18 Floors Above the Apocalypse novel Chapter 610

Stella quickly strapped herself in, feeling the submarine's vibrations rumbling under her feet. If things got too dicey, they'd have to retreat into the Arcadia and wait out the storm before resurfacing.

Jake and the others were on the ball. The observation windows stayed shut unless they absolutely needed to be opened. So, even if they did pull back into the Arcadia, the survivors wouldn’t know the difference, just puzzled by how the storm seemed to suddenly vanish.

But retreating to the Arcadia was a last-ditch effort for Stella. She wouldn’t take that risk unless she had no other choice.

The sub rocked back and forth, her body slamming against the bunk. Blocking out the howling storm, Stella gauged its intensity through the vibrations...

After what felt like an eternity, the storm began to calm. Finally, there was peace.

Stella let out a sigh of relief. But as soon as she opened her door, she was hit by the stench of vomit. Many of the survivors couldn’t handle the turbulence and had lost their lunch.

Covering her mouth and nose, Stella pushed past the dazed survivors to the cockpit. "What's the situation?" she asked.

The crew was all there. "Stella, with Captain Hugh at the helm, you can relax. We've made it through," they reassured her.

But Stella was still worried. "What about 2688?"

The two subs had been traveling together, and she was anxious about Angela and the others.

Cole quickly checked the sonar. "2688 is right behind us."

Relieved that Cody and his team were safe, Stella exhaled. "I'll take over. Captain Hugh, you should get some rest."

Cole, clearly exhausted, didn’t argue.

They had weathered the storm, but the ordinary survivors hadn’t fared as well. There were those who were sick, injured, or just plain terrified.

Amelia spoke up, "Stella, should we do something for them?"

Stella thought for a moment. "I have some first aid supplies. Give them to their leader and tell everyone to get some rest. We still have several days before we reach Griffith. We can’t afford to be running on fumes."

The road is long, and a tired driver is a dangerous driver.

So, Amelia handed over the first aid supplies to the survivors' leader. Some grumbled, but knowing they were being taken to Griffith without conditions, they kept their complaints to themselves. They couldn’t risk ticking off the crew and getting tossed overboard.

The special ops team breathed a sigh of relief, thankful for Stella’s foresight. Without the right authority, they’d be in over their heads.

In the following days, the survivors' attitudes noticeably improved. Dealing with different people required a deft touch.

After her shift, Stella headed to her room for some rest, only to be approached by the survivor leader. "Stella, one of our members has fainted and has a fever."

Angela and the others had made it clear that in tricky situations, Stella was the go-to person. He wouldn’t have come to her if it wasn’t serious.

Stella asked, "What happened?"

"During the storm, a woman hit her head. Now her wound’s infected and she has a fever. I just found out."

Stella pushed through the crowd and saw a woman in tattered clothes, frail and probably around her age. She was burning with fever, convulsing. Others were injured too, but not as severely, getting by with the first aid ointment.

With so many eyes on her, Stella couldn’t show favoritism. "She’s in danger. Help her to my room."

After all, it was a human life at stake, and every other room was packed.

The woman was helped into Stella’s room. Stella shut the door, gave her a fast-acting fever reducer, and began cleaning the inflamed wound.

The woman was delirious, mumbling incoherently. Seeing how dirty she was, which likely caused the infection, Stella washed her face.

Vera was shocked, tears streaming down her face. Her father was alive, but what about her mother?

Reading her thoughts, Stella reassured, "Reagan’s fine, so is Emily. They were just talking about you not long ago."

The unexpected survival overwhelmed Vera. She devoured the pancakes Stella offered, choking and coughing from eating too fast. Stella handed her a cup of water.

Reagan hadn’t publicly acknowledged her, but out of camaraderie with Daniel and gratitude to Stella, the couple considered Stella almost like a daughter. The families were close, so Stella knew a bit about the Flores family.

Vera, frail and studying abroad alone, was considered almost certainly lost by her parents. They clung to hope, unwilling to accept the likely truth. If they gave up on the last shred of hope, they wouldn’t be able to carry on either.

Yet, there was a miracle. Vera was alive. It was hard to imagine how she had survived.

After finishing the pancakes, Vera didn’t want to impose further. "Thank you, I should go now."

She rubbed her hands on the floor, smudging her face with dirt before leaving.

Stella understood; Vera had survived by her wits. If she were just anyone, Stella might have let it go, but Vera was Reagan’s daughter. Both professionally and personally, Stella couldn’t let her go back to the crowded quarters. The conditions were dire; another high fever could go unnoticed, and she could die without anyone knowing.

"Rest here until you feel better, before heading to Griffith," Stella gently suggested, preparing a cup of warm brown sugar water.

Stella offered it with a comforting smile, "You know, if we’re going by age and family ties, I guess that makes me your big sister. So don’t be too formal with me. Just focus on getting well, and then you can surprise Uncle Yu with your recovery."

Vera’s eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude as she whispered, "Thank you."

After sipping the sweet drink, Vera soon drifted back to sleep.

When Jasper returned from work, he stumbled upon an unfamiliar woman resting in their space, looking a bit puzzled.