18 Floors Above the Apocalypse



Hans and his buddy Wang Jun racked their brains but couldn't recall Cody Lukas at all. "What about Angela?" Stella asked, worry tinging her voice. "She's a woman."

"Tall, strong, could knock out a grown man with a single punch, and has a deep voice?"

Stella nodded eagerly. "That's her."

Female soldiers were rare in the submarine corps. They trained separately in the water and only came together on land for joint exercises. The guys didn't remember many of the other men, let alone a woman.

But, as they say, opposites attract. A woman who could take down several men was bound to be memorable.

Angela was pretty well-known; her reputation was solid among the submarine crew.

Clinging to a glimmer of hope, Stella asked, "Do you know where she might be?"

Hans shook his head.

The asteroid hit Earth so suddenly. They were out at sea with all their gear for training. By the time they heard the air raid siren, they were already submerged, and their first instinct was to pilot the sub to safety.

The thought of the horrific tsunami they survived still haunted them. The force of nature was something no human could contend with.

Giant waves erupted from the seabed, tossing their submarine around like a toy. If they hadn't been in a state of suspension with all their external equipment retracted, their turbines would have been shredded by the tsunami.

Their sturdy hull withstood the tsunami's fury, but many of their comrades, even strapped in, suffered through days of torment, surrounded by the stench of vomit.

It was a nightmarish memory they dared not dwell on, feeling as if the grim reapers themselves had them by the throat.

If they hadn't detached the "seed vault" from its moorings in time, the storm could have split their sub in two.

They survived, but the thought of the abandoned seed vault, which could preserve a fragment of their civilization for twenty years, weighed heavily on them. Would it ever see the light of day again, or would it be forever buried in the abyss?

The weight of their perceived failure was a heavy one, a hurdle they couldn't quite clear.

“Lost is lost, it'll be found,” Stella tried to comfort them, though she wasn't sure what to say. “Even if civilization is lost, as long as humanity survives, it can be rebuilt."

They were supposed to protect the seed vault, but their primary duty was to protect themselves. Cole had hammered that point home time and again. Yet Hans and the others couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy.

They were among the lucky ones. Cody and his group, who were on land training, had a much longer distance to travel to reach the deep-sea port. If anything went awry, they wouldn't make it.

And if disaster struck, the consequences were unthinkable.

But with the catastrophe upon them, Hans had his mission. He couldn't flee with his family; they had to evacuate with the land forces.

Had they survived the cataclysmic shifts of the Earth's crust? Where were they now after the land had sunk?

Having experienced the brutal disaster firsthand, Hans had a grim premonition, but he kept telling himself his family was alive and well, that they would be reunited someday.novelbin

He had promised his parents and wife that he would survive any calamity and never give up.

So, when the words reached his lips, Hans held back.

"I think I saw Angela. She was with our group at the deep-sea port. Our nation's subs are top-notch; they can take on a tsunami. I bet she's out there swimming in some ocean right now."

His words offered Stella some solace.

The vast ocean might mean they'd never meet again, but as long as they were alive, there was hope.

The four of them were on the same sub, looking out for each other.

Maybe, just maybe, Cody and Lukas were thinking of her too?

"Stella, how about some hotpot?"

The thought of still being connected to the world filled Stella with anticipation.

Maybe, just drifting along, they might bump into 2639 and enjoy a spicy hotpot in the depths of the sea.

Stella refocused. "Have you guys come across any other subs down here?"

Hans nodded. "A few, but none from our nation."

One was from China, with North Korea tagging along like a lapdog.

Thinking that humanity needed unity to survive the disaster, Hans's crew even tried to say hello.

But instead of courtesy, they were met with hostility. Those submarines, without any honor, launched an attack.

Furious, Hans and his crew warned them thrice, but to no avail. They had no choice but to fight back.

In the face of catastrophe, and still, they faced betrayal?

So, a battle ensued under the sea.

Facing a China that would charge $3000 for a coffee pot, Hans and his crew had no fear. They trusted the subs built by their own factories.

Their sub, 1926, extended its attack spar and rammed the dishonorable Chinese sub.

The plan was to teach them a lesson, to strike hard but not to destroy.

But the Chinese sub, it turned out, was as fragile as a paper tiger.

Punctured, water began pouring in.

Hans and his crew were dumbfounded. They hadn't meant for this to happen.

Shoddy workmanship should have been disclosed. But there was no time for that now.

The North Korean sub fled in terror.

When they realized what had happened, Hans and his crew made a quick escape.

After that encounter, they avoided all foreign subs.

Even if they spotted one of their own, they proceeded with caution, verifying identities repeatedly.

Meeting a fellow countryman in a foreign sea and speaking the same language was a joyous occasion.

The pent-up stress dissipated in those moments.

Hans and his crew had been drifting at sea for far too long. Now, seeing the calm sea basked in the glow of a stunning sunset, Hans called out to 2688, "Would you mind if I invited my comrades up to catch some sun?"

It had been ages since they'd seen sunlight.

Stella and Jasper had no objections. "Sure."

Slowly, more than a dozen men emerged from the sub, all lean and worn.

They sat atop the vessel, lost in the beauty of the sunset, letting themselves be transported back to better times.

Together, they began to sing, their voices joyful and carefree, echoing across the tranquil expanse of the sea.

But as they sang, tears streamed down their faces.

Stella was moved and found herself humming along to the tune.

Out on the vast ocean, aboard the two submarines, their thoughts turned homeward. They longed for their families, their friends, and the comforting embrace of familiar faces. Memories of better times played like old movies in their heads the laughter at Thanksgiving dinners, the cheers at baseball games under the glow of Friday night lights, the warmth of Christmas mornings. They reminisced about backyard barbecues, the sizzle and rich aroma of burgers on the grill, and the cold, refreshing taste of lemonade on a hot July afternoon.

They missed the simplicity of a Sunday morning, the smell of pancakes and coffee, and the sound of kids playing in the streets. They ached for their significant others, the soft whispers between the sheets, and the gentle touch of a hand in theirs. Even the mundane had become precious-the buzz of a lawnmower, the jingle of a dog's collar, the creak of a porch swing.

In the confined, metallic world beneath the waves, these memories became their sanctuary, a mental oasis from the endless blue that enveloped them. Each man, cocooned in steel and solitude, held on to these fragments of a life paused by duty and distance, finding comfort in the shared yearning for the American dream they had temporarily left behind.