The Gas Station

Ethan Cross knew this area better than anyone.

Bayview City had centralized most of its corporate storage here—hundreds of warehouses, big and small.

If he could gather and consolidate all the resources in this zone, he could support not just himself, but thousands.

The only question was—was there anything left?

With his pistol holstered and crowbar in hand, he headed for the MegaMart warehouse.

He smashed a skylight with the crowbar and peered in.

The place was empty.

Completely cleaned out.

"Looks like someone already made a move."

Ethan had expected as much. He wasn't shocked.

He moved on to other warehouses.

Same result.

Medical gear. Consumer goods. Food. Even pet food—all gone.

"Exactly what I figured."

"Once the government realized what was coming, they would've mobilized the big players first."

That was why Ethan had emptied the Walmart depot a week before doomsday.

He knew the rich and powerful would hoard supplies, and the rest of the world could starve.

He kept looking.

This zone had hundreds of warehouses—surely something had been missed.

Sure enough, after a few hours of digging, he stumbled across a massive automotive storage facility.

It covered over a million square feet. Cars lined steel racks like sardines in a can.

Many were luxury brands—some worth millions pre-apocalypse.

Now?

Worthless.

Ethan stared at the rows of gleaming machines.

"Completely useless. But... kind of a shame to leave them here."

He hesitated.

Then shrugged.

"I've got the space. Why not stash a few?"

Every man had a soft spot for cars.

Even if he couldn't drive them now, they were still nice to look at—like oversized diecast toys.

He picked out a dozen of his favorites and loaded them into his dimensional storage.

The rest of the day was more of the same—digging, scrounging, salvaging.

Most warehouses were bare.

What was left were bulky items—industrial machinery, crates of construction supplies.

Nothing edible. Nothing practical.

Still, Ethan gritted his teeth and kept scavenging.

Forklifts. Cement mixers. Rolls-Royces. Bulldozers.

"Might come in handy someday."

Even as he thought that, he couldn't help but laugh at himself.

"Let's be honest. None of these are going anywhere in this snow."

But hey, space wasn't an issue.

He tossed everything into storage and moved on.

Eventually, he paused to catch his breath and pulled out a bar of chocolate.

The wind stung his mouth as he ate.

Hot drinks were a no-go—open the thermos, and it would freeze in under a minute.

So he just scooped some snow and chewed.

Crude, but effective.

That's when it hit him:

Fuel.

He'd picked up dozens of vehicles today. All of them needed gas.

Sure, his current supply of gasoline and diesel was enough for daily survival.

But long-term?

He'd be using that snowmobile a lot. Fuel consumption would spike.

Better to secure more now.

He fired up the snowmobile and set course for Bayview City's largest gas station.

It didn't take long to reach the place.

But what greeted him?

A mountain of snow.

The station had been completely buried.

He could barely identify the structure—only nearby high-rises hinted at its location.

Ethan sighed, white vapor curling from his mouth.

"No tall structures. Of course the gas station's gone."

He muttered a curse.

Excavating this by hand?

Impossible.

Who knew how long the snowstorm would last?

At this rate, even twenty years of fuel wouldn't be enough.

"Human strength is pathetic. If only I had a way to dig…"

Then it hit him.

"Excavator?"

"Wait... didn't I just collect a few of those?"

Yes.

He'd scooped up a handful of construction vehicles earlier.

At the time, he'd thought it was just hoarder syndrome.

Now?

Perfect timing.

It was a weird solution—no one used excavators in the Arctic. That's what icebreakers were for.

But Ethan reasoned:

"The snow's only been piling up for a month. Not compacted yet. No solid ice."

"I don't need to go deep—just enough to reach the pumps and break in."

"Totally doable."

He cracked a grin.

"Let's dig."

Without hesitation, he summoned a full-size excavator from storage.

BOOM.

The 20-ton machine hit the ground like a meteor, sinking a meter into the snow.

Ethan laughed.

"Well, that saves me a step."

The top layer was too soft to support the weight.

But deeper down? The snow would be denser.

Ethan had never driven an excavator before—but he wasn't worried.

Back at the warehouse job, he'd handled forklifts, cranes, semi-trucks.

This wasn't much different.

He spent a few minutes figuring out the controls.

Clunky, but manageable.

Not elegant. But effective.

And in this world?

That was all that mattered.