18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Wonder how they're doing after all this time? Would've been great if they'd come to Hope Point with me."

Hans was no slouch when it came to professional skills, but when it came to quick thinking, he always seemed a step behind. Yet, even he could sense something was off this time. A vast stretch of sea and a sudden bounty of dew-kissed greens? It just didn't add up. He stood there, dumbstruck for a moment before a jolt of realization hit him. He remembered the aid 2688 had given to 1926 and blurted out, "Hey, look at me with my forgetful head. This medicine, I got it from South Base. What my friend sent is a whole different batch. As a soldier, Hans rarely lied, and now he was sweating bullets, his eyes darting around guiltily. But the injured man didn't dwell on it, saying, "So the mysterious Samaritan pointing us the way, the one sending food and supplies, they're from South Base?"

Bran chuckled, "Does it matter if it was a person or a ghost, where they came from? They meant well, didn't they? Otherwise, they wouldn't have helped you guys out of that tight spot, making sure you made it to Hope Point alive."

"That's true," the man admitted gratefully. The supplies from those ships saved over five hundred souls, something they would remember with gratitude for the rest of their lives. From Hans' story, it seemed like the mysterious benefactor was indeed from the southern military base.

To find such compassionate kin during a natural disaster filled him with pride. The others murmured in envy, "You guys got lucky. How come we never ran into them?" Some teased, others speculated; the truth behind the ghost ship was a matter of belief. But Bran's gaze on Hans was tinged with contemplation. He knew that Hans had met his sister and brother-in-law at sea.

After a few minutes, the bleeding miraculously stopped. The injured man couldn't talk much, so the ghost ship story ended there, and the conversation naturally drifted to other topics. As the night deepened, the party feasted to their hearts' content, saying their reluctant goodbyes before hurrying to catch the last ferry, as tomorrow was another early day of bricklaying.

Bran sat on the outermost seat, letting the cold sea breeze slap his face, his mind a tangled mess...

Stella was quite happy on her end. Rosie had caught the leadership's eye and was soon to be transferred to Area A as a reserve officer. In the few months since arriving at the base, she'd become livelier and made some new friends. They weren't the heart-to-heart type, but they were decent folks, and that was more than enough.

Stella felt good about herself too. The hospital was still short on doctors and medicine, but they did what they could with what they had. The herb garden was expanding, and she and Collin were busy teaching students. The base had its share of challenges, but the future looked promising. Life was moving in the right direction.

Turning around, she snuggled into Jasper's arms, "Jasper, are you happy with our life now?"

"I am," he replied without hesitation. Having been given a second chance at life, not only were his loved ones by his side, but he'd also found a partner to share his life with. How could he not be satisfied?

He kissed her without holding back, and the kiss deepened unexpectedly. Stella didn't push him away, whispering a reminder, "Rosie and Cooper are still awake." It took Jasper a few minutes to regain his composure. "I'll come to your dorm tomorrow at noon." She teased him, nipping at his ear, "Come early."

The CPU-nearly-fried Jasper was speechless...

They fell asleep in each other's arms, and Stella dreamed of meeting Jasper in a crowd, their eyes locking from across the way. They moved through the throng, smiling as they approached each other.

Everything would've been perfect if the alarm hadn't gone off. Sitting up, feeling both sleepy and blissful, she rushed to get ready. After seeing Rosie off, they boarded the ferry to start a new day.

For some reason, Stella's eyelids twitched incessantly. Jasper, concerned, asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

Shaking her head, Stella replied, "My eyelids keep twitching. I've got this uneasy feeling." She had a bad premonition, as if something was about to happen, a feeling she had never experienced before, despite a decade of witnessing bloodshed and brutality.

She opened her mouth to tell Jasper

but couldn't find the words. Off the ferry, they saw the dock had welcomed a new arrival. Survivors in tattered clothes disembarked in the biting cold, their eyes alight with hope at finally reaching solid ground. This place could be a new home, the end of their wandering.

They parted ways, each heading to their respective jobs. Stella's morning was uneventful until she was called away from the gardens to an emergency case. Around ten o'clock, a nurse came rushing, "Dr. Ginger, there's an emergency from Area F. The patient's injuries are severe."

Area F was known for its mentally and physically ailing residents. Despite grim prospects, Collin hadn't given up on finding a cure, hoping one day to develop a treatment for these special cases. The patient, brought by the Area F staff, was covered in blood, with multiple stab wounds, her intestines spilling out, barely clinging to life.

Stella, ever diligent, donned her protective gear before approaching. The patient was emaciated, barely more than skin and bones, unrecognizable from her former self. A female patient, attacked during a walk by another suddenly violent patient, stabbed over a dozen times.

Arms, legs, abdomen-wounds

everywhere, and deep ones at that.

The assailant had aimed to kill, without a moment's hesitation. Stella took one look and shook her head, "You brought her in too late. There's too much blood loss and with her intestines punctured, there's severe abdominal infection. With the base's current medical capabilities, we can't save her."

There was no way to perform a blood transfusion, no medical equipment.

"Jiang... Jiang... Ning..." The weak patient stirred, her eyes finding Stella, "Save... save me, I... am... is..."

It was Lillian! Had she not spoken, Stella would never have recognized the skeletal figure before her.

"Sorry, she's not in her right mind," the administrator, unaware of their relationship, explained with a hint of anger to Stella, "Always mumbling that name, sometimes raging, sometimes crying, babbling nonsense."

Lillian reached out, trying to grasp Stella. Stella coldly dodged, her eyes devoid of any emotion. Her obligation had never been out of love, but a forced choice made by reality, nothing to be grateful for. The moment Lillian harbored thoughts of killing her, whatever thin bond they had vanished. Reunited at the base, Stella saw Lillian as a stranger. Why bother with her name? To put it bluntly, she just wanted special treatment. Even at this moment, her mind was still consumed by self-interest.

Stella looked at the manager, "How did she get hurt?"