18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 52

The metallic gate, bristling with spikes, slowly swung open, followed by the measured sound of purposeful footsteps.

For some reason, the gathered crowd felt a knot in their throats, a sense of unease clenching their stomachs. They had seen murders happen on the 18th floor with their own eyes.

The first to appear was the young girl, her legs slender and straight, with a lethal samurai sword in her hand.

A wave of murmurs spread through the crowd. The 18th floor was infamous for their brutality, and to have this young girl leading the pack was a chilling statement.

Next came the girl rumored to be the national college boxing champion, whose punch could send a person's head flying.

Following her were two men, one wielding a baseball bat, the other a spiked club. The club was an ominous sight, a wooden baseball bat studded with rusty, sharp nails.

The last to appear was a striking man, representative of the 18th floor in both height and good looks. He wore a casual grey suit, his hands tucked nonchalantly into his pockets.

To everyone's surprise, a robust dog followed at his heels.

The crowd, angered and hungry, couldn't help but regret their previous decisions. They shouldn't have agreed to take only a third of the supplies from the 18th floor. They should've demanded everything, including the dog.

They all licked their lips, their hands itching for a fight, as if victory was already beckoning.

However, Drew felt a foreboding chill when he saw the 18th floor's show of force.

"Mr. Dew," Stella called out, "why are you blocking our way with so many people?"

Stella looked around at the crowd squeezed onto corridor. There were no elderly, weak, women or children. All of them were men, either wielding weapons openly or had them hidden under clothes.

Such was the diverse nature of life in a building full of people - some with rosy complexions, some pale and weak. Regardless of their individual situations, they were all eyeing the 18th floor.

As Stella scrutinized them one by one, she saw Hector and others in the crowd. He looked thin, his eyes hinted at a desperate hunger, and his face was pale, a stark contrast to his usual dashingly handsome self.

Seeing the large gathering on the 18th floor, Drew felt a chill run through him. He forced a smile onto his face and said, "Stella, we're just here to discuss things. Why have you got the weapons out?"

Stella was in no mood to beat around the bush, "We do not have what you want. What we have came at the cost of our lives. You cannot hope to get your hands on it so easily."

"Come on," Drew quipped, "We have no choice but to come ask you for food."

Though his side had the greater numbers, Drew didn't want to resort to violence. To defuse the situation, he said, "In desperate times, we should all stick together. Those who have food should share, and those who are strong should contribute their energy. Isn't that how we survive? In these special circumstances, we've decided not to abandon anyone or give up. We want to pool all resources together and share them so that no one in the building starves to death. Everyone else has already given their share, you can't be any different, right?"