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Doomsday Rewind: My Ex Gets What's Coming Novel Cover

Doomsday Rewind: My Ex Gets What's Coming

Betrayed and left as zombie bait by her fiancé Leo and best friend Jessica, Chloe dies in agony. However, she miraculously awakens one day before the undead plague begins. When Leo pressures her to hand over $150,000 for their future home—the same funds he stole in her previous life—Chloe smiles and complies. Instead of funding his escape, she secretly constructs a private doomsday bunker. In Doomsday Rewind: My Ex Gets What's Coming, Chloe prepares to repay their lethal cruelty in kind.
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Chapter 4

I ended the call with the remodeling contractor and picked up the bank card that held 150 thousand dollars.

Time was running out, but I still had to get everything bought today and pile up supplies before the zombies hit.

In my past life, Leo swindled me out of that money. In this life, it had to stay my lifeline.

I rushed to the nearest warehouse club, grabbed a cart, and headed straight for the food section.

I told the staff, "I need to buy in bulk. It's for a big company team-building event."

I wiped out the canned-food aisle, grabbing every can of tuna, ham, and beans I could find. I also took anything that would keep, including hardtack, energy bars, and nuts.

I bought 50 boxes of pasta, 30 bags of flour, and 20 bottles of cooking oil.

The cashier stared at me. "Ma'am, are you sure you need all of this?"

I swiped my card. "It's for a company retreat outside the city, and we've got a big headcount. I need rush delivery. It needs to arrive this afternoon."

Next, I made a pass through the outdoor aisle and grabbed a solar generator, a water purifier, and a couple of portable stoves. Then I stopped at the counter and arranged delivery for a chest freezer.

After that, I headed over to sporting goods and added a compound bow, arrows, machetes, and stun batons.

"Are these also for the team-building event?" the cashier asked, clearly confused.

"It's wilderness survival training. Our company has very strict requirements," I said without blinking.

One cart was no longer enough, so I grabbed two more and loaded them with cases of bottled water, first-aid kits, flashlights, batteries, ropes, and gas masks.

Every single item was essential for surviving the apocalypse.

The remodeling contractor called again, his voice sharp with anger, as if he were ready to come over and take a swing at me.

"Ms. Covey, we've already been waiting two hours."

"I'm so sorry! My bank card got hit with fraud, and the bank froze it. They won't unfreeze it until tomorrow, so I can't pay today," I said, rushing the words.

"Are you—"

I cut in before he could go off. "I'll add five grand for the time you lost. I guarantee you'll get the full payment tomorrow at 10:00 am."

There were a few seconds of silence before he said, "Alright. We'll come back tomorrow."

After I hung up, I finally let out a breath. Now I had the whole night to finish the final preparations.

At checkout, the cashier froze when the total popped up. "Ma'am, your total comes to 138,742 dollars."

I tapped my card without hesitation. All of it was survival gear, and I didn't care what it cost.

"The rush delivery fee is extra, and we can get everything to you by 6:00 pm today."

"No problem."

After I left the warehouse club, I stopped at a military surplus store and bought a bulletproof vest, night-vision goggles, tactical gloves, and combat boots.

The owner eyed me. "Are you law enforcement?"

I flashed a forged ID. "Private security. My client has high standards."

When I got back to the new apartment, workers from the security contractor were installing bulletproof glass.

"Ma'am, this level of protection is usually for banks or government buildings," the foreman said.

I lied smoothly. "My ex-husband has a violent streak, and he has ties to organized crime. I'm terrified he'll show up and start something, so I really need the highest level of protection."

After that, the foreman stopped pushing. A violent ex was reason enough.

The privacy film let me see out just fine, but nobody outside could see in. The security door was almost two inches thick and bolted three ways.

At 6:00 pm, the warehouse club delivery truck pulled up right on time. The workers carried box after box into the apartment, and the place filled up fast.

As I looked at the supplies, I felt safer than I ever had.

Canned food was stacked in piles, and cases of bottled water covered an entire wall. The solar generator sat on the balcony, and the freezer hummed steadily.

The compound bow was mounted on the wall, with arrows lined up neatly beside it. The machetes and stun batons stayed within easy reach.

This was my apocalypse shelter, the place that would keep me alive when the zombies hit.

Night fell while I organized the last of the supplies, and my phone rang. A familiar name flashed on the screen.

Jessica.

I stared at it and smirked.

The real show was finally about to begin.

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