18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 373

Stella was fresh off the bus, lugging a duffle bag and wearing an expression that screamed "new in town." Her local guide, Mike, a seasoned guy who’d seen it all, took it upon himself to clue her in.

“Joining the military's no joke,” he said, chewing on a toothpick as they strolled down the dusty roads. “You go through hell every day, but at least you get a solid meal and a roof over your head. And if Mother Nature throws a fit, the base has got your back.”

“Factory workers have it rough too,” Mike continued. “They’re busting their butts all day, but they get dorms. Not fancy, but better than being out in the sticks.”

“Scavengers used to have a decent gig, sort of. Risky business, but if you got lucky, you could make a killing. One good haul could cover your bills for months. Those days are gone though. Now, going out is just a waste of time.”

Outside the base, scavengers were reduced to fighting each other for scraps.

“They keep it civil on base,” Mike said. “But outside, it’s a free-for-all. Winner takes all.”

“And some even raid mob hideouts. It’s a jungle out there.”

Mike noticed Stella and her friend seemed overwhelmed. “You might want to rethink this scavenger gig,” he said. “It’s no walk in the park.”

Stella managed a wry smile. “We’d enlist in a heartbeat, but we’ve got a kid to think about.”

Everyone's got their burdens, Mike figured, so he didn’t push it further. It was their choice.

Back at the main hall, Stella laid out her bartering goods: four packs of stale cigarettes, five bottles of premium liquor, and six pounds of tea.

The real estate office wouldn’t give her a price, directing her to the trading post to convert it into credits.

So they headed to the trading center, only to find out they needed an extra thirty pounds of food to cover half a year’s rent.

Stella wasn’t about to dip into her food stash, so she bartered more tea.

With paperwork done and keys in hand, she noticed there was still daylight left. She was curious about the submarines at the harbor, but Jasper, her friend, wasn’t keen on the idea.

“Kindle Society has its own rules,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re not dodging gangs here; it’s the military we’ve got to be careful about. We just got here; it’s not smart to go snooping around. We’ll find another way to get the info.”

Stella trusted Jasper. He knew the ins and outs of the armed forces.

They drove back to their new place at 196 B Street, a modest two-story house with three bedrooms and a living room, about 800 square feet of no-frills living space.

First order of business was to sweep for bugs. Jasper was thorough, nearly tearing the walls down and even checking the drains.

The houses were packed tight, with barely fifteen feet between them. Speak too loudly, and the neighbors could hear everything.

Once they were sure it was clear, they hung curtains for privacy. No need to broadcast their lives.

Stella had only brought the essentials: a bed, a desk, a couch, all secondhand stuff from her old apartment.

After a few hours of setup, they finally had a makeshift home.

They scarfed down a quick lunch and then retired to their rooms for some rest.

Leaning against Jasper’s shoulder, Stella sighed. “If only the disaster would end, and we could live a simple life like this.”

Nine years had passed since the disaster began. Stella had grown from a nineteen-year-old girl into a 28-year-old survivor, and Jasper was no longer the young guy he used to be, pushing thirty.

In a couple of years, even little Rosie would be grown up.

Settling in a new place was the easy part; it was the constant struggle for survival that wore them down. When would it end? Or would it ever?

Jasper wrapped an arm around her. “As long as we don’t give up, maybe there’ll come a day when it all stops.”

They fell into a deep sleep, only to be roused by shouting from below.

Stella thought it was a dream, too tired to come to her senses until Jasper nudged her. “Stella, someone’s calling for you.”