Chapter 1: Dying at 154 Degrees
The news anchor’s voice was calm.
Uncomfortably, deathly calm.
“The temperature has officially reached 122 degrees Fahrenheit. Do not leave your homes. The air is now lethal.”
I woke up screaming, but my throat was a desert. My skin felt like it was still bubbling, peeling off in strips. For a heartbeat, I could still smell it—the stench of melting asphalt, burnt plastic, and the sickeningly sweet aroma of roasting human flesh.
My flesh.
I crawled to the sink, my hands trembling. I twisted the tap.
Cold water. Crystal clear, running water.
I drank until my stomach cramped, sobbing into the porcelain. I was alive. I was back.
Suddenly, the phone on the counter buzzed.
[Caller ID: Mom]
My fingers went numb. I answered.
“Evelyn!” she wailed, the familiar, practiced desperation in her voice. “Thank God! Your brother, Liam... he got scammed. He owes dangerous people money. Your new condo—is the renovation finished? Can he hide there for a few days?”
The exact words.
The exact tone.
The exact call I received before I died.
In my past life, I said yes. I thought I was being a "good sister." I didn't know that "yes" was my death warrant.
Last time, the whole family moved in. They turned my home into a pigsty. They blasted the AC while I paid the bills. And when the heat hit 154°F, they forced me out into the fire to buy ice cream for their spoiled son,Toby.
I died on the sidewalk. Heatstroke. Organ failure. While they watched TV in my living room.
“Evelyn? Are you listening?”
In the background, my father’s gravelly roar erupted. “Tell that bitch if she doesn't help her brother, we’re coming to her office to shame her! I should’ve drowned her in a bucket the day she was born!”
A flash of memory hit me: Me, six months ago, curled in a hospital bed with a bursting appendix, begging Liam for two thousand dollars.
“I’m not your ATM!” he had screamed then. “Stop trying to steal our parents' retirement money with your 'sickness'!”
The irony was a bitter poison. Liam’s wedding? I paid $15,000. His house down payment? I gave him $30,000. My parents' home remodel? Another $20,000.
I was their personal blood bank, and they had drained me dry.
“Evelyn! Answer me!” Mom cried.
I took a slow, deep breath. When I spoke, my voice was honey-sweet.
“Of course, Mom. Liam is my brother. I’d never turn my back on family.”
Silence on the other end. They hadn't expected it to be this easy.
“Really?” she gasped.
“Of course,” I smiled at my reflection. My eyes were as cold as a morgue. “Actually, why don't you all come? The house back home has no central air. It’s safer here. But the condo isn't quite ready yet. Give me three days to set everything up.”
“Oh, Evelyn! You're a lifesaver!”
I hung up.
Three days.
Three days before the temperature climbs to 154°F. Three days before the sun refuses to set.
They thought they were coming to escape the heat. They had no idea they were walking into a countdown.
[Cliffhanger:] I opened my laptop and looked at my bank account. The balance was zero because of them. But I had a secret. I clicked a link for a high-security villa with a specialized underground bunker.
"Let the hunting season begin," I whispered.
