18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 407

After a grueling seven-hour flight, with no breakfast to boot, my stomach was growling like a bear coming out of hibernation.

We each devoured a hearty serving of roast pork and rice, with green veggies adding a splash of color to the feast. The aroma filled the cramped confines of our survival pod. Post-meal, we washed it down with a glass of zesty fruit juice to cut through the richness. The aftershocks kept coming in fits and starts. Thanks to the pod's protection, they didn't feel too severe, but you couldn't just stroll outside for a breath of fresh air. What if the Grim Reaper had your number? The pod felt claustrophobic, and time seemed to crawl. Stella set up her tablet, queued up some offline movies, and began cracking open sunflower seeds. Jasper wasn't much of a snacker, but over the years, he'd mastered the art of shelling seeds and dexterously divided the kernels between his wife and sister. Cooper furrowed his brow, "Woof!" Jasper soothed him, "Easy boy, you're up next." Stella and Rosie couldn't help but chuckle.

After satisfying our cravings, when nature called, we took care of business in the makeshift loo. At night, the silence was deafening, and it was pitch black all around.

We'd spent the whole day surviving, and both mentally and physically, we were spent. Stella lit some calming lavender incense, and we all slept like logs. Stella packed up the survival pod into the Arcadia, stretching out our stiff limbs. Inside the Arcadia, it was tranquil-no earthquakes, no natural disasters. A few hours of sleep in a seven-figure bed, and then it was back to the pod.

The next day, with the aftershocks dwindling, the three of us and Cooper stepped out to stretch our legs. With nothing much to do, we decided to fire up the barbecue right next to the pod. The charcoal we had stockpiled before the disaster finally came in handy. Stella had just finished grilling the chicken wings to a golden hue and was about to brush them with honey when another aftershock hit. Forget eating-we dropped everything and dove into the safety of the pod. Survival first!

all ruined. Rosie had known hunger as a child and held a sacred respect for food. Seeing so much go

a makeshift stove from rocks, and we gathered some firewood from nearby. Rosie, the budding chef, took

said nothing. Wasting food was indeed shameful, no matter the reason. Determined to avoid another mishap, Stella opted for something sturdier-baked sweet potatoes, along with taro and potatoes, all

potatoes. They were scalding hot, their skins charred black, leaving our hands and mouths smeared with soot. Watching Stella, who looked like a gluttonous kitten, Jasper couldn't help but smile and

a smudge." She didn't just laugh; she whipped out her phone for a photo session-solo

Cantonese-style breakfast tea. The alcohol burner slowly boiled the water in the glass teapot. We added a pinch of tender green tea leaves, watching

surrounding devastation, you'd think we were on vacation. With the aftershocks subsiding, Stella pitched a tent instead of retreating to the pod, preferring the open air. So, for five days, we indulged

made it impossible to venture far, even by car. Stella, ever cautious, wanted to scout the situation to be prepared for any eventuality. After discussion, we decided to take a flight toward the coast, taking a straight line to save fuel. What was supposed to be a two-hour trip turned out to be just an hour and a half. Not because we misjudged the distance, but because the coastal cities

For now, we could only take it one day at a time. Turning back, we flew home in solemn silence. The next day, we tried to lift our spirits. Live each day as it comes-happiness and