18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 558

Four folks dug with gusto, their energy relentless, their efforts sincere. That Kindle Chest, though, was a behemoth, a time-consuming beast to unearth. But Stella, oh Stella, she played her cards with a cheater's grace in the parched wasteland. The loose soil, temporarily stashed in Arcadia, boosted our efficiency by leaps and bounds.

Joy came too soon. Not far beneath the surface, a stubborn layer of rock dared to show its face. The Chest was wedged tight between rocks, immovable stones pressing down like an unyielding weight. Stella switched gears, grabbed four steel rods sharp as stakes, perfect for prying rocks. All it took was loosening and hauling them away, but oh, did it chew through our time.

The day waned, and not even a third was done; we were spent, like kids after a day at an amusement park. No choice but to pitch tents come nightfall. Stella and Jasper took the first watch, Cole and Jake the latter. A tranquil night passed, and sleep claimed the weary pair swiftly. Then, in the dead of night, a soft tapping on the tent startled Jasper awake.

Cole, voice hushed, warned, "We've got company." Stella flipped on night-vision goggles and didn't forget to pass pairs to Cole and Jake. In the pitch-black night, shadows crept closer, a group armed with more than just their fists. We signaled silently, left the tent standing, Stella and Jasper backed against the Kindle Chest, while Cole and Jake circled wide. Stella tossed a mini recorder into the tent, and the sound of snores filled the air.

The shadows drew near, circling the tent with intent. As the tent was flung aside and frenzied stabs filled the air, a cacophony of curses followed. Ah, not our kin. Stella, assured, let the machine gun rip. Screams shattered the silence. Some shadows turned to flee, but gunfire echoed behind them. Stella, with ample bullets and night-vision advantage, fired until the last shadow fell.

Ceasefire, but no rush to emerge. We split up, guarded, and after half an hour ventured out. The tent was Swiss cheese, the ground littered with the fallen. Dark, red, and pale skins mingled—a macabre melting pot. A few, not fatally wounded, clung to life. Stella, ever the merciful, ensured their swift departure with a final act of kindness.

As the helicopter ascended, the leading wild man leapt, clinging to the landing gear, dangling mid-air, intent on commandeering the chopper. Cole kicked at the man clinging to the door, sending him plummeting. Hands reached out, grabbing at the door, desperate for the machine. Jasper slammed the door, crushing their hands. Screams and blood followed, and the injured fell, splattering on the ground. The wild folk, relentless, fired a barrage of bullets. Some whizzed past the helicopter, narrowly missing the fuel tank. Jake, steady as a rock, lifted the chopper higher, leaving the ground and its dangers far behind.

That was close. Without Stella's "special abilities," this day might've been our last. This was no easy meal to earn. Clear of gunfire range, we could finally breathe. Stella looked down to see the swarm below, not scattered but gathered, some muttering by the pit, others hauling away the dead. Hauling, not burying. Jasper turned her back, checking, "You alright?" Better than expected, no crushing sea pressure to wrestle with. Still, Stella popped a sugar cube to refuel. The danger fresh in mind, we gripped cold sweat at the thought of them, emerging endlessly like ants from a disturbed nest.

With the rising land, survivors were ashore, all scrounging for resources in a world where law and society had crumbled. Finding the Kindle Chest again wouldn't be easy. But the base needed growth, and these treasures were essential. Mid-flight, the sea roiled with a brewing storm, the sky darkening ominously with an approaching fury. Heavy, brooding clouds scuttled across the sky, layer upon layer obscuring the sun until only dappled rays managed to pierce through the gaps. Surrounding clouds gathered with a growing intensity, and as the last of the sunlight was swallowed by the grey mass, lightning crackled within the belly of the storm, a relentless dance of violet and blue flashes.