My Reborn Apocalypse Begins with a Divorce novel Chapter 47

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Chapter 47

At 33,000 feet, there was no hail and no fog. But how were the planes supposed to land?

Some aircraft took the risk and descended. The result was predictable–immediate catastrophe. Others stayed airborne until their fuel ran out, forced into a desperate landing attempt or a powerless plunge from the sky.

If these planes crashed in remote wilderness or over the open ocean, the damage was contained. But when they plummeted into cities, it created a secondary disaster.

People were trapped indoors, but they could still upload footage they’d captured and share accounts online. The videos spread across the globe in an instant.

The entire world was shaken.

Could it be… that the end had truly come?

Ray picked up his phone to see an invitation from the property manager to join the Mallory Avenue Disaster Response Group.

Every homeowner, and even the renters, had received one.

After a moment’s thought, Ray joined the group chat.

His phone instantly blew up with notifications.

Far too many people were talking. To read anything, you had to scroll up and pause the constant stream of new

messages.

Most were asking if anyone had inside information, how long this would last, or when government aid would arrive.

Then, one person stood out.

A man named Lesley Crawford claimed his cousin worked at City Hall. He said this disaster would drag on, and that the government had already activated an emergency evacuation protocol. A select group would be moved into long–prepared underground shelters to ride out the catastrophe and later emerge to rebuild.

He claimed to have three slots to bring people into the underground complex.

Since he was single, he said he was willing to sell two of those slots to interested parties and told people to message him privately.

Ray searched his memory and couldn’t help but shake his head.

This had happened in his last life, too.

There were no underground shelters.

Lesley was nothing but a scammer. He wasn’t even a homeowner—just a tenant. He’d deliberately spread this disinformation and ended up scamming over a dozen people.

Some only lost money, which was bad enough.

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Some lost their stockpiled supplies.

And some… lost both their supplies and their lives.

He kept running the scam until the eleventh day, when the truth finally came out—and he was beaten to death on the spot.

By the eleventh day of the disaster, the power was long gone. Everyone had become isolated islands. Despair was amplified limitlessly. In such conditions, people were capable of absolutely anything.

Ray didn’t issue any warnings.

In fact, some people in the group were already cautioning others about scammers. But the more desperate the situation, the tighter people clung to any lifeline that looked like salvation.

Those who wanted to believe would believe anyway. If they got swindled, they had it coming.

Ray had no interest in playing the saint.

With power like his, refraining from doing evil was the greatest kindness he could offer.

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