18 Floors Above the Apocalypse
Chapter 363

Seeing her stay silent, the young man grew even more arrogant. "Hey, sis, wanna hop on board for some fun? I've got food and drinks here," he boasted, shaking the beer can in his hand like it was a prize. Stella acted as if he were invisible and kept walking.

Irritated by her indifference, the young man bristled with indignation. Women always clamored for his attention, and now that he made the first move, she snubbed him.

"Sir, maybe this isn't a good idea?" his lackey interjected with a sigh. "We snuck out, and getting caught wouldn't end well. We've already had a tour; maybe we should head back?"

"Dock the boat-I'm going to set her straight today!" the young master barked.

Reluctantly, the lackey steered the boat closer to the shore.

"Right now, immediately!" the young master demanded.

With no other option, the lackey moved to the nearest landing spot.

As the young man prepared to disembark, the inflatable boat wobbled unexpectedly, punctured by something sharp hidden beneath the murky waters. He stumbled, nearly falling overboard. "Damn it, we're leaking air!" the lackey exclaimed.

The rapid escape of air from the compromised vessel was alarming, especially since the young man couldn't swim, and the water was filthy, strewn with debris-and worse.

Despite his usual bravado, he was quick-witted in a pinch. He grabbed a rope from the boat and threw it toward the shore, "Miss, do me a solid and pull me in, will you?" The rope landed near Stella's feet.

Without a word, Stella kicked the coarse hemp back into the river.

Desperate, the young man pleaded, "Look, I'm sorry for before. My dad's the head honcho at Raven Port, and I'm here on a relief mission. Please, help me out-the boat's supplies are yours if you want them." Stella didn't respond, just kept walking.

Even in a relief effort, his arrogance shone through. Why save someone who'd squander the resources? He'd probably revert to his old ways once out of danger.

The deflating boat spun helplessly, drifting farther and farther away.

The young man's pleas turned to anger, and then to a stream of expletives as despair set in.

Stella trekked through the rough terrain, encountering several stranded survivors.

To the kind-hearted, she gave directions to a nearby refugee camp.

To those who harbored ill intentions and attempted to rob her, Stella delivered swift justice with her knife.

As dusk fell, she stumbled upon a makeshift cave. Inside, a woman sat motionless, blood crusted at the corners of her mouth, beside a body with its thigh bone grotesquely exposed. Without approaching, Stella took aim with her crossbow.

The clothes on the corpse weren't Jasper's, but she couldn't help but move closer.

The body was a stranger. After a moment's thought, Stella released the crossbow bolt.

The woman didn't scream; she just slumped to the ground.

Stella wanted to replace a safe place to spend the night, but thoughts of Rosie back at the camp, and the possibility that Jasper might have been rescued, spurred her to return. Late into the night, she finally made it back to the camp.

Upon arrival, she found Rosie volunteering, helping to welcome and settle the newly rescued survivors.

When Rosie saw Stella, her eyes lit up, but dimmed again at the sight of her sister-in-law alone.

"Sis," Rosie approached, handing Stella a thermos of hot water. "Drink some of this; it'll warm you up."

Stella couldn't hold back her worry. "Any news here?"

"None," Rosie replied.

Volunteering was Rosie's way of seeking news about her brother and Cooper, hoping against hope with each arrival, only to face disappointment.

Not wanting to add to Stella's sorrow, Rosie changed the subject. "Angela woke up around noon and went out to look for others. It's late, and she hasn't returned yet. Aki woke up this evening with a fever; I've given her medication." Stella rested briefly at the entrance before sending Rosie back to take care of Kitty.

She then climbed up the hillside, a journey that took over an hour in the dark. Once assured of privacy, Stella took fireworks out of her pack, set them up, and lit them with a lighter.

The colorful flames shot up, bursting into a brilliant display against the pitch-black sky.

These fireworks were from the second New Year's she'd known Jasper, bought from someone nicknamed Monkey.

Back then, they were a couple, celebrating with Rosie and Cooper, looking to bring some festivity to the season.

They had plenty left over, stored in her pack.

If Jasper could see the fireworks, he might replace his way back instead of wandering lost.

The fireworks were too bright against the darkness, and Stella didn't dare continue. She threw the remaining fireworks back into her pack and slipped away into the night.

Returning to the camp, everyone was talking about the display.

"Such beautiful fireworks, am I dreaming?"

"Who's got the guts to set off fireworks in these end times?"

"Dad, was that really fireworks? So cool!"

Stella had just reached her tent when Angela returned from her fruitless search outside.

They shared a knowing, bittersweet smile. Only those who've lost their most cherished can understand such feelings.

Kitty awoke, touched that Stella had been the one to administer the medicine. "Stella, you've saved me again."

Whether she had truly been saved was debatable, but Stella was genuinely grateful for Kitty's help in the past.

If anything had happened to Rosie, Jasper would never have overcome the loss.

Acknowledging Stella's discomfort from the past, Kitty expressed her gratitude, "I'm no saint, but I do repay my debts. I protected Rosie to repay you."

Yet, she found herself indebted once again.

"Forget about debts; we're friends. Some favors are easily given, but you risked your life for Rosie," Stella said with emotion, offering a smile. "Kitty, I truly thank you." Kitty knew Stella had never really liked her, but she had benefited nonetheless.

She had always wanted to repay that kindness but had never found the right opportunity.

Owing someone was not to her liking, but Stella's sincerity eased her burden.

The three women sat in the tent, sharing their experiences and comforting each other with the hope that if they could survive, so could their loved ones.

After a restless night, they rose early the next day.

With her fever gone, Kitty insisted on joining the search.

They split up, each taking a different area, as Stella crossed off the places already searched and reassigned tasks.

Rosie committed herself to volunteering, steadfast at her post.

With each new dawn, she ventured out, teeming with hope, only to return wrapped in silence and solitude.

Stella had taken to secretly setting off fireworks every time she came back, careful not to be discovered by lighting them in different spots, yet always close to the relief camp.

The fireworks were fleeting; there was no guarantee he would see them.

But she reasoned that if she set them off frequently enough, maybe, just maybe, he would notice.

By the fourth day, Stella left early in the morning, and Rosie, time and again, opened her mouth to speak but found herself mute.

In truth, the rescue team had already decided to call off the search, proclaiming those missing for so many days were unlikely to be found alive.

Rosie wept in secret, shielding her tears from Stella's view.

Dawn broke with a faint light, the air heavy with thick fog that blurred the edges of the world.

Stella was battling through her monthly agony, the pain fierce and unyielding, but she dared not stop, fearing she might lose her mind.

Through the mist, a shape seemed to move, a shadow slowly making its way through the fog...