Chapter 3
We parted ways at the next intersection.
I floored the gas pedal of the Ford pickup truck I had just rented and sped all the way to the suburban farmers' wholesale market.
"Give me 500 jin each of rice, flour, and soybeans, as well as all the dried sausages, whole ham legs, and dried beef jerky in your warehouse, and all the sugar and salt. I want it all. Don't count the luncheon meat and canned pure beef by the case; just fill five pallets with a forklift."
Faced with the wholesaler's expression, as if I were crazy, I took a deep breath and handed over the newly approved high-limit credit card.
My palms were sweaty, and my heart was pounding like a thief, but I tried my best to sound like a normal wholesaler: "Swipe the card, please hurry, I'm in a rush."
After packing the food, I went to the pharmacy. I bought everything that could save my life: antibiotics, tourniquets, iodine, alcohol.
On the other hand, it turns out that letting a Wall Street analyst spend money that doesn't need to be repaid is an extremely terrifying prospect.
Mark, feeling his Honda couldn't fit everything, stopped a heavy-duty refrigerated van that had just unloaded its cargo right in front of Costco at double the price.
He had a forklift load four pallets of bottled water into the truck, and hundreds of boxes of high-calorie energy bars, dozens of large barrels of coffee beans, and adult milk powder were piled up like a small mountain. As for toilet paper and garbage bags, he emptied two entire shelves at Costco—a full hundred packs of family-sized toilet paper.
In his words, maintaining a dignified manner of excretion in the apocalypse is the last line of defense that distinguishes humans from beasts. And boxes of highly concentrated bleach filled every crevice of the carriage.
This guy went so far as to buy out three large-capacity commercial freezers from the supermarket, along with two fuel generators and a dozen barrels of diesel fuel. He crammed the freezers with all the tomahawk steaks, thick-cut bacon, whole-cut lamb chops, and hundreds of pounds of frozen chicken and salmon from Costco's shelves—this elite said that even if it were the end of the world, he would refuse to eat only starchy sausages and dehydrated vegetables every day.
As for Alex, he drove a leaky van he'd somehow acquired and practically emptied a corner of the Home Depot hardware store.
Bundles of heavy angle iron, dozens of rolls of high-strength wire mesh, several large boxes of expansion bolts and industrial waterproof cloth, and even two fire axes that gleamed coldly and a heavy crowbar.
When the three cars met downstairs at the apartment building, the car compartments were almost bursting under the weight.
"Get moving, gentlemen!" Alex hoisted a bundle of barbed wire.
We frantically went back and forth in the stairwell like that.
By the last trip, my shoulders were so constricted by the heavy object that I was almost losing all feeling.
I carried a heavy box of water into the third-floor hallway, where the box completely blocked my view.
Suddenly, my shoulder slammed into something soft.
"Oh dear!" came a cry of surprise.
I was startled and quickly put the water tank down heavily.
I bumped into a pregnant woman, who staggered back two steps before regaining her balance by pressing her back against the wall.
She clutched a small plastic bag tightly in her hand, her face displeased, her brows furrowed deeply.
"Hey! Can't you watch where you're going?" Her eyes were full of annoyance at being disturbed.
"I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry, the box was blocking my view." I quickly raised my hands to apologize, my palms were sweaty.
Alex happened to walk up carrying two axes. Upon seeing this, he immediately hid the weapons behind his back and dropped his usual nonchalant smile.
“It’s all our fault, madam.” Alex stepped forward, raised his hands to indicate that he was harmless, and spoke in a gentle tone like a salesman. “What floor do you live on? Let me help you carry your things up as an apology.”
The pregnant woman's gaze swept over our sweat-drenched faces, finally settling on Alex carrying two axes. She immediately recoiled as if electrocuted, her eyes becoming extremely wary.
"No need, I can walk by myself."
She clutched the plastic bag tightly, hugged the wall, and hurried upstairs as if fleeing.
Mark happened to be passing by carrying a case of bleach and gave a cold laugh.
"Can you please save your flirting skills?" Mark glanced at Alex.
“I was trying to help, okay! You cold-blooded Wall Street vampire!” Alex rolled his eyes.
I didn't reply, and silently picked up the water tank again.
As soon as he got back to the apartment, Alex pulled a large iron hammer straight out of the pile of scrap.
"For the great survival!" he roared, slamming the hammer down on the side wall.
The lime exploded.
Amidst the deafening sound of hammering against the wall, we took turns wielding the hammer. Mark, who is usually thin and refined, actually swung the hammer with more strength than I did.
Two hours later, the wall collapsed with a roar, and the empty room next door was completely connected to our apartment.
We transported the mountain of supplies into the next unit like an assembly line, categorizing and stacking them neatly. Then, Alex dragged out a welding machine and welded the entrance door of the next unit shut from the inside.
Amidst the sparks, he ran back to the living room and rummaged through the pile of trash that Mark had always despised, finding several thick steel pipes and bearings.
After some hammering and banging, a set of rough-looking but extremely sturdy mechanical door bolts and support frames was firmly nailed to the back of our door.
I pushed the bolt hard, but the door remained completely still, like an air-raid shelter.
"My God, can all this junk actually be used?" I looked at him in astonishment.
Alex smugly dusted off his hands.
Mark straightened his custom shirt, which was now soaked with sweat, and glanced around at the adjacent room, which resembled a supermarket warehouse, and the sturdy door latch.
For the first time ever, he didn't mock him.
“Not bad,” Mark said coldly.
