When Grandpa Joe suddenly passed away, he left two houses behind. Aunt Karen, usually tight-fisted about everything, chose the old, rundown place, leaving the high-value, centrally located school district property to us. We were surprised but didn’t think much of it and signed the paperwork. But as we were finalizing everything, I caught a glimpse of Aunt Karen’s thoughts. “Ha! You think you got a deal, huh? I chose the safe zone, and in a few days, you’ll all roast to death!” “We’re not fighting you for it this time; we’ll take Maplewood Grove Apartments!” Aunt Karen declared. The four of us exchanged baffled glances. Grandpa Joe had just passed away three days ago, and after rushing through all the arrangements, we’d finally gotten through the funeral. Aunt Karen and her family had shown up halfway through, showing not a trace of grief; if anything, they seemed excited. I could guess why—she was likely hoping to avoid contributing financially, something she’d done countless times before. For years, we’d shouldered the expenses for Grandpa’s needs, from everyday essentials to medical costs. Aunt Karen’s only child, Ryan, had dropped out of school early and regularly asked Grandpa for money. Dad had always said it was only for Grandpa’s sake that he didn’t cut them off entirely. Now that Grandpa had passed, he figured we’d sever ties for good. We fully expected a big showdown over the inheritance today, with Aunt Karen kicking up a storm given the two houses’ vastly different values. But Aunt Karen had suddenly volunteered to take Maplewood Grove Apartments. Maplewood Grove was an old community complex from decades ago. Its neighborhood was run-down, mostly occupied by older folks. Young people wouldn’t even consider it. Riverside Gardens Apartments, however, was in the heart of the city, close to everything and right next to a top school. “Karen, are you sure about this?” Dad asked, like he was double-checking one last time. “Of course, I’m sure! You signing or what? We’ve got things to do!” she snapped, looking at us like we were wasting her time. Dad glanced back at us, then went ahead and signed his name. “Finally! What took you so long?” Aunt Karen blurted, a huge grin on her face, unable to hide her glee. Uncle Roy gave us a strange look as if he knew something we didn’t. As they turned to leave, I heard that familiar, sharp voice in my head again. “John thinks he’s getting a freebie? Ha! I’m back from the future, honey! I got the safe zone first. In a few days, they’ll burn up! Let’s see them beg me for help then!”
On the way home, the more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. “Dad, Mom, Rachel—are you sure none of you heard what Aunt Karen said?” “Nope. Are you sure you’re not just stressed out and hearing things, Jessie?” Rachel asked, half-joking. It wasn’t impossible, but it didn’t seem likely either. Something about what she’d said—about a “safe zone” and coming back from the future—was just too strange. To be cautious, I told them what I’d heard. “A safe zone? From the future?” Rachel was still in college and had the lighthearted skepticism of her age. “Maybe, maybe not. Better to be safe than sorry. Rachel, pull up Aunt Karen’s Facebook,” I said, handing her my phone. It looked like they’d just left the lawyer’s office and went straight to Maplewood Grove. She’d posted a picture of herself inside the apartment. The place was covered in dust and badly rundown. Grandpa had moved to a new place years ago, leaving this one empty. “Read her caption,” I told Rachel. She read it, her eyes widening. Aunt Karen had written, “Who cares if this place isn’t fancy? You’ll all be jealous soon enough. You’ll be begging me, and I won’t even look at you!” “Sis, this…” Rachel looked worried, and then thoughtful. Mom, who’d seen it too, now looked serious. “Jessie’s right. Better to be cautious than caught off guard. John, we’d better prepare,” Mom said.
Back at home, the four of us sat down in the living room to hold an emergency meeting. With Dad and Mom discussing and my adding in what I’d overheard, we pieced together a theory: the heat was about to get much, much worse. The human body can’t survive past about 136 degrees Fahrenheit without dehydration. If it was really about to reach those extremes, it might be as high as 140 degrees. “Elaine, you and Jessie check prices and make a list of supplies. I’ll take Rachel to Willow Bend and start setting up. If all goes well, bring everything over,” Dad said. Willow Bend was Mom’s hometown. Her parents had been farmers, and when they passed, they left their land to Mom. Once Mom got a steady job in the city, she’d stopped tending it. Later, there were rumors about the land being seized for government projects, so she left it idle. But Dad’s focus wasn’t on the land; it was on the old bunker nearby, built decades ago during wartime. The entry point was hidden near the farmland. Willow Bend had become a ghost town, with only a handful of elderly residents left. It was the perfect spot to quietly set up. “John, should we consider selling Grandpa’s other house?” Mom asked. “We’d have more funds if we need to act quickly.” Dad thought it over for a moment. “No. If we sell, Karen will figure out we’re planning something. Just post a picture at the house, make it look like we’re unaware of anything. I’ve been more than fair as a brother. If there is a ‘safe zone,’ let’s see if she can really hold onto it.”
Once Dad and Rachel left, Mom and I headed to a nearby warehouse store. Before we left, Mom and Dad went over our savings. Selling a house or car would take too long, and we didn’t know how soon the heatwave might hit. After years of saving, plus my own contributions, we could pull together about $300,000. It wasn’t a fortune, but it would do. At the warehouse, we spoke to a manager about placing a large order. To avoid suspicion, we claimed we were stocking a new grocery store. Fresh produce wouldn’t last long in the heat, so we focused on non-perishables. We loaded up with 100 crates each of beef jerky, chicken jerky, and other dried meats. They were filling, nutritious, and didn’t spoil easily. Next were dried vegetables and fruit—another hundred crates each. Already, we’d spent nearly half our budget. We weren’t done yet. We bought emergency rations, canned goods, and every type of seasoning, another hundred crates. Our last major expense would be water. Mom and I visited three stores, buying out every jug and bottle of water we could find, and spent over $100,000. She rented two box trucks, and by the time we’d finished, both trucks were full, with a third nearly there. To keep it discreet, Mom planned to leave the trucks in a parking lot and drive them out one by one. Mom and Dad had a history of long-haul driving, so both had their commercial licenses. Willow Bend wasn’t far—about a three-hour drive. Mom and I drove one truck home, with Dad meeting us halfway to switch cars. He took the supplies on to the bunker while we returned to load more. We spent the next few hours shopping for essentials: toothpaste, soap, tissue paper, underwear, bedding, and items we’d need daily. We stocked up on bags of cat litter and composting chemicals, knowing that waste disposal might be an issue. On our final trip, we got solar panels to help generate electricity. There was no guarantee of cell service, but with a generator, at least we’d have light. We also grabbed rechargeable lamps, flashlights, and basic first-aid supplies—anything that might be difficult to find later.
For three days, Mom and I drove the trucks, while Dad and Rachel handled the smaller trips. Between us, we barely slept ten hours in those three days. We were anxious, watching every minute tick by. By the time we hauled the last truckload to Willow Bend, we were exhausted. Dad and Rachel had spent days cleaning and organizing the bunker. When we arrived with the last batch of supplies, they were covered in dirt and looked like they’d both lost weight. Together, we hauled boxes into the bunker, filling every available inch. When we were done, Dad even set up a small bathroom. Finally, Mom and Dad returned the trucks to avoid drawing attention, driving the last car back with a few extra tools in case we needed them. That night, we lay on the ground under the stars, grateful for a moment of peace, even knowing it might be a while before we’d get another like it. Just then, Dad’s phone buzzed. After reading the message, he let out a bitter laugh. “Karen finally cracked.” We gathered around to read Aunt Karen’s furious messages: Karen: “John, your family’s got some luck, huh? Bet you’re real cozy in that mansion.” Karen: “When have you ever given me anything when I asked? All you’ve ever done is preach at me!” Karen: “I bet that big house feels nice! You just wait until tomorrow! Your family will be on its knees begging me for help, and I won’t even look at you!”
And just as Aunt Karen had warned, the next day at noon, the outdoor temperature spiked dramatically. Mom was quick to react, pulling the clothes off the line and shoving us all into the depths of the bunker. Near the entrance, we still had cell signal. Rachel and I huddled together, scrolling through news alerts. “City’s issued a red alert heat warning. Temperatures will keep climbing over the next few days. Citizens are urged to stay indoors and avoid direct sunlight.” “Jess, it’s already 122 degrees outside!” Rachel said, curling up in fear. “They say they’re lowballing it—that it’s probably even hotter!” We both glanced toward the shelter’s entrance. Outside, what had once seemed warm sunlight now felt ominous, bringing a chill to our bones. The air shimmered with waves of heat like fiery snakes, ready to scorch anyone in their path. “Jess! Look at this!” Rachel turned her phone to me. A few pictures caught my attention. It was Aunt Karen and her family, lounging around in the sun. “In this heat? They’ll get killed out there!” “Something’s not right…”
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