The responses started coming in the next morning.
I woke to three emails, two texts, and a voicemail.
The first email was from Dr. Okoye.
Ms. Shen,
Thank you for reaching out. I'm intrigued by your project—stress-resistant agriculture is something I'm passionate about, though funding and institutional support have been… limited. I'd be happy to discuss further. Are you available for a call this week?
Best,
Kenna Okoye
I read it twice, something warm and tight unfurling in my chest.
In my old life, when I'd found her, she'd been hollow-eyed and barefoot, scavenging in the ruins of a campus greenhouse.
Now, she was whole. Hopeful.
I could keep her that way.
I typed a reply immediately.
Dr. Okoye,
I'm available tomorrow afternoon if that works for you. Happy to meet in person or over a call—whichever you prefer. Looking forward to it.
Best,
Evelyn
Sent.
The System chimed.
[SPECIALIST RECRUITMENT: DR. KENNA OKOYE]
[STATUS: INTERESTED]
[PROJECTED ALLIANCE STRENGTH: MODERATE-HIGH]
[+10 SURVIVAL POINTS]
SP: 85.
The second email was from an old coworker, Marcus Chen—a logistics coordinator I'd worked with on a supply chain project years ago.
In my first life, he'd died in the first week of the Mist, trampled in a grocery store riot.
Evie!
Good to hear from you! A countryside project sounds interesting. I've been thinking about getting out of the city grind myself—too much stress, not enough actual living, you know? Let's grab coffee and you can tell me more.
Marcus
I exhaled slowly.
He didn't know it, but I'd just bought him seventy-one more days of life.
Maybe more, if I could convince him to come early.
I added him to my mental list: Priority Tier 2 – Useful, Trustworthy.
The third email was from my younger brother, Danny.
sis what are you talking about lol
you setting up a farm commune or something??
i'm busy with the app launch but yeah sure ill bite. lunch this weekend?
I smiled despite myself.
Danny was brilliant, stubborn, and perpetually three steps away from burning out. In my old life, he'd refused to leave the city until it was too late.
I'd found his name on a casualty list two months into the Mist.
Not this time.
[ME]: Lunch sounds good. Saturday?
The texts were simpler—a former neighbor agreeing to "hear me out," and a medic I'd briefly worked with during a company health fair saying she was "curious."
I cataloged them all, cross-referencing with my memories.
Who had skills. Who had adaptability. Who would panic. Who would lead.
By mid-morning, I had a working list of fifteen people.
Not enough to build a full base.
But enough to start.
At 10 a.m., my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered cautiously.
"Ms. Shen?" A woman's voice, brisk and professional. "This is Agent Zhao from the National Emergency Management Office. Do you have a few minutes?"
Every nerve in my body went taut.
"…Yes," I said slowly. "What's this about?"
"We're conducting a routine survey regarding household preparedness for natural disasters," she said. "It'll only take a few minutes. Do you currently have an emergency kit in your home?"
I blinked.
A survey.
In my old life, the government had started "routine surveys" about a month before the Mist.
We'd all ignored them.
Now, hearing it again, I understood what it really was: data collection. Mapping population density, resource distribution, psychological baselines.
"Yes," I said. "We have a basic kit. Water, first aid, flashlights."
"Good," she said. "And do you have a designated evacuation route in the event of a citywide emergency?"
"Not formally," I said. "But we've discussed it."
"Excellent." I could hear her typing. "Have you noticed any unusual environmental phenomena in your area recently? Unusual weather, animal behavior, infrastructure malfunctions?"
There it was.
I kept my voice neutral.
"I've seen some news about auroras," I said. "But nothing in person."
"Understood. And would you say your household feels generally prepared for an extended emergency—say, two weeks without external support?"
Two weeks.
In my old life, by the end of two weeks, half the city was gone.
"We're working on it," I said.
"Good, good." A pause. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Shen. If you'd like more information on disaster preparedness, we have resources available online."
"I'll check them out," I lied.
She hung up.
I stared at my phone.
The System pulsed.
[GOVERNMENT SURVEILLANCE: DETECTED]
[SURVEY CLASSIFICATION: DATA MINING / EARLY WARNING PROTOCOL]
[NATIONAL PREPAREDNESS STATUS: CLASSIFIED]
[ESTIMATED BUNKER CONSTRUCTION PROGRESS: 34%]
[PUBLIC DISCLOSURE TIMELINE: T MINUS 29 DAYS]
Twenty-nine days.
That's when they'd start the "official" warnings. Vague advisories. Recommendations to stock food and water. Assurances that everything was under control.
By then, it would be far too late for most people.
But twenty-nine days also meant I had forty-two days of lead time.
Forty-two days to move, build, prepare, and disappear into the countryside before the panic started.
I opened my laptop and pulled up the base plans I'd been sketching.
If I closed on the land in eight days, I'd have sixty-three days to build the bones of a fortress.
Not enough for everything.
But enough for the essentials.
I started a new list:
PHASE 1: FOUNDATION (DAYS 1–20)
Clear land, establish perimeterDrill well, test waterSet up temporary shelters (tents, trailers)Install solar panels, backup generatorsBegin greenhouse construction
PHASE 2: FORTIFICATION (DAYS 21–45)
Reinforce main structuresBuild storage cellarsEstablish farming plots, plant fast-growing cropsMap old mining tunnels, seal dangerous sectionsInstall basic defense systems (fences, watchtowers)
PHASE 3: POPULATION (DAYS 46–72)
Move immediate family to baseBegin relocating recruited alliesStockpile medical supplies, non-perishable foodEstablish communication protocolsFinal lockdown preparations
It was ambitious.
It was probably impossible.
But I'd done harder things with less.
The System chimed.
[BASE CONSTRUCTION ROADMAP: ACKNOWLEDGED]
[PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS (CURRENT RESOURCES): 56%]
[RECOMMENDATION: ACQUIRE ADDITIONAL LABOR & MATERIALS]
"Working on it," I muttered.
My phone buzzed.
Alex.
[ALEX]: Signed the loan docs. You're really doing this, huh?
[ME]: I really am.
[ALEX]: Alright. I trust you. But you owe me a weekend trip to this place once it's livable. I want to see what we're investing in.
I smiled faintly.
That afternoon, I drove out to the land again.
The lawyer had sent me a temporary access code for the gate. This time, I didn't have to climb the fence.
I drove up the overgrown track slowly, taking in every detail.
The collapsed farmhouse. The dense tree line. The river glittering in the distance.
It was perfect.
Remote enough to avoid the first waves of chaos. Fertile enough to feed a small community. Defensible, with natural barriers and elevation.
I parked and stepped out, boots crunching on gravel.
The air smelled clean. No exhaust. No concrete. Just earth and water and green.
The System pulsed, and a translucent overlay spread across my vision.
A map.
Property boundaries glowed in faint blue. The river traced a silver line. Elevation contours layered in soft green and gold.
And deeper, beneath the surface, a network of thin red lines.
The old mining tunnels.
[SUBTERRANEAN STRUCTURE: DETECTED]
[TUNNEL NETWORK: EXTENSIVE]
[STATUS: UNSTABLE (ESTIMATED)]
[RECOMMENDATION: SURVEY BEFORE USE]
I knelt and pressed my hand to the ground.
In my old life, I'd learned to sense things through the earth—plant roots, water veins, the faint hum of life.
Now, I felt… something.
Not my powers, not yet. They were still dormant, locked behind the Mist threshold.
But a potential. A seed.
I closed my eyes and focused.
Warmth pulsed faintly under my palm.
The System chimed, very softly.
[PLANT AFFINITY: AWAKENING PROGRESS]
[CURRENT: 19%]
[THRESHOLD FOR ACTIVATION: 60%]
[FACTORS INFLUENCING AWAKENING:]
– TIME IN NATURAL ENVIRONMENT
– INTENT & FOCUS
– PROXIMITY TO MIST DESCENT
Nineteen percent.
Not enough to do anything useful yet.
But more than yesterday.
I stood and walked the perimeter, mentally marking where the greenhouses would go, where the main shelters would sit, where the training grounds and defenses would rise.
By the time I made it back to the car, the sun was low, painting the hills in shades of amber and rust.
I took a picture and sent it to Alex.
[ME]: This is what we're building.
His reply came a few minutes later.
[ALEX]: It's beautiful. I still think you're crazy, but it's beautiful.
I smiled.
[ME]: Crazy's a compliment these days.
That night, I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop, a notebook, and a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.
Lily was asleep. Ryan was asleep. Alex was in his office, finishing a report.
I was alone with my lists.
Seventy days left.
Fifteen potential recruits contacted.
One land deal closing in eight days.
A base plan that was equal parts vision and desperation.
And somewhere, deep in the System's code, a countdown ticking toward a day the world would never forget.
I pulled up a blank document and started writing.
Not plans this time.
A letter.
To myself, maybe. To my family. To the people I was trying to save.
A record, in case I failed.
DAY 3 POST-REBIRTH
I don't know if anyone will ever read this.
If you are, it probably means I'm dead. Or I succeeded, and I want to remember how it started.
The Mist is coming. I've seen it before. I've lived through it, died in it, and somehow clawed my way back to before it all began.
I'm not a hero. I'm not even sure I'm a good person anymore.
But I know what's coming, and I know I can't stop it.
So I'm doing the only thing I can: I'm building a place where the people I love can survive. Where strangers who deserve a chance can find one.
If you're reading this in the future—my future, the one I'm trying to build—then it worked.
And if you're reading this in the ruins, then I'm sorry.
I tried.
– Evelyn Shen
I saved the file, encrypted it, and buried it three folders deep.
Then I closed the laptop and went to check on the kids.
Lily was sprawled across her bed, one arm flung over her face. Ryan was curled up with his dinosaur plushie, mouth open, snoring softly.
I pulled their blankets up, brushed hair from their foreheads.
In seventy days, they'd be awakened.
Powers they didn't ask for. A world they didn't deserve.
But I'd make sure they were ready.
I'd make sure they survived.
"I won't let you down," I whispered.
The System pulsed, quiet and steady.
[MATERNAL BOND: DETECTED]
[PROTECTIVE INSTINCT: AMPLIFIED]
[FAMILY SURVIVAL PRIORITY: LOCKED]
I smiled faintly.
"Damn right," I said.
And I went back to work.