Instructions finished. A flight to catch. She locked the apartment, took a down coat from her space, and changed into insulated boots.
In the cab to the airport, she searched for Country M's latest news. Her phone read it in a flat AI voice.
"Another record low in Country M. Nearly minus fifty-one Fahrenheit, and still falling. Our reporter brings us the following footage from a small town."
She opened it. Ice. Snow. Screams and gunshots.
The driver sighed. "My daughter's studying there. Coming home soon, I hope. That video's real. It's a mess over there."
A small frown. Disorder, she'd expected. This quickly? Perhaps the easy access to guns had something to do with it.
He caught her coat in the mirror. "You're not heading to Country M?" The international airport was her destination, after all.
Yes, she told him. Family there. She was going to bring them back.
At drop-off, he urged her to come straight home once she found them. Don't stay. Too dangerous. She looked his daughter's age.
She thanked him, and meant it. Visa in hand, she collected her boarding pass and boarded.
Five hours later, an airport shuttle. The terminal was full of blond, blue-eyed foreigners. At the security checkpoint, a man held a little flag from home.
He stopped her. Fluent in her own language, he told her to go to the embassy if anything happened.
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Something warmed inside her. A flight from home. He was here to warn the people getting off it.
Outside, she shivered. That air. Almost like being back in the apocalypse's extreme cold. Surely this would warn the rest of the world.
A public restroom. Door closed. A flesh-colored disguise mask from her space, pulled over her head. An utterly forgettable face in the mirror.
She changed out of the down coat. Black padded punk jacket, combat boots, skull hoodie. Heavy black shadow smeared above her eyes.
Hood up, baseball cap on. Out she went, looking nothing like the person who'd come in.
Hands in her pockets, breathing the icy air. Loose. Careless. At ease. For a moment, her soul could rest.
When the first genetic serum had taken, she'd killed plenty of people at the lab. After that came the restraints, the bed, daily sedatives.
Those memories always led back to her wonderful uncles and their families.
Plenty of legal gun shops in Country M. She spoke the language, but an accent from home was hard to hide.
She wanted guns and ammunition. A lot of them. A muscular, bearded man studied her plain face, her bright eyes.
"Guns are in short supply. Can't fill an order that size. But I know someone. You could ask him. Only..." Fingers rubbed together.
"Okay." Money wasn't the problem. A number on paper. She reached. He pulled it back.
She took out dollar bills. Then he let her have it.
It would get colder. She knew that. The disasters had already begun here. The extreme cold.
Rubbing her numb hands, she stepped into a phone booth and dialed. A long wait before anyone answered.
An address. Come over. Bring the cash. She smiled. Fine.
Out of the booth, a stretch. Wrists, neck. Bones cracked as she rolled them. A satisfied sigh.
She hailed a cab and gave the address. The driver took a long look. "Sure?"
"Sure."
"Get out." No ride.
She counted out bills. Hesitation on his face. "That's a bad neighborhood. I don't... Find anoth... Put your seat belt on."
A few more bills for every objection. She'd waited ages for this one taxi in the cold. Had she known things were this bad, she'd have come sooner.
The end of the street was as far as he'd go. Nothing would persuade him. She got out and walked.
Soon, she understood. Two bodies, frozen stiff on the ground. Blood beneath them, solid against the road.