Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 158

Chapter 158: 158

The room was dimly lit, the only illumination spilling in from the half-closed blinds, casting slanted shadows against the walls. The silence was thick, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of Zara’s breathing and the occasional distant murmur of the city beyond the window.

Winter hadn’t moved from his spot near the door. He sat in the rickety chair, hands loosely clasped in his lap, body heavy with exhaustion but too tense to give in to rest. His mind refused to quiet. Adrian’s words still echoed in his skull, looping like a broken record.

They won’t stop.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. He had known this wouldn’t be easy, but

A small rustle made him glance up.

Zara stirred.

For a moment, she remained still, her expression twisted with residual exhaustion, brows furrowing as if she were trying to piece together where she was. The disorientation was brief, fading as her gaze settled on Leo still curled against her side.

Her brows furrowed with confusion, lips parting.

"He woke up asking for you."

She blinked, inhaled deeply, then turned her head—her eyes met his. His usually sharp expression was dulled by exhaustion, the shadows beneath his eyes betraying the fact that he hadn’t slept—not even for a second.

"You stayed awake."

Her voice was quiet, thick with sleep. Not a question, more like an observation.

Winter tilted his head slightly. "Of course I did."

Zara let out a slow exhale, running a hand through her hair. "You should’ve gotten some rest."

Winter didn’t respond. He had tried. He really had. But his body refused to let go of the tension wound tight in his muscles.

Zara swallowed hard, guilt creeping in.

A small noise broke the quiet between them.

Leo.

Leo stirred under the blanket, letting out a tiny, drowsy whimper before his fingers flexed and instinctively reached for Zara. His small body stretched as his heavy-lidded eyes blinked open, still hazy with sleep.

"Mama," he mumbled, his voice soft and needy.

Zara responded immediately, pulling him close and running a soothing hand over his back, smoothing over his curls. "I’m here, baby," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Did you miss me?"

Leo mumbled, pressing his face against her stomach. A small laugh escaped her.

Leo shifted in Zara’s arms, oblivious to the conversation happening above him. His small fingers toyed with a loose thread on her sleeve, lost in his own little world. Winter watched him for a moment before speaking.

Winter shifted, leaning forward slightly. "Sam came by earlier," he said, voice low but firm. "While you were still out."

Zara’s posture stiffened, but she didn’t interrupt.

"He’s been trying to get access to your lab," Winter continued. "Wanted to see if there’s been any unusual chatter."

Her fingers, which had been gently combing through Leo’s curls, stilled. "...And?"

Winter’s jaw tightened. "It’s as we suspected, Adrian’s men are watching." He exhaled sharply. "You’re officially on their radar."

Zara let her head tip forward for a moment, fingers pressing into her temple. "Of course we are," she muttered. "We spoke about it earlier. We need to find our way out of this place."

"Hmn, I think you should stay in here for a while. We still dont know why you passed out in the first place."

Zara closed her eyes briefly, inhaling deeply through her nose. She hadn’t even told Winter about the premonition yet. About what she saw.

She parted her lips, about to say something—

"I have a plan."

She blinked. "A plan?"

"We need to figure out exactly what Adrian’s people saw." Winter leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Leo’s ability—whatever it is—got flagged. If we don’t know why, we’re blind."

Her grip on the blanket tightened. "And how do you suggest we do that?"

Winter met her gaze evenly. "We test his ability."

Zara’s breath caught.

"No."

Winter’s expression didn’t shift. "Not in a lab. Not like them."

"He’s not an experiment."

"I know that."

Zara shook her head, voice sharp. "Then you know I won’t put him through that."

Winter exhaled, frustration flickering across his face. "Not knowing is more dangerous than knowing."

"Leo is barely four," she bit out. "We are not going to—"

"We need to understand it before someone else does," Winter pressed.

Silence.

Zara’s pulse pounded against her ribs.

She hated that he had a point.

She hated that she agreed.

Her hands trembled slightly as she turned toward Leo, who was rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"...We observe," she said finally. "Naturally. No unnecessary stress. And no one else." She met Winter’s gaze. "No one but us."

Winter didn’t argue.

Leo, still groggy, sat up between them. "What’s going on?"

Zara inhaled deeply before running a hand through his soft curls. "Baby, can you tell us more about your happy place?"

Leo’s face scrunched up as he thought. "It’s my space," he said, like that explained everything. "I put stuff there."

Winter’s lips twitched. "Like what?"

Leo huffed dramatically, as if the answer was obvious. "My toys. And snacks. And—oh!—the book you gave me!"

Zara glanced at Winter in surprise.

Winter coughed. "It was just a book."

Leo beamed. "It was my book."

Something flickered in Winter’s chest again, but he ignored it.

Zara’s brows furrowed slightly, as if a thought had struck her. "Leo," she said carefully, "can you take Winter to your happy place?"

Winter stiffened slightly.

Leo’s eyes went wide. "Really?"

Zara nodded.

The boy bounced on his heels, grabbing Winter’s hand. "Come on!"

Before Winter could say anything, his vision blurred.

And then—

The world shifted.

The air pressed against him like liquid, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the room anymore.

Instead, he stood in a small, enclosed space, the floor cluttered with scattered toys, stacked supplies, and neatly lined-up boxes.

This isn’t possible.

He blinked, trying to process what he was looking at.

The space was small, no bigger than a storage closet, and cluttered beyond reason. Supplies were piled haphazardly, boxes stacked at odd angles, some tilted dangerously like they might fall over at any second. Bags of food, clothes, and random trinkets were strewn across the floor, a mess of half-opened cartons, spilled snacks, and scattered toys.

It looked like a hoarder’s nest—except instead of junk, it was filled with survival essentials.

Winter’s breath hitched.

There were packs of bottled water shoved against the walls, some tipped over, a few half-crushed like Leo had stacked things on top of them. Cans of soup and vegetables, packs of instant noodles, cereal boxes, bags of rice—it was all here, in ridiculous abundance, like someone had raided an entire supply cache and dragged it into this space without thinking about organization.

There were medical kits, too—some still sealed in plastic, others pushed into corners, forgotten beneath piles of children’s books and stuffed animals.

And then there were the things that didn’t belong.

A metal lantern, its fuel canister sitting beside it. A small toolkit, still half-zipped open. A knife—not a kitchen one, but a military-grade combat knife, rust creeping along the edges.

Winter’s heart pounded.

This is a stockpile.

A real one.

And somehow, a three-year-old had pulled all of this into his "happy place."

Leo toddled forward, picking up a toy car, completely unbothered by the chaos around him. He turned it over in his small hands, humming as he rolled the wheels absentmindedly.

Winter exhaled, stepping forward, boots crunching over stray wrappers and loose sheets of paper. He crouched beside a crate, prying the lid open.

MREs.

His throat tightened.

These weren’t from any civilian storage.

These were military-grade ration packs.

Winter’s mind raced.

He reached into another half-opened box and found batteries, glowsticks, sealed protein bars—all untouched, all new.

He turned to Leo, voice careful. "Where did you get all this?"

Leo didn’t look up. "From the house."

Winter’s stomach dropped.

"What house?"

"My house," Leo said simply. He grabbed another stuffed animal from the floor, hugging it to his chest. "Before we ran away."

Winter’s fingers tightened on the edge of the crate.

He had never heard of a three-year-old with an ability like this.

"Leo," Winter tried again, forcing his voice to stay even, "how did you bring all of this here?"

Leo just shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. "I just wanted it."

Winter exhaled slowly. He doesn’t even understand what he did.

He pushed himself up, running a hand through his hair, gaze sweeping over the space again. The messiness of it all was starting to get to him—the way some boxes were barely hanging on, the way Leo had clearly dug through some of the bags, probably searching for snacks.

Without thinking, Winter knelt again and started stacking things properly, shifting the heavier boxes against the far wall, setting the lighter supplies on top so nothing would collapse.

Leo watched curiously.

"You’re cleaning," he said.

Winter smirked faintly. "I like things organized."

Leo wrinkled his nose. "Mommy says I should clean up, too."

"She’s right." Winter nudged a fallen pack of water bottles upright. "She’s smart."

Leo grinned. "She’s the smartest."

Winter huffed a quiet laugh, still shifting supplies, his mind churning.

Leo toddled over, picking up a toy car. "Don’t tell Mommy I didn’t clean up," he whispered.

Winter barely heard him. His gaze swept over the supplies—food, medicine, even water. Things that hadn’t expired.

This... this is a stockpile.

His mind started planning instantly.

This stockpile was a goddamn miracle. If they had to run, this could keep them alive for months. If they had nowhere else to go, this could become a safe house.

This place was—

A lifeline.

Winter grabbed another loose crate, starting to move it aside when—

Zara’s voice rang out.

It was faint, muffled, like it was coming from a different plane of existence.

"Leo? Winter?"

Winter’s head snapped up.

"I hear her," he said.

Leo barely reacted, still lining up his toy cars. "She always calls."

Winter frowned. He turned towards the empty air, raising his voice.

"Zara!"

Nothing.

His chest tightened.

His pulse ticked up slightly.

He called again, louder this time—

Still nothing.

It was like they were trapped in a bubble, cut off from everything else.

Winter exhaled sharply, hands curling into fists. He turned back to Leo, his mind struggling to work through the impossibility of it all.

Leo hummed to himself, stacking his toys absently, completely unaware of how valuable this place was.

Before he could say anything else, something caught his eye.

A door.

It sat at the far end of the room, barely noticeable amidst the clutter. The frame was smooth and completely unmarked—there was no dust, scuffs, or sign of age. Unlike the rest of the chaotic space, this door looked untouched.

Winter’s brows furrowed. "Leo."

Leo looked up.

Winter nodded toward the door. "What’s that?"

Leo paused, glancing up. "Dunno."

Winter frowned. "You’ve never checked?"

Leo pouted. "Can’t reach the handle."

Winter exhaled and walked to the door.

His fingers curled around the handle—

And suddenly, the space ripped away.

Disorienting pressure crushed in on him before he found himself back in the room—Zara standing inches away, her eyes wide.

She grabbed his wrist. "Are you okay? I was calling for you—couldn’t hear anything."

Winter blinked, adjusting.

Leo, unfazed, just yawned.

"We’re fine," Winter said, steadying himself. "We tried responding, but you didn’t hear us."

Zara frowned, processing that.

Winter’s gaze darkened. "When I tried to open the door," he said slowly, "we were thrown out."

Zara inhaled sharply. "The door?"

"Yeah, the door at the end of the room. Have you been able to go into it?"

Zara shook her head, looking at Leo. "I noticed it when the attack was happening on the base."

She hadn’t been in the right state of mind at that time to try checking the door.

Could that be a way for them to get out of this madness?