When the World Ends, She Begins novel Chapter 8

Back home, Natalie set the puppy down on the floor and pulled a dog bed from her space.

The little white pup widened its eyes when it saw a whole bed appear out of thin air. It crept forward cautiously, sniffing the new object.

Natalie couldn't help but laugh. That pudgy little face actually looked surprised, just like a human.

"Dumb pup, it's your bed. It's not poisoned."

The white fluff let out a snort. It then wiggled its fat butt and climbed in.

Well, well. It's smarter than it looks.

What should she name it?

Natalie studied the chubby, lazy furball lying in its bed like a loaf. She grinned.

"Lucky," she decided. "You look like you'll live long and die rich."

"Lucky!" She grabbed a handful of kibble and fed it to the little thing.

Lucky gave a pig-like snort and wolfed down the food, tail wagging wildly.

After feeding the dog, Natalie changed into loungewear and cooked herself a bowl of sour broth noodles. She scrolled through her feed while she ate.

Everyone was talking about the rain—how it had saved the many working people from the blistering heat.

Someone posted a screenshot of today's weather. After a full month of 100°F days, it had dropped to 82°F overnight.

Others were begging for more rain, saying it should last a few more days.

Natalie raised an eyebrow at that post. Buddy, you might just get your wish.

This rain wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. But he probably wouldn't be smiling much longer.

After eating, she did some stretches and ran through a short boxing routine before heading to bed.

Lucky had been lying in the living room, but the moment she moved, the pup scrambled to follow her.

Natalie chuckled and gave him a scratch behind the ears. "Clingy little thing."

She pulled out a tiny dog bed from her space and placed it by her bed.

Then she turned off the light. "Sleep now."

Maybe it was the looming apocalypse, but she slept terribly.

In her dream, Braxton and Tiffany were chasing her with boning knives.

She ran through the dark, only to be stopped by a shadowy figure.

It was Jacob. He smiled, cold and eerie. "Go on, sweetheart." And shoved her toward Braxton.

"No!"

Natalie shot up in bed, panting.

It was morning. At some point, Lucky had climbed into her bed and was now licking her palm gently, like he was trying to comfort her.

Her heart softened. She hugged him close.

That life was over. This time, they'd be just fine.

She pulled the curtains open. It was still drizzling outside. She mixed some kibble for Lucky and headed to the kitchen.

Water and electricity were still running—for now. She had to make the most of it.

She cooked a simple breakfast, then hauled out every pot and appliance in the house.

Two stoves, a slow cooker, an oven, even the air fryer—all fired up at once.

She moved like a machine, cooking up six huge dishes, each split into smaller portions and packed into disposable containers.

While they were still hot, she stashed them all in her space.

Again and again, she cooked, packed, and stored. It was almost noon when something changed.

The sky went dark.

It was not just cloudy—pitch black. It had been raining lightly all morning, but now the clouds pressed low and thick, swallowing the light. The drizzle stopped.

It was happening.

Natalie stared out the window. It was exactly like her last life.

Their family owned the entire 15th floor—two units, both his and his mother's.

Natalie remembered them clearly from her past life. They were the only family in the whole complex that came out of the apocalypse relatively unscathed.

Not only did they not starve, but they also weren't robbed by thugs. When things got unbearable, they packed up and left. No one ever found out where they went.

Back in her apartment, Natalie sat at her desk and looked up Harold's name on the internet. Sure enough, she found something—an article titled "Twenty Possible Causes for the Apocalypse," authored by him.

It explored everything from climate disasters to pandemics, even zombie sieges.

It bordered on the imaginative.

The comments were a mixed bag—some called him delusional, others discussed doomsday gear with genuine interest.

So he was a doomsday survival enthusiast.

No wonder he thrived in the last life. He'd trained for it.

...

Meanwhile, across town, in the Locust Tree Restaurant.

Braxton had picked a window seat on the second floor and was smugly waiting for Natalie.

So what if she blocked me? After today's meal, she'll be crawling back.

He patted his pocket, feeling the small packet hidden inside. All he had to do was slip it into her drink.

Once the deed was done ...

He was grinning to himself when the sky flashed—blinding violet lightning sliced across the clouds.

A deafening clap of thunder cracked overhead.

The wind howled. Leaves ripped off trees, battering the windows.

Then the sky opened up. Rain slammed into the earth like someone had torn the heavens open. Dense sheets of water hammered the glass.

Braxton flinched, heart racing. What the hell ... ?