locks that could only be opened with Julian's fingerprint and private passcode.

"All done, sir," the locksmith said, wiping his hands. "That lock is practically a bank vault now. Nobody is getting in here without your say-so."

Julian paid the man generously and locked the door behind him. He walked through the quiet, spacious apartment, feeling a deep sense of peace wash over him. No more nagging. No more financial blackmail. No more toxic family members draining his energy and treating his home like a hotel.

He pulled out his phone, blocked Clara's number, blocked her mother Elena's number, and blocked Marcus's number. Permanent silence. For the first time in his adult life, he belonged entirely to himself.

Over the next two weeks, Julian worked like a machine. By day, he pretended to go to work, but his real job was fortifying his apartment and transferring the rest of his hidden supplies from the downtown bunker directly into his secure storage unit in the building basement. He installed heavy steel mesh over his apartment windows, backed by thick thermal curtains designed to trap indoor heat when the external temperature plummeted.

The city outside continued its normal, noisy routine. People walked around in light jackets, complaining about traffic and rising food prices, completely unaware that deep in the upper atmosphere, a massive polar vortex was shifting out of place, gathering strength like a sleeping monster ready to destroy everything in its path.

Julian sat on his comfortable sofa, sipping warm tea while watching a documentary on survivalism. His pantry was packed to the ceiling with food, his water reserves were secure, and his doors were locked tight against the outside world. Let the storm come. He was ready.

Three weeks had passed since Clara walked out. The weather outside had stopped making sense. November was usually warm and humid in the coastal city, but overnight, the temperature dropped twenty degrees. A freezing grey mist settled over the streets, turning puddles into thin sheets of brittle ice.

People on the streets finally started wearing heavy coats, grumbling about the strange weather on the morning news. Meteorologists looked confused on television, stammering through explanations about abnormal atmospheric pressure and unusual jet stream movements, but none of them understood the real terror that was approaching.

Julian's phone, which he had left on silent in a desk drawer, vibrated continuously. Even though he had blocked Clara and her family, they had started calling from unknown numbers and neighbors' phones. He finally powered on an old backup phone just to see what nonsense they were spewing.

Dozens of furious text messages lit up the screen.

"Julian, pick up the phone right now! My mother's house has no heating gas left, and the cylinder is empty!" — Clara.

"You useless idiot, send money for firewood and food immediately! Are you trying to starve your wife's family?" — Elena.

"Bro, my car battery died in this crazy cold weather. Send me fifty thousand naira for an Uber right now." — Marcus.

Julian read the messages with a completely blank expression. Not a single ounce of pity touched his heart. In his past life, when the real blizzard hit, they had locked him out in the snow while eating warm soup by their fireplace. Now, they were whining about the cold weather before the actual apocalypse had even begun.

He deleted all the messages, blocked the new numbers, and tossed the phone back into the drawer. Let them freeze. They made their bed in the snow; now they could lie in it.

There was a knock on his apartment door. Julian walked quietly down the hallway, peering through the high-definition security camera monitor mounted by the door.

Standing in the hallway was Victor, his next-door neighbor. Victor was a tall, rugged man in his late forties who worked as a marine engineer. In Julian's past life, Victor had kept to himself, but during the early days of the disaster, Victor had tried to help neighbors share resources before gangs took over.

Julian opened the door a crack, keeping the security chain securely fastened.

"Julian? Hey, sorry to bother you," Victor said, rubbing his hands together to stay warm in the chilly hallway. "Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but my smart thermostat is showing the indoor temperature dropping rapidly, and the city gas mains seem to be failing. Do you happen to have any extra portable heaters or spare propane tanks? I am willing to pay top dollar."

Julian looked at Victor's tired, honest face. Victor wasn't a parasite like Clara's family; he was a practical man who saw the writing on the wall.

Julian unlatched the chain and opened the door fully. "Step inside, Victor. It's warm in here."

Victor walked into the apartment, instantly feeling the wave of comfortable indoor heat. He let out a long breath of relief, looking around the well-organized living room with wide eyes.

"Man, it feels like a tropical resort in here," Victor said, blinking in surprise. "How do you have so much heat running? The whole building's heating system went dead twenty minutes ago."

"I prepared," Julian said simply, walking over to the kitchen counter and pouring two cups of hot coffee. He handed one to Victor. "And you're right to be worried, Victor. This isn't just a normal cold snap. The electrical grid is going to fail nationwide within the next two weeks, and the temperature is going to drop past anything this city has ever seen."

Victor took a slow sip of the coffee, staring intently at Julian. There was no hesitation in Julian's eyes, no joking tone. Just absolute, terrifying certainty.

"You sound like you know something the rest of us don't," Victor said slowly.

"I just pay attention to reality," Julian replied, leaning against the counter. "If you want to survive what's coming, Victor, you need to seal your windows, stock up on non-perishable food, and get a backup generator right now. Because once the snow starts falling for real, nobody is coming to save us."