Emergency calls wouldn’t go through. And even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. The local response stations were already underwater.

Residents cursed nonstop while scrambling to haul their belongings upstairs.

This area sat right next to Westbridge University. Almost every unit was occupied. If someone wasn’t living there, it was rented out.

The more clearheaded ones started asking in the group chat if anyone could take people in temporarily.

Under normal circumstances, neighbors helped neighbors.

But now, the power was out. By morning, even the gas had been cut. Even the rescue couldn’t get in. Who would dare take strangers in?

It was easy to invite someone in, but kicking them out later was another story. What if they wouldn’t leave? Where would they sleep? What would they eat?

Nothing turns kindness into hatred faster than hunger.

The group chat went silent.

The first-floor residents were desperate. They couldn’t block the stairwell forever.

Rain and wind raged nonstop. The stairwell was soaked. Adults might endure it, but what about kids?

Unwilling to give up, some people started moving floor by floor, knocking on doors. If no one would help, they would pay. Treat it like a hotel.

Most doors stayed shut. Others said their places were already packed and had no room.

Another knock came.

Nicole was surprised at how fast they had reached her floor.

When she opened the door, it was Zeph. He looked freshly awake, exhaustion still clinging to his face.

“I replaced my door. Can I install the old one at the stairwell?”

Nicole couldn’t have been happier. She jumped in immediately.

The two of them worked together, installing the old door at the entrance to the stairwell leading up to the 18th floor.

Calling it help was generous. Zeph did almost all the work. Nicole mostly steadied things. She even ended up with a spare key.

When the first-floor residents finally made it up and saw the door blocking the stairwell, their faces turned ugly. They cursed under their breath and turned back down.

Nicole listened from inside.

To keep herself from spiraling, Nicole turned off her phone, took a solid afternoon nap, then went into the storage space to start clearing land.

The timer ticked down mercilessly. She rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

Time was life.

Nicole swung the hoe hard, again and again. Her pale hands blistered quickly. A hundred square feet didn’t sound like much, but turning the soil was exhausting.

Once it was dug and leveled, she divided it into four plots and scattered different vegetable seeds. She added a few eggplant seeds and peppers, and cucumbers for later planting along the edges.

The space was tiny. Every inch mattered.

Time inside the storage space flowed the same as outside, but seasons didn’t seem to apply. After thinking it over, she planted a citrus sapling and a mature grapevine in the corners.

Even when rushing, it still took two full hours. It hurt to waste that time.

When Nicole stepped out of the storage space, she realized the water had been cut off too. The network flickered in and out.

The whole world seemed to be grinding to a halt.