The Apocalypse Survival Manual (Three Days Before Doomsday, I Stockpiled Billions) novel Chapter 895

Chapter 895

Nicole looked up. An emaciated woman stood behind the bars, her sallow face marked with ugly scars. She limped badly as she moved closer.

Her eyes looked enormous in her gaunt face. She stared at Nicole, apparently recognizing her even with the mask

Nicole frowned, trying to place her.

“Nicole? Is that you?” The woman clutched the bars, emotions flickering across her face. “It’s me your mother.”

Nicole almost choked.

Irene.

Nicole barely recognized her. She was little more than skin and bones, with scars and strange lumps disfiguring her face. Bruises covered her skin, and her clothes were worn to rags.

Whatever she had been through, it clearly wasn’t easy.

She looked as though she could barely stay on her feet. Yet the sight of Nicole brought a desperate light to her eyes.

“Nicole, I’m your mother! I gave birth to you! You have to help me. Please, get me out of here…”

Irene spent her life relying on men to take care of her. Eventually, Arthur sent her to the government base in Jazenville.

Nicole doubted she would fare well there. From the look of Irene, she was right.

Still, surviving this long took more resilience than Nicole would have given her credit for.

Nicole had no desire to hear what Irene endured. Seeing her like this brought neither satisfaction nor a fresh surge of anger.

For all the changes in the woman’s appearance, Nicole felt only the indifference she might feel toward a stranger.

Giving birth to Nicole didn’t make Irene a loving mother. She carried the pregnancy to term because she had no

other choice.

Nicole’s childhood held little happiness. After everything she had suffered through two lifetimes, she only found real warmth and affection with Zeph.

Irene even tried to kill Nicole to keep her lies from coming out. Letting her live was more mercy than she deserved.

Nicole was content to leave her to the life she had now, however many miserable years remained. A hundred years of it would suit her just fine.

“I’m sorry,” she said evenly. “You have the wrong person.”

Mitchell looked surprised but didn’t question her. He turned to the soldier beside him.

“She’s too agitated for us to examine her. Please take her back.”

Irene fought to reach Nicole, clawing at the soldiers and trying to bite them.

Their protective suits kept her from doing any damage. They restrained her with little trouble and dragged her

away.

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“Nicole!” she screamed. “I hope you suffer a horrible death!”

Nicole’s voice stayed calm. “I don’t know you, ma’am, but I plan to live a long, happy life. A much better one than yours.”

With some time left after the examinations, Mitchell decided to look around the other sections.

Platform F had several recreation areas where residents with milder symptoms could exercise and join activities when they were stable enough. Trained counselors offered support and helped them manage their behavior

As the team walked through, shouting erupted up ahead. A resident suddenly lashed out and began viciously beating another patient.

Soldiers rushed in, pulled him off, and took him to an isolation room.

Nicole was beginning to see how Irene ended up with so many injuries.

Her condition was relatively mild compared with those of many residents. But a lifetime of depending on other people had left her poorly equipped to survive somewhere so brutal.

For Irene, simply staying alive was probably its own punishment. Even so, she was too afraid of death to end her life.

She would keep struggling from one miserable day to the next.

Nicole returned to Platform B after work and said nothing to Zeph about seeing Irene. There was nothing to

discuss.

The base had too few medical workers and even less medicine. Those resources needed to go where they could do the most good.

Even before the disasters, with well-equipped hospitals and plentiful supplies, treating these mutation-related illnesses would have been a daunting challenge. Now, the chances of a breakthrough were even smaller.

Nicole didn’t agree with the research project, but she wouldn’t challenge the administration’s decision. She simply declined to take any further part in it.

Life settled back into its routine, and the growing areas steadily added more varieties of medicinal herbs.

After the success of the croaker patties, the research institute found a way to process whiting and cutlassfish, too. Removing their toxic glands and cooking them at high heat for an extended period made them safe to eat.

Having more fish available eased the food shortage considerably.

There still wasn’t much to spare, but people stopped fighting so fiercely over every mouthful. Their faces slowly began to fill out.

They even started smiling again.

One afternoon, Nicole was in her room at the hospital when a nurse pounded on the door. “Dr. Floyd! Trauma patient!”

The steel walls at home did little to muffle sound, and with Poppy and Cola nearby, she and Zeph rarely had any privacy. Finally alone in her room, they were making the most of it.

Nicole pushed Zeph back, scrambled into her clothes, and headed for the door. “I’ve got surgery.”

There had been another construction accident. This time, the injured man was a soldier, brought in by several

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others from his unit. His uniform was soaked in blood.

cole pulled on her mask as she approached the operating room.

“Get him inside. Medical staff only. Everyone else, wait out here.”

“Nicole?”

Someone caught her arm.

She turned instinctively. A man in a battered military uniform stared at her, his face bright with excitement.

Nicole frowned, trying to recognize him.

“It’s me, Nicole!”

She knew the voice, but his face was so thin that she couldn’t put a name to it.

He looked hurt. “Come on. You forgot me already?”

She studied him for another moment.

Then it clicked.

In ten years of disasters, she met plenty of people, but few spoke to her with that kind of easy familiarity. Only one person came to mind.

Marcus. 20