The Final Shift

Harper casually waved her hand. The towering mountain of newly delivered shopping center supplies sitting in the gloomy back alley vanished into thin air. She tossed the immense load of goods effortlessly into her massive, stadium-sized storage space. Time was the one luxury she possessed an abundance of now. She no longer had to worry about funds or rushing to organize the towering piles of inventory. Her spatial dimension was a silent, frozen void where items remained in a state of suspended animation. She could sort through the tents, tools, and heavy canvas clothing whenever she pleased. Right now, her muscles ached from exhaustion. A dull throbbing pulsed behind her eyes. She turned away from the empty alley, ready to head home and finally collapse into bed.

A sharp, piercing ring cut through the quiet morning air. Harper pulled her phone from her pocket and stared at the glowing screen. It was her boss at the Cajun restaurant.

She stared at the caller ID for a long moment. Before the call went to voicemail, her exhausted brain processed the reality of her old life. She had a job.

She pressed the green button and answered the call.

"Harper! Why aren't you at work for your scheduled shift? Do you even want this job? If you don't, then quit! Plenty of people would love to have your position right now!" A loud voice shouted aggressively through the receiver.

Harper pulled the phone away from her ear, wincing at the sheer volume. She rubbed her stinging eyes. Work? What work? She was busy securing survival supplies for the end of the world. Who had time to chop vegetables in a hot commercial kitchen?

If her previous self had been the old her, she would have apologized profusely and rushed back to work like a mindless machine.

But now, things were different. She looked down into her spatial dimension, her mind's eye sweeping over the endless rows of solid gold bars safely tucked away. A soft smile touched her lips.

"Boss, I quit."

A heavy, stunned silence filled the line.

"Harper, think this through. Besides me, who else is going to pay you this well? I am giving you exactly one hour to show up and explain yourself. Get back here and start working!" Thomas snapped, his voice irritated and laced with deep disbelief.

He hung up the phone with a loud click.

Harper stared at the darkened screen. She decided to go to the restaurant anyway. She needed to collect her final paycheck and officially quit in person out of respect for him. She walked down the cold, bustling streets of Ashbourne, her hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets. The morning commuters rushed past her, clutching briefcases and hot coffees, oblivious to the impending doom. Within a few short months, these same paved streets would become a frozen wasteland. Harper kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. She worked mostly in the back kitchen of the busy Cajun diner, prepping ingredients and handling small tasks for the head chef. In her previous life, those basic cooking skills had helped her scrape by during the early days of the apocalypse.

The swinging doors of the busy Cajun restaurant clattered loudly as Harper walked inside. The rich scent of roasted garlic and spiced meats filled the air. Before she could even take a breath to speak, a wet mop was roughly shoved directly into her hands.

"Why are you just standing around? Hurry up and mop the entrance! Customers will be here soon! You are young, but you move like a block of wood!" Thomas barked, pointing toward the muddy footprints near the door.

Rather than feeling any annoyance at his harsh tone, a powerful wave of profound nostalgia washed over Harper. She gripped the wooden handle of the mop. Five grueling years ago, she had been a starving, desperate seventeen-year-old high school graduate. The local orphanage had stretched itself to the limit for her, and she had chosen to leave Ashbourne with nothing but a small canvas bag. She had no money for college tuition and no prospects in a fierce job market.

She had wandered the streets for three days without food until she collapsed on the filthy pavement from sheer hunger. This sharp-tongued but kind-hearted man had found her lying there. Thomas had given her a job, a warm room in the back, and hot meals. He had saved her and changed the entire trajectory of her life. She had saved every penny of her meager paychecks to eventually afford the down payment on an old house.

Harper did not utter a single word of protest. She quietly took the mop and began meticulously cleaning the floor near the front door. She dragged the damp strings over the scuff marks, erasing the grime left by early morning delivery drivers. Thomas watched her work from behind the wooden counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He maintained a stern expression, a necessary facade. He had to act tough. If he did not project a hard exterior, he would never be able to keep the rowdy kitchen staff in line.

When she finally finished storing the mop in the utility closet, he waved her over to a small table in the back corner of the diner. He placed a massive plate piled high with roasted meat, steaming rice, and fresh vegetables in front of her. A perfectly fried egg rested on top, its golden yolk glistening under the diner lights. The food was balanced, filling, and radiated an inviting heat. She noticed immediately that he had given her the thickest, most tender cuts of meat.

Harper looked down at the hearty, comforting meal. The savory aroma of the roasted meat hit her nose. Thick tears suddenly broke through her hardened exterior. They rolled silently down her face, dripping onto the wooden tabletop.

In her previous, hellish life, Thomas had not even survived the very first wave of disasters. Desperate, starving thugs had targeted the diner. They had brutally bludgeoned him to death with a baseball bat just to steal the restaurant's meager remaining food. She remembered finding his cold body slumped against these very walls. She had collected his remains and cremated him herself in the ruins of the city.

"Hey, why are you crying? I only teased you a little bit. Fine, fine. Just eat. I won't say anything else." Thomas asked, his gruff demeanor faltering. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Harper furiously wiped her tears away with the back of her sleeve.

"Thomas, do you trust me?" she asked in a wavering voice.

"Trust or no trust, eat your food first. Everyone else is almost done. You are the only one still fooling around." Thomas tapped the table with his knuckles.

Harper picked up her fork and took a large bite. The delicious, intensely familiar taste of the roasted meat and rice filled her mouth. She ate the entire plate methodically, savoring the warmth she had missed for fifteen long, torturous years. Every bite tasted like a memory from a time when the sky was still blue and the air was still clean.

After she finished the meal, Thomas gestured for her to follow him. He pulled her into his cramped back office and shut the door tight. The small room smelled of old paperwork and stale coffee.

"Did something happen? Did you get yourself into some kind of dangerous trouble? Talk to me. If I can help, I will." Thomas asked seriously, leaning against the edge of his desk.

"Thomas, the apocalypse is coming."

She could be brutally cold and calculating to the rest of the world, but not to him. He was a good man. He did not deserve to die such a miserable, violent death in the early days of the collapse.

Thomas reached over and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead.

"You don't have a fever. Why are you talking nonsense?"

Knowing that mere words would never convince a grounded man like him, Harper took a step back. She simply flicked her fingers.

The ceramic coffee cup sitting on his cluttered desk instantly vanished into thin air.

Thomas's eyes widened in shock. He leaned forward, scanning the empty spot on the desk.

"You learned a magic trick? Come on, let me see. Where did you hide it?"

Harper silently waved her hand again. The heavy wooden coffee table, two padded guest chairs, and a large potted plant sitting in the corner vanished into nothingness. The cramped office suddenly felt vast and empty. The harsh overhead fluorescent light illuminated the bare, scuffed floorboards where the furniture had rested mere seconds ago.

Thomas froze. He reached a trembling hand forward, swiping his fingers through the empty air as if expecting to hit an invisible wooden surface. He found nothing. He stared blankly at the empty space where his furniture used to be. He looked back at Harper, his jaw slack and his breathing shallow.

"Is this some kind of pocket dimension?"

"The apocalypse is really coming. You have to start preparing right now. Close the diner immediately. Once everything falls apart, a restaurant full of food will become a prime target for looters." Harper said quietly. Her tone was deadly serious.

Thomas stood rooted to the spot, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He stared at her, trying to process the impossible reality playing out in his own office.

Harper stepped closer, making sure he absorbed every word. She needed him to understand the sheer brutality of what was coming.

"Move to high ground and find a secure place. Stockpile as much food and water as humanly possible. Do not trust strangers. Do not bring people home just because you feel sorry for them. People in the apocalypse do not have a conscience."

Thomas stayed silent for a long time. His hands shook visibly as he pulled a crushed cigarette from his pocket. He placed the white cylinder between his lips and reached for his lighter. His fingers trembled too much to properly spark the flame. The metal wheel ground uselessly against the flint, producing only weak sparks.

Harper gently took the lighter from his hand. She flicked it open and sparked a steady flame for him.

Thomas leaned in and lit the tip. He took a long, deep drag and slowly exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. The gray haze drifted toward the ceiling. He looked at her closely.

"You know, when you came in today, I felt like you were a different person. The old you... you were as naive as they come."

A deep, ancient sadness filled Harper's dark eyes. The memories of freezing winters, mutating beasts, and human betrayal flashed through her mind.

"Someone who has survived death doesn't get to stay naive."

She looked at him steadily, refusing to break eye contact. She needed this warning to anchor itself deep in his mind.

"I am only telling you this. I will not say another word to anyone else. Thomas, thank you for taking me in all those years ago. You gave me food. You gave me a chance to live. Now I have paid that debt back."