Hunter Cole's offer of $2,000 for a single packet of instant noodles sent shockwaves through the group chat.
"What?! Two grand for a pack of ramen? Did I hear that right?"
"Come on, this is insane… Aren't we supposed to help each other out?"
Some people, still clinging to hope, tried to calm the panic."The blizzard has to pass eventually, right? Let's not lose our minds over this."
The speaker had recorded a voice message, but his trembling tone betrayed the fear creeping into his heart.
People weren't ready to let go of hope just yet. Every morning they woke up, praying the snow would stop, the sun would rise again, and normal life would return.
But the food bidding war between new mom Mary Lane and rich boy Hunter Cole struck a nerve.It chipped away at their last thread of faith.
Someone tried to laugh it off."$2,000 for noodles? Come on, it's not the end of the world. It's just an early, nasty winter! Not like there are zombies outside or something."
Ethan Cross chuckled at that.Zombies? Don't insult the apocalypse by comparing it to fiction.
At least zombies could be fought.But nature? Nature didn't care.And what was happening now… this wasn't a storm. It was extinction.
Hunter's smug message followed."Why do you all care? I've got the money. Buying peace of mind. If you've got food to sell, message me. If not, move on."
He played it cool, but Ethan saw right through him.That cocky attitude was all bluff.Hunter was scared.No one drops that kind of cash unless they're desperate.
It wasn't hard to figure out.Sure, he had money—millions even—but that didn't mean a damn thing now. You couldn't order takeout with a trust fund.
Mary Lane, desperate, responded.
"You can't do this! I haven't eaten in two days. I can't nurse my baby anymore. We're going to die…"
Hunter replied coldly:"I'm not stopping you from buying. I'm just offering more. What people choose is up to them."
Mary sobbed openly in the chat."Please, someone… help us. My daughter is only nine months old! I'm begging you, anyone!"
But no one responded.
Everyone knew the truth.
Hunter was paying double Mary's offer—$2,000 per packet.In Bayview, where the average salary was only a few grand a month, no one would sacrifice their supplies for half-price charity.
Instead, many began messaging Hunter in private.Deals were struck in silence.
Mary seemed to realize what was happening and cried even harder, but the chat remained quiet.
No one even tried to comfort her.
Because everyone knew—open your mouth, and she'll come begging to you next.
This desperate mother broke down, her pleas echoing in the digital void.Alone with her baby, she didn't stand a chance.
Ethan leaned back, remembering bits and pieces about Mary from his past life.
She'd always played the helpless single mom card to win sympathy and scrape by.
But something about her stuck in his mind.She'd survived—her and her daughter.Longer than most.
Which meant she was smarter than she looked.
"Pretty on the outside," Ethan muttered, "but when you cut it open, it's all pitch black inside."
No, he wouldn't help her.He'd learned his lesson.Kindness in the apocalypse was suicide.
So he watched in silence as her pleas faded into nothing.
Eventually, someone did respond—Uncle Joe, the retired security guard.He offered her some food.
Mary thanked him profusely, promising she'd never forget what he did for her.
Through his surveillance, Ethan saw Hunter collecting food from various neighbors.
It wasn't a massive haul, but it was enough to feed two people for a few weeks.
Ethan smirked."That's money's last hurrah in the apocalypse."
Soon, everyone would realize money was worthless.Food was king.
And the ones who sold early? They'd regret it bitterly.
Hunter had set a dangerous precedent.
Bayview Tower had 25 residential buildings, and most residents either worked in logistics or had warehouse connections.
His flashy spending opened everyone's eyes.Now, people clutched their food like it was gold.
At first, neighbors still bartered or shared rations out of goodwill.But after this, they turned into misers.
Even best friends started making excuses to avoid lending a can of beans.
Day Ten of the Endless Winter.
In one unit, Claire and Natalie were curled up under layers of blankets.Their pantry was almost empty.
Just a few days ago, they were snobby about what they ate. Now?They were about to start a fight over the last pack of ramen.
Most of their stash—including what they got from simp-boy Zach—was gone.
At this rate, they'd be dead in a week.
Natalie glanced at the dry, cracked packet of emergency biscuits on the table and spoke quietly:"This is our last one."
Claire's face was pale, her lips dry.In the past, she wouldn't have touched those coarse, bland things.
Now? She licked the crumbs off the floor.
Ethan sat back in his warm, well-lit bunker.He sipped a Coke, watched the snow bury the world, and whispered,"Let the real fun begin."