18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 337

On the edge of collapse, the thief was barely hanging on to consciousness. Stella, showing a rare streak of mercy, told him to beat it before it was too late. She'd be damned if she'd take the blame for another bite mark.

Anger flaring, Stella laid down the law: no dinner for her two mischievous pups.

It was one thing to defend against a random crook, but this kind of roughhousing could spell trouble if they got too used to it. What if they turned on the innocent folks next?

Dogs shouldn't be in packs. Something was bound to happen if they stayed together for too long.

Always one to stick up for her own, Stella grabbed her walkie-talkie and barked at Bran, "Get your butt over here and take Buddy home. "

It was not Cooper's fault; that rascal led him astray.

Bran played the helpless card. "Aw, Stella, they've got legs; can't tie 'em down."

"Get him now. I owe you dinner."

"Barbecue?"

"Deal."

Bran pulled up in his Land Rover, striking a pose in front of it and whistling for Buddy, who reluctantly climbed into the vehicle.

Stella pretended to care, "How's your cousin's arm? Still in one piece?"

"Nope, broke it again."

Stella sighed. "What about Lindsay? She back?"

Bran shot her a weighted look. "Stella, you're spoken for, remember? Don't be eyeing the goods in someone else's cart."

What the heck? Stella nearly choked on her own spit. The nerve of him, preaching to her when he was the one gallivanting around town, splurging on women like there was no tomorrow. And now he was playing the saint? Sure enough, catastrophe could change a person.

Stella snapped back, "Got rocks in your head?"

Jealousy tinged Bran's complaint, "Why ask about him and not me?"

"You're right here, aren't you?"

She just wanted the gossip, that was all. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Despite his suspicions, Bran spilled the beans. "Yeah, Lindsay's back."

It was like a miracle. Swept away by a hurricane with two broken legs, and she ended up pregnant.

And Bentley, arm broken twice, still dragged her back home, only to get stabbed. The guy was a walking disaster. He even suggested Lindsay could stab him a few more times to get even.

Bran was shocked and silently vowed to steer clear of love and marriage. Too freakin' scary. Heck, he was scared to even hang out with his cousin now.

What if Lindsay missed her mark next time and he ended up with a knife in his back?

Anyway, Bran’s aunt finally gave up on his cousin too. She was now obsessed with cultivating her younger child.

After dinner, still uneasy, Stella asked Jasper to give Cooper some therapy to avoid a repeat incident.

The house across from the station sold like hotcakes.

With the deed in their hands, they made a special trip to the real estate center. They traded it for a variety of seeds, well over a hundred pounds, plus two truckloads of books.

Cody and Lukas' place took a while to sell, and even then, for a bit less due to its location. But the loss wasn't huge.

They sold the red Ferrari, added the house money, and through some connections, managed to secure some glass. To build the rooftop garden, they even recruited Monkey and others for help.

As the smog persisted, life had to go on. Austin managed to secure some glass, and they got it installed.

After the endless night and the smog, the neighborhood's wealth vanished, leaving people like Austin and Cody thriving, completely reversing social standings. Those once glamorous were now down and out.

The temperatures soared to 56 degrees Celsius, and it lasted half a month.

The heat was unbearable, but the virus seemed to retreat, with fewer reports of infections or coughing blood.

Whether it was disappearance or herd immunity, the human beings seemed to have survived another trial.

The virus was gone and the damaged body began to recover. The three and the dog started exercising again and went for occasional walks in the evening.

During a walk, a woman's furious rant and the sounds of a scuffle erupted from a nearby villa. Then, panicked footsteps. If Jasper hadn't reacted quickly, they'd have been bowled over.

As they grasped the situation, Jasper shielded Stella's eyes. A naked man sprinted from the villa, red boxers in hand, quickly vanishing into the fog.

Cooper, spotting the fleeing legs, was ready to give chase, but the trainer's command halted him, "Cooper!"

Rosie, shorter and farther from Jasper, watched in shock. Jasper struggled to explain what she saw, furious enough to strangle someone.

The brawl inside continued, the insults vile and loud. Accusations flew, blaming both the old and the young for the desperation driving them to sell themselves for food.

Stella pulled Rosie away, knowing this was just the beginning of such scenes. Morality didn't count for much in a catastrophe. Dignity could be sacrificed for survival, let alone one's body.

These women might have once been socialites, living lavishly pre-disaster. But without their protectors, their real struggles began.

Not just women, but men too.

Not all socialites were helpless. Some adapted, rebuilt their fortunes amidst the chaos, while some handsome middle-aged men and young guys offered their bodies in exchange for sustenance.

It was simply the way of the new world.

The aftermath of being caught wasn't enough. The victim took to the community channel, spewing the most venomous insults imaginable.

Numerous natural disasters eventually drove the rich ladies to be more shrewish than the lower- class women.

She didn't say a word about her butt-naked runaway husband, but she cursed the mother and daughter who slept with her husband.

"Attention all you gentlemen, if you've got needs, pay them a visit. Those two are really good in bed."

No one dared respond in the channel as she ranted for hours, resuming her tirade the next day.

Finally, someone spoke up on the walkie-talkie, "You idiot, did your brain fall into your backside? Go castrate your own man if you’ve got the guts. The women of building 26 have slit their wrists and are dead, their bodies rotting. Try to be a decent human being."

Bran, who had been bombarded with obscenities for two days, took the stage cursing and swearing, and no one in the channel dared to retort.

He wasn't lying; the mother and daughter were indeed dead. It was Buddy, who'd sniffed out something wrong and found them. When they died was unclear, but in the sweltering heat, their bodies had started to decay.

Even beaten and bruised, they picked their prettiest dresses and applied makeup, smiling peacefully in death.

Bran mused that for them to be able to smile after getting to this point, they must have been dreaming of the pre-cataclysmic heyday before their imminent deaths. One of them had been a rich lady, the other a high-society belle. They had lived in mansions, sipped fine wine, and never worried about their next meal or the clothes on their back.

For now, at least, the chaos had subsided. Even if the neighborhood had seen better days, and the air was thick with the stench of decay, the residents managed to maintain a facade of peace.

The scene of catching cheaters occurred now and then, but these grievances were aired behind closed doors, away from prying eyes.