Life with Felix was comfortable . Blissful , even . Even with the apocalypse upon us and sea levels rising , the waters never reached our mountain . Long before the rains , Felix and I had already sold off those city properties and turned them into supplies - enough for the two of us to live on for a lifetime . I grew vegetables indoors under grow lights and kept chickens , ducks , geese , pigs , and cattle on the grounds . It might have been a manor , but I had successfully turned it into a working farm . Felix didn't mind . On the contrary , he loved the pastoral rhythm . Aside from the occasional slip when his instincts urged him to chase the chicks , our days were far better than in our previous life . We even put on a few pounds after the apocalypse . Of course , the foot of the mountain soon drew uninvited guests - residents from the nearby county . The letter had done some good ; the local leader read it and reported upward . People began migrating to higher elevations , and our mountain became a destination . One day , while I was in the fields , the doorbell rang . The man at the door looked every inch the official . " Miss , " he fumbled for the right address . " Is this mountain your private property ? We're from Fenicia . There's nowhere left to live down there . Would you allow us to find a place to rest on the mountain ? " I agreed readily - not out of saintliness , but because a request that polite was hard to refuse at the end of the world . After we set a few ground rules , I left them to it . They were sensible and kept their distance , coming by only occasionally to buy eggs or vegetable seeds . Their chicks hatched , but with so much rain , the seeds wouldn't sprout . After some thought , I had Felix take his original form and carry me down to a flooded factory , where we salvaged a few crates of grow lights . They'd been soaked , but after drying , some still worked . Grateful , the newcomers treated us with even greater respect . With their farming instinct , they coaxed food from the waste ground and managed to feed themselves . Word spread . More and more arrived . By the time my parents and Celie called again , our mountaintop had become a small town in all but name . Judging by the timing , it was also about when the sea's bounty would begin to run thin . Support