Chapter Three

Four days later, at dawn .

I was woken up by my phone vibrating.

The weather bureau's internal warning system issued an urgent alert: the polar vortex is moving 48 hours faster than expected and will reach northern Montana tonight.

I looked at the satellite cloud image on the screen, and that huge white vortex was slashing towards us like the scythe of death.

Time is running out.

I quickly got dressed and, while Dmitri and the others were still asleep, quietly drove to the community center.

At seven o'clock in the morning, the community's veterans' club had just opened.

Veteran Tom Harrison was clearing snow from in front of his house when he saw my car stop and looked up in confusion.

"Ivan? What brings you here so early?"

I took a box of military MRE rations and a shortwave radio from the car: "Tom, listen, there's going to be an unprecedented blizzard tonight. The temperature will drop to minus fifty degrees Celsius, the power grid will be paralyzed, and it will last for at least thirty days."

Harrison glanced at the box of MREs, then at the radio, his expression turning serious. "Are you sure?"

"I'm a meteorologist, and this is internal data."

I opened my phone and showed him the satellite cloud image. "The polar vortex is moving south, twice as fast as expected. There hasn't been an official warning yet, but we only have 12 hours left."

Harrison, a Vietnam War veteran, immediately understood the seriousness of the situation: "I need to notify others."

"I've prepared some supplies," I said, pointing to several boxes in the back seat, "to distribute to reliable neighbors. But remember, only give them to those you truly trust."

Harrison nodded. "Got it. I can tell the difference between a jerk and a good guy."

I drove to Hunter Jeff's house again and warned him in the same way.

Jeff saw the military equipment and immediately realized the seriousness of the situation.

"Animals are more sensitive than humans," I said. "Starting tonight, stay in touch on this channel—147.52 MHz. Call immediately in case of emergency."

Just as I finished distributing the last batch of supplies, my phone rang.

Natasha's voice was anxious: "Ivan, where are you? The news says there might be a blizzard tonight. Dmitry is going crazy, saying we're not prepared enough."

"I'm finishing up the last batch of equipment, I'm going home soon."

When he got home, Dmitri was running around the living room like a madman, turning everything upside down.

"Ivan! You're finally back!" He grabbed my arm. "The news says a blizzard is coming tonight! We need to move everything to the basement right away!"

"Calm down, Dmitri." I feigned composure while secretly inspecting the hidden cameras installed in the corners of each room. "I've already considered this possibility. The surveillance system is fully tested and the safe house is well-prepared."

While moving supplies, I secretly activated the surveillance equipment hidden in the vents and decorations. In the basement, I secretly activated the last surveillance node—the main camera, disguised as a heater indicator light.

Around noon, strange things began to happen in the neighborhood. Brian Morrison, the troublesome neighbor, stood at his front door and yelled at Harrison, who was carrying supplies: "Look at those idiots! A few snowflakes and they're all terrified! They're practically delusional! Has Dr. Ivan caught your nonsense? A meteorologist believing in the end of the world? Hahaha!"

I ignored his sarcasm, but in my heart I was thinking: Laugh all you want, you won't be laughing tomorrow.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the sky began to change color. The first eerie black snowflake began to fall.

I checked the time and said to Dmitry, "I'll go get the last batch of emergency equipment from the car. You guys go down to the basement and wait for me."

"Do you need my help?" Dmitri asked.

"No need, I'll be right back." I patted him on the shoulder. "Remember, no matter what happens, don't leave the basement. Wait for me to come back."

Natasha approached, somewhat uneasy: "Honey, you're not in danger, are you?"

"No," I gently stroked her cheek, "trust me, I will never let anything happen to this family."

That's true—but this "home" doesn't include her.

I drove off Pine Street and headed straight for the safe house on Oak Avenue.

At six o'clock in the evening, I sat in a real underground fortress, lit the fireplace, and opened a bottle of fine bourbon.

The surveillance wall in front of me displays six screens:

Scene 1: A panoramic view of the basement on Pine Street, where the Dmitri family is "enjoying" their refuge.

Screens 2 through 6: Real-time monitoring of the living room, kitchen, bedroom, garage, and neighborhood streets.

I raised my glass to the screen and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin."

In the surveillance footage, Dmitry and his family were initially very excited.

"Look at this basement!" Dmitry proudly displayed the surrounding equipment. "Generator, water purifier, heater, and so much high-end food! Ivan really spent a fortune this time!"

My mother-in-law opened a can of "Imported from Italy" and nodded with satisfaction: "This tastes good; twenty dollars a can is definitely worth it."

Natasha spread out the silver sleeping bags: "These sleeping bags feel so nice, and the colors are so bright; they look really warm."

My father-in-law turned on the heater: "German craftsmanship is truly exceptional; it's so quiet, and the heat is so evenly distributed."

They sat together, relaxed and happy as if they were camping. Dmitri even opened a bottle of champagne, saying it was to celebrate the successful construction of their "doomsday mansion."

I watched all of this quietly, taking a sip of whiskey.

Enjoy it, these inferior goods won't last more than three days.

At 7 p.m., the blizzard began to intensify, but Dmitri and his companions remained immersed in a comfortable illusion.

"Why isn't Ivan back yet?" Natasha glanced at the time, her tone clearly impatient. "It's been so long, has he really run into some trouble?"

"Oh, don't worry so much," my mother-in-law waved her hand. "Ivan's an adult; he can take care of himself. Let's eat first, so we don't go hungry."

Dmitry muttered, "To be honest, it's actually quieter without Ivan nagging around. He always looks so worried, making the atmosphere at home very heavy."

"Exactly," Natasha chimed in. "He always talks about conserving resources, but look at us now, we have so many supplies, why do we need to conserve anything?"

The father-in-law nodded in agreement: "Although Ivan is a meteorologist, he can be too conservative at times. If it weren't for Dmitry's insistence, how could we have been so well-prepared?"

Listening to their conversation, I gripped my wine glass tightly until my knuckles turned white.

How interesting! I purchased the supplies and paid for them, but now all the credit is going to Dmitry?

At 8 p.m., the entire community lost power.

The surveillance footage automatically switched to night vision mode, and I saw Dmitri's family groping in the dark to turn on their flashlights.

"Generator! Start the generator!" Dmitry shouted.

He pulled the starter rope with all his might, and the generator barely started, but the sound was very abnormal and the power was obviously insufficient; the light bulb could only emit a faint light.

"Why is it so dark?" Dmitri frowned. "Wasn't this generator supposed to power all the equipment?"

"It's probably because it's too cold," my father-in-law said. "The machine needs to warm up."

The heater was turned on, but it automatically stopped after running for about ten minutes and could not be restarted.

"Why did the heater stop?" My mother-in-law began to feel cold.

"The water flow from the purifier has slowed down," Natasha said, checking the equipment, "and the water is a bit cloudy."

Dmitri tried to restart the heater, but it would only run for a few minutes each time before overheating and triggering the emergency stop.

The temperature in the basement began to drop slowly.

"What's going on with these devices?" Dmitry started sweating. "Wasn't it supposed to be German technology?"

Natasha's tone sharpened: "Where is Ivan? It's so late and he's still not back! We've got a problem here; he should be here dealing with it!"

"Maybe something happened on the way," my mother-in-law said, but her tone also revealed her dissatisfaction. "They're nowhere to be found when it matters most."

Dmitry wiped the sweat from his brow: "If Ivan doesn't come back, how will we solve the problem with these devices?"

Hearing this, I sneered inwardly .

Are you starting to panic? This is just the beginning.

I checked the timer. The generator could barely last 48 hours, the heater was basically broken, and the water purifier could only last another 24 hours at most.

There's still a month until the real extreme cold ends .

I turned on the radio and tuned it to 147.52 MHz: "Tom, this is Ivan, please respond."

"Ivan! Thank God you're alive!" Harrison's voice came through the phone. "We're doing alright here, the generator's working fine. How are things over there?"

"I'm safe. Remember my words, for the next thirty days, don't open the door to anyone who knocks. Especially those with Russian accents."

"Understood. Ivan... There seems to be some commotion over Pine Street; the lights at Dmitry's house are flickering."

I glanced at the monitor and saw Dmitry desperately trying to fix the half-dead generator.

then started complaining, "That damn Ivan, he disappeared at the crucial moment! I should never have let him go get the equipment alone!"

I shook my head, poured myself another glass of whiskey, and continued watching the show.

a maximum of 48 hours, they will lose all means of heating and purifying water.

But the real extreme cold has only just begun.