18 Floors Above the Apocalypse
Chapter 362

Dr. Bennett patched up Kitty's cuts with the deft hands of someone who had done it a thousand times before. A few neat stitches later, all he could do was hope for the best.

backpack and set up a two-room shelter right there.

Stella opened up a thermos, carefully giving Kitty some fever-reducing meds and antibiotics. Once done, she explained to the shelter staff who they all were and her plan to take care of them personally. The staff didn't object, so Stella grabbed a tent from her oversized Rainwater was everywhere, so she laid down a moisture barrier, inflated some air mattresses, and moved Angela and Kitty inside. She and Rosie took the other room. The rain pounded on the tent, mirroring Stella's cold and lonely feelings.

Ever since she got a second chance at life, Stella had done everything to be prepared. Stockpiling supplies, braving dark dangers-anything to keep control in her own hands. But against nature's wrath, she still felt so small. A single storm could wipe out everything and everyone she cared about, leaving her to dig through the earth in vain. Disasters were unpredictable, enough to drive anyone to the brink of despair.

No news was both a blessing and a curse. Each passing day made survival seem less likely. The journey from the disaster site to the shelter was only half an hour, but it felt like a battlefield.

Stella tried not to think about it, but she couldn't stop worrying if Jasper had become one of the casualties.

"Stella," Rosie said cautiously, her face full of concern.

Taking a deep breath, Stella pulled out a cold sandwich from her bag and handed it to her. "Don't worry, Jasper and Cooper will be fine."

Rosie was too anxious to eat, holding the sandwich but unable to take a bite.

That night, they lay on their air mattresses, restless and sleepless. Both were thinking about the same man and the same dog, but neither dared to voice it, afraid of adding to the other's stress. Finally, Stella took a melatonin and managed to drift off.

She woke up groggy, worn out from nightmares. Angela and Kitty were still asleep, but Kitty's fever had broken. She was still in a daze, murmuring something under her breath. It took Stella a moment to realize she was calling out for Cody. Clearly, her sister had fallen hard for him, but his whereabouts were unknown.

The rain was letting up outside. Stella gave Kitty more fever reducers and antibiotics, left Rosie to watch over her and Angela, and kept an eye on the newly rescued survivors at the shelter.

Unable to sit idle, Stella decided to head out and search again.

Rosie, frantic with worry, said, "Stella, let me come with you."

"If we both leave and Jasper comes looking for us, what if he rushes off to replace us elsewhere?"

It made sense to leave someone behind as a precaution. Besides, the outside was too dangerous. Stella could adapt on the fly with her survival skills, but taking Rosie along would add too many complications. The storm and mudslide had taken a toll on even the fittest bodies. Rosie was weak, and if anything happened to her, how could Stella face Jasper?

Rosie nodded, understanding. "Okay, I'll wait here for you and Jasper. Cooper will be alright too."

The shelter had no extra food to spare. They were down to two meals a day, each a fist-sized lump of bread made from dried algae, barely enough to stave off hunger. Stella left some energy bars behind and instructed Rosie to stay safe.

The rain continued, turning the ground to a slick, yellow mire, but the floodwaters had receded somewhat, exposing numerous dips and hollows. Traveling was slow and treacherous, and one false step could send you tumbling into a hidden pit.

The shelter was full of people anxiously awaiting news of their missing loved ones, pestering the staff incessantly. Contaminated water was a silent threat, and a cut from a rusty piece of metal could quickly lead to tetanus, which had claimed Jasper in his previous life. Stella donned a one-piece rain suit and high boots. When the rescue team returned, she inquired about their recent search areas. "Hey, where have you guys been looking these past days?"

The rescuer outlined their general search pattern. "Look, it's dangerous out there. I suggest you stay put and wait. We don't want to have to come rescue you instead."

Such incidents were a daily occurrence, where people, against advice, would venture out only to end up needing rescue themselves.

Stella denied any intention of leaving. "I'm not going out. Just getting some info."

Once they left, she quickly exited the camp. Finding a secluded spot, she took out her phone to check the local map, input the areas already searched by the rescue team, and began her own methodical elimination process. Based on the terrain and the direction of the storm's onslaught, she ventured out with a glimmer of hope to replace where Jasper might have ended up. The ground was a quagmire, a mix of shallow puddles and deceptive sinkholes that threatened to swallow her whole. The environment was devastated, transformed beyond recognition. She prodded ahead with a walking stick, inching forward at a snail's pace... After several days of relentless search and rescue efforts by the Raven Port authorities, the chance of replaceing survivors was dwindling. Stella had been trudging through the muck for over two hours, encountering nothing but the flow of water and the occasional corpse. Around noon, she met a group of survivors heading on foot in the opposite direction, relieved to see her and eager for directions to the shelter. Without waiting for rescue and seeing the water levels recede, they had decided to make their way on their own, planning to rest and resupply at the shelter before setting off again.

Stella gave them directions to the shelter and described Jasper. "Have you seen this man?"

They shook their heads. "No."

Reluctantly, Stella asked, "What about a Doberman dog?"

A Doberman? Their memories were hazy, and it took them a while to recall what such a dog even looked like. After so many years post-apocalypse, they hadn't seen a live dog, much less a dog hair.

Stella's heart sank, but she refused to give up hope. Suddenly, the roar of an engine broke the silence as a speedboat approached rapidly, charging toward the group of survivors. The driver executed an exaggerated, sharp turn, splashing everyone with murky, muddy water. The survivors cursed in anger and frustration. Two young men were on the speedboat, likely no more than teenagers, one clad in camo gear and a life jacket. Annoyed by the curses, the camo-clad youth pulled a gun from his waist and fired several shots, causing screams and panic as some ducked and covered.

The young man laughed arrogantly. "Haha, look at these cowards!"

It was a rubber bullet gun, and though it wasn't lethal, it hurt badly upon impact. In these nine years since the end of the world, such arrogant and reckless behavior could only be attributed to one thing: the offspring of officials, flaunting their power without consequence. Unruffled by the commotion that didn't concern her, Stella kept moving forward. Before long, a speedboat zipped by on the river. It hadn't gone far when it halted, and the young man at the helm turned to appraise Stella with a cheeky tone, "Hey there, miss, you're quite the looker, aren't ya?"