18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 467

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."