Chapter 3

When we arrived at the industrial site, I handed my sketches and requirements to the construction foreman, Dave Ramsey. He was impressively efficient—right then and there, he had his team generate a 3D model on their laptop.

They clearly had a well-oiled system. My father and I didn't hesitate—we gave him a credit card with no spending limit.

We handed over a detailed materials list—steel, concrete, and solar panels. Every section of the site was clearly marked with its intended function.

Most important of all, I emphasized that every outer wall and access point had to be built to the highest military-grade blast resistance standards.

"Dave," I said, "as long as you can meet all our requirements fast, don't worry about the cost."

He took the card with both hands, nodded gravely, and immediately started mobilizing his crew and equipment.

Work began on the spot. The workers tore out the old asbestos panels and started laying a new foundation. The entire site buzzed with activity.

My father studied the blueprints and pointed at the sewage system.

"This shouldn't connect to the municipal grid," he said to Dave. "We need a self-contained biogas loop."

I instantly understood—biogas could provide both power and heat.

I quickly added a request to dig a massive underground bunker in the farthest corner of the site. We needed a secure fallback space with enough storage for long-term survival.

Dad picked up the phone and called the construction company director, approving an additional few hundred thousand dollars on the spot.

He instructed them to double the workforce and run three shifts around the clock. The job had to be completed as fast as humanly possible.

With my dad's financial backing, everything moved like clockwork. We instantly became their top-priority client.

More workers arrived daily. They moved fast—digging the bunker, reinforcing the warehouse, and installing blast-proof doors. Nothing was overlooked.

In just a few days, the once-crumbling industrial park was unrecognizable.

The centerpiece was the underground shelter. All the living areas were connected to it via hidden corridors. Even though we had three layers of surface-level defenses, an escape route underground was still essential.

One day, Dave couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer.

"Mr. Harlan," he asked, scratching his head, "this bunker is big enough to build an apartment complex down there. You sure you need it that large?"

My dad didn't even blink. "We're in business. I have to plan ahead for future expansion. Better to claim the space now."

The workers nodded, half-understanding, and kept digging.

With construction on track, I turned to my mother to review our procurement list. She frowned, crossed out several of my items, and rewrote the entire thing with a professional touch.

She replaced the basic food items with vacuum-sealed flour that could be stored long-term—hundreds of pounds worth. Compressed biscuits, military MREs, canned goods, antibiotics, first-aid supplies, and toiletries—all ordered by the container load. She also insisted we buy large quantities of frozen meat, along with several hundred industrial freezers.

"No, that's not enough," she said suddenly. "If you're right, and the entire grid goes down, we'll need a full contingency plan. Buy chicks and feed, too. We've got the space—let's raise our own livestock."

"Dad, Mom… thank you. Thank you for trusting me without question. I need to head back to the house, though. I can't let Mark get suspicious about what we're doing."

"Silly girl!" my mom said, hugging me. "Be careful. Your father and I are always behind you. Don't worry about this place—we'll stay in touch constantly."

Back at the house Mark and I shared, I received the final design files from the construction company on my phone.

After reviewing everything, I called the team and told them to reinforce every interior and exterior wall with an additional layer of steel plating.

Our compound was nearly surrounded by wooded hills. Even if the walking dead tried to cross the terrain, it wouldn't be easy.

The site was massive. The outer perimeter formed the first defense. Inside, each zone wrapped around another, layer by layer. A double-domed roof and natural air circulation system ensured breathable air.

Even without access to external power or water, we'd survive.

The design met every one of my expectations. With more than two weeks left, we had time to finish.

Just as I exhaled in relief, having gone over the diagrams one last time, the front door of the house suddenly creaked open.

Mark shouldn't have been home at this hour.

But it wasn't Mark who walked in.

It was Ashley.