18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 372

The Kindle Collective's organization and governance made the local authorities look like amateurs playing at city planning. Maybe this stark difference was what set the provinces apart from the nation's capital.

After a long day of intense focus, the trio and their dog were beat. Stella pondered aloud, "Should we crash at a motel or just bunk in the van?"

Jasper, ever the vigilant one, suggested, "Let's rough it in the van tonight. No need to splash out on a motel."

Being newcomers, they weren't entirely sure if the base was as secure as advertised. Moving their stuff in and out of the van might draw unwanted attention, but leaving it unattended seemed like an invitation to thieves.

Stella had no objections. A night in the van was fine by her.

They settled in, closed the doors, and Jasper dug out some hearty meatloaf meals from their backpacks—leftovers they'd packed from their last stop in Arcadia. The rice was fragrant, the meat tender and savory.

After the meal, they washed it down with some fruit juice to cut through the grease, chatted about this and that, then reclined their seats to sleep.

Their SUV was spacious enough that lying down to sleep wasn't too cramped.

Even in the safe confines of the base, they were out like lights due to their exhaustion. Only Cooper, the dog, remained alert, occasionally opening one eye to check the surroundings before dozing off again.

They were roused at the crack of dawn by the stirring sound of bugles—the military's morning drill.

Stella checked her watch with heavy eyelids—it was only 4 AM.

Still dark out.

She turned over and went back to sleep.

Jasper was more alert. He covered Stella and Rosie with blankets before stepping out to stretch his legs.

Stella woke up around 6 AM to find Jasper had already been for a run and back.

Breakfast was soy milk and English muffins. After eating, they stepped out to loosen up their stiff muscles. Since the central administration office wasn't open yet, they took the opportunity to explore the area with Cooper trotting alongside.

The base stretched for miles, too vast to see its end. Stella had even brought binoculars. In the distance, neat rows of survivor dormitories stood tall—twelve stories each, a stark contrast to the chaotic construction seen in other settlements. Clothes weren't strewn about everywhere here. Everything was orderly, uniform, with a military precision to living arrangements.

The ordinary survivors had such standards, not to mention the real military personnel.

As the morning progressed, scavengers began to trickle back in, their vehicles rusted and battered, their tires flat as if they'd fall apart at any moment.

They climbed out, faces weathered and weary, their haul meager as they carried it off to the trade hall to exchange for credits.

Choosing the scavenger's life, especially sticking to it this long, meant loving freedom more than most.

But nine years into this post-apocalyptic world, the nearby cities had been picked clean. The idea of finding anything of value was laughable—not even a scrap of metal to be found.

Sometimes, even venturing hundreds of miles out brought back nothing but disappointment.