18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 377

Brandon wolfed down two bowls of spaghetti, the carbs filling him up enough to regain a semblance of dignity. Gone was the ravenous beast; in its place, a gentleman with poise. But the fire in his voice remained, "Sis, I caught a car thief."

Stella almost choked on her pasta, coughing violently. "Cough... cough cough..." she sputtered, barely managing to swallow.

Ungrateful punk, she thought. She'd even given him back half the meds, yet he was still hung up on the car. Nine years, and he still wouldn't let it go!

She was so close to smashing her bowl over his head. If not for the three souped-up Mustangs, she wouldn't have even considered giving back those meds.

But she forced a smile, masking her irritation. "Really? Who was it?"

"He got away," Brandon muttered between bites, "but if I get my hands on those jerks, I'll drink their blood and feast on their flesh. I'll chop off their heads and use them as soccer balls!"

Stella had enough, her tone turning icy. "Cars like that aren't unique, and who's to say it was yours?"

"I'd recognize that car even if it were ashes," Brandon shot back, burning with indignation. "Sure, there are more worldwide, but only one in the country!"

Stella wanted to slap him. "And how do you know it's the only one in the country?"

"My cousin handled the paperwork, it was the first one here."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Your cousin's a nutcase, taking meds daily. You believe everything he says?"

"He might be sick, but he wouldn't lie about

vehicles; the military might have them, and their records are top secret, beyond your cousin's reach." Brandon paused, considering the logic but still felt the car was

knife. "Oh, you're so capable. How come you're in such a

conscience had run dry. If not for old

words were too harsh. Brandon's sorrow welled up, and he couldn't finish his spaghetti. "Yeah, I'm a waste

rich kid, living off his father's name. His sister's words pierced

of pity. "Even if you got the car back, could you really

heart bled. Indeed, he

gets you nowhere. When you're strong enough, jets and cannons

was sound, but Brandon knew his limits. He had arrived full of

Jasper asked, "What's your plan

regular job was out of the question. Scavenging

there's always a bigger fish. They'd risk their lives for scrap metal. He'd played dead

jets and yachts without blinking, and now he was fighting

him laugh, but soon

he wasn't immune to harsh realities.

lived for the Porras family, not himself. But how to live

asked, "Stella, what

Arcadia. She couldn't let him

this was the last time. If he ever brought up the

a few tricks to pass the military exams. Becoming a fireseed operative is your best shot against the cataclysm.