It was late June, and the world was baking under a scorching 100-degree Fahrenheit heatwave. My family was chilling in the living room, blasting the AC and munching on ice-cold watermelon. Me? I’d locked myself in my bedroom and cranked the heater to max. “Electricity isn’t free, you know? Turn that off!” my dad, Robert, bellowed. My brother, Kevin, sneered, “Too much studying has fried your brain! Hope you roast, you psycho!” “Open this door, or you’re sleeping in the hallway!” my mom, Sharon, threatened. I didn’t react. In fact, a faint smile played on my lips. Because they had no idea. Tonight, the global temperature would plunge by a hundred degrees. The extreme cold apocalypse was coming. “This station reports, abnormal high temperatures have persisted for ten days, and are expected to climb to 113 degrees Fahrenheit…” The late June sun was a blazing fireball, mercilessly scorching the earth. Outside my window, the leaves drooped, wilted and lifeless. Heat waves distorted the asphalt road. I stood by the window, sweat beading on my forehead and trickling down my cheeks, but my heart felt like a block of ice. I had been reborn. Memories from my past life flooded my mind like a tidal wave: After a prolonged heatwave, the sudden, extreme cold had paralyzed the city within hours. My family of four was trapped in this old apartment complex. Food spoiled quickly in the summer, and we had no stockpiles. Within five days, we were running dangerously low on supplies. Kevin, my brother, cried and howled every day from hunger. Mom and Dad took my last cookie to appease him. They completely ignored the fact that I’d had nothing but a sip of thin gruel for three days. Later, to survive, they sent me—their useless bookworm daughter—out to brave the elements and find food. I was dressed in flimsy clothes and searched for a day and a night. After endless hardship, I finally found some provisions. But when I returned, they not only snatched away the food and water but also locked me out. I curled up in the sub-zero hallway. I watched, helpless, as Mom, Dad, and Kevin sat around a warm hotpot, the steam blurring their smiling faces. What a cozy family scene. And I? I was locked outside, my fingers turning black from frostbite, my breath freezing into ice crystals on my eyelashes. I remembered Mom’s last look at me, as if I were a piece of worthless trash. “Better to freeze to death out there than waste our food here.” That was Dad’s last line to me, shouted through the closed door. “No one will fight me for food now!” Kevin cheered excitedly. And now, I was back. Back to the last day before the extreme cold apocalypse struck. My hand trembled as I pulled out my phone. June 30th, 9:17 AM. Less than fourteen hours until the global temperature plummeted. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and took a deep breath. This time, I wouldn’t be the naive fool who let herself be sacrificed. “Avery! What are you doing with the door shut in broad daylight?” Mom’s shrill voice pierced through the thin door, and I flinched. In my past life, at this very moment, I would have been in the kitchen helping her make a cooling drink for Kevin before his afternoon tutoring. I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror. Eighteen years old, fresh out of final exams, wearing a faded T-shirt, my bangs stuck to my forehead with sweat. Who would guess that beneath this innocent face lurked a soul that had experienced death? “I’m changing!” I casually replied, my fingers flying through the drawers. The scholarship envelope from school after my exams was still tucked under my textbooks—eight thousand dollars. Add to that my hidden earnings from part-time jobs and birthday money over the years, and I had a total of fifty-eight thousand six hundred and fifty-two dollars. This money might barely cover my college expenses, but in the final hours before the apocalypse, it was my lifeline. A sharp honk from outside startled me. A delivery truck pulled up downstairs. Something clicked in my mind, and I frantically opened my phone to check my delivery status. Before I was reborn, I’d bought a down jacket, thermal underwear, and a thick down comforter during an off-season clearance sale. They were all out for delivery right now. I quickly sent an urgent text to the delivery driver, then dialed Mr. Henderson, the hardware store owner. “Mr. Henderson, it’s Avery from Building 7. I urgently need a batch of construction materials…” After hanging up, I stared blankly at the family photo on the wall. In the picture, Dad had his arm around Kevin, sitting front and center. Mom sat beside Dad, smiling. I, however, stood awkwardly on the very edge, like an outsider. This photo perfectly summarized my standing in this family. A superfluous accessory.
“Knock, knock, knock!” A violent pounding on the door jolted me from my thoughts. “You lazy girl, how long does it take to change? Get out here and mop the living room floor!” Mom’s voice was laced with impatience. “Almost done!” I replied, even as I frantically placed orders on various delivery apps: Emergency rations, canned goods, water purification tablets, first-aid kits… My fingers flew across the screen, every cent spent with surgical precision. When I finally opened the door, Mom stood with her hands on her hips. She wore a cheap floral print pajama set, her hair messily tied up. “What took you so long?” She eyed me up and down. “You look pale. Heatstroke?” I shook my head, noticing the deepening lines around her neck. In my past life, on the third day of the apocalypse, it was her who strangled my neck with a scarf, forcing me to go out and find food. *“Anyway, you’re going to die eventually, so you might as well contribute to the family.”* “What are you staring at? Go bring in the laundry from the balcony!” Mom shoved me, then turned and walked towards the kitchen. “We’re having noodles for lunch. Fry three fried eggs. Kevin gets an extra one.” Just like always, there were no fried eggs for me. But this time, I didn’t complain. Instead, I walked silently to the balcony, already planning my renovation. My room was only about 65 square feet, but it was enough to transform into a mini-shelter. In my past life, when the apocalypse hit, our whole family huddled in the master bedroom because there was an old electric heater in there. But in temperatures of negative sixty degrees Fahrenheit, that bit of heat was completely useless. The midday sun was blindingly fierce. I mechanically gathered the clothes, all the while observing the building’s structure. We lived on the top floor, the sixth. There was no rooftop access, and the buildings were spaced far apart. This was both an advantage and a disadvantage: it would be hard for anyone to breach from the roof, but insulation was absolutely critical. “Avery, get me an ice-cold cola!” My brother Kevin’s voice drifted from the living room. I turned and saw him sprawled on the couch, playing on his phone, his T-shirt pulled up to reveal his pale, soft belly. In my past life, he was the first to suggest kicking me out: “She’s so smart; she’ll definitely find food.” I silently grabbed a cola from the fridge. As I handed it to him, I deliberately let the condensation from the bottle drip onto his phone. “Are you blind?!” He jumped up, suddenly enraged, and shoved me. I was prepared, sidestepping easily. He, however, stumbled from the force of his own push. “Avery! You made Kevin angry again!” Mom rushed out of the kitchen, a rolling pin still covered in flour in her hand. “He didn’t hold it steady himself.” I said calmly, watching Mom immediately turn to comfort Kevin, stroking his head as if he were a three-year-old. Fifteen-year-old Kevin, spoiled rotten, was a literal overgrown baby. Dad didn’t come home for lunch. He was a small manager at the district power company, always acting high and mighty outside. In my past life, when the apocalypse hit, he was the first to snatch the canned food I’d found. At 2 PM, after confirming Mom had taken Kevin to tutoring, I immediately got to work. Mr. Henderson arrived with two workers, hauling in materials: A blast-proof door, double-layered tempered glass, insulation wool, soundproofing panels… “Little lady, are you building a panic room?” Mr. Henderson chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. “We had a break-in,” I said, reciting my rehearsed lie. “My parents are busy with work, so they asked me to oversee the renovation.” During the three hours of construction, my palms were sweating from nerves, terrified my family would return unexpectedly. The workers, though curious, worked incredibly fast, spurred on by the extra payment. When the last insulation panel was installed, my small room had been transformed into a solid, insulated box. “This room could probably withstand a bomb now,” Mr. Henderson half-joked. “But little lady, are you sure you want to stay in here in this heat?” I smiled and paid them an extra five hundred dollars for their hard work. The moment they left, I began arranging the interior. The bed was pushed into a corner, making space for stockpiled supplies. My desk became a workstation. The closet was packed with cold-weather gear. Finally, I installed a simple deadbolt on the inside of the door. This was a lesson learned with my life. At 6 PM, I took a taxi straight to a wholesale warehouse supermarket on the city outskirts. Pushing two shopping carts, I swept through the aisles like a madwoman bracing for the end of the world: Twenty cases of bottled water, thirty bags of emergency rations, fifty cans of meat, five ten-kilogram bags of rice, solid alcohol fuel, first-aid medicines, vitamin tablets, freeze-dried vegetables… “Student, are you opening a convenience store?” the cashier asked curiously as she scanned my items. “School summer camp,” I quickly made up an excuse, my eyes glued to the time on my phone. 6:47 PM. Less than five hours until the apocalypse. In the delivery truck on the way back, the driver kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “Little lady, buying so much stuff. Are you moving?” “Yeah,” I mumbled, looking out at the bustling crowds. How many of these laughing, chatting people would survive tonight? News reports from my past life said the first wave of cold killed a third of the city’s population. When I finally hauled the last of my supplies into my room, it was already pitch dark. Dad, uncharacteristically, was home for dinner. He frowned as I walked in. “Haven’t seen you all day. Where have you been messing around?” “Friend’s gathering.” I kept my head down and hurried towards my room. “Stop right there!” Dad slammed his chopsticks on the table. “You’re getting more and more disrespectful. Can’t you even say hello when you see people?” I turned around, seeing three pairs of eyes fixed on me. Kevin still had food stuck to the corner of his mouth, his eyes full of malicious glee. “Dad, Mom, Kevin, I’m back.” I recited the words mechanically, then slipped into my room and locked the door without waiting for a response. Angry curses from Dad and Mom’s soothing voice drifted from outside the door, but none of it mattered anymore. It was 8:00 PM exactly. Four hours until the apocalypse. The first thing I did was switch the AC from cooling to heating, setting the temperature to the highest, 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Hot air immediately blasted from the vent, and the room temperature began to climb. In less than three minutes, the knocking started, just as I’d expected. “Avery! What the hell are you doing?! Turning on the heater in this weather?!” Dad roared from outside, the doorknob rattling violently. I didn’t respond, continuing to check my supply list. Drinking water, food, medicine, warm gear… Everything was in order. Most importantly, the small diesel generator and ten barrels of diesel, hidden in a secret compartment under my bed. “Electricity isn’t free, you know? Turn that off!” Dad started banging on the door with his fists. “Too much studying has fried your brain! Hope you roast, you psycho!” Kevin’s mocking voice rang out, followed by a dull thud as he kicked the door. “Can’t even use an AC right!” Mom’s voice was the most piercing: “Open this door, or you’re sleeping in the hallway! We don’t need such an undutiful daughter!” I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling the rising temperature in the room. Even as sweat trickled down my forehead and into my collar, a smile unconsciously spread across my lips. This time, it was you who were locked outside. I stared at the clock on my phone: 11:59 PM. The final minute. Sweat had already soaked through my T-shirt. The room thermometer showed 100 degrees Fahrenheit, but I stubbornly kept the heater on. This was necessary preparation: When the extreme cold arrived, a well-insulated room would cool down slowly, not instantly freeze. The numbers flickered, then reset to zero. 12:00 AM A strange, eerie silence suddenly enveloped the entire world. The chirping of cicadas, the hum of cars, even the sound of the wind – everything vanished in that moment.
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