Mari jerked awake to the raw, suffocating stench of copper and fresh fucking blood.
She ripped her eyes open, gasping as blinding sunlight slashed through cheap curtains—and locked onto the impossible, sickening sight of her own smooth, unscarred hands.
For three brutal, goddamn years, the world had been a bruised, ruined wasteland where the living envied the dead. She had survived by running, fighting, and killing without a shred of hesitation. Now, she was twenty-three again, her muscles lean, long dark hair damp with sweat, and a cheap steel knife hidden beneath her bloody pillow.
She grabbed it anyway, her instincts screaming red fucking murder.
The apartment was dead silent. No boots slamming in the hall. No rattling breath. No goddamn scratching behind the walls.
She tore through the rooms like a predator, clearing every corner before slamming to a halt in front of the bathroom mirror.
The young woman staring back was a total stranger.
Her skin was clear, free of the ash-grey pallor of the camps. The jagged burn scars covering her torso had vanished into smooth flesh. Only her eyes remained untouched—hard, hollow, and burning with a terrifying, veteran coldness.
Memories hit her like a physical blow: a burning hospital, collapsing concrete, monstrous multi-limbed horrors tearing through the city, and the final, agonizing slide of steel between her shoulder blades—pushed by a familiar, smiling, treacherous face.
Mari slammed her palms against the sink, gripping the porcelain until her knuckles turned white.
What the actual fuck.
She had gone back. The universe had spat her out into the past, giving her a second goddamn chance to burn it all down first.
Her phone sat on the counter. She snatched it up.
September 17. 8:04 a.m.
Less than ten hours before the sky split open.
Mari’s fingers flew across the screen, her heart hammering a frantic, violent rhythm as she maxed out credit lines and hammered orders into online retailers.
Water. Trauma supplies. Rations. Power banks. Solar arrays. Combat knives.
She split the purchases across a dozen stores. A single warehouse would empty in minutes once panic hit, and a massive transaction would instantly trigger fraud alerts.
Her first order went through. Confirmed. The second froze. Inventory verification in progress.
Mari’s jaw tightened. That shouldn't have happened yet. In the original timeline, supply chains didn't stutter until noon. She furiously refreshed the page.
The number of available backup generators dropped by half in real-time. Another store flashed a massive surge of automated orders routed through dummy accounts, all shipping downtown.
Someone else was buying, the greedy bastards.
Her phone chimed. Order canceled: supplier unable to fulfill.
Panic iced her veins. For a wild second, her mind raced: Did another soul claw their way back from the fucking apocalypse?
Then a horrifying new notification shoved its way onto the screen: Delivery route altered due to emergency logistics restrictions.
Mari whipped her head toward the microwave clock. 8:09 a.m.
She blinked hard and checked her phone. The timestamp corrected itself. 8:09 a.m.
A glitch. It had to be.
Her phone vibrated viciously. Order delayed.
"Fuck," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.
She canceled the rest, shrugged into a tactical backpack, and bolted out the door to hit localized pickup spots. The first pinged instantly. The second lagged. The third hard-refreshed, every battery pack blinking out of existence.
Her pulse rocketed into overdrive. She opened her contacts. Four names sat pinned at the top, glowing like lifelines: Adrian, Sera, [Name], Lena.
She slammed the call button for Adrian.
He answered, breathless and distracted. "Mari? What's up?"
"Drop the fucking wrench right now," she commanded, her voice hard as iron. "Get in your truck, drive home, lock every goddamn deadbolt, fill every container with water, and don't open the door for a single living soul."
"Mari... what the hell? That sounds like a profoundly specific kind of crazy."
"I need you to trust me. Do it the fuck now."
The brutal honesty cut off his witty retort. "Okay," he breathed, the cockiness draining out of his voice. "I'm walking out right now."
"Don't play the goddamn hero today. Go, Adrian."
"Already in the cab. And, Mari? If the world actually ends, I'm blaming you."
"Just drive, dammit."
She severed the call and immediately dialed Sera, who answered over a wall of deafening, obnoxious party music.
"Get off campus right now," Mari snapped. "Don't take the damn subway. Get in your car and drive straight to my apartment."
Sera shoved her way outside, the music cutting out. "Holy shit, what happened? Are you bleeding?"
"Please, Sera. Just drop everything and get here."
A chilling silence stretched across the line. "You... you never say please. Is it that bad?"
"Worse than you can fucking imagine."
"Fine. I'm walking to the parking structure."
"If the highway is jammed, ditch the damn vehicle and run on foot," Mari ordered, her voice trembling.
"Jesus Christ, you're giving me full-blown combat apocalypse instructions before my morning coffee. See you soon."
Mari killed the call and swiped to the next contact's number. He answered instantly, his tone sharp. "This better be a damn good emergency."
"Shut your laptop right now. Turn off all the lights, lock every window, draw the blinds, and don't answer the damn door."
He let out a slow, mocking exhale. "Are you seriously giving me orders?"
"Yes."
A heavy, measuring beat of silence. "Mari. What is happening?"
"Something is coming. Something terrible."
"How long do we have?"
Mari stared out the bright, deceptive window. "Less than ten goddamn hours."
"Tell me the first thing that's going to change."
"The power grid starts fluctuating downtown. Then the birds abandon the city. After that, stay entirely away from underground transit, large crowds, and running water."
"Why running water?"
"I don't fucking know," Mari snapped, her patience completely fraying. "I just know it's a death sentence."
"Well, that's the first honest thing you've said all morning. You're coming over here, right?"
"I have vital supplies to secure."
"Then I'll come help you."
"No. You stay locked inside."
"You are historically terrible at asking for help, Mari."
"I'm not asking."
"Exactly my point. But if your phone doesn't ring within two hours, I'm walking out my door to come hunt you down."
She slashed the call dead and dialed Lena.
Dr. Lena Hart had been her anchor in the old world—and had died an agonizing death when the hospital's backup generators failed. Lena answered with a calm, professional cadence. "Mari? Good morning. Is everything alright?"
"No."
"Mari. Are you hurt?"
"Leave the hospital immediately," Mari demanded, her voice breaking. "Grab your emergency medical bag, lock your office, and get somewhere secure."
"Mari, I'm in the middle of a surgical shift—"
"Then walk the fuck out of the operating room! Take the trauma kits, grab every round of heavy antibiotics, and get every patient who can walk out of that building before sunset!"
Lena's voice softened, dropping into deep maternal concern. "You're terrified. What's happening?"
"The main power grid fails downtown right before noon," Mari rattled off, shaking violently. "The hospital's secondary generators are old piles of shit; they won't hold the surge, and the lower levels will flood with things you can't kill with scalpels. You have less than ten hours."
"How on earth could you possibly know that?"
"I don't have time to explain!"
"That isn't a reason, Mari."
"It's the absolute fucking truth!"
Lena breathed out a slow, weary sigh. "You always did utterly despise being questioned. Alright. I'll coordinate an early transfer for the east wing, pack the supplies, and clear out through the service bays."
"And Lena? If someone gets left behind... do not go back for them."
"Mari, you know me better than that. I won't leave a living patient behind."
Mari swallowed a hard lump of ash and ended the call.
For a terrifying second, she stood motionless in the center of the kitchen. Then, her phone flashed violently. A new system notification overrode her screen: Local emergency alert: unexplained massive power fluctuations reported across the downtown sector. Avoid unnecessary travel.
Mari snapped her eyes to the clock. 8:27 a.m.
That wasn't supposed to happen until 10:30.
Social media was rapidly lighting up with frantic posts about neighborhood blackouts, unnatural radio static, and flocks of birds behaving with suicidal disorientation.
Then, her phone buzzed with a direct message from a blank, unknown account: You are early.
Mari stared at the glowing words, her breath catching. A second message instantly spat out beneath it: Don't trust the fucking timeline.
She tried to open the sender's profile. Account does not exist.
The timeline wasn't just shifting—it was being hunted. It was accelerating.
Someone—or something—had reached the starting line before her. And they knew she was here.
She yanked her backpack tighter, her hand dropping to rest over the hidden knife in her jacket.
Get the supplies. Find Adrian. Pick up Sera. Reach Lena. Find out who was rewriting her future.
Mari turned on her heel and bolted down the stairwell, taking the steps three at a time. She had less than ten hours left before the world burned to ash, and somewhere out there in the bright, deceptive sunlight, something else was already waiting at the finish line.