18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 542

The air was thick with the stench of blood as two figures moved with lethal precision. Muffled cracks echoed through the corridors as their silenced firearms spoke, and bodies dropped to the deck with an ominous finality.

Stella swiftly stowed the lifeless forms into the depths of Arcadia.

Something was off. The crew above called down into the silence, but their voices were swallowed by the void. Wariness crept into their hearts as they descended, weapons drawn, into the darkness.

Stella lay in wait beneath the stairwell, her breaths measured and silent.

Four men came down, their eyes catching sight of a bloody trail leading to an ajar door. They didn’t see the shadow behind them until it was too late.

One by one, they fell to Stella’s concealed gun.

With the deck cleared, Stella cautiously climbed onto the main level. Across the way, a massive cargo ship loomed, its crew waving torches and shouting, disturbed by the lack of response from their comrades.

Stella's heart ached for the luxury cruise liner she'd left at Ocean Point Naval Station, but a cargo ship was a gift she couldn't refuse. It was simply too good to pass up.

The pirates grew anxious with the continued silence and sent another party to investigate.

The cargo ship was crawling with life; over thirty souls on deck alone, many of them armed with a motley collection of firearms likely scavenged from their victims.

Stella and her companion retreated to the lower deck, lying in wait like spiders in a web.

The pirates had weathered many a storm and bloody battle, and knew all too well that things could go south quickly. With the mainland beckoning and their prey dwindling, they had not had a good haul in months. Desperation was in the air.

The leader, fearing a ghost ship or betrayal, sent a second wave of men to board.

This time, Stella didn’t hide. She and Jasper lay flat on the bow, covered by the night, as the pirate ship's grappling hooks caught hold of their vessel.

Seven or eight men began to climb aboard, but the two were already back inside Arcadia, waiting.

After a few minutes, they slipped out again. Stella fired from the shadows while Jasper hurled Molotov cocktails and tear gas canisters onto the cargo ship with a practiced arm.

The pirates were alert, but nothing could have prepared them for the sudden barrage of noise and fire. Explosions rocked the ship, flames engulfed the deck, and chaos reigned. Men caught fire, running aimlessly and screaming in terror.

They retreated, seeking cover, only to be overwhelmed by the acrid smoke from the tear gas. More and more fell to the flames.

Stella picked off the remaining pirates with ease, then collected their bodies and the cargo ship into Arcadia.

The pirates were not professionals but desperate survivors who had turned to piracy after harrowing experiences at sea.

A few brave or foolish souls charged out of the inferno, firing at the fishing vessel, but found nothing. The sea was eerily empty.

"Ghost ship!" they whispered in terror, their minds reeling as they scrambled to put out the flames.

Inside an open room, they found a man chopped to pieces on a bed. Such a death was either personal or desperate.

They searched the ship, finding more than twenty bodies, all bearing the marks of a savage weapon.

Where were the killers?

Passing one of the rooms, Stella caught sight of a tattered flag on the floor. Ah, it was the Highroad flag.

No wonder the cries had sounded foreign to her. The ship had been purged by their own, and now, the silent Arcadia had come to claim the remains.

Stella paced thoughtfully before heading toward the cockpit. Her mind was a whirlwind of possibilities, each competing for her attention. She could almost hear the gentle hum of the plane's engines, calling her to take control, to steer her own course.

As she made her way through the narrow aisle, her steps were measured, her gaze fixed firmly ahead. The passengers were a diverse lot, some engrossed in their books, others lost in the movies playing on their screens, oblivious to her passing.

She reached the cockpit and paused, her hand lingering on the door handle. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The array of instruments and gauges greeted her, a familiar sight that brought a sense of calm.

"Ready for takeoff?" the co-pilot asked, his voice casual but attentive.

Stella nodded, slipping into the pilot's seat with an ease born of long practice. "Let's chart a new course," she replied, her tone laced with determination. And with that, the journey began—not just the flight from one city to another, but Stella's own journey toward a destination she was only just beginning to envision.