Warehouse of the Apocalypse

On New Year’s Eve, my fiancee, Delilah Carrington, left me to freeze to death in subzero snow. As my body went numb, she was wrapped in the military coat I had found for her, curled up in Everett Kingsley’s arms while eating the holiday groceries I had paid for. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before everything fell apart. So when she called—cold, demanding, rattling off a shopping list like I owed her—I hung up, blocked her number, and made my move. I sealed off Blackridge Logistics Hub, the largest logistics hub in the country. Stockpiling supplies? Pointless. Because my coworkers and I had more packages than we could ever open: seafood delicacies, premium cigars, top-shelf liquor, and industrial generators. Hundreds of millions of shipments meant for the holidays were now all mine. Inside a warehouse kept at a steady 26°C, I ate wagyu steak and watched the world collapse through surveillance feeds. I witnessed Delilah’s entire family tear each other apart over half a moldy pack of crackers. I thought I could live like this forever. I was wrong. In the apocalypse, the most dangerous thing isn’t what’s waiting outside. It’s the people who refuse to stop playing the hero. Chapter 1 "Declan Mercer! What kind of garbage cherries did you send over yesterday? I bit into one, and it almost cracked my tooth! Did you do that on purpose?" Delilah Carrington’s sharp, entitled voice pierced through the phone, grating against my ears. I stared at the mountain of shipping orders piled in front of me, my irritation rising. Right before the holidays, the logistics hub was a war zone. As the manager, I wished I could split myself into eight just to keep up. I rubbed my temples and forced my tone into something gentler. "Sorry, alright? I’ll get you a fresh box today. Top-tier. Guaranteed sweetness." "That’s more like it." She snorted, then spent another ten minutes complaining about trivial things, like how her dog was in a bad mood today, before finally hanging up. I leaned back in my chair, exhausted, and casually unlocked my phone to check the weather. A breaking international headline popped up: "Unprecedented Decline in Solar Activity Triggers Sudden Flash Freezes Across the Globe". In the video, a fountain in some European town froze solid within seconds, turning into a pillar of ice. What the hell. I swiped it away without a second thought. All I cared about was whether it would affect the flight carrying the batch of Australian lobsters I’d ordered for Delilah. I got up to do a routine inspection of the warehouse. The moment I stepped into the open loading zone, a strange gust of wind hit me, cold enough to make me shiver. A few coworkers were pointing up at the sky. "Boss, look at those birds!" I glanced up. A flock of migrating birds flying south suddenly broke formation. Then, one after another, several of them dropped straight out of the sky, hitting the ground with dull thuds not far away. My heart skipped. Was that news report actually real? I was about to send someone to check when Branson Crowe, the long-haul driver, came stumbling in from outside, half-crawling, half-running. His face was coated in frost, his lips tinged purple. "Boss! Boss! Something’s wrong! "On the highway! The trucks… They just shut down on their own! The diesel in the tanks has turned into slush! It’s freezing out there. It's unnaturally cold!" Still shaking, he reached for the metal railing beside him. The moment his fingers touched it, a thin layer of ice spread instantly from the contact point. The skin on his fingertips turned a dark purplish-black right before my eyes. I staggered back in shock. The news was real. I spun around and bolted for the office. My first instinct was to lock the doors. Outside the massive warehouse shutters, the screech of car crashes and people screaming overlapped into chaos. I looked out through the window. People on the street were running. Then, just like those birds, they dropped stiffly to the ground, their bodies rapidly frosting over. At that moment, my phone started ringing like crazy. Delilah. I answered. On the other end, she was screaming. "Declan! Where the hell are you? Mr. Kingsley's villa just lost power. Get our down jackets and a generator over here right now!" Chapter 2 My mind was in complete chaos, but I still rushed out instinctively to grab supplies. The moment I reached the entrance, they were already there waiting. Delilah, Everett Kingsley, and her brother, Brock Carrington. Without a word, they lunged at me, tearing off my jacket and snatching the supplies from my hands. "You’re built tough. You can handle the cold." Hooking her arm around Everett’s, she kicked me straight out the door. The biting wind swallowed me whole. Half-naked, I could only watch as the three of them disappeared into the blizzard. The cold drained my consciousness, little by little. My last thought before everything went dark was that if I could do it over again, I would never have stepped out of that warehouse. "Declan! Are you even listening? Those cherries are way too sour!" The exact same voice drilled into my head. I jolted upright from my desk, gasping for air, my throat still burning with the phantom sting of freezing cold. I looked around. I was back in the office. On my phone screen, the call was still ongoing. It was Delilah. The calendar read 8:00 a.m. on the morning of the day I died. Her impatient voice continued from the other end. I cut her off. "Go to hell." Then I hung up and blocked her. I didn’t seal the warehouse immediately because there were still hundreds of employees and drivers in the compound. I switched on the internal broadcast system. "Emergency notice! We’ve received a confidential alert from higher authorities. There’s a highly contagious mutated flu outbreak in this area. All non-essential personnel must evacuate within one hour. I repeat, this is not a drill!" Then I triggered the fire drill alarm recording. The piercing siren tore through the entire compound. Workers dropped everything and rushed out. I stood in the surveillance room, watching the crowd with cold detachment. Picking up the radio, I called Rhys Calder, the head of security. "Lock down the entrance. Let everyone out. No one comes back in. In thirty minutes, I want every gate sealed. I don’t care who’s still inside." I paused, then added, "Garrick’s on the second floor. Leave him alone." Rhys and Garrick were both physically strong, single, and obedient. They were the most suitable allies I could pick. Clang! With one final thunderous crash, the massive alloy shutters slammed shut. Silence swallowed the warehouse. I exhaled slowly, the air in my lungs carrying a faint metallic taste. When I turned back, the backup locks were already in place. Garrick still stood there, dazed, clearly not fully processing what had just happened. "Stop standing around." I clapped my hands once, rubbing my temples. For a moment, I thought things would finally settle. A fortress. Three men. Simple. Controlled. However, before that thought could fully form, a muffled cry came from the women’s restroom on the second floor, followed by frantic banging on the door. "Help! Is anyone there? The door won’t budge..." The three of us froze, then exchanged looks. Rhys grabbed a baton and kicked the door open. Inside, Tamsin Larson, a young intern from customer service was slumped on the floor. The moment she saw me, she scrambled forward and clutched my leg. "Mr. Mercer! I’m sorry! I thought it was just a drill! My boyfriend is still outside waiting for me. Please let him in! He’ll freeze to death!" Her words tumbled out between sobs. "He has food in his car! He can help us!" I looked down at her. All I felt was irritation. Chapter 3 A perfect start was ruined in an instant by a lovestruck idiot. I yanked my leg free from her grip without hesitation. "First, the doors are not opening again. Second, if you want to live, shut up and do as you’re told. "And third," I added coldly, "don’t touch me again." I turned and walked away without another glance. Back in the office, I pointed out the window at the world now buried under frost and the bodies frozen solid like statues. "Take a good look. The world’s changed. This is our fortress now. If you want to survive, follow my lead." Rhys nodded immediately. "Got it." Garrick followed, nodding hard. I didn’t take them to open packages. Instead, I headed to the break room and dragged out everything edible I could find, laying it all on the table: half a box of instant noodles, a few bottles of water, an opened bag of crackers, and a couple of shriveled apples. Garrick’s stomach growled. He stared at the meager pile, swallowing hard. "That’s it?" "That’s everything we have right now." I spread the food out. "From today on, we ration. A pack of noodles and half a bottle of water per person, per day. No exceptions." My gaze swept across them, finally landing on Tamsin. She looked at the mountain of unopened packages, then at the pitiful amount of food on the table. Her lips moved slightly, but she didn’t dare speak. "Now’s not the time to stand around." I clapped once. "Move. Rhys, you’re with me—generator and diesel check. "Garrick, head to the tool room. Grab every axe and pry bar you can find. "Tamsin, seal every window on the second floor with cardboard and foam. Leave one viewing gap." Night fell fast. Once everything was done, I had them move into my office, the smallest space available. One heater was enough to keep it warm. "Starting tonight, we all stay here. No one goes down to the first floor without my permission." In the dead silence of the night, the crunch of dry noodles being crushed in Garrick’s hand sounded unnaturally loud. After hesitating for a long time, he finally spoke in a low voice, "Boss, are there really no survivors out there?" I didn’t even look up, still checking the fire axe in my hand. "Thinking about that won’t help you. Figure out how to survive tomorrow." … By the third night, the temperature had dropped below -50°C. The faint red glow from the heater looked almost powerless. The last pack of instant noodles was broken into four pieces and boiled into a thin, watery soup. We shared it. Even the broth was licked clean. Garrick rubbed his hands, already raw and red from the cold. The breath leaving his mouth turned instantly visible. He looked at me, his voice hoarse. "Boss, I can’t take it anymore. At this rate, we won’t starve to death. We’ll freeze first." Rhys said nothing, only pulling his thin work jacket tighter around himself. I stood up. We couldn’t wait any longer. I looked at all three of them. "Starting now, in order to survive, we use what’s here." I picked up a brand-new notebook and pen from my desk and handed them to Tamsin. "You’re recording everything. Every item we open: brand, quantity, and recipient information. All of it." I met her eyes and added, "When this is over, Blackridge will compensate for everything." That was the line I wouldn’t cross. Chapter 4 We were trying to survive, not loot. Tamsin took the notebook. At the mention of compensation, she curled her lip slightly. Garrick pried open a large cardboard box in a few quick motions. "Shit!" Inside was the latest PS5 console. He kicked the box in frustration. "What the hell is this good for right now?!" Rhys picked a wooden crate and forced it open. A cold, raw scent hit us immediately—premium Australian wagyu. Everyone’s eyes lit up for a second, then dimmed just as fast. Garrick scratched his head. "How are we supposed to eat this? We don’t even have a pot." I couldn’t let them keep guessing. I pointed at a box stamped with a food company logo. "Open that one." Garrick sliced it open halfheartedly then froze. A second later, he burst out, shouting in excitement, "A stove! A portable stove!" Soon, four steaming portions sat in front of us, fragrant and rich. It was the first hot meal we’d had since everything began. After we finished, I stopped him before he could start tearing into more boxes. "Don’t act rashly." I led them to a neatly stacked row of shelves. "The logistics area is divided into zones. This section handles polar expedition gear and outdoor brands. Search here." As expected, we quickly uncovered brand-new down jackets, snow boots, sleeping bags, and professional camping cookware with gas canisters. The wagyu problem was solved. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was an old neighborhood group chat that I’d forgotten to exit. Delilah's message popped up: [I'm freezing to death here! What the hell is this weather?! Are the property managers all dead?! The villa’s like an icebox! Whoever brings me a down jacket, I’ll pay you $10,000!] I looked at the message, then took off my outerwear, leaving only a short-sleeved shirt. Standing in front of the pile of newly unpacked down jackets, I snapped a photo of myself eating meat, with the stack of winter gear clearly visible behind me. A friend request from Delilah came through. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I accepted it. The video call came instantly. She was screaming the moment it connected. "Where the hell are you?! Where did you get all those clothes?! Get them to me right now! I’m ordering you, did you hear me?!" Her lips were purple from the cold, and her face pale. Wrapped in a thin blanket, she shivered violently inside the villa. Right in front of her, I picked up an expensive down jacket and calmly wiped the dust off my shoes with it, then tossed it straight into the heater’s open flame. "This thing," I said into the camera, "burns warmer than it wears." Watching her face twist in fury, I smiled. In my last life, she had stripped me of my clothes and thrown me out into the cold without a second thought. "You’re a grown man. You can handle the cold." "You—" Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Tamsin. Her gaze flickered, and she muttered under her breath, "How can you just waste something like that..." I hung up and didn’t bother responding. That night, we all changed into new gear and climbed into thick sleeping bags. Rhys used the new cookware to boil a big pot of rich beef soup. Then I noticed that Tamsin wasn’t asleep. She was staring out through the narrow gap in the window, at the frozen, lifeless world outside. I narrowed my eyes. In a world like this, people who couldn’t let go of their so-called kindness were liabilities. On the fourth day, we gathered around the table, eating wagyu broth. The marbled beef swished through the broth before being dipped into premium gravy. Grease glistened on Garrick’s lips as he ate. "Boss, I’ve never had meat this good in my life. It's totally worth it," he said, grinning. "Even if I freeze to death after this, it’s worth it." Chapter 5 I had just picked up a slice of beef when Rhys walked over, his expression grim. "Boss, I checked the generator. We’re running low on backup diesel." Garrick froze. "How low?" Rhys lowered his voice, "Three days, at most. In three days, the heat’s gone. The cameras go dark. This place turns into a steel coffin." Silence fell over the office. I set my cutlery down. "Meeting." I gathered them in front of the surveillance screens and pointed at the dozens of semi-trucks stalled out in the snow. "Those trucks?" I said, tapping the monitor. "They’re our fuel depot. We strip the tanks and bring the fuel back before the power cuts." "We've got to go outside?" Garrick’s face went pale. "It’s almost -100 out there! What if there are still people—" Rhys cut in, "At those temperatures, you’ve got minutes outside. Fifteen, tops." "Then we do it fast. And we do it hard." I looked at them. "We need weapons." We didn’t have guns. I had Garrick bring a few long pry bars to the loading dock. I turned on the fire hose and aimed it at the tips. "Declan, what are you doing? Washing them?" I didn’t answer. I kept the water flowing over the steel. The moment it hit the air, it froze layer by layer, building outward. Within minutes, each bar had grown a long, tapered spike of solid ice. An ice spear. Garrick stared, wide-eyed. I grabbed a few stab-resistant vests, put one on, then sprayed water over the surface. A thin layer of frost formed almost instantly, hardening into a crude shell. Ice armor. "Ice spears. Ice armor!" Garrick swung one experimentally, grinning. "How does your brain even work? This is better than an axe!" Rhys tested the tip against the ground. The frozen surface cracked easily under the strike. He nodded, satisfied. Only one person stood apart. Tamsin stayed back, watching us turn tools into weapons. There was confusion in her eyes, and something deeper. Fear. "Mr. Mercer…" she finally stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Do we really have to do this? The people outside… maybe they just need help…" I was adjusting a manual fuel pump, not even looking up. "It’s just a precaution. You don’t need to do anything. Stay in the office." We were preparing to move at dawn the next day when something appeared on the surveillance feed. Delilah and her family. The three of them stood outside the compound gates like ghosts, pounding against the alloy doors, screaming, begging. Tamsin could see the same feed from the control room upstairs. She saw Delilah’s mother, Mrs. Helena Carrington, drop to her knees in the snow while bowing over and over toward the warehouse. We were downstairs, checking equipment. Then suddenly, every emergency light in the warehouse snapped on. A blaring alarm tore through the entire facility. I spun around. Through the reinforced glass of the second-floor control room, I saw Tamsin standing at the console with both hands pressed down on the red unlock button. Her face was set, almost resolute. "Mr. Mercer, we can’t just let them die. One day, you’ll thank me." The moment the words left her mouth, the massive alloy door we depended on for survival shuddered. With a grinding, bone-rattling screech, it opened.