18 Floors Above the Apocalypse
Chapter 378

The dust from the desert storm had clogged the engine, leaving the SUV stranded miles from civilization. Bran had trudged the remaining distance, his boots kicking up the parched earth with every weary step.

The old man had given him a pistol and some first-aid supplies, but he'd been ambushed by a gang along the way. Bran had fought tooth and nail to keep them at bay, but over the months, even the half of the supplies he'd managed to protect had dwindled to nothing. Now, he was more destitute than a beggar, his stomach growling like an angry dog for want of a decent meal.

So, Bran swallowed his pride. "Sis, just put it on my tab, okay? I'll pay you back, with interest."

He wondered if the old man had settled down in Goldbridge or had met with disaster amidst volcanic eruptions or another dust storm. It had been too long without a word.

But worry was a luxury he couldn't afford not when his own survival was at stake, and he was nowhere near Goldbridge or Griffith.

Stella didn't want to make a fuss. "Sure, just remember the interest," she said, with a half-hearted attempt at sternness.

They had to keep scavenging, and time spent on Bran was time wasted. They gave him a crash course-a last-minute cramming session, as they called it.

Turns out, there were tricks to passing the military fitness tests.

Most civilians were clueless, but Jasper had once been in the service. He knew exactly what the Kindle Society would be testing for.

After a hearty meal, Bran received emergency training in both intellect and combat.

Stella didn't intervene; instead, she took Rosie and Cooper upstairs.

Hours later, they finally sent Bran on his way, his arms laden with provisions.

Stella watched from the window as he disappeared into the distance, recalling how different he'd looked years back at the posh neighborhood meetups: Hawaiian shirts, capri pants, sparkling diamond-studded sandals, and that flamboyant military trench coat draped over his shoulders...

Disasters have a way of reminding you how fickle life can be.

She turned her attention to Cooper, who had been moping since Bran's arrival. "What's up, Cooper?" she asked, scratching behind his ears.

The dog whined softly, curling up on the floor. Stella knew he missed Buddy. Whether man or beast, the sudden sting of separation was hard to bear.

She didn't mention Buddy's name it would only make Cooper sadder-and murmured that time would heal all wounds.

Jasper came upstairs, and Stella handed him a glass of warm water, saying, "You've worked hard."

Taking the glass, Jasper slumped onto the sofa. "Bran's a quick study. He got the hang of the written material in no time, and his adaptability is impressive. His combat skills need polish, but I've taught him how to break down and respond to likely moves. He's sharp. With enough practice, he'll pass those tests easily."

Stella frowned. "Do you think he was playing up his misery on purpose?"

Jasper couldn't help but chuckle. "He's genuinely in a bad spot, but he's definitely selling it too."

Bran was stubborn. Asking for help outright would be like asking him to lay down and die.

Thinking of his obsession with his supercharged off-roader, Stella felt a pang of frustration. Earnings by skill, no debts to pay back.

Jasper seemed to read her thoughts, grinning as he said, "Like you said, if it's not meant to be his, it won't stay with him. You've done right by him and the Porras family. Time to let it go."

The future was unknown. When the tectonic plates eventually shifted, they might never cross paths again.

The thought made Stella anxious. Disaster wouldn't wait for a convenient moment. They needed a submarine, and fast.

During this latest deal, Stella had discovered a network of black-market traders within the base.

These traders were scavengers who exploited their points to buy necessities for outsiders, profiting from the difference.

It was a safe alternative to braving the wastelands, and over time, more and more had joined the trade. Of course, it was all under the table.

Stella mulled over the idea-goods changing hands among traders, tracking origins would be a nightmare.

Even if trading rare metals raised suspicions, any investigation would take time. With the imminent threat of cataclysm, the military needed those metals for escape tools. Priorities would dictate their actions. And if worse came to worst, they'd have the submarine ready to make a quick getaway.

Jasper agreed with her plan-to secure the submarine first.

Not wanting to waste any more time, they set off early the next day.

But as they left Zone B, a gang of tough-looking scavengers blocked their path. "Hey, good-looking couple, how about we chat over there?"

Stella gave them a cold shoulder. "We don't know you, so back off."

Undeterred, the gang pressed on, boasting about their group's reputation and trying to recruit them.

Stella had no patience for it and tried to leave, only for one of the scavengers to grab her arm. "Hey, listen to our offer, will ya?"

Jasper acted swiftly, pressing the barrel of his gun against the man's stomach. "We're not interested in joining any crews. Can we go now?"

The gang backed off, realizing they had met their match. They weren't about to start a shootout in the base.

With a warning glare, Stella and Jasper made it clear they were not to be trifled with. They didn't do alliances, and they had trigger tempers.

The scavengers let them pass, and Stella and Jasper continued on their mission, determined to survive another day in a world that seemed increasingly ready to crumble.

"Hey, Big Joe, are we just gonna let it slide?" one of the crew grumbled, eyeing the receding figures with resentment. "Those two newcomers waltz into our turf, get cozy in their own little pad, and come back from scavenging with their bags full. They don't look like your average Joes. What if someone else snaps them up before we do?"

"Come on, they've got a mouth and two eyes just like the rest of us. How tough can they really be?" Big Joe fumed, his pride wounded after a recent face-off with a gun barrel. "You show respect with a toast, or you learn the hard way. Let's teach them a lesson in manners. Spike, round up the boys and tail 'em. If they score some good loot, we'll jump them and take it. And if they come back empty-handed, we'll show 'em what it means to respect their elders around here!"

Quick on his feet, Spike gathered a few of the guys and followed suit...