Harold shook his head. "How would I know? I'm no fortune teller. I can't just pull answers out of thin air." Olivia rolled her eyes. "Well, you sure sound like one. Just don't let your wild guesses come true; I don't even want to imagine it hitting 140°F out there." The group chatted as they climbed the stairs. By the time they reached their floor, exhaustion weighed on all of them. They said their goodbyes and returned to their apartments to catch up on sleep. Since the Great Heat began, everyone had already adjusted their routines—going out only at night and sleeping during the day. The sun blazed too hot during the daytime, and the temperature was unbearable. At least nights were several degrees cooler. Back home, Natalie slipped into a light nightgown, washed up quickly, and collapsed on her bed. She drifted into sleep almost instantly. She was soon fast asleep—until the sound of crying outside woke her up. "Waa! Help me! I can't handle this; the heat's too much!" "It's 127°F! This weather's insane!" "Please, someone help! My wife and kids passed out from the heat!" Most people left their windows wide open, hoping for even the faintest breeze. It didn't cool much, but it was better than suffocating behind closed windows. Natalie had shut her windows tight, but the voices still crept through. She rolled over, pulled the sheet tighter, and tried to ignore it. Natalie'd heard that same desperate wailing too many times. At first, it tore at her heart, but now she had learned to block it out. During the Great Heat, voices of despair only grew louder, and the death rate was far higher than the last disaster. 120°F and more—people had only ever experienced that in a sauna. But that was the thing—people only ever enjoyed those sauna-like temperatures for a short while. Over 140°F was something you might pay for at a spa. Sit in there with a hot cup of tea for ten minutes, sweat it out, then step back into the cool. Relaxing, even pleasant. But this was different. This heat didn't end. Day and night, the air kept steaming. No breaks, no exits. Who could survive that? For now, the desperate still had the strength to shout. Give it a little more time, and thirst would dry them out so badly that even opening their mouths would take effort. Natalie, worn out from the long night, sank deeper into her sleep. Before drifting off, she gave Lucky a gentle nudge. "If someone tries the door, make sure you wake me up." ...Around noon, a hard knock rattled the stairwell door on the 14th floor. "Doctor! Dr. Solace, are you there? Please, you need to save my dad!" "Doctor, my husband passed out! I beg you! You have to help him!" The air outside was blazing. Olivia didn't have much fuel left, so she kept her apartment just barely livable, around 90°F, hot enough to sweat but not enough to collapse. Even so, her sleep was restless. Sweat soaked her hairline, and her shirt clung to her back. The pounding jolted her awake. She slipped out of her room and pressed her eye to the peephole. A middle-aged man stood outside, holding up an old woman who looked ready to drop. The woman knocked with shaky fists, tears running down her face. "Please," she cried, her voice breaking, "everyone says a doctor lives here. Please, doctor, save us!" Olivia was surprised. Who told them I'm a doctor—and that I lived on the 14th floor? Her training tugged at her. She was a doctor. Every instinct in her body urged her to open that door and help. But just as quickly, she pulled her hand back. Instead, she raised her voice through the door. "What's his condition right now?" The people outside froze in relief when they heard her answer. The man leaned closer, speaking fast. "My dad suddenly passed out! We're too scared to move him. He's still lying in our apartment." "What happened before he collapsed?" "He's been overheated all day. He was throwing up and felt sick, then suddenly lost consciousness. Now his whole body's jerking!""Did you take his temperature?" "About an hour ago. It was 106°F. We gave him a fever pill, but it didn't work." 106°F? Olivia's brow tightened. This wasn't just heat exhaustion—this was full-blown heat stroke. Heatstroke was dangerous. At that temperature, a person's organs were literally being cooked from the inside. Even before the apocalypse, with hospitals running and every kind of medical support available, the fatality rate was nearly 80 percent. The patient was already unconscious and seizing. In that state, cooling had to begin immediately. He needed to be moved to a shaded, ventilated spot and rushed to a hospital. There, doctors could use IV fluids or even dialysis, depending on how severe the case was. But now, none of those options existed.Olivia thought quickly, then spoke through the door. "This is heat stroke. You have to cool him down right away. Strip off his clothes and wipe his body with water. If you have ice, place it on the arteries—like the inside of his thighs. Whatever you do, bring his temperature below 101°F." Under these conditions, it was the only treatment possible. If they lowered the fever, there was hope. If not, and with no advanced care, the outcome would be grim. The man sounded troubled. "We can strip him, sure. But water—we don't have much left. And we don't have any ice at all." "Then use whatever you have," Olivia told him firmly. "Fan him hard while you do it. Keep air moving over his body. Just find any way to get his temperature down fast." The old woman broke into sobs. "Doctor! We don't have much water left—we have to save it for the children. Can't you lend us some?"Before Olivia could answer, another group came up the stairs, weeping and wailing. They too had a family member struck by heat stroke.