18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 343

As the smog began to dissipate, Stella had already stashed three sets of acid-proof hazmat suits in her villa from Arcadia, hoping her loved ones wouldn't venture outside. If they had to, she wanted them dressed in those suits.

The suits she stockpiled were thick and bulky, top-notch for protection—impervious to even a splash of sulfuric acid. Their only downside was how cumbersome they were, making them almost impossible to carry around

She tossed and tumed all night, the persistent patter of rain interrupting her sleep.

Come morning. the rain showed no signs of stopping. Predicting its duration was a fool's errand. It seemed intent on a marathon, ceasing only briefly before starting up again with renewed vigor.

The streets were flooded, making driving back home an impossible feat. Impatient by nature, Stella couldn't wait any longer and resorted to the most cumbersome solution—she would go on foot Government-issued protective gear was scarce and meant for communal use. Stella couldn't claim it for her own

She returned it and retrieved her own stockpile instead. It was a struggle to don the suit, weighing her down with its thirty-odd pounds. The mask was bulky, the protective boots even more so.

With her oxygen supply secured, she stepped resolutely into the acid rain.

She felt incredibly safe despite the suit's hideous appearance. reminiscent of a bulky biohazard outfit. It was so clumsy that she was exhausted after just a few hundred meters.

The rain hitting the suit was imperceptible, but her breath fogged up the mask. Thankfully, the built-in desiccant worked its magic. clearing her view quickly.

The research institute was over thirty kilometers from Griffith. a mere half-hour drive under normal circumstances. But in a hazmat suit on foot, it was as if she was crawling at a snail's pace: she wouldn't cover the distance even from dawn to dusk.

A day and a night passed, and the rain persisted, with anxious, hungry, and exhausted people taking shelter under eaves and storefronts, too intimidated by the rain to head home. Some, impulsive and reckless, attempted to venture out at the first sign of a break in the rain. Using planks of wood as makeshift shoes, they moved slowly towards their homes, only for the rain to start pouring again unexpectedly. Those lucky enough to run might save their skin, but the rest faced the acid wash, their cries of agony futile against the downpour.

Stella heard her name being called and turned to see survivors sheltering in a shop doorway. There were looks of envy, curses thrown her way, and even objects hurled in jealousy.

The colloid protective suit provided good insulation. She couldn't hear very clearly, but she felt the impact of the thrown stones on her body. She scanned past her visor and caught the culprit—a middle-aged man with a mocking sneer as if daring her to confront him

This was the ugliness of human nature, repulsive to the core. If Stella approached, they would surely overpower her and steal her suit, and what might happen to her then was anybody's guess.

He should be thankful, for if the skies were clear of acid rain, Stella wouldn't hesitate to tear him to pieces. Unhooked by his bait, she continued on her way.

Hours passed and she hadn't even left the confines of Swan Hill. The remains of those consumed by the acid rain lay on the road, their features obliterated by the relentless corrosion. Luckily, Stella was unfazed; otherwise, she might have lost her lunch.

Many survivors, unable to afford proper shelter, built makeshift huts with thatched roofs or corrugated metal sheets. During the rain, it was a death sentence as the thin metal corroded, and the thatch soaked through.

She focused on the road ahead, avoiding the sight of the two children, not much older than Rosie, struggling to hold up a door as a shield against the rain. Their limbs looked rigid, legs treembling—how much longer they could endure was unknown.

Stella took a deep breath and moved forward.

The bulky suit made sitting to rest impossible; she could only stand to catch her breath, even missing her lunch in the process. The journey was tougher than imagined. Eight hours in, and she hadn't reached the halfway mark as evening approached.

ight fell quickly with the rain, and Stella neede¢-to find shelter. Scanningher surroundings, she =~ aimed fora discreet entrance intos Arcadi@After about half an hour; she spotted a dilapidated thatched hut-seemingly abandoned judging bVits tattered roof. to

As she made her way there, a figure approached in the distance, also clad in a hazmat suit. Curious, she paused to let the stranger pass, but to her surprise, he walked directly towards her. Face to face, they stood, separated by their masks.

It was Jasper, who had braved the acid rain to find her. Their eyes locked, reluctant to part.

Stella walked over, and Jasper opened his arms wide; they embraced tightly amidst the downpour. "Why are you here?" Stella asked, her voice muffled by the rain.

"Worried about you,” he replied.

It was clear from Jasper'’s early departure from Griffith that he had set out at dawn

As night approached, the two, weighed down by the protective gear, found refuge in the abandoned hut, seeking shelter from the acid rain. Once inside Arcadia, they rinsed off their suits and relished the freedom of breathing without the cumbersome gear.

Jasper massaged the crease marks on Stella's face caused by the mask, “Does it hurt?”

"Not when you're here.” Stella teased, her voice smooth as butter.

Jasper chuckled and pulled her closer.

"Did the rain get you guys?" she asked with concern

"No," he reassured her.

They were both bone-tired, their feet numb.

After a quick meal to sate their hunger and a brief rest to regain their strength, Stella headed to the bath for a soak. Unbeknownst to her, Jasper followed.

They had both been so busy lately that even his occasional visits with Cooper and Rosie hadn't allowed for much one-on-one time. Now, in the quiet of the bath, they finally had a moment to themselves.

Jasper kneaded her shoulders and lower back, his touch gentle yet firm. "Feeling wiped out?"

She let out a seft sigh, "Yeah, but it's a good kind of'exhausted. "It had been ages since she'd pushed “ herself this hard, but the real- wort lessong she was learning were invatuable, far beyond what = textbooks or online tutorials could ever offer. NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

Knowledge, she mused, was the currency of survival. She might not hold a candiéto the likes of Dr. Garcia orcollin i in the medical world; but Stelle owas asponge for I inforrgation. She absorbed everything she could from every diséipline, and with each new fact and skill she tucked away, her perspective broadened and her self-assurance soared.