18 Floors Above the Apocalypse
Chapter 358

mouths without a thought for the days before the dust storms.

A ragged group shuffled into a side room, each clutching a half cup of water and a chunk of dense, dark rye bread. Starved and parched, their eyes lit up at the sight of food. They lunged like ravenous ghouls, gulping down the water and cramming the stale bread into their They ate in a frenzy, choking and coughing as they forced the dry food down their throats.

Rosie was still out cold, and someone eyed the untouched portion of food on the table with greedy intent.

The woman tending to Rosie shoved the intruder away. "We're all women here; no need to act like animals."

The pushed-away woman muttered, "She ain't your daughter. For all we know, you might not even make it through the night."

The caretaker's eyes turned icy. "Believe me, I'll cut you down if I have to."

Though resentful, the others saw the deadly seriousness in her gaze and kept quiet.

After choking down the meager rations, they regained some strength. Panic set in as one whispered, "What do they want with us?" No one had an answer.

The woman carefully fed Rosie water and crumbled bread into her mouth.

After about half an hour, a man herded them towards a pool. "Clean yourselves up. Do a good job later, and there'll be plenty of food and drink for you," he sneered before shoving them in.

The pool water was precious. They frantically scooped it to their lips while they washed.

Rosie, washing her face, thanked the woman who had cared for her, her voice weak and hoarse.

Once clean, they were given second-hand clothes - worn and of uncertain origin.

Dressed and presentable, they drew the men's hungry and lascivious gazes. Rosie, particularly frail, staggered dangerously close to them, her vulnerability eliciting a rare moment of sympathy from the brutes.

"Thank you," she murmured, her gratitude genuine despite the rasp in her voice, stirring a paternal instinct in some of the men.

Rosie lingered at the back of the group, ears alert despite her downcast eyes. After three years of perpetual darkness, many survivors had developed acute hearing. She could discern the wind outside, suggesting the cave wasn't extensive. These men appeared fierce but lacked sophisticated weaponry.

Soon, they were led to a cavernous space resembling a living room, where several men sat around a table laden with food that reminded them of a feast: cured meats, bread, and bottled spirits.

They ate voraciously, protected by the shadows of their brothers, while Rosie observed the scene. These men wore human skins but exuded the essence of demons - demons that would devour lambs.

Rosie and the women sensed the danger, their fear palpable despite the tempting aroma of food.

The leader's attention settled on Rosie as she timidly stepped forward, beginning to lift her skirt. A glint of steel, a flash of defiance - Rosie seized the gun at his waist, the same gun given to her by Jasper for protection.

Curses filled the air as chaos erupted. Rosie, exuding a bone-chilling calm, incapacitated the leader. The other women, fueled by a sudden surge of courage, turned on their captors with improvised weapons. Glass shattered, and blades found their marks.

Screams tore through the cavern as the women fought back. Rosie stood amidst the turmoil, her innocence a facade, her hands steady as she delivered justice.

In that moment, they were no longer victims but avengers, their spirits as unyielding as the dust storms that had once sought to erase them.