18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 318

Katie's reflexes were sharp as a tack. "Stella, are you talking about a C-section?"

Stella nodded solemnly.

Panic edged into Katie's voice. "We've gotta do it, absolutely. This is Molly's baby, a Moore through and through."

But Stella had to lay it out straight. "Molly's been in labor far too long, and without any prenatal care, there's no telling if the baby's alright. If it's been deprived of oxygen for too long, it could be stillborn or face serious disabilities. You need to think this through."

Without a moment's hesitation, Katie affirmed, "This is a Moore baby. If there's even the slightest breath left, we will not give up."

Mikey's voice was a hoarse whisper. "I don't agree."

Molly was gone. Why cut into her? She was so vain, so afraid of pain. It would only hurt her more.

Katie knew her grandson was heartbroken, but they couldn't afford to give up now. "Mikey, I know you're hurting, but Molly gave her life for this baby. She would have wanted the child to live. This baby was protected by Molly’s very life. You can't make this decision for her."

Joey and Amber tried to reason with him, too. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Unfortunately, Mikey was drowning in grief, clinging to Molly's lifeless body, unyielding to his parents' tugging.

Amber, feeling desperate, slapped her son across the face. “Snap out of it! Think of Molly’s last wishes!”

Molly had insisted that no matter what, they had to save the child.

"You promised her." Amber wept, slapping him repeatedly. "You gave her your word. You can't let her down, not like this."

Mikey's tears flowed as his grip finally loosened. Joey took the chance to pull him away to another room.

Amber rushed to boil water, while Katie, unbothered by old wives' tales, assisted.

Time was of the essence. Stella may have been new to this but knew the human body well. She had practiced on pork, after all. Taking a deep breath, Stella lifted Molly's gown and made the first incision across the swollen belly.

After a grueling effort, they lifted out a bloodied form. Katie took the infant quickly, frantically cleaning the blood and filth from its tiny body. The baby was tiny, no more than a couple of pounds, wrinkled and purple-faced.

Katie felt for breath and panicked. "There's no breath."

Stella, inexperienced but quick-thinking, took the baby. The airway was clear and the body was still warm. Flipping the child, she smacked its bottom. Just like she’d seen on TV. A last-ditch attempt.

Smack, smack, smack…

After several attempts, just as Stella was about to give up, the infant stirred and let out a feeble cry, weaker than a kit’en's mew“.

"It's alive, it's alive!" Katie cried, tears streaming down her face. "Molly, your baby's alive. It's a miracle."

They handed the baby to Katie and Amber to care for. Out of respect for the deceased, Stella stitched Molly up.

When the Moores heard the news, Mikey faced the swaddled baby with a heart torn between joy and sorrow.

“Molly, your child lives, but you are gone forever.”

Having done all she could, Stella left, unsure about infant care but trusting Katie's experience. She left behind a bag of dried mugwort— she'd heard they were good for the baby's baths.

The Moores had much to grieve and tend to; they could express gratitude later.

After the others left, Katie spared no time for tears, instructing her daughter-in-law on caring for the great-grandchild and discussing Molly's arrangements.

In these chaotic times, burials were common, but grave robberies were rife. Molly deserved peace.

Katie planned to trade for gasoline or firewood to ensure a proper farewell. Her own grief was as deep as Mikey's. She had been on borrowed time, and just when she found a daughter-in-law she adored and nurtured for years, hoping she'd carry on the family legacy, tragedy struck, leaving another mouth to feed.

When would this relentless disaster end?

Meanwhile, Jasper drove them back home. His mind was anything but at ease. He'd faced death countless times but had never known fear like today. Seeing Molly's body, he thought of Stella. What if it had been her? What could he do?

Gripping the steering wheel, Jasper vowed, "Stella, having kids doesn't matter. Surviving this madness together is what's important."

Stella agreed. Why bring a child into a world where even adults struggled to survive? Still, he asked, “Do you want a baby?”

"Rosie's enough," he replied. Raising a child was nerve-wracking enough; worrying about Rosie's innocence and fearing her corruption was already taxing.

"We'll take care of her and Cooper. That's enough." Jasper squeezed her hand.

Stella nodded in agreement. Love didn't need a legacy, not when life itself was so fragile. And as for Mikey, love in the apocalypse wasn't wrong, but without proper caution, disaster was inevitable.

The complications were clear—Molly's baby hadn't been positioned right, an issue Stella noticed during the C-section. Whether the Moores were unaware or lacked experience, or couldn't find a doctor, or maybe Molly took a gamble, it was unclear. If only they had sought skilled help sooner or considered the hard choice of saving the mother over the child, Molly might have lived.

In the wake of Molly's passing, the Moore family found themselves with one more mouth to feed – a baby, utterly dependent and innocent. If the diasaster could end, at least raising the child wouldn't be the worst of their worries. But as things stood, it was only going to get harder from here on out.

Even Stella, who had her own ace up her sleeve with Arcadia, found life a struggle. It was a stark reminder of how tough things were at the bottom rung of the ladder.

Stella sighed deeply in the recesses of her heart, hoping against hope that the Moore family would pull through this ordeal.

Returning home, both of them carried a heavy weight in their hearts. Rosie, with her sharp eyes, wisely curled up next to Cooper and kept her distance, sensing the mood.

After a shower, Stella sat on the bed, scrolling through her tablet, but she couldn't find any information related to pregnancy or childbirth.

That night, as they lay in bed, Jasper held her close, a bit too tightly. Stella thought he was in the mood for intimacy and was about to tell him she wasn't feeling up for it, but she realized he was simply holding her close for comfort.

Half-asleep and suddenly short of breath, she noticed Jasper was having a nightmare. He was clutching her waist so tight it almost felt like it would snap.

His face was a mask of pain and repression, and he was muttering something under his breath, but his words were muffled and indistinct...