At midnight, the wind picks up outside.
I walk over to the monitor wall. On the streets, people are still laughing and joking around. A delivery rider zips past on a scooter. The convenience store lights glow. Steam rises from a barbecue stand. The whole city is still lost in an ordinary, peaceful night.
No one knows the countdown has already run out.
At 12:01, the first snowflake drifts down from the sky. It lands on the back of a drunk man's hand on the sidewalk. He pauses, confused. "What the hell kind of weather is this? Why is it suddenly snowing?"
I switch to a high-definition camera, zooming in.
The next second, his movements freeze. Strange patterns spread across his skin. His eyes go glassy and unfocused. A low growl rises from his throat. Then he lunges violently at a passerby beside him.
Screams erupt down the street. The snow keeps falling harder, and chaos takes over. People frantically brush snow off their bodies. Others turn and run. Some try to duck into the convenience store, only to find the doorway already jammed. Within minutes, the entire street spirals out of control. The camera feed shakes violently. Soon, all that's left on the snow are scattered footprints and dark, unmistakable stains.
In that moment, the entire city plunges into darkness.
Meanwhile, I sit safe and warm in my underground bunker, lifting a bowl of freshly made beef noodles. The broth is steaming hot, the beef tender. There's even a faint hint of scallion in the air. I watch the monitor screens, the chaos unfolding on the streets, and I feel no satisfaction, only a heavy sense that it has finally, truly begun.
I don't rush to shut off the monitors, because I know the true chaos is only just beginning.
In the first ten minutes, most people still think this is just a sudden disaster. Extreme weather, some brief anomaly. But twenty minutes in, the first wave of infected has already lost all control. They feel no cold, no pain, and no reason. The moment they hear a living voice, they're drawn straight toward it.
On the monitors, the city's lights go dark, one section at a time. In the end, all that remains is the raging storm and distant screams echoing one after another.
City communications haven't fully collapsed yet. Some cell towers are still running on backup power, the signal flickering in and out. No one knows how much longer it'll hold. That's exactly why messages start pouring into the birthday party group chat one after another.
"What's going on out there? Why is it suddenly snowing?"
"Someone's gone insane. The hotel entrance is chaos."
"Somebody call the police. I can't get through to emergency services."
"Ethan, do you know something about this?"
The one sending that last message is Derek Kane. Same as always. The moment danger arrives, his first instinct is never to take responsibility. It's to find someone else to blame.
Right after that, a voice call comes in from Vivien. I don't answer. She calls again. I still don't answer.
After five missed calls in a row, she finally sends a text. "Ethan, where are you? Something's happening out here. Come pick me up now. I'm outside the Golden Grand Hotel. There are so many crazy people out here. Do you hear me?"
I look at the screen, my expression calm. The Golden Grand Hotel. Same as my past life. Her birthday party is still being held there. Only this time, I never showed up.
I text back two words: "No time."
The message barely sends before Vivien's reply comes flying back. "Ethan, what does that mean? I'm your fiancée. It's dangerous out here, and you're telling me you don't have time? Are you even a man?"
Even with the apocalypse already underway, she still expects me to react exactly the way I always used to. One word from her, and I charge headfirst into danger to save her.
I reply, "The wedding's already off. You're not my fiancée anymore."
There's a few seconds of silence on the other end. Then a burst of text floods in. "Ethan, are you insane? Is this really the time for a tantrum? Something huge is actually happening out here. Come get me right now. If you come, I'll even forgive your attitude today."
Reading that, I nearly laugh out loud. Forgive me. Even now, she still thinks she's the one doing me a favor.
I don't reply. Instead, I switch to the outer perimeter cameras I'd set up in advance. One of them happens to catch the street right outside the Golden Grand Hotel. The feed is choppy, but it's clear enough to make out the chaos at the hotel entrance. Several cars smashed together, the glass doors shattered across the ground, the lobby packed with people. Some try to push their way out, others push their way in.
Soon, at a window of the second floor banquet hall, I spot Vivien. She's still in her white gown, her carefully done makeup smeared beyond recognition, clutching her phone, crying, glancing frantically toward the street. Beside her, Derek braces the door shut, and a few of their mutual friends stand pale with terror.
These are the same people who, in my past life, when I was thrown out of my own safe house, didn't say a single word in my defense. Now they're finally tasting real fear for themselves.
I close the group chat and start running through the bunker systems one by one. Power, normal. Heating, normal. Air filtration, normal. Water purification, normal. External surveillance, normal. All three blast doors locked down tight.
In the power room on basement level one, the diesel generator has already kicked in automatically. Its low hum carries through the back wall like a heartbeat, steady and strong.
Indoor temperature, twenty-four degrees. Outside, minus thirty-six. And that number is still dropping.
I know that by noon today at the latest, the outside temperature will plunge past minus eighty. By then, forget ordinary people. Even vehicles will freeze solid and refuse to start.
The true frozen hell hasn't even arrived yet.