18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 296

Two thunderous booms resonated, momentarily silencing the rioters in their wanton destruction.

What the hell? Explosions now?

Stella didn't hesitate. She pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker and tossed it over the high wall onto the street. Soon enough, the shrill wail of a siren pierced the night.

The rioters were taken aback. They had barely started their rampage 15 minutes ago. How had the police arrived so swiftly?

Damn it all, bombs and the police?!

The more timid ones, having looted a handful of valuables, bolted at once. But those who were in too deep, caught up in the chaos and destruction, couldn't control themselves. They had unleashed the monsters within, wielding their makeshift weapons and wrecking everything in sight.

"What are we afraid of? They're just cops!"

This was the affluent district. One good haul here could set them up for years. Opportunities like this didn't come often. Everyone living here was fair game. They were all blood-sucking capitalists. If not them, then who?

There were so many of them, and the police had limited manpower and weaponry. They refused to believe they could be so unlucky as to get hit. So, the robbery continued. The rioters vented years of pent-up frustrations on the glittering elite. However, nobody dared approach the blazing inferno at the tail end of the mansion district.

The sounds of rioting and wailing mixed with the occasional gunshot echoed through the night.

They took what they could: canned goods, cured hams, and silk quilts. They even turned on each other in their frenzy. The entire neighborhood was a tragic scene.

The rich really did have it all. One mansion looted was worth more than 10 apartment buildings.

Many were covered in blood, but they left the neighborhood with beaming smiles, their arms filled with stolen goods.

As they exited, harsh sirens and blinding lights swept over them.

"You are surrounded. Drop your weapons and surrender immediately." The loudspeakers blared, accompanied by the authoritative voice. Two trucks rumbled in, and disciplined soldiers jumped out, surrounding the main entrance.

Despite this, those determined to escape did so, and those filled with adrenaline charged on. The sounds of gunfire filled the air, reminiscent of Fourth of July firecrackers.

Bullets found their targets with deadly accuracy, sending the rioters scurrying back into the mansion district. Even the best hiding spots were not safe from the swift and efficient soldiers, while the rioters felt like they were stumbling in the dark.

Spotlights illuminated the district, turning the night into day. The mansions were a grim sight, with materials stained red with blood.

The riot had been thoroughly quelled.

With the blaring of the loudspeaker, the gates to the Porras family mansion slowly opened, and Shane, with his son at his side, came out to meet them.

Evan did not immediately go in, instead casting his gaze towards the still burning mansion district. “What happened over there?”

Bran couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. “The rioters tried to storm the mansions, but the owners fought back with gasoline. Burnt a large chunk of them.”

“Building 50?”

“Yeah.”

“Just gasoline?”

Bran paused, then replied: "Yes."

Evan didn’t respond, instead driving his police car towards the Building 50. Bran quickly followed.

The air was filled with the stench of burnt corpses, and the cement road was marred by a large crater.

Evan looked up at Building 50, standing tall in the darkness.