The Endgame Chronicles

The next afternoon, Hayley walked out of an old office building in the city. By the time she stepped outside, her account had gained another 300 thousand.

These microloan companies were worse than vampires! She sold the house to Philip's family for 400 thousand, but selling it to a loan shark only got her 300 thousand. Plus, the interest was insane.

She had signed a seven-day IOU. Within a week, she would have to pay back 400 thousand to the loan company, or they'd take the house.

It was a bottomless pit, a trap meant only to drain her house away.

No problem. Hayley never planned to pay it back—she didn't even have a house anymore.

The loan was timed perfectly. Just before the apocalypse hit, the company would come knocking on Philip's door. When that happened, the two despicable parties would get into a fight, and chaos would ensue.

Both sides were tough to mess with, but nobody knew who would come out on top. Either way, the house would soon be nothing but rubble.

Hayley stared at the loan money in her account, an idea forming in her head. She went through every lending platform she could find and borrowed from all of them.

She had decided to go all out.

By the end of it, she had another 100 thousand.

Now, Hayley had 720 thousand in hand. Time to stock up on supplies!

First stop, the building supply store. She bought about 50 surveillance cameras, then found a generator seller.

She needed power.

Generators came in wind, water, fire, and diesel. The first three were inconvenient—they were hard to install, slow, and mostly had to be custom-made. Diesel was perfect.

"What size generator do you want?" the shop owner asked.

"What do you have?" she replied.

"We have 35, 50, 200, and up to 800 kW. Anything above 1,000 is expensive."

Hayley checked the specs. A small 30 kW cost about 2,000 to 4,000. Midrange 200 kW ran 10 to 20 thousand. A 300 kW went over 20 thousand. Anything bigger would cost hundreds of thousands. Imported ones were even pricier.

"You can take domestic," the owner said. "The local stuff is just as good, more durable, and works better for most needs. Imported stuff is picky about diesel. You opening a restaurant or something?"

"Yes," Hayley said casually. She needed power to run the fallout shelter's lighting, so restaurant-grade equipment would do the job.

But of course, she bought the biggest, most powerful one. Her system gave rewards based on the level of equipment, so she went all in.

"I want the best. No shortcuts!" she said, flashing her "rich girl" vibe, and bought the generator for 240 thousand.

The owner was grinning ear to ear.

Hayley also had him throw in extra small items—soundproof mats, tool kits, and little accessories. He didn't hesitate and even gave her the last ten gallons of diesel for free.

Hayley's eyes lit up. "Do you know anyone who I can get diesel for cheaper?"

Diesel wasn't easy to buy. Gas stations required ID, limited how much you could buy, and often wouldn't sell loose fuel.

But people who sold generators usually knew a few back channels.

Fuel like that often ended up on the black market. Shady little workshops stole oil from big fields or bought up abandoned offshore batches, then refined it themselves and sold it under the table.

That was what they called black-market fuel.

Sure enough, as soon as she said this, the shop owner's face took on a secretive look. He leaned in and slid her a business card.

"Call this number and say I sent you. You'll get 20% off—cheaper than retail."

"Thanks," Hayley said.

It turned out her guess was correct.

She was about to head out when the shop owner muttered, "With the flu breaking out lately, business has been terrible."

"Yeah," Hayley replied casually, striding away.

She didn't say anything else.

That flu outbreak was actually the first sign of the apocalypse. Half a month after the virus hit, people started dying, only to "come back to life" before their family could even grieve them properly.

Unfortunately, they didn't come back as normal people—they had turned into zombies.

Last time, Hayley had been busy with Philip's wedding. Sue had just found out she was pregnant, and Hayley was helping with furniture, renovations, and hospital visits.

On the day the apocalypse started, she was at the hospital with Sue when screams erupted. She saw a patient, already declared dead, suddenly sit up and bite their loved ones.

Some tried to stop the patient, but in five minutes, the man who was first bitten began mutating. He convulsed for a while before standing up, his skin pale and his eyes gray, like in the movies.

He no longer had pupils, all signs of life lost as he appeared hungry for blood. He opened his mouth gruesomely and started biting the people who were trying to hold the patient down.

The entire hospital erupted into chaos. Scenes like this were happening in every corner of the building. Everyone who was bitten turned within five minutes and joined in, tearing into others.

Hayley had been scared, but to protect the pregnant Sue, she stayed calm. She grabbed a weapon and fought the attacking zombies, guiding them both out safely.

Because she had handled it so well, the Reids immediately relied on her for everything—scavenging supplies, protecting everyone.

Hayley was always the first in the fight.

She had always felt satisfied helping her family. But this time? She wasn't going to blindly protect a bunch of monsters.

Hayley arranged for the equipment to be delivered to the warehouse and called about the diesel. The supplier could deliver the next day.

She bought everything they had in stock—totaling 200 thousand—and got a 25% discount. After one trip, she had already spent over 400 thousand.