18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 540

Before everything went to hell, the military got its funding from the state. But now, they had to fend for themselves. Keeping the base safe and developing it cost money, so naturally, they had to tax the residents.

"If you take out taxes and just consider the cost of building, you could get 50 acres of wasteland. If it's arable, then you're looking at only 20 acres," Nicholas calculated.

"With taxes, a lump-sum payment would net you 25 acres of wasteland, or 10 acres of arable land. Annual taxes would depend on the crops you grow, with 20% of each year's harvest going to taxes," he explained.

Stella frowned; she hadn't realized the agricultural tax would be so hefty.

Daniel had laid it out for her—he wouldn't cheat her. He just pointed out that starting anything at the base was tough, and in a post-apocalyptic world, even a 50% tax might not cut it, let alone 20%.

To be honest, Stella didn't care much about the tax rate. She wasn't lacking resources, and she had a secret weapon: Arcadia.

The tougher the situation, the better her chances of success.

"I'll take the arable land and pay the annual taxes," she decided.

Once she made her choice, Nicholas marked the land for her. "As long as the medical supplies pass inspection, you'll get 20 acres in the southern plantation zone."

The southern plantation zone? That area was primarily for military cultivation, and Bran had once gotten into trouble there for pilfering manure.

Nicholas, remembering his orders, showed some concern. "The land in the south is the best. What do you plan on growing?"

"I've got some medicinal herb and cotton seeds. If I can get the seedlings to take, I'd like to give it a shot."

These were in high demand at the base, and Nicholas looked at her with newfound respect. "We have expert farmers here, and the hospital even has a medicinal herb garden. If you need help, just let us know."

The hospital director was eager to offer assistance too. "If you can grow those herbs, the hospital will buy them from you."

Stella gave a shy, grateful smile. "Thank you; I'll be counting on your support."

After finalizing the deal, Nicholas drew up a paper contract. They signed it, and the director arranged for the medical supplies to be taken away.

It would be a couple of months before the sweet potatoes were harvested and the land could be transferred to her. Nicholas suggested she start with the seedlings now, so they could transition smoothly to planting when the time came.

Once everyone had left, the family discussed their planting strategy.

Cotton loved warmth and light but hated both flooding and drought. And with the erratic weather—snow in June, heatwaves in winter—growing anything felt like a headache.

Many medicinal herbs had high environmental requirements too.

It seemed like besides mulberry trees, nothing would be easy to cultivate. But the difficulty added value to these crops, showcasing the unique skills of a landowner.

So, they needed to hire honest and straightforward workers; otherwise, cheating would be a hassle.

The environment also needed quick improvement; they couldn't rely on the unpredictable weather and risk losing their investment.

As they calculated how many seedlings they needed for 20 acres and whether they should consider intercropping, Rosie diligently went to the backyard to till the soil, planning to prepare both the front and back for seedlings.

Before they could finish their discussion, Rosie came back covered in dust. "Brother, sister-in-law, there's a dust storm coming."

And indeed, it was a dust storm, fiercer than any in the past couple of years. The howling wind quickly turned into a tempest of flying sand and stones.

It wasn't enough to just close the doors; the sand was palpable on their faces.

Thankfully, the base had initiated sand control projects over the past two years, so the sand content wasn't overwhelming.

The storm raged for three days. When the wind peaked, it howled like banshees, and occasionally large grains of sand would thump against the metal doors.

Anyone unlucky enough to be hit by the flying debris while outside could easily get injured.

When Daniel came over that evening, he had to shake off the sand from his coat.

Upon leaving, Stella fetched two heavy-duty raincoats, "Wear these when you commute so you won't dirty your clothes."

The coats were thick enough to protect against the sand.

Daniel actually had a raincoat at home, but Vanessa had stubbornly refused to let him wear it.

He wasn’t one for games, but at that moment, he appreciated the gesture.

"Thanks, I'll wear them."

After the dust storm subsided, Stella swept the sand from the yard, which was nearly as thick as the sole of a shoe.

Before they could catch their breath, the temperature dropped again.

With such capricious weather, it was no wonder people struggled, let alone the fragile crops.

His vision blurred, whether from the steam of the hot soup or the snapping of some taut string within him.

"Why does it have to be so hard?" he wondered.

Seeing her usually carefree brother break down, Stella wasn't sure how to comfort him. She silently went to the kitchen to slice some ham, placing a thin stack on a plate for him. "Maybe the disaster is 99% over. It's just that last step that remains, right?"

Bran faced the temptation of the ham and wanted to devour it, but then he remembered his former status and gradually took on a more refined demeanor.

The meat was firm, its deep red hue matched by a gentle aroma.

It was a feast for the senses, and Bran couldn't help but indulge. "If only we had caviar and red wine to go with it," he mused, reminiscing about the luxuries of life before the disaster.

Giving him an inch? Stella's glare was sharp as a knife. "Why don't you just shoot for the moon?"

"Eat up and get out."

Bran pointed to his worn-out shoes. "Sis, my shoes are falling apart."

Exasperated, Stella sent Jasper to find a pair for him.

But the ingrate had the audacity to push further. "Sis, the slippers you gave me, I left them at Ocean Point Naval Station."

Stella fished out a pair of discount store slippers and threw them at his face, "Get lost!"

Instead of leaving, he shamelessly sat there and put them on.

Bran, you scoundrel.

Hmm, slippers definitely suit him best.

The living room reeked so bad, Stella almost bolted right then and there.

Fed up, she kicked him hard, sending a clear message: "Get the hell out of here."

Jasper, ever the voice of reason, escorted him out of the yard.

Clutching his slippers, Bran hesitated, then managed to croak out, "Brother-in-law."