Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 184

Chapter 184: 184

The shaft groaned as Zara crawled forward, her palms scraping against the ribbed metal surface. Every movement echoed, magnified by the vent’s tight walls and the chaos pulsing through the facility beyond.

Red light strobed through the grates above, casting flickering shadows that stretched like claws along the tunnel. The alarm continued to wail in a pulsing rhythm—WEEE-OOO. WEEE-OOO.

In front of her, Leo whimpered.

"Mama," he whispered, barely audible over the noise. "What’s that noise?"

Zara didn’t stop crawling. Her knees ached, her elbows bruised, but she forced a soft smile. "It’s just a game, sweetheart," she murmured. "Remember? Quiet as mice."

"Okay." Leo nodded, face pale but resolute. His voice was so soft. Trusting.

She turned her attention back to the shaft. Her breath was hot against the metal, the air stifling. Sweat slid down her spine, dampening the shirt that clung to her skin.

She tried not to think about the map’s warnings—the faded circles, the scribbled notes about motion sensors and heat detectors. She tried harder not to think about what the red glow reminded her of—the vision that had haunted her dreams.

Fire. Screaming. Blood.

No.

She couldn’t afford to panic. Not now. She adjusted her grip, crawling faster. The shaft grew hotter, the air stale and metallic, like breathing inside a toaster. Every sharp turn jarred her elbow, every drop sent Leo sliding too fast. His breath was shallow, scared, but silent. He was doing everything she asked.

She paused at an intersection. Three narrow paths diverged into different parts of the base, labelled only by cryptic serial numbers etched decades ago. She pulled out the paper map—creased, smudged, nearly unreadable.

Her eyes scanned the shaky lines. The left should lead toward maintenance. Right toward the sleeping barracks. Forward... toward the old medical labs.

The vent suddenly vibrated. Voices filtered up from below.

"...did you hear? Subject 17’s out again."

"Yeah, they’re locking down the lower levels. You think she made it to the labs?"

Zara froze, pulse thudding in her ears.

Shit.

She pressed her hand to Leo’s back to keep him still, willing her body to merge with the shaft.

The second worker sighed, "I heard there was a breach in Containment Hall C. That’s too close to the sub-elevator for comfort."

"Whatever’s down there, I’m not going to clean it up. I’m filing for rotation."

Their voices faded.

Zara didn’t move for another full minute.

Then she whispered, "We’re changing plans."

She turned toward the forward shaft. It wasn’t on the original map route. But it avoided direct contact. And she needed that now more than anything.

The shaft narrowed again, forcing her to wriggle forward on her belly. She shifted Leo in front of her, guiding him carefully through the cramped space. One hand stayed on his ankle, steadying him, the other pulled them both along inch by inch. The metal was warm beneath her skin, almost feverish. Each breath felt thinner, harder to draw. Somewhere above, another alarm stuttered and died, replaced by pounding boots.

The sound of her scraping movements grated on her nerves, every shift of metal a potential alarm bell. Leo’s small shoes scuffed against the vent floor as he crawled, silent but trembling.

Sweat trickled from Zara’s temples, stinging her eyes, but she didn’t dare wipe it away. Her entire focus was on keeping Leo moving and safe—her body a shield behind him, her heart pounding in his place.

She slipped out and dropped into a dark, narrow corridor lined with rusted pipes and hanging cables. The air was musty, thick with disuse. She reached back and lifted Leo down.

He clung to her.

"You’re doing so good, baby. So good," she whispered into his hair.

The shaft narrowed, then veered sharply down. She twisted around, guiding her legs first, and let herself slide the few feet with a grunt. Metal grated her back and arms. Ahead, a loose grate hung half-disconnected. She reached it, tried pulling it free, too tight. She wedged her shoulder against it and pushed.

It gave way with a harsh creak.

Zara froze.

No new alarms. No alert beeps.

She helped Leo through first, then followed, dropping into a narrow corridor lined with ageing cables and rusting pipes. The air smelled of mildew and old cleaning fluid.

"This doesn’t feel right," she muttered.

"Mama?"

She knelt beside Leo, brushing dust off his shirt. "It’s okay. We just need to be brave a little longer."

He nodded solemnly.

They moved quickly now, crouching low. The service tunnel curved left, then right, growing wider. Zara recognised the area from a blurred segment on the map—"Aux line 3," barely legible. She ducked beneath a thick cluster of cables and stopped.

Ahead, the tunnel had collapsed.

Concrete blocks and twisted metal barred the path, dust still thick in the air.

"No, no, no—" she whispered.

Leo clutched her hand. "Mama?"

She scanned the wall.

There—a rusted hatch labelled "MX-4." She tried the handle. Stuck. Gritting her teeth, she threw her shoulder into it once, twice.

With a squeal, it opened.

Darkness greeted them.

There—half-buried in rubble—a narrow maintenance hatch.

She pried at it with her fork. It shrieked faintly as it came loose. Leo covered his ears.

Zara looked through. A flickering hallway lay beyond—dimmer, but wider. She helped Leo through first, then followed, her body aching from the crawl.

"Almost there," she told herself.

The hallway felt colder. The smell here was sharp—bleach and cold metal. Sterile.

They moved in silence.

Bzzzzt.

A light above them crackled. Zara froze.

A soft mechanical hum filled the air. Then a click.

A drone.

She shoved Leo behind a rusted locker. She didn’t breathe. The drone floated by—spherical, its single red eye sweeping like a pendulum. It paused.

Right. In. Front. Of. Her.

She squeezed Leo tightly.

The drone scanned.

Zara thought of the needle in her bag. The vial. She could stab it into herself. Make herself a decoy.

But then the drone beeped and floated off.

Only then did she exhale.

Leo whimpered softly.

"Shhh. We’re okay. You’re okay."

They kept moving, this time ducking behind anything they could find. Every shadow could be a threat. Every echo a warning.

Eventually, they reached it.

The cargo elevator.

It sat like a monolith at the end of the hall, its steel doors slightly ajar. Dust coated its surface. The power was out.

Zara’s shoulders dropped.

She pulled Leo to the side and located a maintenance panel. She opened it. Wires stared back at her like guts.

No tools.

Except—

She pulled out the fork.

Please. Please.

She began fiddling with the wires, sweat dripping down her neck. The metal prongs sparked. The elevator twitched.

"Come on..."

Leo tugged at her pants. "Mama... I hear footsteps."

Zara froze.

Footsteps. Fast. Heavy.

She had seconds.

She looked up and spotted a linen tarp covering something near the wall. She threw it aside, revealing a ladder leading into the sublevels.

She strapped Leo to her back with the linen, tying it tight. He didn’t complain. He knew the routine.

Her hands gripped the ladder. One step. Two.

Each rung was damp, slimy with condensation. Her boots slipped, but she caught herself, wincing at Leo’s yelp.

"It’s okay," she soothed. "Almost there."

The voices above got louder.

"Subject 17 was here. Fresh prints."

Zara bit her tongue. Kept moving.

Down.

Down.

They reached the bottom. A long corridor stretched out before them, dim, sterile, and cold. The floor gleamed faintly beneath flickering overhead lights. A low hum vibrated through the air. Machines. Systems she didn’t recognise.

The air turned glacial. The lights buzzed erratically, some flickering out as she passed. The machinery lined the walls—old medical units, some cracked open, others sealed with frost. This was the old lab floor. Abandoned... but not dead.

Her breath fogged.

She pulled Leo closer.

The floor groaned beneath them.

Too loud.

She moved more slowly.

Past shattered glass. Past blood stains too old to gleam. Past doors marked with strange symbols.

Every corridor twisted. Turned.

Zara felt dizzy. Like the place shifted around them.

She looked back once. Thought she saw something move.

No. Keep going.

Her heart slammed in her chest.

Leo murmured, "I don’t like it here."

Zara didn’t either.

The tunnel widened again into a dim hallway lined with broken observation rooms. One held a chair with straps. Another had claw marks on the glass.

Zara picked up the pace.

A whisper brushed the back of her neck.

She spun.

Nothing.

She quickened her pace.

Another corridor.

Another junction.

They moved silently now, deeper into the maze of shadows. Her thoughts raced—Was this where they tested the failed versions? Was Subject 17 really the only one?

And then—

Ahead.

A figure.

Tall.

Familiar.

Winter.

He stood at the end of the hallway, backlit by a dying ceiling lamp. His face was half in shadow. His coat was stained. His hands clenched at his sides.

Zara’s breath caught.

"Winter?"

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