JULES.
She heard the freight lock hiss before she saw the carts.
Two guards from the last delivery company — temporary hires who didn't ask too many questions as long as the credits cleared — wheeled in the final pallet stacks like it was just another rich guy panic order. For them, it probably was.
For Jules, it was the moment the whole system snapped into place.
"Everything accounted for?" she asked, barely looking up from her tablet.
"Fifty pounds of calcium carbonate, new solar junction panel, four steel vats, backup turbine, three more freezers, and your weirdo insulated library-grade dehumidifiers," the lead guy recited.
"And the iodine tablets?"
"Boxed and signed off."
She tapped the screen.
"Leave them in the lift zone. We'll take it from here."
They left without so much as a nod.
She waited for the hatch to seal before letting herself breathe. Then she buzzed the rooftop.
"Cargo received. Final drop confirmed."
Josh's voice came through after a pause.
"Copy. On my way down."
By the time Josh arrived with Boris, Jessi, and both dogs trailing behind, Jules had already started opening crates. She moved like someone with a deadline only she understood.
"This is it?" Jessi asked, blinking at the sheer volume of stuff.
Rows of sealed buckets. Compressed oxygen canisters. Backup radios. Radiation meters. Freeze-dried proteins labeled with expiry dates five years out. One crate just said HEAT SHEETS in red block letters.
"This is everything," Jules said. "All the redundancies. All the failsafes. We are officially sealed."
Josh stepped beside her, eyes scanning the manifest.
"We have food, water, meds, power, livestock, filtration, shelter, fire suppression, geothermal backup, manual tools, and books."
"And a cow," Jessi added.
"And a bull," he echoed.
"And a bullet press," Jules said, grinning.
Josh looked at her, something in his expression softening for just a second.
"Couldn't have done this without you."
"Wouldn't have tried without me," she said simply. Then added, "You were in free fall when you called. And instead of trying to talk you out of it, I came with a parts list."
She watched him take that in.
The air inside the tower was different now — heavier with certainty, with finality. They had what they needed. But that didn't mean they were safe.
"It's all here," Jules said, scanning the room. "Which means they'll come harder next time."
Josh nodded.
"I know."
She looked at the others — Boris silent, thoughtful; Jessi chewing her nail, the gears clearly turning.
Then back to Josh.
"We're ready," she said.
And for the first time in days, she believed it.
--
The blueprint was spread across the kitchen island, weighed down at the corners with mason jars and tools. Jessi stood across from her, hair tied up, sleeves rolled, a little smudge of dust on her cheek. She looked like she belonged in a war bunker and an Etsy ad at the same time.
"So you're saying if they breach the rooftop, the greenhouse becomes a trap?" Jessi asked, pointing to the schematic.
"Exactly," Jules replied. "They'll think it's open. But the outer dome's got layered wire mesh — reinforced with retractable internal grating. Once triggered, we seal it and reroute the oxygen to flush it with smoke. Non-lethal. Disorienting. Best-case, we trap them there."
"Worst-case?"
"We collapse the floor beneath."
Jessi blinked.
"I was hoping for sarcasm."
"Nope."
Jules clicked her pen and began outlining escape routes.
"Hallway one: direct line to the elevator shaft with a cut cable option. Hallway two leads to the library, which is also our fallback zone — heavy walls, concrete-reinforced shelves, sealed airlock. Add medical access, food stash, and weapons locker nearby, and it becomes a miniature stronghold."
Jessi stared at her for a long moment.
"You've really thought of everything, haven't you?"
Jules didn't look up.
"That's the job."
--
JOSH.
I leaned forward, elbows braced on the arm of the chair, the security feeds glowing dimly in the darkened room.
Nine angles. Four floors. One rooftop. A dead front lobby. And the perimeter — all sealed. All still.
Except…
Cam 2B, west alley.
Movement.
Just a figure — blurry. Hooded. Walking like they weren't sure if they were watching or approaching.
I zoomed in. The lens adjusted with a soft whirr.
Not Rosie. Not either of the Taft brothers.
Someone new.
Maybe a scout. Maybe bait.
Or maybe paranoia had officially become my default state.
Still.
I logged the timestamp and ran a quick systems test. Motion sensors were green. Turret modules in standby. Alarm trip thresholds set at level three. I watched the figure vanish into shadow.
Then I switched back to internal cam 4A.
Jules and Jessi stood side by side at the island, laughing about something I couldn't hear. Jessi gestured too big with a screwdriver and nearly knocked over a jar. Jules caught it midair.
I watched for just a second longer than I meant to.
"You're not getting in," I whispered to the shadow on the feed.
"But you're going to try."