18 Floors Above the Apocalypse



To find a place they could call home, East Base had invested heavily. Fuel consumption was through the roof, forcing them to scale back on the Air Force and shipping sorties, redirecting vital resources to construction projects. As submarines steadily arrived, the base indeed delegated the mission of searching for survivors to those equipped with nuclear propulsion.

Hans and his crew were tasked with this mission, patrolling an area beyond 500 nautical miles and guiding any compatriots they found to safety. This time, they were ashore for a well-deserved rest. After parting ways with Sub 2688, Sub 1926 set off towards the designated coordinates, encountering numerous challenges along the way. Without the supplies from 2688, especially the valuable herbs, they might not have safely reached Hope Point. Walking and chatting, the joy of reunion was palpable, their faces beaming with excitement. Upon reaching Area A, Hans and his team reported for debriefing, while Stella and her companions headed to the information desk. During these special times when meat was a luxury, the staff's memory was impeccable. Recognizing her, one said, "Didn't you just ask about this yesterday? There's been no word."

Every day, many came searching for lost loved ones, clinging to hope but often leaving in disappointment. The few reunions that did occur were indeed rare. "I've registered your inquiry. If there's any news, you'll be the first to know."

Hans and his group were staying in Area B2. After completing their handover, they took a boat back. Stella and the others had an inflatable raft, which they paddled leisurely. Back on the 3rd floor, Stella caught Miranda collecting her planting pots and called her aside, handing over a five-pound bag of cornmeal and some herb seeds, "This is from the exchange last night."

Miranda rarely interacted with her, but Monkey often referred to Stella as "sis" and had insisted the previous day's supplies were a gift. Monkey wouldn't accept payment, and Miranda, who always remembered a good deed, had considered it repayment for treating her and her son. Stella knew Miranda was reluctant, "Take it. There are herb seeds in there. If you think it's too much, just share half the herbs with me when they grow."Content from NôvelDr(a)ma.Org.

Too many prying eyes could spell trouble. Miranda was taken aback; she knew the value of herbs and how desperately her family needed food. Despite her tough exterior, she had a heart, "Alright, I'll give you sixty percent of the herbs." Fearing discovery, Miranda quickly hid the cornmeal in her clothes, whispering, "Thank you, Stella."

"No need. I'll benefit in the future, too." A little over three pounds of tough, dried sweet potatoes or potatoes could be consumed in a few meals, yet had to be stretched into flour for a month, so thin you could nearly see your reflection.

Back home, Miranda prepared a warm bowl of corn porridge for her son, fighting back tears as she urged him to eat quickly, "Eat up, we can't let anyone smell this." Her son, famished, polished off the bowl, licking it clean, "Mom, why aren't you eating?"

"I'm not hungry yet," Miranda reassured him, reminding him to keep their meals a secret. Frightened of hunger, her son asked, "Mom, will we have more tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'll make more for you tomorrow." At nightfall, Monkey brought home more scavenged goods, pulling out a pound of crushed dried sweet potatoes, "Got these today. You and the boy eat up, don't skimp."

Miranda, saying nothing, prepared him a thick bowl of the stuff. Monkey, his heart aching, pushed most of it back to her after a few bites, "I ate outside. This is for you and the boy."

"Eat. Stella gave us five pounds of cornmeal and herb seeds." Monkey was stunned. Why had his sister given more... Watching his wife and son's gaunt appearance, he swallowed his words, "It's given, then it's given. I'll find something nice for her later."

He was no boss to accept things without a clear conscience, hoping for a chance to repay her. Pondering his next move, he focused on the medicinal seeds, "Can you grow these? Medicine's in high demand. If we have extra seedlings, I can trade them."

"I'll try. If it's too hard, I'll learn from the plantation folks."

...

Rosie woke early, eagerly anticipating her new life, yet the thought of her maggot-breeding job dampened her spirits. With a breakfast of muffins and soy milk, Jasper saw his sister off, "Work hard."

Backpack slung over her shoulder, Rosie headed downstairs to the plantation. Stella petted the dog while flipping through a medical book, and Jasper went down to haul seaweed for planting potatoes. The morning flew by, and Stella took out the lukewarm lunch from Arcadia, waiting for Rosie's return Cooper, drooling with hunger, wasn't allowed a bite.

After waiting half an hour, Rosie peeked in, her face the picture of misery, "Sis..."

Before Stella could ask who had upset her, a foul odor wafted in, and she clamped her hand over her nose, "Jasper, did you have an accident?"

In the cramped room, the smell of a single fart could fill the air. Jasper, falsely accused, began to protest, but then realized what was happening, "Ah... um."

Rosie was on the verge of tears, refusing to come inside. A beat behind, Stella realized, "..."

Her first day on the job had been stirring "feed," and after several stomach-turning moments and many washes, the smell lingered on Rosie. Her clothes reeked, and she had no change of outfit. Snapping back to reality, Stella pulled Rosie inside and quickly shut the door, darting into Arcadia, "It's a small matter. A bath and fresh clothes will fix it."

Clean from head to toe and in a new outfit, the stench was gone, but the visual trauma had killed Rosie's appetite, "Brother, sis, I'm not hungry." They had all been cogs in the machine, familiar with the painful clash of dreams and reality. Stella had faced her share of disdain and shed secret tears when she first started working. It's all about getting used to it. Once you've made a choice, you've got to face up to it. Stella didn't comfort her, nor did she suggest Rosie quit.

If she couldn't stomach this bit of

hardship, and avoided difficulties at the first sign, relying on the notion of a wealthy family, how would she

handle bigger challenges in the

future? Would she always bet

down? Character building and moral compass shaping were influenced greatly by family, but the workplace was an essential forge. At Rosie's age, it was the perfect time to develop her character.

Unaware of Stella's thoughts, Jasper felt the same. So what about a bad smell? When hunger was a matter of life and death, many survivors would have given anything to eat, even the unspeakable. The couple exchanged a knowing look, agreeing silently not to speak up.

Rosie skipped lunch, taking only water before resting. As the afternoon wore on, she packed an extra set of clothes and her trusty canteen, "Brother, sis, I'm off to work."

Stella imparted her wisdom with a gentle firmness, "Put your heart into your work, greet your colleagues with a smile, and don't be afraid when you face challenges."

"Got it," came the dutiful reply. Jasper watched his sister head out the door, then retreated to his room, worry etching his features. "I just hope Rosie can stick it out."

She had been pampered with the best of everything in recent years, and it was a real concern whether she could endure the less cushy reality. Stella shared his apprehension, yet she knew that like all fledglings, Rosie had to spread her wings eventually. "Let's just wait and see," she said, the sentiment of letting go hanging heavy in the air.

The pair continued their humble existence, and the afternoon swiftly passed by. When Rosie left work, she tiptoed over to Cooper with a mix of distress and awkwardness. "Cooper, can you tell me, do I smell bad?" she asked in a hushed tone.