The First Ally

"What do you mean by that?" Thomas asked. The lit cigarette pinched between his fingers shook with a severe tremor, scattering gray ash across the wooden floorboards. He stared at the empty space where his heavy wooden desk and guest chairs used to be, struggling to process the impossible reality before him.

Harper met his gaze without blinking. She laid bare the brutal, unbelievable truth, her voice steady and hollow.

"I came back from another life. I spent fifteen excruciating years surviving pure hell. We faced blistering droughts that cracked the earth, megastorms that tore concrete cities apart, and deep freezes that turned oceans to solid ice. Then came the endless insect swarms, toxic fog, acidic rain, sandstorms, and massive earthquakes. Almost everyone on Earth died. I was one of the last two thousand survivors left, but a final meteor strike killed the very last of us."

Thomas swallowed hard. The reality of her cold, hardened demeanor finally made sense to him. The naive girl he once knew had been burned away by fifteen years of suffering.

"And what about me? When did I die?" he asked, his voice rough and quiet.

Harper did not sugarcoat the truth. She looked right into his eyes, refusing to soften the blow.

"You died at the very beginning of the disasters. A group of vicious raiders looking for supplies beat you to death. I buried you myself."

Thomas let out a hollow, bitter laugh that quickly dissolved into a harsh coughing fit. He clutched his chest, gasping for air.

"So I died that early? That is pathetic. I bet I was trying to help somebody again, wasn't I?" he rasped.

Harper remained silent. Her silence was all the confirmation he needed. His naturally soft heart and foolish desire to help a stranger had doomed him.

"Thank you for telling me all this. What is your master plan?" Thomas asked, wiping his weathered face.

"I am going to gather monumental supplies in Ashbourne for now. Then I will head toward the isolated, mountainous region of Ironcliff. Resources are plentiful there, and the high elevation offers crucial protection. Once I find a secure place to settle down, I will keep moving west and collect as many kinds of supplies as possible. Thomas, if you have a safe haven to go to, you should pack your bags and leave while there is still time."

Thomas offered a sad smile. He tossed his crushed cigarette butt into a metal trash can.

"Where would I go? I have no family waiting for me anywhere. I am alone, just like you. No one is waiting for me. Harper, if you don't mind an old guy with slow legs, I will follow you from now on. Of course, if you think I will just slow you down, I understand."

Harper stared at him. She knew full well she could not possibly survive the mental toll of the apocalypse alone. She needed reliable allies. In her previous life, she had worked with many groups to survive one dark period after another. She trusted his solid, unshakeable character. His only flaw was a soft heart, and if he failed to adapt, they could always part ways later.

She extended her hand to him.

"Thomas, welcome to my team."

Thomas grasped her hand firmly, sealing their alliance with a strong grip.

"Do not worry. I will listen to you. Whatever you need me to do, I will do it. But I have an even better idea right now. If the apocalypse is really coming, easily consumable, pre-cooked food will be our utmost priority when utilities fail. People have to eat, and we already have a busy restaurant."

Thomas proved his immense worth and loyalty on the spot. He strode out of the office and walked straight into the bustling main dining area. Harper followed close behind him.

"Go put the closed sign on the front door. We are shutting down the diner right now. We are closed to the general public from this moment on," Thomas ordered, waving a hand toward the entrance.

Harper nodded and jogged to the front, flipping the glowing neon sign off and locking the heavy glass door.

Thomas stepped into the kitchen. The cooks and servers paused their tasks, staring at him in utter shock. The lunch rush was just beginning, and shutting down on the spot made no sense to them. The clatter of pans and the sizzle of fryers faded into confused silence.

"Listen up, everyone. Do not worry about your jobs. There will still be work. In fact, there will be even more work than before. We just landed a massive, exclusive daily catering contract. We need to deliver a thousand boxed meals every day, plus twenty banquet tables. I need your tireless hard work. To ensure we meet this quota, I am doubling everyone's hourly pay starting right now."

The kitchen staff erupted into loud, echoing cheers. They had no reason to doubt their generous boss. As long as they had work to do and good money to earn, they were happy. The promise of doubled wages sent a wave of electric energy through the room, and everyone scrambled back to their stainless steel stations with renewed vigor.

Thomas wasted no time. Despite being the owner and rarely cooking himself these days, he tied a stained white apron around his waist and jumped right onto the cooking line. Sweat poured down his weathered face as he worked alongside his dedicated team. They relentlessly stir-fried huge batches of spicy jambalaya, sizzling fried rice, blackened chicken, and thick, hearty seafood stews. The kitchen transformed into a factory of delicious aromas and blistering heat.

The massive, unending quantities of heavy, filling food were swiftly packed into uniform plastic containers. Thomas stacked the steaming hot meals on metal rolling carts, pushing them toward the back loading dock.

Harper used the guise of making large vehicle deliveries to handle the incredible output. She backed a rented box truck up to the loading area. Whenever she found a quiet moment with no kitchen staff watching, she quietly and efficiently transported the massive stacks of boxed meals directly into her suspended-animation storage space. The magical void swallowed the food instantly. Inside her dimension, the meals would remain piping hot and perfectly preserved until the end of time.

With Thomas expertly handling the hot food production and managing the kitchen crew, Harper could step away from the physical labor. She left the restaurant in his capable hands, focusing her efforts on her own massive procurement operations.

Harper drove back to Sunstone Residences. The relentless influx of massive online orders arrived daily at her doorstep. Her open garage had become a chaotic labyrinth of stacked cardboard. Delivery trucks idled in her driveway from dawn until dusk, dropping off heavy packages of survival gear, medical supplies, water filters, thermal blankets, and tactical clothing. She signed for package after package, working up a heavy sweat as she hauled the bulky items inside to secretly absorb them into her dimension.

A nosy, gossiping neighbor wandered up the driveway. The older woman wore a bright floral sundress and held a tiny, yapping terrier on a retractable leash. She cornered Harper near the massive mountain of heavy packages dominating the concrete floor.

"Harper, what in the world is all this? Are you opening a store or something? Why did you buy so much stuff?" the neighbor asked sharply, her eyes darting over the towering cardboard boxes with intense suspicion.

Harper masked her inner tension. She forced a tired smile to her face and easily deflected the probing suspicion.

"I could never afford all this even if I wanted to. I am merely scraping by as an overworked personal shopper. I receive bulk items for a list of demanding, busy clients. They are too busy to shop or receive packages during the day, so they use my address. I collect everything and deliver it to them for a small fee. Look at this entire garage of packages. I only make enough for groceries, maybe ten or twenty bucks here and there."

The neighbor instantly lost interest. The mention of meager wages and exhausting manual labor dissolved any jealousy or suspicion she might have harbored.

"Well, that sounds like a dreadful way to make a living. Anyway, did you hear the news? Something massive happened to Arthur Winston!" the woman said, leaning in closer with eager excitement.

Harper paused her sorting. Arthur Winston was Ashbourne's richest man. Her pulse quickened at the mention of his name.

"What happened?" Harper asked.

"The local women have been chattering about it all morning. I heard he lost something immensely important. Then, in the dead of night, he was forcefully taken away by a mysterious, heavily armed, out-of-town group. Nobody knows where he is now, or if he is even alive."

"Wow. Rich people sure live wild lives. I bet his wife found out he had a lover and took him away," Harper said, feigning casual interest.

"Oh, come on. He was already getting divorced. Why would he be afraid of his wife? The people who grabbed him came from out of town. They were heavily armed and very dangerous. My guess is that the thing he lost actually belonged to them in the first place."

The neighbor tugged on her dog's leash and wandered off down the sidewalk, eager to share the neighborhood gossip with someone else.

Harper stood frozen in the driveway. Her heart sank into her stomach. A cold sweat broke out across her palms, making her skin clammy in the afternoon sun.

She had been right. A simple small-town millionaire should never have possessed that much solid gold in his personal underground vault. The massive hoard she had brazenly stolen clearly belonged to someone far more powerful and incredibly dangerous. Winston had merely been holding the gold for a much larger, darker organization.

The mysterious group had already realized the gold was missing and taken Winston down. It was only a matter of time before they tore the city apart looking for the real thief.

Harper stepped inside her house and locked the heavy front door behind her. She leaned her back against the cool wood, forcing her rapid breathing to slow down. Her cautious spending with physical cash and the restaurant cover had successfully shielded her identity so far. She had never sold large amounts of gold openly, and her purchases had stayed just under the radar of extreme suspicion. She had kept everything within the realm of what an ordinary person could reasonably afford.

But she knew with undeniable certainty she could not stay in Ashbourne much longer. The impending apocalypse was dangerous enough, but a heavily armed syndicate hunting for stolen gold was an immediate, lethal threat. If they found her, all her preparations would mean nothing. She would be dead long before the meteor struck.

She pushed herself off the door and marched into the living room, her mind racing with contingency plans. She needed to vanish without a trace for a while, to lay low in a place where no syndicate could ever track her movements.