18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 370

Waking up with the sun already high in the sky, Sam and I exchanged sleepy smiles and lazy hugs, wishing we could stay wrapped up in each other forever.

After a hearty breakfast of pancakes and bacon, we checked out the Humvee. The desert storm had left its mark, covering it in a thick coat of dust. Cleaning it would be a hassle, and the bigger worry was potentially running into Lukas and his gang at the Kindle Society.

A vehicle that had vanished in the storm shouldn’t reappear so soon.

Considering the unpredictable dangers on the road, we decided to take out 'The Marauder,' a muscle car that would surely turn heads but get us safely to Lincoln's borders where we could find another ride. Dressed in our nondescript clothes and with the dog in a makeshift costume, we set out to avoid any unwanted attention.

Leaving behind the luxury RV camouflaged in dirt and mud, we hit the road with the roar of The Marauder's engine. Our journey to Lincoln began with a series of twists and turns, leading us from the shelter of the forests onto the rugged, potholed roads.

It wasn’t long before we started to encounter migrating crowds, each carrying their belongings, moving on foot, or pushing battered bicycles. Occasionally, we'd see an old car chugging along. From snippets of overheard conversations, it seemed they were survivors from Raven Port, heading towards Goldbridge or even higher elevations inland. If the coastal folks were moving, it meant the officials had predicted tectonic collisions.

The roads were now packed with migrant crowds, moving at a snail's pace, with troublemakers aplenty, throwing stones and slashing tires for fun. Stella laughed it off, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

We made slow progress, covering only about thirty to forty miles a day, but we were in good spirits. Being together was all that mattered. After three days, we finally crossed into Lincoln territory.

Heading to the Kindle Society meant diverging from the path to the official Goldbridge base. Ninety-five percent of the migrants chose the base, but once we passed the fork in the road, it was eerily quiet. We found a deserted spot to switch cars, now only about twelve miles from the Kindle Society. With the area supposedly safe, we opted for a nondescript SUV.

Upon arrival, we’d have to pay a food toll. After nine years of disasters, common staples like flour and rice were either scarce or expired. Stella had prepared less appealing but valuable goods: aged corn and wheat, dehydrated potatoes, and sweet potatoes, along with various dried vegetables. Pots, pans, blankets, and clothes nearly burst from the trunk and spilled into the backseat. These were our lifelines for survival.

For the last stretch of twelve miles, we couldn’t neglect our safety. Helmets strapped on, guns at the ready, and bulletproof vests worn at all times. As we set off again, Jasper focused on driving while Stella kept watch, alert to every movement around them.

It was dusk, and the sunset bled across the sky like fresh blood, with the distant cawing of crows. Halfway there, a figure suddenly emerged, signaling us to stop. Instantly on guard, we slowed down as we approached.

It appeared to be a military jeep with two soldiers standing beside it and another underneath, working on repairs. They continued to wave us down, seemingly in distress, with their guns visible. Stella frowned. Could this be a new type of robbery?

Jasper assessed them. “They’re military, probably from the base.”

“Should we stop?” Stella asked cautiously.

Jasper pondered for a moment. “Let’s see what they need.”

Since we were heading to their territory, and we had a dog with us, it wouldn’t hurt to gather some intel, just to avoid any unintended offenses.

The military jeep had brake issues, and Jasper remembered they had collected numerous spare parts back at the auto club. They’d definitely have a match. He described the part to Stella, who retrieved it from Arcadia with her mind. Jasper aged the part with dirt and wear before bringing it over. In less than half an hour, he had successfully replaced the faulty component.

After a brief chat and returning the tools, Jasper came back to our car, his mood lifted. “They’ve got guard dogs at the Kindle Society and they take in good canine companions.” This meant Cooper wouldn’t stand out too much. Moreover, upon mentioning our destination, they welcomed the idea. “We can follow their vehicle.”

Knowing Cooper didn’t need to hide was a relief for Stella. She wouldn’t have abandoned him even if the military had objected. As night fell, we drove behind the military jeep, our hearts a little lighter but still cautious as we approached the Kindle Society.

As the evening deepened, the crowd outside the gates of Kindle Society swelled to a queue of about fifty or sixty souls, each harboring hopes of refuge and a new beginning. They were a motley crew that had journeyed from every corner of the chaos-ravaged lands.

Gaining entry to the sanctuary wasn’t a walk in the park—it was more like running a gauntlet. The first hurdle was a meticulous background check. Never underestimate the military’s knack for digging up dirt; they had an uncanny ability to unearth records from pre-disaster databases and any official documentation that had survived the cataclysm.

Only those with squeaky-clean pasts would proceed to the physical trials, followed by a series of further tests. Despite the seemingly modest line, the odds were tough. Perhaps fewer than ten percent would make the cut, but the process was grueling enough to consume an entire evening.

As twilight approached, Jasper parked his car, steeling himself for the long wait ahead. Unexpectedly, a serviceman approached. “Jasper,” he said, “the boss gave the word. You and your party are to use the VIP lane. Just tag along behind our vehicle.”

Stella was taken aback. The military was renowned for its rigid impartiality. Could a simple car repair really warrant such special treatment?