18 Floors Above the Apocalypse



Ganging up to take on Russia?

Stella thought for a moment and figured out which nations' survivors might be involved. There were old grudges, regional and deep-seated hatreds, and the eternal struggle over who's in charge. Knowing this was one thing, but she couldn't afford to be careless.

The world outside was a whiteout, and anyone could hide in the snowdrifts, invisible if they stayed still. Defending against that was no easy task. Fortunately, Cooper was with them, and now Snowflake had joined the team. Snowflake, having survived in the wild for so long, had senses far sharper than any human's. This gave Stella some peace of mind.

After ensuring the surroundings were clear, the trio and their two furry companions headed back to the cabin. Stella inspected the perimeter of their shipping container hideout. The ice layer was thick and solid, and inside the door, they had welded an extra layer of bulletproof steel plates for safety. They patrolled every two hours during the day, and at night, someone stood guard.

Cooper might have been having the time of his life these past couple of months, but that was because he'd fallen in love. Now, with danger rearing its ugly head again, his survival instincts and combat drive were back in full swing. Jasper took the night shift, letting Stella and Rosie get some rest. With a wolf and a dog in the house, they didn't need to spend the night out in the cold. Jasper would step out every three hours, always with the animals by his side.

Even though Snowflake was visibly pregnant, it stayed vigilant on patrol. It didn't slack off just because it had found a long-term meal ticket and shelter with some two-legged creatures. In fact, it seemed even more excited at night, almost unable to resist howling at the moon. If it weren't for Cooper's timely intervention, Snowflake might have given in to its urges.

The night passed without incident. Jasper took a hot shower and went to sleep, and it was Stella and Rosie's turn to patrol. Around noon, as Stella and Cooper were climbing a snow dune, she noticed something moving at the edge of the snowfield. She quickly grabbed her binoculars and was surprised to see it was the same group of Russians from the day before. They had returned.

Their movements were slow, as if they were dragging something heavy. Armed and ready, they soon spotted Stella and even waved in greeting. Not just one, but all of them, waving together to show their friendliness. Stella's gaze turned icy as she raised her sniper rifle. Cooper rushed back to alert Jasper, who hurried over with his sister.

Six people had arrived, dragging two stretchers with what looked like bodies on them. Seeing Stella with her rifle at the ready, they didn't advance further but instead sent one man waving his way over, apparently seeking to negotiate. Jasper recognized him as the one from yesterday who could speak Chinese. The man was unarmed, waving as he trudged through the snow. A thousand meters in knee-deep snow was a struggle.

Stella considered whether to shoot, but after some thought, she decided against it. With land sinking, more people would inevitably reach the Arctic, and conflicts would become more frequent. Since they had arrived before her group, it was worth sizing them up to avoid being kept in the dark. When he was about 200 meters away, Stella raised her rifle again, signaling that he was not to come closer. "Hello," he greeted, trying to use his rudimentary Chinese to convey goodwill. "My name is Ivans. I studied and worked in your capital for years before returning home. I admire your culture and cuisine, and your people are incredibly united and friendly. I'm here seeking help."

No amount of flattery would sway Stella, who ignored him with her rifle's cold barrel trained on his head. From a distance too far for clear hearing, he took out a mini megaphone. "Some of our friends are injured and close to death. Do you have any medicine?"

Stella responded through her own megaphone with a frosty refusal, "No."

But Ivans, who seemed to have a knack for Australian culture, quickly said, "Oh, dear friends, maybe you can use your traditional Chinese medicine, acupuncture or something, to help save our people." Eager to prevent her refusal, he quickly added, "We won't ask for free. We'll repay you."

Stella thought for a moment. "With what?"

"We have vodka and ham."

Stella motioned for him to remove his mask. Ivans complied, revealing a rugged face with a bushy beard and a red, bulbous nose. A weathered face, not exactly thin, suggesting he wasn't starved.

"What kind of injury?"

“Gunshot wounds,” Ivans replied quickly. "We dug out the bullets by hand yesterday, but they've developed fevers today.”Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

Stella seized the opportunity to ask, "Who shot you?"

“China, Vietnam, Belarus, Dillyn..." The story was long and complicated, too much to cover in three days and nights, but Stella drilled down for details. Ivans was forced to give a brief account. "For years we've been farming potatoes and corn in Siberia...”

Due to the regional climate,

Russians are naturally resistant to

the cold and advanced in cultivating cold-resistant crops. With a vast land and sparse population, they foresaw the catastrophe and decisively controlled food exports. So, in the years before the disaster, food wasn't a big issue. During extreme heat, they migrated to colder regions. Their fertile black soil was perfect for growing potatoes, corn, and wheat - enough to feed them and even stockpile.

As the disaster worsened, teams of thousands got separated in the storms. Ivans' group, once part of a larger fleet, had dwindled to just over five hundred by the time they drifted to the Arctic. The ice had started to form then but hadn't frozen solid taking another two months to become firm. What they hadn't anticipated was the presence survivors from the United Forces.

Comprised of military survivors from various nations, they had even established an underwater base, which Ivans and his group had yet to discover. Upon discovery, hostilities erupted immediately. The United Forces, with over twenty thousand survivors, encountered the Russians while scavenging for resources.

The confrontation turned into outright plunder. But the Russians were fighters by nature; they didn't care about being outnumbered. They fought back fiercely, resolved to continue until the last man. As a result, the two sides engaged in repeated combat. The Russian numbers dwindled from over five hundred to just one hundred, while the United Forces went from twenty thousand to just over three thousand.

The reputation of Russians as fighters was not unwarranted, but Stella found the story implausible. "How did you manage to fight, reducing the United Forces from over twenty thousand to just three thousand?"

"They're hypocritical and cunning," Ivans lamented. "They even bribed some of our own, leading to a lot of our food being stolen..." Long-standing regional and power discrimination is undeniable, but it's also true that some Russians still yearn for the West, believing it to be the epitome of civilization and freedom, no matter how much they are oppressed. A simple enticement from the United Forces was all it took to deceive them easily.

The outcome nearly led to the total annihilation of the Grand Bastion, a stronghold comparable to the fortresses of old Europe. Miraculously, their fierce fighting spirit was just enough to cling to life. The losses were devastating, and the Russians, stubborn as the winter frost, refused to accept

defeat...