Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 125

Chapter 125: 125

Screams echoed through the base, a mix of terror that sent chills down Zara’s spine. The once-sterile hallways had become a nightmare—floors slick with blood, walls streaked with crimson handprints, bodies littering the ground. Some were motionless, their glassy eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Others twitched, gurgling weakly as they succumbed to fatal wounds. The scent of iron and burning flesh thickened the air, nearly overpowering the chemical sting of the mist that now hung like a deathly shroud.

Zara pushed forward, her boots slipping on the blood-slicked tiles as she dodged panicked civilians and injured soldiers. A shriek rang out to her right—a young woman, barely out of her teens, scrambling backward on her hands and feet as an infected soldier lunged at her, his mouth snapping hungrily. His face was twisted and grotesque, his skin blotchy and gray, veins bulging like darkened roots under his flesh.

They’re unstable.

Zara grabbed a discarded rifle from the floor, her fingers slick with sweat and fear as she swung it like a club. The butt of the gun connected with the infected soldier’s head, cracking bone. He staggered but didn’t go down. With a snarl, he whirled toward her, but before he could lunge, his body seized violently. Another infected soldier—his own comrade—had sunk his teeth into his throat, tearing away flesh in a spray of dark blood.

They were attacking each other.

A guttural, distorted howl filled the air as more infected turned on one another, clawing, biting, as if whatever mutation had twisted them wasn’t fully in control. Zara barely had time to register the horror before something slammed into her side, knocking her against a wall. The impact rattled her ribs, and she gasped, the rifle slipping from her grasp. She scrambled up, heart hammering as a twisted, half-decayed figure dragged itself toward her, its lower body mangled beyond recognition.

Zara didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a jagged shard of glass from the broken observation window beside her and drove it into the infected’s skull, the resistance sickening. A shudder went through its body before it collapsed, twitching one last time.

She pushed herself up on shaky feet and rushed down the hallway.

Snarling breath ghosted against her skin.

She barely managed to twist away before teeth snapped inches from her throat.

Zara reacted instinctively. She slammed an elbow into the infected’s face, feeling the cartilage in its nose crunch. It barely staggered. Hands wrapped around her neck, squeezing with terrifying strength.

Zara grabbed a knife from her belt and rammed it into the infected’s side. It gave a horrible, guttural wheeze but didn’t loosen its grip. Its eyes, milky white with dilated pupils, bored into hers with nothing but hunger.

With a desperate snarl, she yanked the blade upward, slicing deep through flesh and muscle, twisting the knife for maximum damage. Finally, the infected’s grip faltered, and she shoved it back, yanking her knife free with a sickening squelch.

The thing staggered, clutching its ruined side.

She didn’t give it time to recover.

Zara lunged, driving the blade into its skull.

The infected convulsed once, then went limp.

Breathing hard, she wrenched her knife free, wiping the slick blood off on her torn sleeve.

The mist thickened, curling around her feet like it was alive. Her breathing grew labored, even through the oxygen mask. A hacking cough forced its way up her throat.

Her mask should have been protecting her.

A hand grabbed her wrist. She jerked back, ready to strike, but it was a soldier—a man barely standing, a gaping wound torn across his chest.

"Don’t go that way!" he wheezed, his voice desperate. "That who area—it’s compromised. You can’t—"

"I have to." Zara ripped her arm free, shoving past him.

"Wait—"

She didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Leo was in there.

The daycare loomed ahead, the doors wide open, swaying on broken hinges. Inside, the room was in total disarray—overturned furniture, scattered toys, and blood splattered across the walls. Her heart stopped. No children.

Her breath came in ragged gasps. The world tilted, her vision tunnelling as panic crushed her chest.

No. No, no, no—

She staggered forward, stepping over a toppled chair. "Leo!"

Silence.

Where was he? Had he left with the other children? Was he safe?

Then—

A sharp rustling noise.

Zara spun, blade in hand.

A single infected shambled near the far side of the room, twitching as if it wasn’t fully aware of its own body. Its head jerked unnaturally, and for a moment, she thought it would collapse. But then, it snapped toward her.

Zara ducked under its outstretched arms, slamming her shoulder into its gut. It reeled backwards, but she didn’t give it a chance to recover—she followed through, plunging her knife into its eye socket.

It let out a horrible, strangled noise before dropping, twitching.

Her hands were shaking. Her breathing was too fast, too shallow.

A sniffled whimper.

Zara whipped around, scanning the room frantically. "Leo? Baby?"

A tiny, shaking voice answered. "M-Mommy?"

Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. "Leo baby?! Where are you?!"

Her eyes darted under a table, and there he was—huddled beneath it, his small hands clutching his knees, his wide brown eyes filled with tears.

Zara dropped to her knees, reaching for him with trembling hands. "Oh, my baby, come here—"

Leo sobbed as he threw himself into her arms, his little body shaking uncontrollably. She kissed his curls, pressing his tiny frame tightly against her chest. "I’ve got you," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady despite her terror. "I’ve got you, baby."

He clung to her, burying his face in her neck. "I—I was so scared," he hiccupped, his tiny fingers digging into her jacket.

"I know, sweetheart. I know." She stroked his back, forcing down her panic. Something shattered outside, a shrill scream following. She needed to move. Now.

She fitted Leo’s mask around his face, urging him to breathe. "It’s ok baby, we need it to breathe and go to safety."

She glanced around, searching for anything to help. Her eyes landed on a set of curtains, their thick fabric sturdy enough for what she needed. Moving quickly, she tore them down and used her knife to cut long strips. She strapped Leo securely to her chest, wrapping the fabric tightly so her hands would be free.

The mist swirled outside the doorway, creeping in like a living thing. Zara’s mind raced. Where was safe? Should she find a room to barricade themselves in? Should she try to get back to her quarters?

A bloodcurdling screech shattered her thoughts.

A new horde emerged, their grotesque forms lurching forward. Leo let out a terrified sob, and Zara’s arms instinctively tightened around him. The child trembled violently against her, his small fingers twisting into her jacket.

Then, suddenly—

A sharp pull, like a vacuum sucking the air from the room.

The mist collapsed inward—toward them.

Zara’s breath hitched as the air around them shifted.

And then, in the blink of an eye—

They were gone.

*****

Winter’s convoy thundered toward the base, wheels kicking up dirt.

The first sign of disaster was the dome.

Thick, unnatural smoke coiled inside the transparent structure, swirling with a disturbing, sentient quality. It wasn’t just fire.

A mist, alive and writhing, consuming everything it touched. Shadows twisted and jerked within it—distorted, inhuman figures that used to be his people.

A sharp static crackled in his earpiece, followed by the garbled remains of a distress call. "...breached—save the survivors—don’t—" The signal cut out.

Winter’s gut twisted.

"Security’s offline," one of the soldiers muttered, his voice tense.

Winter gritted his teeth. The massive gates remained sealed. The base was airtight.

And yet—

Figures moved inside the mist. Not soldiers.

"Sir," another soldier whispered, pointing.

A figure stood just beyond the swirling fog. A man in a torn uniform, swaying slightly, his head cocked at an unnatural angle. His arms hung limp at his sides, twitching sporadically. For a brief moment, Winter thought he might be unturned—just another survivor in shock.

Then the soldier lifted his head.

His face was wrong.

Eyes completely black, veins bulging like darkened roots beneath his ashen skin. His mouth twisted into a grotesque grin, lips cracked and bleeding.

Then, he screamed.

A bone-chilling, inhuman screech that sent every nerve in Winter’s body on edge.

A second later, the mist moved with him.

It surged forward, spilling past the sealed gates like a living tide. The infected charged.

"Contact! Contact!" one of the soldiers shouted.

"Open fire!" Winter barked.

Gunfire erupted. Bullets tore through the first wave of infected, sending some sprawling, but they didn’t stop. Some dropped, only to twitch and rise again. Others seemed to absorb the mist, their bodies pulsing as the thickened fog stitched them back together.

"What the fuck is that?!" a soldier yelled.

"Fall back!" Winter roared. "Regroup by the barricades! Don’t let that mist touch you!"

He pulled his rifle to his shoulder and fired in controlled bursts, dropping two infected that got too close. But for every one they killed, three more emerged from the smoke.

They had minutes before they were overwhelmed.

But he wasn’t leaving.

Not without Zara.

Not without Leo.

Winter scanned the chaos, his heartbeat a wild drum in his chest. Zara was in there. His mind screamed at him to think, to find her, but there was nothing—no signal, no comms, just the swirling hell consuming the base.

"Sir, we have to fall back!"

Winter didn’t hesitate. He sprinted toward the mist.

"Captain!"

He ignored the shouts behind him, dodging past lunging infected. He had to find her.

He didn’t care if it killed him.