18 Floors Above the Apocalypse
Chapter 341

The haze lifted, and there was a hive of survivors bustling about the town square. Their faces, once masked by pollution, now revealed the weariness of lives lived on the edge of survival.

The endless drone of the emergency broadcast grated on nerves already frayed, a looped reminder of their grim reality. "Instead of that incessant noise, they might as well hand out a couple pounds of rations," one grumbled. "It'd do more good than all this chatter." Fear of acid rain was universal, but what choice did they have?

Outside, the sparse drizzle mocked their urgency. "Come on, really pour! Drown us if that's what you want." But the god played a cruel game, drizzling on and off as if teasing the desperate souls below.

After an agitated wait inside the hall, some of the bolder spirits dashed out beneath makeshift coverings, braving the corrosive drops. One by one, others followed, and soon the square emptied as people scattered to homes and jobs, gambling with the fickle weather. It was getting close to the afternoon, and they were interrupted by the sudden raindrops, so Stella estimated that there wouldn't be many more patients. She suggested closing the stall early and heading back. It could be troublesome if it really started pouring rain. As they gathered their supplies, a scream pierced the air. The rain intensified, transforming from a teasing drizzle to a deluge, pelting the people outside with relentless fury.

Pain erupted on exposed skin-faces, hands, everywhere as if thrown into boiling water. The screams crescendoed as people scrambled for shelter, but with the crowd in a panic, where could they hide?

Those quick enough sought refuge back in the hall. The square became a blur of chaos, some knocked over, others trampled, as the downpour continued its acidic assault.

Stella watched, heart pounding, as the skin of those caught outside blistered and peeled. Even through the windows, their agony was palpable.

Umbrellas disintegrated in seconds, and nobody dared to brave the storm to rescue the fallen. Faces turned away, unable to witness the brutality unfolding outside.

Stella's heart ached as she saw a child, separated from her mother, screaming in pain. Though Stella had never birthed a child of her own, she had helped Jasper raise Rosie, barely seven years old. The little one's cries, growing fainter until swallowed by the rain, tightened Stella's chest.

As more fell victim to the rain, the square echoed with the torments of a living hell. Those who escaped bore scars that would mark them forever.

The injured flooded into the hall, their cries for help drowning in the stench of the acid rain mixed with burning flesh.

Reacting fast, Stella slung her bag over her shoulder. "Doc, we gotta get out of here," she urged.

As much as they were healers, they were powerless without medicine against these burns.

The injured needed immediate care-stripping of contaminated clothes, rinsing with copious water, and medical attention they were unequipped to provide. Without even running water in the square, they were helpless.

Collin and the others knew it too. They were doctors sworn to aid, yet now they had to flee, the guilt burning in their chests.

"It's not that we won't help. It's that we can't." Stella said firmly.

Injured patients were often eager to receive treatment. However, if a doctor was unable to provide a solution, they typically wouldn't listen and wouldn't consider the doctor's perspective. In such situations, friction could easily occur, and there might have been a risk to life. But logic was lost to pain, and resentment swelled against the retreating medics. To the suffering, Stella and her colleagues bore the full brunt of their wrath, accused of abandoning their oaths.

Amidst the turmoil, Stella pulled out a samurai sword she kept for emergencies. "Back off!" she shouted, her voice slicing through the pandemonium.

Faced with the weapon, the crowd's anger clashed with their desperation. "You're supposed to help us!" they cried.

"We want to," Stella countered, "but we're out of supplies. Go wash off the acid now-it's your best chance."

But the mob saw only betrayal in their eyes, their twisted agony fueling a rage that painted the medics as monsters. "You're doctors, why refuse to save lives!"

"What's this about saving lives? Are you worthy of being called a doctor?"

"Do you have a conscience?"

For a moment, a wave of anger surged, and people began to criticize Stella and others vehemently.