18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Even the hardest of hearts craved company in the end. Humans, after all, were social creatures at their core.

After nine relentless years of natural disasters, bloodied hands from endless battles against both nature and man, loneliness had been the least of their worries. But after leaving the Kindle Society, interactions with others had dwindled to almost none.

Day in and day out, it was just the three of them and a dog, sharing each other's breaths, either eating or sleeping-especially confined in such a cramped space, with no end to the disasters in sight. They didn't lack for food or essentials, and with a well-stocked survival kit, they could always cheat the odds in Arcadia, turning misfortune into fortune no matter the calamity.

Stella had it a million times better than other survivors, but perhaps there was some truth in the saying that human hearts are greedy. Or maybe idleness bred illness.

Content as she was, Stella felt like she was suppressing something. Days passed without joy or sorrow, just an occasional sense of ennui. A doctor by trade, Stella had witnessed the bombardment of disasters over the years, until the land itself sank into the sea, leaving hope a faint glimmer. A mild depression began to take hold.

It wasn't just Stella; Cooper was similarly affected, often listlessly sprawled in the submarine. Rosie, usually so jovial, couldn't help but let a worried frown slip through her smiles. All were repressing something, Jasper included, though none spoke of it. Something had to be done to break these chains, or they'd surely lead to ruin.

The appearance of a similar yacht sparked an unexpected anticipation in Stella, a feeling of joy she couldn't quite place. She longed for the outside, to interact with her own kind. Humans were indeed strange creatures.

The other vessel seemed to have spotted the 2688 and halted, just a few hundred meters apart, silently facing each other in the deep sea. Jasper, sensing the moment, asked, "Should we hail them?"

Without hesitation, Stella replied, "Yes."

What if, by some stroke of luck, it was Cody Lukas and the others? And there were coordinates left by the Eastern Air Force she had promised to broadcast. She could just make out a light turning on in the second observation window of the other sub.

A flashlight beam signaled inquiringly, asking if they were friend or foe. In plain terms-it was like asking, "Buddy, is that you?"

In the past, submarines had all sorts of radar and technological signals to detect others, even hundreds of miles away, but now, they were down to the most primitive methods. Each military branch had its own signals and codes; Stella knew only a few, taught to her by Mr. Cristian during submarine training.

The other side kept signaling. Stella and Jasper climbed to their second observation window, signaling back with their flashlight-Who are you?

They remained cautious; after so long with the world in such a state, who could tell if the others were friend or foe? Stella noticed their sub lacked the fireseed box riveted to it. As a principle of the South Base-to carry forward civilization-unless in the direst circumstances, they wouldn't sever the box holding the seeds of culture. So, the other sub had either been through desperate times or had changed hands.

The other side fell silent for a few minutes, then signaled back-1926. Cody's sub had been 2639. Stella couldn't help feeling a tad disappointed but remained hopeful. With the land submerged and Earth a water world, encountering others from the same place was a kind of fate.

The other side turned off their flashlight, and a face appeared in the circular window. Through the telescope, Stella saw a distinctly Eastern face, gaunt features, eyes a bit sunken, looking to be in his thirties.

"Are you military?" she asked. The face alone wasn't enough for Jasper, a fellow serviceman, to discern. But the sub was stocked; if it had been robbed, the man wouldn't be so thin. Pirates lived by the sword, indulging in the moment without stinting on food or drink. But soldiers were different, especially those on the fireseed mission. No one knew when the disasters would end, and even with ample food, they would ration to survive, especially if supplies were scarce. Being thin was expected; their ultimate goal was to stay alive. Then there were the eyes. The windows to the soul, the man's eyes seemed excited and happy, not calculating. He continued his verification, signaling to ask for their military numbers.

In the Kindle Society, every soldier had a number, each branch with its own code. Not just soldiers, but even common laborers and scavengers had numbers. Seeing the same model sub, he must have thought Stella's group were military too. So when Jasper signaled back his scavenger number, the other side didn't respond for a while, probably confused.

Stella's sub wasn't public knowledge, and with the Navy busy with training, they wouldn't have gossiped, assuming all subs belonged to the base. Their reaction seemed genuine. The other side wanted to meet. Jasper was wary, demanding badges and numbers. They complied, pressing them against the glass of their window. Stella's suspicions eased, and she decided to surface for a meeting. The two subs rose slowly, their snorkels emerging above water. Body armor on, weapons hidden beneath their clothes. Stella instructed the pets to guard the sub while she and Jasper climbed the ladder.

The salty sea breeze, the long-missed sun-it had only been a few days, but it felt like another world. The air of freedom eased the oppression in their hearts. Stella shielded her eyes from the sun as it shone on her pale skin. The two subs rode side by side, a hundred meters apart.

As requested, two men came up from the other side. Both men were lean, their naval uniforms hanging loosely from their frames.

"I'm Hans," said one, surprise and caution in his tone, "We're the ones who asked for your navy numbers. This is my comrade, Wang Hai." As he spoke, he eyed them curiously, "How did you come by a submarine?"

"We bought it ourselves," Stella replied honestly, "The base was short on rare metals, almost shutting down the armory. We got lucky and found some, helping you out of a tight spot. We had so many credits we didn't know what to do with them, so we got the sub. Our instructor was... what was his name? I've forgotten."

"Cole," Hans said, relief spreading across his face. "He's the head instructor for the sub unit. He trained me too at one point."

Stella joined in the laughter, "What a coincidence, turns out we're practically siblings in arms."

"Sister in arms."

"Brother in arms."

The unfolding events were as intrinsic to the Kindle Society as the very air they breathed; only a true insider could fathom their depths. Mutual trust was now firmly established.

Hans broke the silence, "How many in your group?"

Stella replied without missing a beat, "Around 10, what about you guys?"

"15."

"15?" Stella's voice was tinged with surprise. "But isn't the submarine only meant to accommodate 10?"

Indeed, the specs called for a maximum of 10 occupants, but the collision of events had been too abrupt. There had been no time to craft sufficient submarines. Moreover, the 'Seed of Humanity' project had accepted more than it could handle, leaving no choice but to cram in extra bodies and take turns bedding down on the floor.

It was no wonder they all looked so gaunt, rationing supplies meant for 10 among 15 people. Stella, concerned, inquired, "Is everyone holding up alright?"

"For the moment, we're managing," came the response.

Stella persisted, "Do any of you know Cody Lukas?"