18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 346

Life in the neighbourhood had settled into a routine, with building 50 receiving about 10 liters of water daily.

Stella checked the pH with a test strip—normal, thankfully. The water had a faint taste, likely filtered groundwater from the city officials.

Cody and Lukas were the ones who lugged the water, chatting idly as they made deliveries.

The water was distributed from a tanker at the town square, attracting a crowd daily. Allocation was per household, and with two strong men contributing, their share naturally exceeded that of others.

After the men left, Stella noticed they had received double the usual amount. An official surplus was out of the question; she figured they'd given extra, assuming a trio and a dog would need more.

Weather was fickle—days of sunshine followed by rain. After past lessons, survivors had grown cautious, venturing out only with makeshift umbrellas or carrying wooden planks above their heads.

When the skies cleared, a notice informed residents that a sanitation team would visit. 'Sanitation' was a euphemism for soil deacidification.

Lincoln Agricultural Research had devised a method to reduce soil acidification over eight years, now shared with city authorities to combat the effects of acid rain.

Grayish-white pellets, resembling multi-purpose fertilizer, were scattered across the land. They reacted with the acidic soil, emitting a pungent odor that turned stomachs.

One night, a fierce storm struck. Stella, flashlight in hand, scrutinized the exterior walls for damage. Thankfully, there had been no recent wind to exacerbate erosion.

Just because building 50 was fine didn't mean the other buildings were okay, and some people in the neighborhood got burned. A leak in the roof, unnoticed until acidic water dripped onto their face, waking them with searing pain.

People hastily moved from the second floor to the ground level, crowding together for safety.

The acid rain continued its assault, eroding floors and forcing some to the dank, dimly-lit basement, where even a simple fart could become an olfactory nightmare.

Building 50 wasn't immune to the issues. Months of acid rain and gales had left its glass atrium teetering.

Stella frowned at the damage, then layered the rooftop with glass salvaged from Arcadia, hoping it would last at least six months.

But one night, the sound of shattering glass startled everyone awake—the atrium had collapsed.