18 Floors Above the Apocalypse



People naturally gravitate towards those they click with.

Stella raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. "We're not soldiers. Why should we go to a party?"

"Parties are a good chance to bring family or friends. I went to a bash at Central Base a couple of days ago. More friends, more opportunities." Stella wasn't one for crowds. "No thanks, you go and have fun."

Bran didn't push it. He planned to invite others instead, leaning casually against the doorframe with a grin. "Hey Dottie, how'd you make that dipping sauce last time?"

Rosie, generous with her secrets, spilled the recipe. "Ginger, green onions, garlic, chili, oil..."

The first few ingredients were easy to come by, but the oil was a hassle.

Might as well play it cool and just go with the flow when it came to meals.

After sending everyone off, Stella retreated to her room to lie down and read.

On the night of the party, Bran took extra care to wet his hair, slicking it back into a cool, stylish look, and donned his cleanest outfit.

He'd thickened his skin and begged his brother-in-law for some clothes. Surprisingly, the man was generous, giving him several pieces. One of them was a brand-new floral shirt that fit him perfectly, as if tailor-made for him, ready to be flaunted come summer.

In addition, his sister had given him a pair of sandals. They were the kind you'd wear in the shower, the kind that would've been dirt cheap before the disaster, maybe even part of a buy-one-get-one-free deal. Forget that price; he wouldn't have been caught dead in them before. But now... well, they seemed to be of decent quality, likely to last a few years.

All in all, his sister hadn't let him down!

Bran mused, wondering if he could score a pair of sunglasses or some pomade if he clung to his sister's leg and wept next time. Speaking of which, his underwear had developed a couple of holes. Maybe his brother-in-law could spare a couple of new pairs? Preferably boxer briefs-they had style. But that was beside the point. The gathering was mostly folks from South Base, but there were plenty who brought family, hometown pals, or friends. In all, over fifty people came together for a long-missed celebration-making dumplings.

The flour had been secured through a middleman. There were no meat fillings, but the vegetarian options were pretty good. They had fillings of leeks, cabbage, and a mix of potatoes, carrots, and bell peppers. There was no soy sauce or vinegar, but they did have a dipping sauce of ginger, green onions, garlic, and some fragrant herbs.

Even this simple fare was something many hadn't tasted in years.

Parties are for eating and sharing news, and when it comes to spinning yarns, the men often come out on top. They talked about natural disasters, local cuisines, spooky tales...

One story about a haunted pair of red heels by a campus lake was interrupted by another scoffing at its shallowness. "That's nothing. The real spooky stuff happened to me in the Devil's Sea."

The crowd perked up. "The Devil's Sea?"

"The real Bermuda Triangle." Thinking of his past experiences, he still felt a chill. "We were adrift at sea for ages, never expecting to bump right into Iranian pirates..."

"Iranian pirates?" The crowd was baffled. "I thought that ship sank ages ago?"

"It did sink, but they didn't all go down with it. Plenty turned to piracy."

"We were blindsided when their boats encircled us..."

The man was lost in his harrowing memory, recounting his tale. "Just when we thought we were goners, out of nowhere, the Iranian boats vanished into thin air, and the pirates aboard were tossed into the sea and devoured by sharks. We seized the moment to fight the pirates on our ship, throwing every last one of them overboard. We were out of ammo and supplies, expecting we wouldn't make it out of the Devil's Sea. But then, those two missing boats reappeared, loaded with food, herbs, fresh vegetables covered in dew, and flags with red stars alongside coordinates for Hope Point."

"Yeah right, I've heard that tall tale before. Almost had me believing your cock-and-bull story."

"Indeed, you almost had us convinced."

The story of supernatural events on a transport ship from Shandong was well-known-a lot of the crew had gone mad and hallucinated, seeing mirages like those in a desert.

Seeing the disbelief, the man grew agitated. "I swear it's true."

As a crew member, he even recited the exact coordinates and time to prove his point. "That sea area is cursed, unpredictable weather, brutal storms. We nearly capsized several times. It took us days to navigate out of there using the coordinates for Hope Point."

Hearing the coordinates, Hans

et

furrowed his brow. "We've passed through that area too, although we were a couple hundred nautical miles away and it was some time ago. That area is indeed strange, probably due to the complex ocean currents. We faced several disasters but managed to survive by the skin of our teeth."

They hadn't encountered any Iranian pirates but had been attacked by diamond-shaped underwater craft. Thankfully, they had the strength to fend them off.

"See? We weren't lying or hallucinating...ow..."

In his eagerness, he accidentally bit his tongue. It was a bad bite, bleeding profusely.

What now? Should they take him to the hospital? The ferry was still a wait away.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Hans stood up. "I've got some herbs that should help stop the bleeding."

He went to his room and returned with a bag. No Yunnan Baiyao or clotting powder, just some dried herbs. Hans picked one out. "Lucky I still have some, this should do the trick."

He crumbled some dry leaves into a powder, instructed the man to open his mouth, and applied the powder to the wound. "Press on that for a few minutes."

The man pressed his hand to his cheek in silence.

The spooky atmosphere was broken, and someone shifted the topic to the herbs. "Can this stuff really stop bleeding?"

"It should work. It stopped my bleeding last time."

The others looked on with envy. "Hans, I had no idea you were so well-off. These days, herbs are worth their weight in gold. You could trade them for a lot of supplies."

"No kidding, I traded with a middleman for some medicine and it cost me two pounds of potatoes."

"This was a gift from a friend," Hans said earnestly, his smile warm and simple. "It's funny how fate works. We just happened to meet at the Devil's Sea. Without their food and herbs, we might not have made it..."

The injured man's eyes were drawn to the herbs, picking them up curiously. "These herbs... they look just like the ones we got from the ghost ship.'

He brought them to his nose and

inhaled the familiar scent. That was definitely it! He had been helping offload supplies from the ghost ship when he accidentally tore a sack and spilled everything. It took quite an effort to gather it all backup; he couldn't mistake that smell. And the cut of the leaves was just too similar.

Hans was about to explain they were from South Base, the same as theirs, when...

"

As the man's words reached his ears, he couldn't help but pause, his mind churning involuntarily. The same demonic sea territory, the same delivery

of supplies and medicine, all with the coordinates of Hope Point. Could it really be such a coincidence?

But wait a minute-2688 was known for having a cool exterior but a warm heart. Hold on, they were operating a submarine; how could they possibly have room for the cargo of two fishing boats, let alone fresh vegetables still glistening with dew...

In the midst of these thoughts, he

shook his head slightly, trying to make sense of the situation. It was as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle without having all the pieces. The notion of a submarine carrying enough supplies for a small fleet seemed more than a little far-fetched. Yet, the mention of fresh vegetables caught his attention. It was a detail too specific, too grounded to dismiss.

Something was off, and he could feel it in his bones. But until he could put his finger on what exactly it was, he'd have to keep his suspicions under

wraps and his eyes peeled for any other anomalies that might float to the surface.