Emma bought out the fruit wholesalers, too. Every variety they had in their warehouses.
Electric heaters, refrigerators, generators, solar panels, backup power supplies, household goods of every kind. Not even counting her online orders, these purchases alone could last her three lifetimes.
Flour went on the list, along with assorted vegetable seeds. She was opening a supermarket chain, after all. Several stores. To the wholesalers, this hardly counted as a large order.
She had everything sent to the warehouses out back. Someone would come for it that evening, she told them, once the wholesale streets had emptied. Five hundred thousand dollars down with each supplier, and she was on her way.
The warehouses were Mr. Carter's, and he'd put someone in charge of watching them. After all that money she'd spent, she trusted him to do her this much of a favor.
From the wholesale district, she drove to the restaurant strip. One order of spicy Cajun chicken pasta for herself, thirty more to go. Dinner for her classmates, she said.
The owner even helped carry the food to her car. Once he'd gone, she got in and sent the pasta into her storage space.
After the rain, when the whole world turned cold, she'd dreamed at night of just one mouthful of that spicy pasta.
And she wasn't going without good iced coffee. Fifty cups from each coffee shop, all packed to go. A treat for her classmates. Naturally.
The machines were practically smoking.
While she waited for her coffees, she found a diner that offered homestyle dinners. One hundred meals a day. Each would be a roast-chicken dinner with two sides—mashed potatoes and green beans—and soup. Just one pickup each afternoon, at a fixed time. She paid for ten-odd days up front as a deposit.
The owner agreed readily. Who was going to turn down money? A little extra work wouldn't hurt.
Next came several of the best barbecue joints on the strip. She ordered two hundred or so skewers, a mix of beef and vegetables.
While she waited, she opened a delivery app and ordered twenty-odd portions of the dishes available near her villa. "For a gathering with friends," she wrote in the notes. No reason to make anyone suspicious.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Evening brought more people to the restaurant strip. Her coffees were ready. She collected them shop by shop, put them in the trunk, and immediately transferred them into the space.
Coffee collected, skewers next. She'd just stored the last of the grilled food when the delivery alerts started coming in.
She drove on to restaurants outside her villa community. Same request: one hundred meals, once a day. This time, she said they were for company team-building events. And the food had better taste good.
Five restaurants, spread well apart. Five hundred meals a day. Five thousand in ten days. At three meals a day, she figured that would feed her for five or six years.
Food sorted, she headed home. Several delivery drivers were waiting outside, eyeing one another in bewilderment.
She opened the villa and directed them to the counter by the entrance. Twenty-odd orders came in, one after another. She checked the surveillance footage, then put everything into the space.
A rental truck. That was tomorrow's job. She showered, lay down, and fell asleep.
After washing up the next morning, she brought out yesterday's dinner from the diner: roast chicken with three sides—mashed potatoes, green beans, and mac and cheese—and soup, still smelling delicious. She cleaned her plate, then rode off on the little electric scooter gathering dust in the garage. No traffic jams for that thing.
At a local rental company, she explained what she needed and came away with a box truck that ran well. An employee helped lift the scooter into the back. She paid and drove off.
Mr. Carter was at the wholesale warehouses, directing a crew unloading goods. They'd filled half a warehouse already, and another loaded truck was arriving behind them.
She got out to say hello. He held out a cigarette. She declined.
"Ms. Bennett, the left warehouse is full. The right one's half full. You'll need to clear this out soon." Otherwise, there'd be nowhere left to put it.
They'd worked fast. Money really could work miracles. Mr. Carter brought out two keys and handed them over. "Only two keys to these warehouses. Don't lose them, Ms. Bennett."
"Thank you." She took them. "Anyone here at night to keep an eye on things?"
"No. You should get your stock moved as soon as you can. We don't usually hire a guard. We're right here all day." They watched their own merchandise.
That made sense. Their shops were just out front, close to the warehouses. No need for hired security. That worked in her favor, too. No one around when she moved the goods into her space.
As they talked, the crew started unloading the second truck.
She still had shopping to do. Saying goodbye, she drove to a blind spot with no people and no cameras, put the box truck into her space, and scanned the code to unlock a rental e-bike.
She left the bike outside E City's biggest dealership and showroom. Time to buy motorhomes and off-road vehicles.
The salesperson walked her through the motorhomes, from models priced a little above $300,000 to top-end ones at $15 million. There were off-road RVs, too.
She picked four. Good as they were, too many would attract the wrong kind of attention if she drove them around after the apocalypse.
Four motorhomes. Four SUVs, fitted with reinforced bumper guards and bullet-resistant protection. She paid in full and told the dealership to deliver them to her villa. Full tanks of gasoline and diesel were included.