18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 353

Alice and Tom weren't rushing to head out. They waited for about an hour, understanding that leaving too soon to gather supplies might mean running into familiar faces.

Alice gazed out the car window, a hint of sadness in her voice, "I want to say goodbye to Dylan."

Tom nodded, "Go ahead."

In their neighborhood, there were plenty of kids, but Alice was always selective with her friends. Over the years, she had grown particularly close to Dylan.

But sometimes, being close wasn’t the best thing, especially in a world torn apart by disasters. Emotional ties could lead to heartache or even gut-wrenching pain when faced with separation or death.

Alice handed Dylan a drawing, "Dylan, I’m leaving. This is for you."

Dylan looked stunned, handing her a rag doll in return, "Alice, when I grow up, I’ll find you."

Alice paused, then smiled warmly, "I’d like that."

In no time, they were no longer kids. Alice was as tall as her Aunt Stella, and Dylan was nearly as tall as his dad.

In a peaceful world, they might still be considered youngsters, but in this harsh new reality, they were seen as adults.

Dylan knew there was a gap between him and Alice. He wasn’t ready to join the Kindle Society yet, but he believed he would be one day.

As he turned to leave, he grabbed her hand, panic and resignation in his voice, "Alice, will you wait for me?"

Alice knew the Kindle Society might not be the best choice for her brother and sister-in-law, and the future was uncertain.

But looking into Dylan’s hopeful eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to be brutally honest, "Sure."

Striving for the Kindle Society was a good goal and wouldn't hurt him.

Dylan stood at the door, watching her walk away.

Austin put his arm around his son’s shoulders, "Come on, stop looking. When you’re strong enough, you’ll catch up to her."

Dylan stared in the direction Alice had disappeared, silently vowing to himself.

Once they left the neighborhood, the chaos was overwhelming: people crying, screaming, looting, the situation was utterly out of control.

What to do? Oh God, show us a way to survive!

Wearing tattered clothes, eyes hollow, no food, and shoes with holes.

Staying put was a death sentence, let alone trying to make it to Goldbridge, hundreds of miles away. Just the thought was hopeless.

A woman stood on a rooftop corroded by acid rain, her foot half off the edge...

A man rushed to her, pulling her back, as she screamed hysterically, "Leave me alone; I don’t want to live, let me die!"

Holding his frantic wife, he cried, "If you die, what about me, what about our child?"

"Our child is gone," she beat his chest, "All three of our kids are dead."

"It will get better, everything will," the husband pleaded through tears, "I promised your parents I’d take care of you all my life."

"It’s pointless, I don’t want to go on, please just let me be."

Below, people hurried by, some alone, some in groups, no one spared a moment to attend to a potential suicide.

Most people still wanted to live; it was human instinct, even if they were walking corpses, they didn’t give up.

500 miles; they’d go as far as they could.

The official evacuation time was short, and most people traveled in groups, from the same village or the same building, sticking together in hope of surviving the disasters.

While the lower-class survivors relied on their feet, officials transported essential goods and personnel using trucks, setting off first to secure locations.

Amidst the crowd, cars could hardly move fast, and honking was out of the question.

Many survivors had nothing left to lose, and in their agitation, they were quick to violence. Blocking the way was the least of the problems; others threw stones at car windows.