The rain had thinned into a mist by the time Blake stepped outside, umbrella in hand, laptop bag slung over his shoulder. The familiar cold of Baguio's rainy season brushed against his skin—soft, damp, and strangely comforting.
He paused on the porch.
The world looked untouched.
Pine trees swayed gently.
Students in jackets hurried past, laughing under shared umbrellas.
Vendors set up their morning stalls, steam rising from pots of taho.
Cars hummed along the road, their headlights cutting through the fog.
Life moved with the quiet rhythm of a city unaware it was living on borrowed time.
Blake tightened his grip on the umbrella.
Ninety-seven days.
He walked to his car—clean, unscratched, unburned. He ran a hand along the hood, remembering the rusted, bullet‑scarred vehicles he had scavenged in the old timeline.
He unlocked the door and slid inside.
The scent of fresh upholstery hit him.
He closed his eyes.
He had forgotten this smell.
He started the engine. The dashboard lit up normally—no flickering lights, no improvised wiring, no desperate repairs made with scavenged parts.
Just a car.
A normal car.
He pulled out of the driveway.
---
The Drive Through Baguio
The city unfolded before him as he drove toward Saint Louis University.
Session Road was alive with morning traffic.
Students in blue and white uniforms crossed the street.
Jeepneys rumbled past, engines loud but familiar.
The smell of freshly baked bread drifted from a nearby bakery.
Blake's chest tightened.
He had walked these streets in the old timeline too—
but they had been cracked, burned, flooded, overgrown.
Now they were whole.
He stopped at a red light.
A notification pulsed softly in his mind.
---
[System Notice: Family Status Interface Unlocked]
---
His breath caught.
A translucent panel appeared in the corner of his vision—faint, like a reflection on glass.
Family Status
---
Marie's Family — Local — Moderate Risk
- Marie Ong
- Mikaela Ong
- Aer Ong
- Maria Santos (Mother‑in‑law)
- Rogelio Santos (Father‑in‑law)
- Marco Santos (Brother‑in‑law)
- Partner of Marco — Unverified
- Daughter of Marco — Senior High, Local
- Dr. Lianne Santos (Sister‑in‑law)
All nearby.
All reachable.
All saveable.
Blake exhaled shakily.
Then the next section appeared.
---
Blake's Family — International — High Risk
- Cynthia Ong (Mother, 65, Doctor)
- Daniel Ong (Father, 65, Mining Engineer)
His parents.
The two people who shaped him.
The two voices he longed to hear again.
- Evelyn Ong (Sister, 33, Doctor)
- Her Husband (Civil Engineer, 33)
- Their Children — Girl 16, Girl 14, Boy 12
His nieces and nephew.
Teenagers who never got to grow up.
- Michael Ong (Brother, 30, Real Estate)
- His Wife (Nurse, 30)
- Their Children — Boy 8, Girl 4
The little ones he used to video call.
- Joseph Ong (Brother, 27, Nurse)
- Single
The brother who always joked he'd stay single forever.
- Angela Ong (Sister, 24, Nurse)
- Married to a US Air Force Sergeant, 24
Her wedding.
The wedding they were supposed to attend.
The wedding they never reached.
The system pulsed again.
---
[Note: International Family Members Face Accelerated Risk Due to Global Spread Patterns]
[Recommendation: Initiate Contact Within 14 Days]
[Recommendation: Prepare Extraction Plan]
[Timeline Note: User's Family Was Scheduled to Travel to the United States on Outbreak Day]
---
Blake's grip tightened on the steering wheel.
He remembered the old timeline:
The excitement.
The packed luggage.
The kids rehearsing their greetings for their aunt's wedding.
Marie ironing clothes.
Blake checking flight schedules.
Then the news.
The sudden collapse.
The airports shutting down.
The world falling apart.
They never made it to the US.
They never saw Angela in her wedding dress.
They never saw her husband.
They never saw their family again.
Blake swallowed hard.
This time…
he had ninety-seven days.
But only fourteen days to reach out.
The light turned green.
He drove on.
---
Saint Louis University
The familiar blue-and-white buildings of SLU rose through the mist as Blake parked in the faculty lot. Students hurried past with umbrellas, laughing, chatting, living.
He stepped out of the car.
The air smelled of wet concrete and pine.
He walked toward the Engineering and Architecture building, his footsteps echoing softly on the damp pavement.
A colleague waved. "Sir Blake! Good morning!"
Blake forced a smile. "Good morning."
Another professor nodded at him. "You're early today."
"Just wanted to prepare my lecture," Blake replied.
He wasn't lying.
He needed time alone.
He entered his classroom—empty, quiet, familiar. The whiteboard was clean. The chairs were neatly arranged. The projector hummed softly.
He set his bag down and exhaled.
For a moment, he simply stood there, letting the silence settle.
Then—
A soft chime.
---
[System Notice: Construction Interface Tutorial Available]
[Would you like to begin?]
---
Blake hesitated.
He looked around the empty classroom.
He had taught here for years.
He had lectured about structural integrity, load distribution, sustainable design.
He had guided students through blueprints and models.
He had built a small construction company from scratch.
He knew buildings.
He knew shelters.
He knew how to design for earthquakes, typhoons, landslides.
But he had never designed for the end of the world.
He inhaled slowly.
"Yes," he whispered.
The system responded instantly.
---
[Construction Interface Activated]
---
A holographic grid expanded across the classroom—faint, blue, transparent. It hovered above the desks, shifting gently like a digital blueprint.
Then shapes formed.
Walls.
Floors.
Foundations.
Support beams.
Ventilation shafts.
Reinforced doors.
Underground chambers.
Blake's breath caught.
This wasn't just a shelter.
It was a fortress.
A bunker.
A base.
A home.
The system spoke again.
---
[Tutorial Step 1: Select a Build Site]
[Note: User currently owns no suitable land]
[Recommendation: Acquire Property]
---
Blake closed his eyes.
Of course.
He needed land.
He needed money.
He needed manpower.
He needed materials.
He needed everything.
And he had ninety-seven days.
A soft knock on the door made him jump.
"Sir Blake?"
He turned.
A student peeked in. "Sir, your 8:00 class is waiting."
Blake straightened, forcing his heartbeat to slow.
"Thank you. I'll be right there."
The student nodded and left.
Blake looked at the fading holographic grid.
Ninety-seven days.
He picked up his marker and walked to the board.
"Let's begin," he whispered.
But inside, he wasn't thinking about architecture.
He was thinking about survival.
And the world that would soon end.