Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 101:

Chapter 101: 101:

The door shut behind Winter with a force that echoed through the small space, rattling the wooden walls. Then—silence.

Zara stood frozen in the middle of the room, her breath coming too fast, too shallow. Her arms wrapped around herself, nails digging into her skin as if that would hold her together. She had known he would be angry, known he’d feel something—but she hadn’t expected this. The way his jaw had tightened, the sharp breath he took before turning his back to her, the rigid way he walked out without looking back.

Her throat burned. She took one step forward, then stopped. What would she even do? Run after him? Beg him to listen, to understand? He wouldn’t. Not now.

A ragged sound broke from her lips, part sigh, part sob.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, stumbling back until she hit the edge of the bed. Her legs folded beneath her, and she sank onto the mattress, staring blankly at the door like maybe—just maybe—he’d change his mind and come back.

He didn’t.

And that realization crushed her.

Her breath hitched, and suddenly she was shaking. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made it worse—because, behind her lids, she saw him. The way he looked at her before he left. The anger, the hurt.

Like she had taken something sacred and ruined it.

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them. She swiped at them furiously, but they wouldn’t stop coming, hot and silent, streaking through the grime on her face.

I should have told him.

I should have trusted him.

I’ve ruined everything.

Another sharp, aching breath tore from her lips, and she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears from slipping through her fingers.

She might have just lost him.

The thought hit her harder than she expected.

Winter had made it clear how big he was on trust with the issue over Leo’s powers, yet like a fool she kept quiet.

A soft whimper cut through the suffocating quiet.

Zara gasped, dragging in a shaky breath as she turned toward the small bundle on the bed. Leo shifted in his sleep, his tiny face scrunched up in the flickering candlelight. He was fussing, just on the edge of waking.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she reached for him. "Shh," she whispered, voice raw. "It’s okay."

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to soothe him or herself.

Leo’s weight settled into her arms as she rocked him gently, pressing her lips to his warm forehead. The simple act grounded her, but it didn’t stop the ache in her chest. If anything, it only made it worse.

Winter was gone. And she didn’t know if he was coming back.

She exhaled shakily, staring at the wall, at nothing, at everything. She would find a way to fix this. She had to. But before she could figure out how, another sensation crashed over her.

The air thickened. The room swam in front of her.

No. Not now.

Zara clenched her jaw, her grip on Leo tightening as her vision blurred. She knew this feeling. The static in her veins. The way the world tilted, closing in—

A flash.

A shadowy figure. Glowing eyes.

Zara’s breath strangled in her throat. She was trapped. Her back against a wall, unable to move as the figure loomed closer, its gaze burning straight through her.

And then—

Darkness.

Cold.

The vision swallowed her whole.

—

When she came to, she was on the floor. Her hands trembled around Leo’s small body, holding him close.

He was staring at her with groggy confusion, his little face scrunched in a sleepy frown. "Mommy?" he mumbled.

She let out a shaky breath, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead, and getting up from the floor. "I’m here," she whispered. "I’m okay."

She wasn’t sure if that was a lie.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, the remnants of the vision searing through her. The shadow. The eyes. The feeling of being cornered.

Her gut twisted.

I don’t have much time.

She pressed her forehead to Leo’s, her body still shaking. She had to talk to Winter. She had to make him believe her.

Before it was too late.

*****

The sun was already high, casting a heavy heat over the field, but Zara barely felt it. She crouched among the rows of crops, her hands working mechanically, yanking out weeds with more force than necessary. The dry roots snapped in her grip, dirt catching beneath her fingernails. She should be focused on the farm—on making sure they had enough food to last through the season—but her mind was a tangled mess, cycling through the same thoughts over and over again.

Winter hadn’t come back. Not last night. Not this morning.

She had thought—hoped—that telling him would help, that he would be able to make sense of it all, of the broken images and flashes of disaster that haunted her mind. But they had fought instead. He had looked at her like she was a stranger. Like she had betrayed him.

A lump rose in her throat, and she dug her fingers into the soil, breathing hard.

"Where’s Winter?"

Zara startled at Leo’s voice. The boy was a few feet away, crouched low, his small hands digging at the dirt near the tomato plants. His gaze flicked to her, round with innocent concern. He had asked the same thing earlier when he first woke up, and she had forced a smile, told him Winter was just busy. That he’d be back soon.

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

"Still working," she answered, keeping her voice steady. "You know how it is."

Leo hummed, clearly not convinced, but he didn’t push. He was used to the strange silences of the people around him. Too young to truly understand, but not young enough to be blind to the tension hanging thick in the air.

Zara exhaled and wiped at her forehead, smearing dirt across her brow. The weight in her chest only grew heavier. She had been a fool. If she had told Winter from the beginning—if she had just trusted him—maybe they wouldn’t be here now. Maybe he wouldn’t have looked at her like that.

And now, after everything, she might have ruined what they had been building together.

Stupid. So stupid.

Her fingers clenched around a particularly stubborn weed, her nails digging into her palm. Why hadn’t she just told him before? Why had she waited so long? There wasn’t even a good reason—just fear. Fear of what he would say, of how he would look at her once he knew? Stubbornness? She had trusted him with everything except this.

She should have known winter wasn’t like that, they already had that conversation.

Fuck.

She gritted her teeth, tugging again. The plant tore free, dirt flying, and she sat back with a huff, her shoulders trembling.

A shadow flickered across the field, and instinctively, she glanced up—at it.

It was still there.

The strange, glowing object in the sky.

Her mind ticked through possibilities, running through the basic principles of orbital mechanics. If the object was actually moving toward Earth, its gravitational influence could be altering more than just the tides and the weather.

Could it be affecting the zombies somehow? Their behaviour had evolved—more aggressive, more organized. And then there was the breach coming up. The attack she had seen. Could this—thing—be causing the anomalies?

Zombies weren’t supposed to evolve, but what if they weren’t just random mutations? What if something was guiding them?

The idea made her stomach churn. She should tell someone. Or—should she? She had already destroyed one relationship by keeping quiet for too long. But if she started talking about this and she was wrong—if she had to explain that her gut feeling came from the visions she hadn’t admitted to anyone but Winter—how many people would even believe her?

Her fingers curled around a handful of dry soil, squeezing until it sifted through the cracks in her grip. Maybe she needed to find a way into the lab. Check the old research files, see if there was any data on the object, any correlation between its presence and the undead’s changing behavior.

But how?

Her breath shuddered as she exhaled.

One problem at a time.

Suddenly, Leo rushed over to her side. "Mommy! Mommy, there is a scary man!"

Zara’s hands trembled as she cradled Leo close, his tiny fingers gripping her shirt like he could sense something was wrong. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath, but her body felt drained, her head still echoing with the remnants of the vision.

Then—

A shadow.

And not the kind cast by clouds or swaying crops.

A slow, creeping sensation crawled down her spine, making her skin prickle.

She looked up.

A man stood at the edge of the field—pale, gaunt, and unsettlingly thin, as if he’d been stretched too far. His hollow cheeks and dark-circled eyes gave him a skeletal look, his skin so unnaturally white it seemed untouched by the sun.

And he was staring at her.

Unblinking. Unmoving.

Zara’s throat went dry.

She forced herself to straighten, adjusting Leo in her arms. "Can I help you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

The man said nothing.

His gaze didn’t waver, piercing and unnerving, like he was studying her, waiting for something.

Zara shifted uneasily, her fingers tightening around Leo. The little boy, sensing her distress, turned his head and peered at the man from the safety of her arms. His small body tensed.

"Mommy?" Leo’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Before she could respond, a voice cut through the thick air.

"Ah! There you are, Zara!"

Both Zara and the man turned to see Clara approaching from the path between the fields. Her smile was forced, her hands dusted with soil, but there was something sharp in her eyes as she looked at the man.

She stopped beside Zara and, with a small gasp, pointed at the crops in front of her.

"Oh, sweetheart, no—you’re pulling out the good crops with the weeds!" Clara knelt beside her, hands reaching into the dirt.

She positioned herself subtly between Zara and the man, keeping her tone light.

"She’s new here," she said to him, her voice polite but firm. "Never farmed a day in her life, but don’t worry—I’ll keep an eye on her and teach her properly."

The man lingered, his cold gaze flicking between them. For a long, breathless moment, Zara swore she felt the temperature drop.

Then, finally, he turned and walked away without a word.

Only when he was far enough did Clara exhale, her shoulders slumping.

"Who was that, Mommy?" Leo asked softly, his fingers curling into her sleeve.

Zara looked to Clara, who was still staring after the man, her expression tight.

"That," Clara murmured, rubbing her arms, "was a supervisor. But he’s... strange."

Zara frowned. "Strange how?"

Clara hesitated before glancing at her. "You don’t seem like the type to get distracted on the job, let alone make such a mistake. Are you okay?"

Zara swallowed, looking down at the ruined crops. "I—I don’t know. I must’ve... zoned out."

Clara studied her for a moment, then sighed. "We’ll fix it. Replant what we can. But listen to me, Zara—you need to keep your head down and stay away from him."

Zara’s unease deepened. "Who is he?"

"Like I said, a supervisor." Clara’s voice was quieter now, her tone edged with something darker. "Creepy as hell. Cold to the touch. And... people say he tries to get favors from the women who work here."

A chill crept through Zara.

Her eyes flicked toward the direction he had gone—

And froze.

He was still there.

Standing at a distance, half-hidden behind a row of crops.

Watching her.

Zara’s breath hitched. A deep, unsettling shiver ran through her, and she quickly looked down, her heart pounding.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?