18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 605

A group of individuals moved with lightning-fast efficiency, stripping the clothes off the deceased, draping their weapons over their own shoulders, and stepping into the shoes of the fallen guards with a composed air. They only needed to show their backs to the second checkpoint occasionally to maintain the illusion.

Having breezed through checkpoint one, Jake applied the same tactic to the second checkpoint, all the while coming into the view of the third.

Checkpoint one waved them through, and checkpoint two sensed something odd but couldn't pinpoint what was amiss.

"We're itching to get back for the weekend. Don't want to spend another minute in this hellhole. Get in touch with your useless garrison commander and organize a team to move out tonight. We'll wipe out those damn Aussies..."

The vehicles stopped, maintaining a distance, and over a dozen individuals stepped out.

All eyes were on them, missing the figure that slipped out from under the vehicles and darted into the darkness, stealthily approaching the outpost.

The local garrison had been ineffective against the guerrilla tactics of the Aussies, who had been running circles around them. Rumors were rife that headquarters was far from pleased.

No one had expected reinforcements to arrive so soon.

They passed through all three checkpoints without a hitch, having replaced them with their own people.

Learning that reinforcements were coming from headquarters, the camp commander didn't dare slack off.

He had just finished an energetic romp with three blonde bombshells and hurriedly pulled up his trousers to greet the newcomers, his steps weak and unsteady.

Tonight was party night, with unlimited booze and grub—a real feast. As for the ladies... the more enticing ones he'd keep for himself, the average-looking ones for the boys, and if there weren't enough to go around... well, women were scarce in these end times, but demand was as high as ever. No room for gender discrimination here; internal needs required internal solutions. The most important thing was to have a blast.

The camp wasn't crowded, and being far from the prying eyes of the powers-that-be, they could lock the gates and party hard.

As for the booze and the feast, the excuse used to be military funding, and even a decade after the disaster, that hadn't changed.

Did the higher-ups know? Sure, they did, but they turned a blind eye.

After all, they were the same ones who'd used $1,200 coffee cups and $10,000 toilets. You eat meat every day; you've got to let the underlings have a sip of the broth.

Everyone knew that they were stationed on an oil field, and refining fuel was of utmost importance, as well as fighting off the bandits. As long as they didn't go too far, headquarters was almost always accommodating.

The party news was urgently messaged to Kitty.

Angela and the others had a counterattack plan ready, but they hadn't expected to run into Stella and her team.

So, they quickly adapted the plan, deciding to act together.

When the commander emerged from his tent, belt in hand, ready to welcome the newcomers, he noticed the eerie silence of the camp and remembered the night's events.

They'd drunk themselves silly, partied hard.

Inside the big tent, men and women were sprawled everywhere, limbs askew, scantily clad, snoring like thunder—a scene too raw and stimulating...

Many soldiers had passed out amongst the chaos, clutching at hairy legs, mumbling in a drunken haze, "Honey, my darling..."

There were only about fifty men from China left, minus those on watch and in the kitchen, with most of the rest lost in the revelry of the party.

The commander couldn't wake them, no matter how hard he kicked; in frustration, he drenched them with cold water.

The desert wastes were harsh, with extreme temperature swings between day and night, and finally, some were roused by the cold splash.

They scrambled to dress and managed to gather a rag-tag group to meet the representatives from headquarters.

Jake and his team had been waiting outside for a long time before the camp commander finally arrived, greeting them with a smile that nearly knocked them out with the stench of alcohol.

Their faces flushed, their eyes heavy, and their steps unsteady, they reeked of alcohol.

Stella, who had once worked part-time in bars and clubs, had seen it all.

Men with men, women with women, swapping partners, no holds barred when it came to the rich and powerful.

After the disaster, such behavior only increased. What they'd seen in Unity Village was just the tip of the iceberg compared to a China military camp, renowned the world over.

In short, nothing could escape her keen eye.

She signaled to Jake with a glance—these soldiers were up to no good.

Jake, no stranger to tough situations, didn't hesitate. He pulled out his gun and pressed it against the commander's head, cursing, "You sons of bitches. Headquarters sends you all this gear to refine fuel and fight bandits, not for your damn debauchery. Cooking up excuses to bleed more resources from them, huh? You've even messed up our weekend..."

He was framing them, and he didn't care.

In a fury, he punched the commander in the temple.

China, they thought, would surely dodge.

By the time the trio returned, those left outside had finished the job.

As they checked the bodies, a woman's scream suddenly pierced the night.

It stopped as abruptly as it started, as if it had been an illusion.

Stella and Amelia reacted instantly, dashing after the sound.

With night-vision goggles equipped, they searched meticulously.

Soon, the thermal imaging picked up an anomaly.

Someone was hiding behind an oil drum.

They split up to flank the position, moving in silently.

As they approached, a shadow lunged at them with a club.

Stella dodged nimbly and kicked the woman who had attempted the ambush, pressing her weapon to her head, "Don't move."

The woman looked terrified, "Please don't kill me, I was taken captive by them."

Stella was skeptical, to put it mildly. Even if it were true, she figured whoever it was had to be quite the crafty operator...

"Seriously, I can't buy it," she said, fiddling with her iced latte, the condensation from the glass beading up on her fingertips. "Anybody pulling off something like that has to have more tricks up their sleeve than a Vegas magician."

Her friend across the table, Jane, raised an eyebrow and took a bite of her bagel, smearing a little more cream cheese on it before replying. "I know it sounds out there, Stella, but trust me, this town's got more secrets than a daytime soap."

Stella leaned back in the wrought-iron chair of the little sidewalk café, the kind that you'd find on any given street corner in their quaint New England town. The sounds of the morning rush provided a backdrop to their conversation, with the occasional honk of a car or the distant bell of the town church cutting through the hum of activity.

"Look, I've seen my fair share of schemers and dreamers," Stella continued, her tone laced with a mix of disbelief and intrigue. "But you're saying this person... what, they've got everyone wrapped around their finger?"

Jane nodded, sipping her coffee, which was strong enough to wake the dead. "Exactly. It's like they're the puppet master, and we're all just dancing on their strings."

Stella smirked, her skepticism waning just a tad. "Well, when you put it like that, it's like something straight out of a Shakespeare play. All's fair in love and war, I guess."

The two women shared a knowing look, the kind that only old friends can exchange, full of history and unspoken understanding. There was a world of complexity behind the façade of their small town, and they were just beginning to scratch the surface.