Chapter 109: Chapter 109: Whoa, Time to Get Rich
After three consecutive days of nearing minus one hundred forty-five degrees, the temperature finally began to show signs of rising.
This was good news, but the extreme low temperatures from a few days ago left everyone with lingering fear.
That was the limit of human survival.
Minus one hundred and forty-five degrees Celsius.
That number was like a cold death sentence, weighing down on the hearts of everyone in the base.
The outside world was no longer merely cold. It was a death zone that could instantly shatter steel and freeze the air. Howling winds carrying shards of ice acted like sharp blades, leaving fine scratches on any exposed surface.
The tightly sealed gates of the base had long been frozen solid. In the extreme cold, the reinforced concrete had become as brittle as a cracker. The frost had even penetrated to the third-level gate. Because the temperature on the first sublevel had plummeted, Silas Hawthorne had no choice but to command everyone to abandon it and continue moving deeper underground.
This relocation took them to a depth of one hundred meters. From there, they had sealed the insulated doors of each section, one level after another, barely holding back the extreme temperatures.
The lower levels weren’t as spacious as the ones above. After all, the upper air-raid shelters had been built during wartime, while the lower ones were newly excavated in recent years. The area wasn’t large enough, at least not for so many people to live comfortably.
So everyone was practically huddled together, relying on layers of insulation and simple heating equipment to barely maintain a cramped space where they could breathe and survive.
The air-raid shelter was deathly silent, filled only with the low hum of the heating equipment and the sound of everyone’s suppressed breathing.
No one dared to take a single step toward the level above. Even through several reinforced doors, they could feel the chill seeping in from the other side.
Everyone, wrapped in their thickest down jackets and anti-cold suits, huddled together for warmth. Their only daily activity was to stare at the thermometer on the wall, mechanically counting the days, enduring in despair, and hoping for the slightest break in this apocalyptic, terrifyingly extreme cold.
And so, amidst these days and nights, someone finally noticed the numbers on the thermometer twitch ever so slowly, climbing from -145°C to -143°C.
A mere two-degree rise, yet it caused the entire air-raid shelter to erupt in long-suppressed gasps of relief.
’The temperature, which has been steadily dropping, is finally showing signs of climbing. Does this mean it’s warming up?’
This was hope! It was a sign they would survive!
Each day thereafter, the temperature climbed at a minuscule rate, rising only one or two degrees a day. But everyone kept their eyes glued to that string of numbers, a light rekindled in their gazes. After a full half-month of torment, when the temperature finally stabilized at minus one hundred degrees Celsius before eventually settling within the minus ninety-degree range, the air-raid shelter erupted into a frenzy.
This temperature was still brutally cold, still capable of easily causing frostbite, but compared to the desperate situation at minus 145 degrees, it was now a safe threshold for outdoor activity.
They should have had enough time to bring all the city’s supplies back to the base before the extreme cold arrived, but the sudden drop in temperature forced everyone to halt their collection efforts and retreat.
With so many people to feed, the base’s supplies were already critically low. Food and fuel were on the verge of running out. Only the medical equipment recovered from the hospitals was still in decent supply. If they didn’t go out to search for more, they would all starve or freeze to death underground, long before the extreme cold could claim them.
But now, they had finally survived the lowest temperature, finally seen it begin to rise. They could finally go outside!
This was the perfect opportunity!
Silas Hawthorne stood in the control room, his expression cold but his eyes firm. He rubbed the anti-cold gloves in his hands and gave the order in a low voice:
"Get a meteorological survey of the weather for the next three days."
In the apocalypse, weather patterns were complex and unpredictable. A forty-five-day forecast was absolutely impossible; the next three days were the absolute limit for the meteorology department.
"The weather will be stable for the next three days..."
A hint of satisfaction tinged Silas Hawthorne’s voice. "The temperature has stabilized within the minus-ninety-degree range. First thing tomorrow morning, issue a mission. Mobilize everyone possible, fully armed, to go out and search for supplies."
"But our anti-cold suits... we might not have enough for everyone."
Theodore Frost said with some concern.
The suits had originally been ordered based on their own numbers, but there were far more people in the base than expected. Some suits had been lost during missions, a neighboring city had requested a batch, and another portion had been given away...
Silas Hawthorne knew all this, but he hadn’t expected the shortfall to be so severe. If only half remained, it definitely wasn’t enough. After all, the high-temperature apocalypse was next. If they didn’t take advantage of the still-low temperatures to bring back supplies, everything would spoil when the heat arrived!
Heat was, and always would be, the mortal enemy of preservation.
Therefore, they had to act as quickly as possible. Even the extreme cold apocalypse had arrived early; who knew when the high-temperature one would hit?
’But the biggest problem now is the lack of anti-cold suits, which means we can’t go outside. Doesn’t that mean we can’t get any of those supplies? That they’ll all just go to waste?’
As he frowned, he suddenly thought of the Liquid Nitrogen Anti-cold Suits that Sue Lawrence had produced. Although they weren’t as flexible as the base’s standard suits, as long as they allowed people to go outside, there was hope of gathering supplies.
"Go get Sue Lawrence..."
Silas Hawthorne could only think of Sue Lawrence right now.
’This woman is a godsend. She always manages to solve my most urgent problems!’
’Raiders... they really are useful.’
Silas Hawthorne was overjoyed.
Meanwhile, from the conversations around her, Sue Lawrence had also picked up on a key piece of information: the base no longer had enough anti-cold suits for everyone.
’Oh? Now that’s good news.’
She raised an eyebrow.
Beside her, Elliot Lawrence couldn’t help but ask, "Sue, what are we going to do if we can’t get rid of our cold-weather supplies? The temperature is rising now. The extreme cold apocalypse might be over in a few days. Won’t those supplies be stuck with us?"
"They won’t be."
Sue Lawrence’s lips curved into a smile. "Don’t worry. We’ll be able to cash in on them soon enough."
’Oh my, let’s see... I should think carefully about what good things I can get from Silas Hawthorne in exchange, hmm?’
Just as she was thinking, Victor Keller walked over, tapped her on the shoulder, and quietly gestured for her to come with him.
Sue Lawrence’s mood brightened even more. ’Speak of the devil. Isn’t this a ready-made opportunity presenting itself to me?’
She nodded to her family, then turned and left.
Everyone was gathered together now, so any slight movement didn’t escape notice. In the distance, Tiana Lynch was indeed staring intently at Sue Lawrence.
’Who’s looking for her?’
’Victor Keller? Theodore Frost? Or Silas Hawthorne? Or maybe even Marcus Morgan?’
’What do they want with Sue Lawrence? Is it some other good opportunity that she’s getting behind my back?’
She felt extremely upset. Turning to look at Jason Sterling, she saw that he, too, had lifted his head to look in Sue Lawrence’s direction.
Just like Tiana Lynch, he was wondering, ’What on earth is Sue Lawrence up to?’
