The Unborn Prophet & My Doomsday Fort

1
The second before I swiped my Amex at the Herms boutique, I heard a scream from my son in my belly.
Mom! Stop buying these useless bags! The zombies are coming in a month! You cant eat this thing, and you cant even crack a nut with it. Whats the point?!
Go buy rice! Buy oil! Sell that limited-edition sports car and get a bulletproof armored truck!
My hand trembled, and the order form for a few million dollars' worth of goods scattered across the floor.
The sales associate shot me a look dripping with disdain. "Miss Wallace, if you have insufficient funds, you're welcome to come back another day."
I ignored her, turning away to dial Murphy, my old contact at the wholesale market.
"I need ten thousand pounds of rice and five thousand pounds of pork. The fatty, skin-on kind! And I need it now!"
From that moment on, Michelle Wallace, the elite circles pretty, mindless spender, was dead. In her place stood Michelle Wallace, the doomsday prepper.
...
Before I even made it out of the mall, the little voice in my womb exploded again.
Mom, rice isnt enough! We need generators! And antibiotics! It would be even better if we could get our hands on a couple of shotguns!
My knees went weak, and I nearly collapsed onto the polished marble floor.
Was this kid a future felon?
Sitting in my car, I took a deep breath and patted my stomach. "Son, don't scare Mommy. We live in a society with laws."
Who's scaring you?! Last time around, I was barely formed in your belly whencrunch!the zombies turned us into an all-you-can-eat buffet! My head still aches just thinking about their teeth!
The description was a little too vivid.
Goosebumps prickled all over my skin.
To make sure this kid wasn't just a product of my own fracturing sanity, I asked tentatively, "Then what's the combination to your father's safe?"
That safe was Liams baby. No one but him knew the code.
Tch, thats easy. Its 0925 plus your birthday. That lovesick dad of mine has zero imagination when it comes to passwords.
I immediately called Liams assistant, pretending I needed to retrieve a document, and tried the combination.
With a soft click, it opened.
Something inside my head snapped.
It was real.
In just over a month, the world was going to end.
Without a second thought, I scrolled through my phone's contacts.
I still had connections from my old job at a logistics company. I called up my former warehouse supervisor.
"That five-thousand-square-foot cold storage unitI want to rent it. Starting with three months."
"That's right. I'm storing meat. A lot of meat."
After hanging up, I floored the gas pedal and sped toward the city's largest wholesale farmers market.
The place was a chaotic symphony of shouting and smells, the ground a mess of rotten vegetable leaves and black, murky water.
Dressed in a Chanel couture suit and eight-centimeter Louboutins, I stood before a pork stall, a complete fish out of water.
The old folks shopping around me stared as if I were insane.
"Sir, I'll take this entire half-pig."
"And those ribs over there. Wrap them all up."
The butcher froze, cleaver in hand. "Lady, are you catering a wedding?"
"No wedding. It's all for me."
I didn't have time to argue. I scanned the code and paid the deposit. "I'll buy every last piece of freshly butchered pork in this market. Have it all delivered to my cold storage unit. If you're short by even an ounce, you'll hear from me."
As I was directing workers to load the carcasses, a camera flashed nearby.
I turned to see Jessica holding her phone, a smug, gloating look on her face.
She was Liam's distant cousin and had always believed she was the true high-society princess, convinced I was just some country bumpkin whod gotten lucky.
"Well, well, Michelle. What happened? Did Liam's family go bankrupt? Are you reduced to buying this unsanitary meat from such a low-class place?"
She pinched her nose, her expression one of pure disgust.
I ignored her, turned around, heaved a sack of pork belly that no one else was carrying, and tossed it into the trunk of my Porsche.
"If you don't want to die, get the hell away from me."
My ferocity startled her for a second, but then she smirked. "Keep pretending. I'm posting this right now so everyone can see what the high and mighty Mrs. Hayes has been reduced to!"
My son snorted in my belly.
That idiot. When the zombies come, that layer of marbled fat on her will be their absolute favorite. I bet she's nice and chewy.
I almost burst out laughing.
My phone buzzed. It was a message from Liam.
A bank alert. A few million dollars had just been spent.
His call came right after.
"Michelle, did you just buy a warehouse full of pork?"
He didn't sound angry, just deeply confused.
"I did. I was craving braised pork belly. Is that a problem?" I said, my tone defiant.
There was a three-second pause on the other end.
"Not at all. As long as you're happy. I can transfer you more money if you need it."
Hanging up, a warmth spread through my chest.
Apocalypse or not, I had married the right man.
2
Back home, looking at the multi-million dollar imported lawn and the collection of rare, exotic flowers, my heart bled.
None of this could be eaten or used to fend off zombies.
"Get the groundskeeper. I want all of this dug up," I ordered.
The butler, who was trimming a hedge, nearly snipped his own finger off.
"Ma'am, but Mr. Hayes had these tulips specially flown in from the Netherlands"
"Dig it up!" I tossed my Herms bag onto the grass. "Who's the lady of the house, you or me? I've decided I don't like flowers. I have a pollen allergy. Is that a good enough reason?"
The butler looked at me like Id lost my mind, but he still called the gardeners to start working.
Watching those vibrant, perfect blossoms being ripped out by the roots, I had only one thought: potatoes.
I had to plant potatoes.
High yield, and they fill you up.
The commander in my belly was back online.
Mom! These floor-to-ceiling windows are a disaster! Theyre way too fragile! A single zombie could crash right through them! We might as well just open the front door and invite them in for a buffet!
I looked up at the massive panoramic windows. I used to think they were so open and elegant. Now, I saw them for what they were: death traps.
"Replace them! All of them! With bulletproof glass! And add reinforced steel shutters!"
I immediately contacted the best security firm in the city.
When they heard my request, they must have thought I was turning my home into a private Fort Knox.
"Mrs. Hayes, this level of security is typically for"
"I have anxiety. I'm afraid of burglars. Is that a problem? Money is no object, but I have one condition: I need it done in three days."
The moment they heard "money is no object," they shut up and had a construction crew on-site that same night.
Jessica showed up with a few of her little socialite friends to laugh at me.
They stood outside the gate, looking at the muddy pits in my yard and the half-constructed greenhouse, howling with laughter.
"Oh my god, Michelle, have you gone completely insane? You're farming in the garden of a hundred-million-dollar mansion?"
"Did Liam finally decide to divorce you? Are you planning for your future as a farmer?"
"This isn't a mansion anymore, it's a pigsty!"
I was turning over soil with a shovel. Hearing that, I plunged the shovel into the ground.
I scooped up a clump of fertilizer-rich mud and flung it straight at them.
"Ah! My dress!" Jessica shrieked, jumping back, but she was still splattered with muddy specks.
"Private property. Get lost!" I brandished the shovel like a she-wolf protecting her den.
Jessica's face turned green with rage. "Just you wait, Michelle! When my cousin gets home and sees what you've done to his house, he'll throw you out for sure!"
When Liam came home that evening, he was, in fact, stunned.
I'd had the original biometric lock on the front gate smashed and replaced with an old-fashioned, hundred-pound mechanical deadbolt.
The yard was a mess of trenches, and the living room was piled high with freeze-dried meals and cases of instant hot pots I'd bought online.
There was barely any room to walk.
He stood in front of the Persian rug, which was now buried under boxes of compressed biscuits, his expression darkening.
"Michelle, what is all this?"
I rushed over, pulled him into the bedroom, and shut the door with a conspiratorial air.
"Honey, I have something huge to tell you. The world is ending."
Liam looked at me, his expression unreadable.
He reached out and felt my forehead. It wasn't hot.
"Who told you this?"
"Our son," I said, pointing to my stomach.
Liam sighed, taking my hand in his. "Michelle, have you been under too much stress lately? How about I take you to see a therapist tomorrow?"
He didn't believe me.
To be fair, the old me wouldn't have believed it either.
Sigh. I knew Dad, the hardcore materialist, wouldn't buy it. Never mind, Mom. As long as he doesn't get in our way, we can do this ourselves!
I nodded, looking at Liam. "Honey, just just pretend I have prenatal anxiety. Doing all this makes me feel safe. Can you just let me be?"
Liam looked at me, then at the chaos that had consumed our home, and finally gave a weary nod.
"Fine. As long as you don't tear the roof off, do what you want."
With that, he turned and walked to the balcony to call a renowned psychologist.
"Hello, Dr. Evans? My wife has been extremely anxious lately. She's saying the world is about to end Yes, that's right. I was wondering how I can best support her treatment Go along with her? Okay, I understand."
3
With Liams tacit approval, I grew bolder.
But even though he didn't interfere, there was a limit to the money.
My initial shopping spree had maxed out the supplementary credit card hed given me.
I still had a huge hole to fill for the remaining construction costs and supplies.
Liam had been swamped at work, and I felt bad asking him for more money, especially since, in his eyes, I was just having a breakdown.
My gaze fell upon my walk-in closet.
An entire wall was dedicated to jewelry, and there were hundreds of designer bags.
Mom! That ridiculously green jade bracelet! The one from Grandma? In the apocalypse, that thing could be traded for two whole crates of antibiotics! Sell it! Sell it all!
My heart steeled, I swept everything of value into a large suitcase.
I used to treat these things like they were my life. Now, they were just dead weight.
I dragged the suitcase to the biggest pawn shop in the city.
In my haste to liquidate, I didn't even bother haggling. I took whatever the owner offered.
Just as I was walking out with several debit cards, I ran into the ever-present ghost of Jessica.
She was across the street at a caf, having afternoon tea with a few other socialites.
When she saw me emerge from the pawn shop, her eyes lit up brighter than a laser pointer.
"I told you! Something big is happening with Liam's family! Michelle is selling her jewelry to run away!"
Her voice was so loud you could hear it down the block.
I couldn't be bothered with her. Every minute was precious now.
With the new funds, I used my old colleague's connections to get my hands on two industrial-grade, high-power generators on the black market.
And several hundred barrels of diesel fuel.
The stuff reeked. The moment it was moved into the villa's garage, the neighbors lost their minds.
The property manager came to my door with a few security guards, demanding I remove the barrels, citing them as a safety hazard.
"No way! Don't you dare touch my fuel!"
I stood defensively in front of the barrels, ready to throw a full-blown tantrum if necessary.
How could we survive without electricity? How would the cold storage stay running? How would the electric fence work?
"Mrs. Hayes, if you continue, we'll have to call the police," the manager said, looking stressed.
Just then, a black Maybach pulled up to the gate.
Liam was home.
He glanced at me, looking like a cornered, feral cat, then at the sweating property manager.
"What's going on?"
The manager looked like hed just seen his savior. "Mr. Hayes, your wife is hoarding a large quantity of diesel fuel in the garage. It's against regulations"
Liam rubbed his temples and walked over, pulling me behind him.
"I have a use for this fuel. I will arrange for professional blast-proofing. If anything happens, I will take full responsibility."
The manager was taken aback. With Mr. Hayes giving his word, he couldn't press the issue. He and his guards retreated.
I looked at Liam's broad back, and my eyes started to sting.
He turned around, looked at my disheveled state, and sighed.
Then he clapped his hands.
A driver pulled up in a monstrous, all-black SUV.
The vehicle looked more extreme than an armored car, covered in steel plates with windows as thick as bricks.
"Here's the bulletproof truck you wanted," Liam said, a deep sense of helplessness in his voice. "I don't know who you're planning to defend against, but if you're going to do this, you might as well go all the way."
I threw my arms around him, smearing tears and snot all over his designer suit.
"Honey! You're the best! When the zombies come, I'll protect you! If any of them try to bite you, I'll blow their heads off!"
Liam's body stiffened for a moment, then he patted my back.
"Alright. Well, thank you in advance."
4
Ten days left until the date my son had prophesied.
Jessica hadn't been idle.
She was spreading rumors all over their social circle, saying that Liams company was on the verge of collapse, that he was not only bankrupt but also drowning in debt, and that the stress had driven his wife insane.
A few of his business partners even called him, trying to subtly fish for information.
"Liam, my friend, I hear you're doing some renovations at your place? Sounds like quite the project."
Liam was completely unruffled on the phone. "Oh, it's nothing. My wife has gotten into a post-apocalyptic survival game, so I'm building her a life-sized immersive experience."
The person on the other end burst out laughing, praising Liam for being such an indulgent husband.
Things weren't going as smoothly for me, though.
My anxiety was at an all-time high.
I kept feeling like we didn't have enough water, so I bought dozens of those giant plastic water tanks and filled up the villa's rooftop and basement.
I also bought several boxes of baseball bats and those riot control forks used by security guards.
Mom, we need medicine! Antibiotics! Painkillers! And vitamins!
My son, being a reincarnator, was nothing if not thorough. Using Liam's connections, I managed to acquire a large supply of prescription drugs and first-aid kits from a hospital supplier.
The final three-day countdown began.
I dragged Liam to the largest warehouse club in the city.
This time, I wasn't buying staples. I went straight for the snack aisle.
Chocolate, potato chips, candy, soda
In an apocalypse, these things would be currency. They were luxuries that could bring a moment of happiness.
Liam pushed five shopping carts, all overflowing with junk food, trailing behind me.
People were pointing and whispering. Some even took out their phones to secretly film us.
"Look, that's Liam Hayes. I heard his wife drove him crazy."
"Wow, look at all those snacks. Is he opening a convenience store in his house?"
For the first time, Liam's face flushed with embarrassment, but he squared his shoulders and pretended not to hear.
Back home, I began the final lockdown procedures.
I double-checked every door and window, leaving only a single, concealed ventilation shaft open.
All the curtains were drawn, blocking out the outside world.
Jessica started a live stream on social media, filming right outside our villa.
"Hey everyone, check it out! This is the infamous 'doomsday fortress.' It's hilarious. You'd think they were keeping a monster locked up in there."
The comments were all laughing at me.
I looked at my phone and scoffed.
"Laugh all you want. Let's see if you're still laughing in a few days."
The prophesied day finally arrived.
The atmosphere that night was electric with tension.
I made the whole family wear Kevlar stab-proof vests, even putting a muzzle on our Golden Retriever so his barking wouldn't attract zombies.
Liam, dressed in his vest and holding a baseball bat, sat resignedly on the sofa, staying up with me.
"Michelle, even if there were zombies, our doors are solid enough. Do we really need to stand guard like this?"
"We have to! The first wave is the most dangerous!"
The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly.
11:50 PM.
11:55 PM.
Midnight.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
And I held mine, my palms slick with sweat.
No one knew what the next second would bring. The world as we knew it was balanced on a knife's edge.

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