18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 513

The runaway logistics crew had staked out their own territory, setting themselves up as the new bosses in town.

China was so furious he could've spit blood. He wanted to tear those scumbags apart, but they were like ghosts, impossible to find.

With no other option, he had to swallow his pride and seek help from Ocean Point Naval Station.

Jealous as all get-out, but what can you do when Australia's got the most survivors and their military strength is still intact? Rumor had it they had thousands of subs patrolling the seas.

It was a rare sight to see China come hat in hand, and the brass over at Willowbrook seemed keen to lend a hand. But surely it wasn't just about hunting down turncoats and recovering building supplies.

Whatever the full story was, it was above Peter's paygrade.

Stella and Jasper exchanged a knowing look. They figured it out.

It was still the same old power play, and this was about future survival stakes. The Australian military wasn't going to help them out over some building materials.

The only logical explanation was that China promised something else.

Maybe a split of the armory and supply warehouse loot, but more likely... the animals in the cryo-pods.

If you want ecological recovery, a secure food chain, those creatures are irreplaceable.

Earth’s already a changed place, a new species might take eons to evolve, but those animals were the product of millennia.

Right now, they're more precious than the fanciest tech.

That's why Ocean Point Naval Station was willing to help.

Too bad they were a step behind, all that treasure was already stashed away in Stella's Arcadia.

Peter was clueless. "Are those Russian folks at the base friendly?"

Stella pondered before replying, "I've got some medical chops, saved a few Russians once, they're kinda okay with us."

Peter's eyes lit up. "Any of them know how to fix planes?"

The Arctic was deep waters Stella didn't want to wade into, but remembering Ocean Point was Australia's Hope Point, where she had friends and memories, she reconsidered.

"They're just regular Joes, probably can't fix a plane. But Union Base has warships, and you bet they've got planes or at least parts."

Peter wanted to take a shot. Maybe they'd have what he needed?

With the safety of a whole warship and Arctic kin on the line, he had to get back ASAP.

But if the Russians were pushovers, they wouldn’t have been testing Stella and her crew.

If Peter stepped in, it wasn't just about getting help, getting out in one piece was the real gamble.

They're gathering troops left and right, they wouldn't know a plane if it hit them, let alone hand one over.

Stella weighed her words, "I'll ask around for you tomorrow."

It was getting late, Jasper fetched a blanket for Peter and told him to get some rest. The two of them headed back inside to their own quarters.

Now that they knew he was an Ocean Point pilot, Rosie couldn't help but think of her friends back at the maggot farm and plantations. How were they faring now?

Of course, she just thought about it, being sensible and keeping mum.

Cooper and Snowflake stood guard at the door, ears pricked up for any sounds from outside.

Back in their room, Stella and Jasper tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Staring at the ceiling, Stella mused, "If the Russians are willing to help, maybe Mark and the others could get out too?"

Jasper pulled Stella close, "We do our best, that's all that matters."

They slept late, waking up around nine.

Meanwhile, Peter was so anxious he hadn't slept a wink, dark circles under his eyes, mouth full of blisters.

A little meat and vodka? Forget about dietary restrictions.

The real crisis for them is running out of booze!

Stella checked his wound. It wasn't too bad. Clean out the dead tissue, stitch it up, medicate, and lay off the heavy food and drink for a couple of weeks.

But then she thought of Peter next door and put on her best performance, "You've been reckless. Usually, it's fine to ignore a diet, but those mutated gators are riddled with ancient viruses. You've been chowing down on rare steaks and drowning in vodka...

You better amputate now; might save your life. Delay it, and you could be looking at organ failure, and not even a miracle can save you then."

Ivans was scared stiff, clutching Stella's hand, "Ginger, think of something. I'll pay whatever it takes to save my leg."

Booze, meat, whatever was needed.

Stella played hard to get, taking her time before saying, "I've got an antiviral injection, a relic from the Kindle Society days. It might work on you, but..."

Ivans had been in Australia for years; he could read between the lines.

"Just spit it out."

"I can operate, give you the shot, but you'll need to do me a favor."

Ivans was pacing the floor, anxiety etched on his face. "What kind of help?"

"Australia has established a base and they've been sending out soldiers to look for survivors," she explained. "The plane they were on had a malfunction while flying over the Arctic just yesterday and had to make an emergency landing. The pilot is at my place right now.

The plane can't take off again, but he needs to get back to the naval ship in the ocean as soon as possible, so they can come and bring the Arctic survivors back home."

Stella looked at him earnestly, the weight of her concern apparent. "Ivans, the Shire is the place that raised me, it's my heartland. I want to do whatever little I can to help hundreds of Australian survivors stuck in the Arctic find their way back home."

Ivans was dumbstruck, it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, "Stella, are you guys planning on leaving too?"