18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 331

Several volunteers had tried the new drug, and aside from those with severe illnesses who succumbed, the virus was eradicated from the bodies of the other patients. However, the extent of the side effects varied.

The research institute was in a quandary. After much deliberation, they decided to draft an honest report and send it up the chain of command.

The drug was in short supply, and officials from cities across the nation had been sent out to search for more, all returning empty-handed.

The decision between preserving quality or quantity was not one the institute could make. If given a choice, no one would want to give up.

Dr. Garcia had spent a sleepless night after submitting the report, and by the next day, his hair had turned significantly grayer.

Stella sat in her dorm, her expression a complex mix of emotions.

Jasper, guessing at her thoughts, sat down beside her and said, "Our illness is cured. What do you plan to do with the remaining herbal remedies?"

Indeed, when Stella had anonymously donated the medicine, she had been cautious and held back a portion. It wasn't that she didn't trust Evan or the institute, but rather she knew that without the final right answer, one often had to traverse countless detours. And these detours could very well deplete the precious herbs. Once depleted, death would be the only certainty.

In her past life, repeated drug trials had led to desperation, and Dr. Garcia's team had been forced to venture out in search of new medicines.

Perhaps by fate, they had eventually found the right one. But Stella was still haunted by the tragic events of her past life, including Jasper's untimely death. So, she was torn. Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

She looked at Jasper and asked, "Do I bring them out, or do I not?"

Jasper didn't answer directly but pondered for a moment before saying, "The herbs are from your Arcadia gardens. It's up to you whether to share them or not."

He paused briefly before adding, "But what if one day the disaster is over, and the world finds peace again? If we have children, who's going to teach them to read? When they fall ill, who will heal them? Maybe you could teach them about literature, medicine, and survival. But as the disaster escalates, with humanity dwindling and civilization collapsing, those who survive will be raising offspring who know nothing but a savage fight for survival. How will our descendants fit into that world?"

Stella extracted the key point, “Are you thinking about having kids?”

"I'm just saying, if there's a chance to survive, it's up to you if you want to have them. It doesn't matter if you don't. We'll grow old and die, and Rosie is much younger. When the disaster's over, wouldn't you want to find a vibrant civilization, travel the world, and find the perfect place for us to settle down?"

Stella was silent for a long time before nodding, "Let's go back to Griffith."

The extra medicine would be of no use sitting in Arcadia, especially since more was continuously growing. They set out for Griffith under the cover of night.

The smog had worsened over the past month, with visibility now less than ten meters.

After ensuring it was safe, Stella, her face masked, unloaded the herbs near the police station and honked the car horn. By the time the officers rushed out, the Hummer had vanished into the fog.

Seeing the pile of herbs, they were first shocked, then hurried to the office, "Evan, more medicine has arrived. It looks like it's from the same people as last time. Should we send it immediately to the Swan Hill Institute for Herbal Medicine?"

Evan, relying on an oxygen tank to breathe, gasped, "Wait, let me ask the higher-ups."

Every city knew that medicine was scarce. To ensure the survival of more citizens, even the most cooperative officials would resort to desperate measures to procure drugs when faced with life and death.

Resources were limited and it was a case of the squeaky wheel getting the grease; officials had their priorities.

Covering his oxygen mask, Evan headed to the city hall.

Two hours later, the military was instructed to deliver the herbs to the Swan Hill Institute for Traditional Medicine. Accompanying the transport was Deputy Secretary Mark, responsible for ensuring the return of the virus-eradicating medicine.

The medicine had been donated out of love by the people of Griffith, and Griffith had to get more meds because of that. After all, what's a bit of pride compared to securing the life-saving drugs?

However, the world has no secrets that time does not reveal. The convoy from Griffith hadn't even reached Swan Hill when the Kindle Society from Lincoln and the official base from Goldbridge were already racing to intercept it.

Everyone wanted a piece of the action—all were eager to take their share.

Stella was no different; she too was ready to claim hers.

The ancient art of medicine making was complex, filled with nuances not easily mastered with a single glance. The slightest deviation in the process could greatly diminish the potency of the drugs.

When Stella found out that Dr. Garcia had fallen ill and that the institute was temporarily under Collin's leadership, she made a point to visit him and get straight to the point, "Dr. Collin, I need enough for fifty people. I won't sell it for profit. It's for family and friends, and this is a one-time request."

Collin didn't respond immediately but instead furrowed his brow in thought.

Sensing his hesitation, Stella felt she had overstepped, "If it's too much trouble, please forgive my intrusion."

To a doctor, there was little difference between treating a dignitary or an ordinary citizen. Yet, Collin knew well enough that the officials might not distribute the medicine to the needy right away. They had their own set of priorities to weigh.

He had a family too and wanted them to have access to medicine when needed.

Torn between his sense of duty, Jasper's life-saving grace, and the contributions both he and Stella had made, including the donated supplies, Collin eventually nodded, "Just this once."

Stella wasn't the only one who had approached him. Neighboring cities had caught wind of the situation, bringing donations and medical staff, some even carrying official mandates. Everyone wanted to negotiate, to find a backdoor.

Collin, a researcher at heart, wasn't fond of complex social interactions, though that didn't mean he was clueless. He refused to meet anyone, letting the Swan Hill officials deal with the headache. They could decide who got the medicine; after all, it was meant to save lives, no matter who received it.

Stella didn't sit idly by. She continued to help out and took time to visit Hugh, who was recovering after taking the medicine.

She had intended to have a heart-to-heart talk with her mentor, but Lindsay and her kid were there. Without saying a word, Stella saw the unhidden affection in Hugh's eyes. Sighing at the complications of the heart, she exchanged pleasantries and left.

A few days later, Collin handed Stella two bottles of the medicine.

Swan Hill's officials might have their own ways of managing things, but at least they're not barricading the main gates anymore. Ever since the Kindle Society and medical staff from the main base settled into the research institute, the production rates have seen a significant boost.

It's been confirmed that the virus hasn't mutated, and those who've recovered are not relapsing.

With more hands on deck, Stella's expertise was called upon less frequently, limiting her opportunities to learn. After exchanging a quick "hello" with Collin, she scooped up Cooper and left.

Jasper was at the wheel, driving through a dense fog so thick that even with the headlights on, visibility was dreadfully low—a perfect setup for an accident.

Stella strapped on the latest night-vision goggles. They couldn't cut through the fog, but their thermal imaging feature was a game-changer, drastically reducing the risk of danger.

Smart and resourceful, she thought. With the goggles on, they could speed up considerably.

After more than a month, they returned to the villa area again. It was eerily quiet. Everywhere was misty, with no lights on in any of the villas, just withered and dying plants at the front and back of the houses.

Volcanic ash was weakly acidic and could damage the soil to a certain extent, so crops grown under artificial light during the eternal night had gradually died off.

Just as they stopped in front of Villa 50, suddenly something rushed over, spewed a mouthful of blood at Stella, and then collapsed with a thud.