Warehouse of the Apocalypse

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.