Mutation

Chapter 5: Countdown to the Unknown

My mother, a former elementary school math teacher, was meticulous and precise in her planning—traits that now came in handy as we prepared for survival in a world on the brink of collapse. She identified two critical issues that we’d overlooked: waste disposal and sustainable food sources.

“Everyday trash will pile up, and there’s no way we can let it rot inside,” she reasoned. So, on her advice, I hired a handyman to install a specialized drainage pipe that would lead directly to the basement. To handle the daily waste, we bought a high-powered garbage disposal, capable of grinding almost anything down to fine particles that could flow easily through the new drain.

The second challenge was the need for fresh food, especially produce and protein. We couldn’t rely solely on stockpiled goods to last indefinitely, so we invested in seeds for vegetables and fruits suited to balcony gardens, along with hydroponic equipment and nutrients. Our large balcony, sealed with metal bars for added security, had enough gaps to let in sunlight, ideal for both the solar generator and our future garden.

To make our mini-ecosystem even more self-sustaining, my mother bought a dozen chicks, which we housed in a large cage in a corner of the balcony. With a little luck, these hens would provide a steady supply of eggs. The waste from the chickens would even serve as a natural fertilizer for our plants, closing the loop on our balcony farm.

In addition to a large stockpile of beans, my mother brought in salt brine for making tofu. “We can make tofu anytime now,” she said, confidently inspecting our setup. She even added some red bean and green bean starch to create traditional chilled jellies for variety.

“Even if this virus sticks around for years, we’ll be hard-pressed to go hungry,” my mother said with a quiet smile.

On Tuesday, we went on another massive shopping spree. This time, we stocked up on meat and fresh produce, ensuring we had a rich supply of protein. We bought two whole pigs, which were stored in the freezers, along with a hundred pounds each of chicken, duck, beef, and lamb. My mother had brought sausages and preserved meats from her hometown, adding an extra layer of richness to our supplies. We chose vegetables that stored well: carrots, yams, pumpkins, lotus roots, and sweet potatoes. For protein, we purchased a hundred pounds of eggs and froze them, ensuring they’d last.

By midday, we’d also ordered a treadmill generator—a clever way to get some exercise while powering our kitchen appliances. The description claimed that running on it for an hour could provide enough electricity for cooking. It felt prudent, especially considering that gas supplies would likely run dry in a prolonged crisis.

Solar lamps were another necessity; they’d absorb sunlight during the day and keep our rooms lit at night. We also bought two drones, a high-powered telescope, a set of chainsaws, axes, knives, ropes, gasoline, and dry fuel for good measure. Medical supplies filled two cabinets, and we stocked up on antibiotics and other medicines we thought might come in handy.

For mental survival, I downloaded over a thousand movies and tens of thousands of books onto three computers. It was a small fortune, but right now, money had become nothing more than a number.

They say people’s biggest fear isn’t going broke but dying before they can spend all their money. I had no such concerns; by the time dawn approached, our preparations were nearly complete.

The clock struck five on Wednesday morning, only a few hours before the first wave of infections. My mother made two large vats of pickled vegetables, a staple from our hometown in Sichuan. “We’re Sichuanese; how can we live without our pickles?” she said with a wry smile as she poured brine into the jars.

I lay in bed, watching the pale dawn light fill the sky. “Mom, are you scared?” I asked quietly.

She shook her head as she pressed down the jars’ lids. “As long as my Tingting is safe, there’s nothing for me to fear.”

I felt the same. As long as she was with me, I had no reason to be afraid.

After a pause, she looked down, a shadow of frustration crossing her face. “I tried warning some of our relatives and friends, but no one believed me. A few even suggested I see a psychiatrist.” She sighed, shaking her head.

Honestly, if I hadn’t seen the horrors firsthand, I would probably think I’d gone mad, too. But as much as it hurt, I knew that nothing could change their minds.

Just after dawn, the doorbell rang with a package delivery. I handed over several envelopes to the courier. “Get these to their destination as fast as possible,” I said, my voice steady but urgent.

Our preparations were nearly complete, and time was slipping away.