The Unborn’s Apocalyptic Warning Chapter 04
Ten days left until the date my son had predicted.
Fiona hadn’t been idle either.
She’d been spreading rumors through every social circle—claiming the Genovese family’s cash flow had collapsed, that Salvatore was not only bankrupt but deep in debt, that his wife had gone completely insane.
Several business partners who dealt with the Genovese family had even called Salvatore multiple times.
“Salvatore, I heard your family’s been doing some… renovations?”
Salvatore was utterly composed on the phone. “It’s nothing. My wife recently got hooked on one of those doomsday survival games. That’s just the immersive experience set we built for her.”
The caller burst out laughing, saying he had no idea Salvatore spoiled his wife like that.
But things weren’t so easy on my end. My anxiety had peaked.
I kept feeling like the water supply wasn’t enough, so I bought dozens of those massive plastic water tanks and crammed them onto the roof and into the basement.
I also prepared more than enough weapons and ammunition.
“Mom, we still need medicine! Antibiotics! Painkillers! Vitamins!”
My son truly deserved credit for being reborn—he thought of things far more comprehensively than I did.
I leveraged Salvatore’s connections to secure a massive supply of hospital-grade pharmaceuticals and first-aid kits.
Three days to go.
I dragged Salvatore to the biggest warehouse club in the city.
This time, I wasn’t buying rice, flour, or cooking oil. I headed straight for the snack aisle.
Chocolate, chips, candy, Coca-Cola…
In the apocalypse, these would be hard currency—luxuries that could make people feel human again.
Salvatore pushed five shopping carts overflowing with junk food, trailing behind me.
People all around were pointing and whispering. Some were even sneaking photos on their phones.
“Never seen anyone buy that much stuff—you’d think the world was ending.”
“That many snacks? Is she opening a store out of her living room?”
For the first time in his life, Salvatore felt embarrassed. But he kept his spine straight and pretended he heard nothing.
Back home, I began the final lockdown.
Every door and window checked and secured. Only one concealed ventilation port remained.
All curtains drawn, sealing us off from prying eyes.
Fiona went live on social media, deliberately filming from right outside my villa.
“Everyone, look—this is the famous ‘Doomsday Fortress.’ Hilarious, right? If you didn’t know better, you’d think there was a monster locked up inside.”
The comments were all mocking me. I looked at my phone and gave a cold laugh.
“Laugh it up. We’ll see if you’re still laughing in a few days.”
The prophesied day finally arrived.
That night, the tension was unbearable.
I’d put the entire household in Kevlar-lined stab-proof vests—even the golden retriever got a muzzle, in case his barking attracted zombies.
Salvatore sat on the couch in his stab-proof vest, holding a baseball bat, resigned to staying up all night with me.
“Catalina, even if zombies do show up, this door is solid enough. We don’t have to sit here and stand guard, do we?”
“We absolutely do! The first wave of the zombie virus outbreak is the most dangerous!”
The clock on the wall ticked forward.
Eleven fifty.
Eleven fifty-five.
Midnight.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
And so did I, palms drenched in sweat.
No one knew what the next second would bring.
Outside the window, the normally bustling city was eerily silent—only the occasional chirp of an unidentifiable insect.
On the security monitors, the area around the villa was pitch black. Nothing but shadows of branches swaying in the wind.
One o’clock passed.
Two o’clock passed.
Three o’clock passed.
Still nothing. Not even a ghost. A stray cat was strolling along the top of the wall without a care in the world.
Salvatore yawned so wide his eyes watered.
“Catalina, you think maybe the zombies are stuck in traffic?”
I was baffled too. I patted my belly. “Son, what’s going on?”