18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 14

Angela lingered by the stairwell one morning, having heard that a girl living on a lower floor alone had been raped during a break-in the previous night. The perpetrators had been masked, and their identities were unknown.

"You and Lukas should be careful. Our floor isn't safe anymore."

Stella, who had noticed some commotion the previous night, was puzzled as to how Angela had missed it. But when she spotted a hickey on Angela's neck, the situation became clear. They must have had a wild night, while the world descended into chaos. With the utilities all cut off and no forms of entertainment to pass the time, they had resorted to physical activities to keep themselves occupied.

In this post-apocalyptic world, survival was a challenge for anyone. For a woman, becoming pregnant was nothing short of a disaster. Stella was at a loss as to how to remind Angela of this, considering she herself had no experience in this regard.

Unable to find the right words, she finally resorted to an indirect way of bringing up the topic. “Hey, Angela, you have a competition coming up next month, right?”

“Yeah,” Angela replied, looking somewhat dejected. “I don't know when this darn weather will clear up. It's messing up my training routine. I've been having to train indoors. I even used Lukas as a punching bag yesterday.”

Stella figured that Angela must have taken precautions if she was still planning to participate in the competition. She decided to remind Angela again once the two of them had fully accepted the reality of their post-apocalyptic world.

Upon returning to her apartment, Stella glanced at the closed door of Apartment 1801.

...

In the middle of the night, before any potential burglars could make their move, Angela was knocking on doors. When Stella opened her door, she saw Angela, bare-handed, and Lukas, holding a knife. Simultaneously, the door to Apartment 1801 opened.

The residents of the 18th floor were putting up a united front, and the would-be burglars were initially taken aback but soon regained their confidence, threatening, “Hand over your food if you know what's good for you, or don't blame us for what happens next.”

Stella retorted coldly, “Who said we have any food?”

The leader of the group, brandishing his knife, replied, “Don't play dumb. If you didn't have food, why would you barricade yourselves in? We're starving while you guys are living comfortably behind closed doors, not caring about anyone else. How can you be so selfish?”

Actually, Stella only ate until she's about 80% full each meal, and her energy was mostly spent on rigorous training. However, her vibrancy was hard to hide, especially when everyone else was visibly starving and drained. These people had reached a point of desperation due to hunger, trying to reason with them was like preaching to deaf ears.

Tired of the pointless banter, Stella challenged, “If you're so desperate, come and take our food.”

After saying this, she gave Angela a pointed look. Despite only seeing a few individuals knocking at the door, they didn't have any idea how many more could be lurking in the darkness. If they didn't make an example today, they would be dealing with a continuous stream of them in the future. After a signal from Stella, Angela instinctively moved to protect Lukas.

The burglars, infuriated by the defiance of the 18th-floor residents, kicked open the stainless steel door and charged in.

Stella sidestepped and swung her knife at the leader. Angela, who had been itching for a fight, dodged a punch and landed a heavy blow on a man's stomach. The man rolled down the stairs, hit the door with a thud, and lay motionless on the ground.

The resident of 1801 hadn't moved from his spot and disarmed another man with ease. The screams echoed through the dark, grim building.

Stella continued to slash at the invaders, intentionally avoiding vital areas but still causing blood to splatter across the floor. Six intruders had come. Three were injured, one had his arm dislocated, and another was beaten to the brink of unconsciousness by Angela. Lukas didn't even get a chance to fight.

Standing at the stairwell, Stella, holding the blood-stained knife, challenged, “Do you want food, or do you want to die?”

The leader of the group, clutching his bleeding arm, cried out, “You can't kill us! That's against the law!”

“Against the law?” Stella retorted.

She pulled off their masks, revealing familiar faces but names she couldn't recall. A couple of them were even active members of the community group, living seemingly perfect lives but resorting to crime when disaster struck. She took out her phone and took pictures of them. “You can call the police. Let's see who they arrest.”

The burglars were faced with the united force of the 18th-floor residents, and had no choice but to back down. “We're desperate. We didn't want to do this. You're not harmed, so can we just forget this ever happened?” They had been so arrogant, and now they were begging for mercy.

Stella looked at Angela and the resident of Apartment 1801. Both had no objections. “You're lucky today. Next time, you might not be. Get lost!”

Despite the commotion, nobody dared to leave their apartments.

Stella and the others didn't bother cleaning up the blood. They just closed their doors and returned to their apartments.

Lukas, who had witnessed the resident of Apartment 1801's skills, wanted to introduce himself. “Hello, I'm Lukas. I just moved in a few days ago. You're really good, what do you do?”

The expressionless man, Jasper, replied as he reached his door, “Take a guess.”

Lukas was speechless and couldn’t come up with an answer.

Angela pulled Lukas away. “Let's go.” Jasper clearly wasn’t just a regular citizen. Prying into his business could definitely lead to trouble.

The show of force had its desired effect. Nobody dared to knock on the door for days.

Stella pulled back the curtains early in the morning. The unrelenting storm was still raging. Its fury was battering the windows and creating the illusion that the entire building was swaying.

The storm had arrived early and had been raging for a full fifteen days with no signs of letting up. Her worries were becoming a reality. The disasters were getting worse, and there was no certainty about when or if they would come to an end.

Life had to go on, and each day of survival was a victory.

Snowy, Stella’s pet rabbit, was heavily pregnant and had a voracious appetite. When Stella gave her some vegetables, she noticed blood on the cardboard. She ran her hands over Snowy's belly.

Sensing her unease, Stella realized she was about to give birth.

New life in the midst of disaster. Once grown, they would provide a variety of dishes – fried rabbit, rabbit salad, braised rabbit, spicy rabbit – even just thinking about it made her mouth water.

Soon, the first baby bunny was born. It was tiny, just a few centimeters long, and barely larger than a baby mouse. When Rosie came over, Snowy had already given birth to six bunnies. She secretly gave Snowy two wilted cabbage leaves she had been hiding in her pocket. “Snowy has babies now. Eat up.”

Ten baby bunnies, twelve mouths to feed in total. Stella was concerned about how she was going to feed them all. They couldn't just eat feed. Unfortunately, the continuous storm had left the vegetables on the balcony lacking sunlight and eventually turned yellow. If it weren't for Arcadia's cheating, they would have all wilted by now.

Plants in Arcadia, on the other hand, were thriving. The sight of them, lush and green, was comforting. This morning, Stella couldn't resist plucking some spinach for her breakfast. The produce she had grown herself tasted incredibly delicious. The two fruit saplings had taken root, especially the old apple tree, which was already sprouting new buds. Stella kept reminding herself that everything was taking a turn for the better.

Her days were filled with caring for her pet rabbit, exercising, reading, and catching up on her beauty sleep. Life was quite satisfying.

She developed a new habit; every day, as soon as she woke up, she would listen to the wind outside. Having done this for a while, she felt like a wind whisperer of sorts. Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

However, on the eighteenth day, the sound of the wind seemed a little off.