18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 518

The folks from Russia swung by to pick up some leafy greens.

Ivans didn't show up himself, but he made sure to send word that the ships from Ocean Point Naval Station had indeed arrived. They were there to evacuate all the Aussies from the Arctic.

After years of bartering, the Russians had picked up a few phrases in Aussie slang, but that was about it. They babbled excitedly, their faces animated as they spoke. Stella couldn't understand a word, but she could tell from their gestures that the evacuation must've hit some snags. Regardless, they all managed to leave safely in the end.

Stella smiled, offering only a heartfelt "thanks" in return. The trade in greens went on. Each time, Ivans would throw in a box of antiques as a bonus. At first, they were Aussie relics, but then items from other countries started to appear. No matter what he brought, Stella accepted it all-until the Russians sent over a mummy. Stella couldn't help herself; she sent the mummy right back.

New neighbors sprouted up around the edges. They'd eye Stella's mansion, pondering what riches it held, but they never dared to make a move, knowing well her close dealings with the Russians and the big dog owners. As more neighbors arrived, so did more customers for the leafy greens. Stella treated them all the same, fair and square, no matter who they were.

In the blink of an eye, three months passed, and it was the cusp of summer in the Arctic, with temperatures rising. The snowstorms lessened, and Stella took to walking around her front and back yard daily. The three little pups gobbled up food and grew fast, waddling behind their pooper-scooper, tumbling and play-fighting in the snow.

the dead of night, her body would shiver. At first, she was alert for earthquakes, but she

containers leaning more and more to one side. Waiting was agonizing, and even though she had acclimated to the

the last relics left from Union Base, almost used them for firewood," he said. Cryptic scripts, some on paper, some on parchment, he couldn't recognize the culture,

back?" Stella, somewhat disgusted, replied, "Bring them in. Those wooden crates look solid though, good for chopping up and burning. You'd spend more on

weren't short on something, they'd give a fair trade, sometimes even throwing

Stella smiled, "Eat up, I do have a favor to ask." After half a year of trade, Ivans knew her well enough. "You first." "It's nothing major, just looking to get the scoop on

rice by someone who formerly wouldn't even let him through the door. With a chuckle, Stella cut to the chase: "Has the Arctic seen

none." Ivans wasn't surprised. "Many lack the experience to survive at sea, and with the land submerged for so long, the number of survivors is dwindling." It was a somber topic, a decade-long disaster that felt like an endless, waking nightmare. Whether the disaster

four hundred people, consuming vast amounts of food daily. The harsh Arctic allowed no crops to grow, and with two to three thousand survivors, they had to turn to wildlife. Excessive hunting led to a sharp decline in crocodile

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followed his lead, "Summer is coming, the outer ice will melt, and hunting should get better." Ivans disagreed. "Ginger, rising temperatures