18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 530

Stella’s mind went blank.

When she decided to come to Griffith, she had pictured countless scenarios of meeting Daniel again, even thought about the setting for their casual, nonchalant greeting.

But now, face-to-face with him, she couldn't muster a single word.

He had aged—thinner, with strands of white hair at his temples—but he looked well. Years in the military had shaped him into a man of calm restraint, yet he couldn't help but move forward and wrap Stella in a tight embrace. “How have you been?”

He had tried everything to find her, but to no avail. And now, here she was, in the flesh.

Daniel’s nerves were so intense he felt his heart almost go numb. He had seen her in his dreams countless times, always in bloody nightmares. Waking up in a sweat, lying there until dawn.

Aside from Jasper, Stella had never been hugged like this by anyone. The shoulders were broad, the embrace enveloping. Was this what a fatherly hug felt like?

Stella felt disoriented, her head spinning.

Daniel released her and looked her over carefully. She had taken good care of herself. Seeing her after so long, he seemed much more affectionate than she remembered, and it took her by surprise.

Stella took a deep breath, needing a moment to settle her nerves. “How have you been doing?”

Daniel had been seriously ill several times, each bout worse than the last, each time thinking he might not pull through. He had completed the missions given by the state to the best of his ability, fulfilling his duty. At the brink of death, his greatest regret was never having taken care of his own daughter.

He thought he would die with this regret, but now, unexpectedly, there was a chance. Facing death, he never flinched, but when it came to his daughter, the fear of rejection was palpable in his voice, tinged with an unmistakable guilt. “Stella, I’m sorry. I wasn’t there when you needed me most.”

Stella wanted to say it didn’t matter, that she didn’t need him anymore. But seeing the white hair at his temples, thinking about his life of sacrifice, the words just wouldn’t come out. Deep down, did she really hold no resentment? As a beneficiary of his actions, a survivor of Australia, she felt gratitude and admiration.

Mark was still by Daniel’s side. Sensing the awkwardness between father and daughter, he quickly smoothed things over. “Sir, it’s getting late. Stella and her companions have traveled a long way; they should probably head back to the city to rest.”

With luggage stowed in the trunk, Mark drove, Daniel sat in the passenger seat, and Stella, along with her dog and wolf, squeezed into the backseat. The dirt road was bumpy and uneven, surrounded by darkness and overgrown weeds, probably part of a soil conservation effort. Father and daughter, unsure of what to say to one another, rode in silence.

After driving for several miles, they passed a cluster of old cars that seemed to have been turned into makeshift homes. Mark, attempting to lighten the mood, explained, “This continent rose less than two years ago. That first year was brutal, with dust storms and many survivors without shelter, forced to find refuge in old cars, scavenging wood, metal, and plastic from the beaches to cobble together a place to live. Things are much better now. We found some adhesive yellow clay, refined it, mixed it with straw to make bricks for building, and hauled in plenty of stone…”

He continued briefing Stella on Griffith’s current state, worried they might find it too primitive. “Under the chief’s leadership, we’ve even started making proper bricks. The base will continue to improve.”

Having served with Daniel for over two decades, Mark had seen all manner of people and had developed an eye for detail. He could tell that Stella and her companions had been living well, even the wolf and dog were in prime condition. Of course, he would never act on any unsavory thoughts.

The car drove on, and after about 20 minutes, they approached a brighter area with rows of orderly mobile homes, guarded by armed soldiers at checkpoints. Just beyond were rows of solar panels. “This is the military’s administrative zone.”

Past the military green tents were the living quarters for the soldiers. Starting over after a land submersion wasn’t easy. Solar generators, tents—any semblance of technology likely came from the military’s evacuated supplies. Desolation as far as the eye could see; without the sea’s proximity, sustaining thousands would be a fantasy.

Griffith did own a food processing plant, that was true, but who could guarantee that the fish patties rolling off the production line were without a single flaw? But then again, there wasn’t much of a choice, was there? The natural disaster seemed to have subsided, but the trial it laid upon humanity was far from over. Ten years, fifty years, a hundred years, or perhaps even longer…