18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Stella spotted him too-no doubt about it, he was a beggar. Dressed in tattered rags, barefoot, and wandering aimlessly. "Another soul driven mad by the apocalypse," she sighed to herself.

Just as she was reflecting, the sound of a car caught the beggar's attention. Surprisingly, he turned and waved frantically to flag it down. "Robbery tactics are getting more and more creative," she thought. "This guy could very well be a decoy for an ambush."

Stella cocked her gun, ready to take him down if he showed any sign of threat.

"Hey, stop the car, stop the car!" the beggar shouted.

Stella scanned the area but saw no sign of an ambush.

Jasper didn't hit the brakes and just drove past.

"Damn it, stop!" the beggar yelled, flipping them the bird.

Stella squinted, recognizing the figure in the rearview mirror.

"Stop the car," she commanded.

Seeing the truck pull over, the beggar's mood swung from irritation to hope. He limped over and asked, "Buddy, could you give me a lift?"

He hurried over but froze in shock when he got a better look.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him in the dead of winter.

Without a word, he covered his face and turned to leave.

"Bran," Stella called out.

It was as if his heart had been pierced; his entire body stiffened.

His dignity, once guarded, now trampled into the mud.

But Stella didn't mock him or ask how he'd come to this. "Get in. We're still a good ten miles from the base. If you walk, your feet will be shredded."

The proud son of a wealthy family, now reduced to a destitute beggar by natural disasters. Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

There was no room left in the cab, so Bran had to settle for sitting on a pile of muddy rebar.

Having his worst moment exposed to someone he knew was a nightmare come true. But what could he do? He climbed aboard, the truck bouncing him all the way back to base.

As the sun set, the fallen rich kid sat atop a pile of garbage, numb to the jostling of the vehicle, his eyes void of any light.

They entered the base and drove up to the recycling center.

Unloading, trading, and cashing in credits.

The dirty steel took the workers some time to clean, and after weighing, they earned 3000 credits minus the 50-credit cleaning fee.

A truckload of steel could sustain a family for a few months.

The staff's casual attitude meant no prying questions about where the steel came from, which eased Stella's mind.

She didn't plan to keep the credits. She went straight to the base's store and bought supplies-ten oxygen packs.

Good for escape pods, these ten packs could last for three months.

In case of a real-life Robinson Crusoe situation, it was better to be prepared.

With half the credits left, Stella spotted coal for sale but decided to save up and buy a whole load at once, for the day when it might come in handy.

As for other supplies, aside from a submarine, Stella had almost everything she needed.

After days on the road, the family was eager to return home and clean up.

Bran left without a word, probably a matter of pride.

Stella took a deep breath inwardly, not sure what to say.

But then, on the way back to their private compound, they crossed paths again.

After a moment's thought, she pulled over and stuck her head out, "Hey, Bran. You left some meds with me a while back. With things as chaotic as they are, I can't keep them safe anymore. When do you want to pick them up?"

Bran was taken aback, not expecting the usually covetous Stella to offer the meds back.

"Uh, later," he mumbled.

Stella nodded, "Alright, but try to come by soon. We'll probably head out scavenging again after a short break. Wouldn't want you to make a wasted trip."

Bran merely nodded, "Mhm."

After giving him the address to the compound and exchanging goodbyes without much fuss, they parted ways.

Bran watched the truck drive away, feeling his heart, already battered by the disasters, bleed anew.

Back at the compound, the trio and their dog enjoyed a luxurious meal after their refreshing showers.

Nothing beat the comfort of home-cooked food after days on the road.

With bellies full and dishes cleared by Rosie, Stella sipped on juice while discussing with Jasper, "Remember when the Porras family's annex got hit by that satellite? Bran gave us a lot of meds as thanks. I think he added extra as a gesture of goodwill. Now that he's hit rock bottom, I'm thinking of returning the surplus. What do you say?"

The Porras family had left in a hurry, probably all in Goldbridge except Bran. With all the disasters, looking after their golden boy wouldn't be easy.

Considering Bran's lack of military skills and his prideful nature, asking him to do hard labor for food was out of the question.

Out of necessity, he had turned to scavenging, a dangerous and unglamorous job.

Once surrounded by beauty and luxury, now reduced to a pitiful state, it was a poignant reminder of the harshness of life.

Jasper, usually indifferent to others, couldn't help but sympathize, "Give it back to him."

Stella went inside and retrieved half of the Porras family's meds from Arcadia.

Medicine was gold in these times of disaster, even more valuable than gold itself.

She organized the meds, waiting for Bran, who was struggling with his pride.

Whether he could overcome his fall from grace was up to him; no one else could help.

If he couldn't, there was no need to return the meds.

But Stella needn't have worried.

She had expected Bran to sulk for a few days, but he showed up that very evening, right at dinner time.

"Hey, sis, brother-in-law," he greeted them with a thick-skinned grin, seemingly impervious to any shame.

Stella didn't pry, but she set an extra place at the table anyway.

Rosie, ever the shrewd one, kept things modest with a simple pot of noodles, barely seasoned, and served them in chipped bowls. Bran, though nervous at how low he'd sunk, was met with a semblance of normalcy and a touch of grace.

Seeing Stella and Jasper just as down on their luck as he was, his spirits lifted considerably.

After all, if those two enigmas had hit rock bottom, his own tumble from grace didn't seem quite so humiliating.

With his mood instantly brightened, he grabbed a fork and helped himself to a heaping plate of spaghetti without any reservation.

He hadn't eaten in two days and felt like he could devour the entire pot if he could.

Observing his ravenous consumption, Cooper squinted disapprovingly. Was this human seriously competing with him for food? "Woof!"

What the heck, where was his sidekick Buddy? Cooper found himself missing him.

Too bad Bran couldn't understand dog talk.