18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 444

The bus route 2688 rolled past Platform C, its bright red banner announcing: "Welcome Home, Compatriots!" A sign pointed right, indicating a 5-kilometer journey to Platform A for check-in.

Platform A featured a deep-sea dock connected to the main structure by a long, covered bridge. When bus 2688 stopped at berth number 79, the group disembarked and were greeted by the sight of several submarines identical to their own.

In the aftermath of the disaster, supplies were scarce, and most survivors were malnourished, their bodies as thin as reeds. Stella, Jasper, Rosie, and their dog, Cooper, wanted to blend in without drawing attention. Stella rummaged through some old clothes and applied makeup to give off a look of hardship and decay.

Cooper, still new to Hope Point, was safely tucked into a backpack Jasper carried. Worried he might show signs of distress, Stella coaxed him with a little white lie, "There are bad guys outside who want to make dog stew."

"Dog stew?" Cooper was instantly enraged, ready to charge out.

"No, no," Stella quickly reassured him, "They've never seen a dog. What if they get scared seeing someone as majestic and powerful as you? They might demand compensation from me! And if that happens, I'd have to pay them with the steaks you love, and you'd be left with nothing but porridge."

For the sake of his beloved steaks, Cooper begrudgingly squeezed into the backpack.

The metal bridge stretched for three kilometers, and it was a shaky walk that took nearly an hour to reach Platform A. Platform A was vast, home to administrative and functional departments, its offices made from specially adapted shipping containers. To reduce wind and wave resistance, the containers stood no taller than three meters, resembling typical commercial buildings. The thick steel underfoot provided a reassuring solidity; if one ignored the surrounding ocean, it almost felt like solid land.

Hope Point, now called "New Haven," hosted over ten thousand survivors, with about half being pioneers from the East Base. The initial tectonic plate collision involved more people, but many were lost during the perilous search for Hope Point through treacherous seas. A decade of disaster had whittled down a nation of over a billion to just these ten thousand who made it to New Haven. The thought was sobering.

As for how many more would come, the staff initially had no idea, but the mood had recently turned optimistic. With the coordinates of their new home now public, more and more survivors were making their way over. A few days ago, a transport ship from an official base in the province of Ru had arrived, bringing over five hundred survivors. Hearing about their harrowing journey, the staff were taken aback. Months ago, they had encountered mutated creatures and were supposedly helped by mysterious individuals who eradicated the threat and even provided two ships' worth of supplies.

At first, the staff thought the survivors were experiencing psychological issues. But it wasn't just one person making these claims; it was the entire crew. The matter was serious enough to bring in military doctors for evaluation. The verdict was grim: more than half showed signs of mental distress. While a few were beyond help, the rest could be managed with proper care. But such tales... well, the staff could only listen and wonder.

As new survivors arrived to register, the staff greeted them warmly, "Welcome home."

Seeing real, living people brought a smile to Rosie's face, "Hello, everyone."

New Haven currently only accepted survivors with national citizenship, so the vetting process was meticulous: origins, previous shelter, means of survival, and so on. These questions posed no challenge for Stella and her companions; after all, the submarine from the South Base was hard to miss. The staff were astonished, "You're not part of the Seed Project. How did you come by a submarine?"

Stella explained truthfully, "We were scavenging for rare metals and managed to find just what the military factory needed in a pinch, so we traded for the sub."

They were grilled about their survival at sea—what they ate, what they drank; the inquiries were as persistent as a neighborhood committee member. Once their information was verified, they were directed to undergo a medical examination.