Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 187 - 186

Chapter 187: 186

The rail shuttle’s interior groaned like a dying beast.

Flickering emergency lights painted the metal walls in crimson and shadow, each pulse of red like a heartbeat bleeding out. Beneath Zara’s boots, the metal hummed with residual energy—barely enough to keep the rickety transport moving. The tunnel outside the thick windows was pitch black, the kind of black that swallowed light, sound, and hope whole.

Leo’s breath came in ragged sobs against her shoulder. Zara held him tight, cradling him with one arm, the other gripping a corroded rail for balance. His small fingers clutched her shirt, the fabric damp with his sweat—and hers. Her heart thundered in her ears.

"We’re okay," she whispered, though her voice trembled. "You’re okay. I’ve got you."

The lie tasted bitter. Her body ached all over—mostly bruises, she hoped—but her left side throbbed with something deeper. She hadn’t checked the wound yet. No time. No peace. Just keep moving. The adrenaline that carried her this far was draining fast, replaced by creeping pain and bone-deep fatigue.

The shuttle shuddered suddenly. Lights overhead flickered, then dimmed again.

She noticed a small interface panel near the front of the shuttle. Its screen displayed a destination: "Sector 7B – Decommissioned Containment Wing." The name meant nothing to her, but the word "containment" sent a chill down her spine.

The shuttle jolted again.

Something tapped against the side—once, then again, sharper. Her head snapped toward the window, heart hammering. She squinted into the darkness beyond the fogged glass, but saw only distorted reflections and swirling dust.

"Probably just debris," she muttered. A lie for herself.

The shuttle wheezed to a stop with a final, metallic grind. The air filled with hissing steam. One of the emergency lights fizzled out completely, plunging the corner into black.

The display updated.

"DOOR MANUAL OVERRIDE REQUIRED."

Zara cursed under her breath. "Of course."

Zara stood, wincing as pain shot through her side. She adjusted Leo on her back, his small arms wrapping around her neck.

"Cover your ears, baby."

Leo obeyed without a word, pressing his hands against the sides of his head. His eyes were wide, pupils huge in the red strobe.

She found the release handle—rusted, stiff—and braced herself. With a guttural effort, Zara yanked. The door screeched like a tortured animal, metal grinding against metal, shrapnel flakes raining down.

The hallway beyond was nothing but void.

Her flashlight flickered to life with a weak buzz. The beam shook in her grasp as she aimed it into the black.

"Here we go," she whispered, stepping out. As her foot crossed the threshold, the shuttle behind them hissed—and began to roll backward down the track, doors closing like the jaws of some ancient beast.

Zara stared after it. "Failsafe," she realized. "It’s leaving us."

They were stranded.

**

The corridor smelled of mold, dust, and blood.

The walls were lined with ancient surveillance monitors, most cracked or shattered. Dried stains smeared the floor and lower panels—some brown, some rust-red. Footprints. Handprints. Smears that told the story of panic and death.

Leo whimpered softly.

"Mama... are we going to see Uncle again?"

Zara paused. Her voice caught in her throat. Then she swallowed hard.

"Not the wrong one," she said, her voice like gravel.

The platform ahead was cracked, part of the ceiling caved in. Rubble blocked the main tunnel, slabs of concrete and tangled rebar forming an impassable wall.

Only a narrow maintenance hatch remained unobstructed—half-ripped from its hinges, just large enough for her to crawl through with Leo.

She found a faded schematic on the wall—most of it burned or torn away. One route remained legible: "Upper Facility Access – Restricted. Service Stairwell."

"That’s where we go," she whispered. "Up."

Suddenly—a sound.

Low. Echoing. Dragging.

Footsteps. Slow and deliberate, from the tunnel behind.

Zara didn’t wait.

She ran for the hatch, yanking it open with a groan of protest. Metal screeched. She shoved Leo in first, then squeezed in after him, dragging the hatch closed behind them. The tunnel was narrow and smelled of oil and rot.

"Stay right behind me," she said. "Do everything I do."

Leo nodded, brave and pale.

They crawled.

The space was barely wide enough for her shoulders. Pipes ran overhead, some leaking, some coated in grime. Her flashlight’s beam was narrow, sputtering with each jolt.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Something clicked.

Not footsteps. Not dragging.

A chittering sound. Like claws on metal. Like many limbs.

She froze. Reached back blindly and covered Leo’s mouth.

They waited.

From the vent ahead, she glimpsed movement—a long-limbed silhouette slithering past the grate. Its limbs ended in sharp, jagged bone. Its spine twitched and convulsed unnaturally with each step. Black skin like dried tar. And those eyes—many, gleaming faintly.

It sniffed the air, making a low, wet noise.

Zara didn’t breathe.

Then, mercifully, it moved on.

After a long silence, she whispered, "We keep moving. Quiet."

They crawled for what felt like hours before emerging into a tight observation hub. A circular room, dimly lit, filled with control panels—mostly shattered. One wall was a large mirrored panel—cracked, smeared. Zara glanced toward it, saw her reflection—

And then saw it move.

She froze.

No.

It wasn’t her reflection.

The glass was two-way.

Behind it... stood the creature. Watching. It stood in the observation chamber behind the cracked glass, just barely visible in the pulsing emergency lights—tall, lanky, its bones too sharp, its limbs too long. Its face twitched, trying to hold the shape of Winter’s smile, but something was wrong with it. Too wide. Too many teeth.

It tilted its head.

Zara stepped back and whispered, "Don’t look."

Leo squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his mother’s neck. She scanned the room. One exit—a hallway leading deeper. Maybe if she pretended like she hadn’t seen it and tried to make her way out it wouldn’t follow?

She took a step and the thing’s body jerked violently towards the glass panel.

Shit!

Zara yanked Leo off her back and shoved him under the rusted console against the far wall.

"Stay here. Do not come out. No matter what you hear." Her voice trembled, "No. Go to your space baby. Wait for me to call for you!"

Leo whimpered, but he obeyed, crawling into the space. She slid a tipped-over panel in front of the opening, hiding him from sight.

Then she turned, just as the glass exploded.

The mimic burst through in a rain of shards, shrieking—no, mimicking a shriek. It sounded like a recording of a scream stretched and twisted out of shape. Its limbs curled and cracked as it landed in the room on all fours, its hands splayed like spider legs, elbows inverted. The red lights pulsed, casting its form in harsh silhouettes.

Zara backed toward a pile of broken equipment and grabbed the heaviest thing she saw—a jagged length of metal pipe, half a meter long, one end sharp and rusted. She gripped it tight, adjusting her stance. Her side throbbed, but she forced her body to steady.

The thing slowly rose to its full height. It was now wearing a soldier’s uniform—torn and soaked in black fluid—but the illusion faltered at the edges. The skin around its jaw jittered, like static, trying to settle into something human.

"You’re not him," Zara hissed.

The mimic blinked, too slowly. Then it grinned.

It lunged.

Zara swung the pipe with both hands. The end slammed into its shoulder with a metallic thunk, but the creature barely flinched. It spun, raking its long fingers across the air, aiming for her throat. She ducked, rolled, and came up with the pipe ready again.

A second strike—this time across its ribs. A crunch.

It shrieked again, not in pain, but in mockery. It sounded like Leo crying, then like Winter laughing, then like her own voice screaming.

Zara growled and shoved it back, using the pipe like a staff. It stumbled against the console—but only for a moment.

Then it twisted its torso full around—bones cracking—and charged.

She barely managed to block the blow. Its clawed hand grazed her side, tearing fabric, drawing blood. Fire bloomed through her ribs. She staggered, but didn’t fall.

She ducked behind a broken desk, breathing hard, heart thundering. Her left hand gripped her side. Blood oozed between her fingers. The creature paced on the other side, sniffing, waiting. Playing.

Behind her, Leo whimpered from under the console.

She looked down. There—by her boot—a shattered monitor screen, jagged and thick. She grabbed it with her free hand, palming it like a blade.

When the mimic leapt onto the desk, she was ready.

Zara threw the sharp-edged monitor glass directly at its face.

It shrieked again, this time staggered—shards embedded in its eye. She surged forward and drove the pipe into its abdomen with all her weight. It bent double, screeching, one hand covering its face.

Zara pulled the pipe free with a sickening squelch.

"You picked the wrong person to fuck with," she spat, voice low.

But the thing was fast.

Its uninjured eye snapped back toward her. It lunged once more—but this time, instead of attacking, it bounded over her, toward the console.

Toward Leo.

"No!" she screamed.

She tackled it mid-leap. They hit the floor hard. Her pipe went skittering out of reach. The mimic rolled with her, pinning her beneath its cold, too-light body. It smelled like rotted plastic and blood.

It opened its mouth—too wide—and leaned down toward her face.

Then she saw the fire extinguisher. Mounted just behind the console.

With a cry, she twisted, kicking the creature off her with both legs. It hit the wall with a crunch. She scrambled to the extinguisher, yanked it from the bracket, and swung it like a hammer just as the creature stood.

The first blow crushed its shoulder.

The second cracked its jaw sideways.

The third, she drove into its face with a roar.

It fell, twitching, more black fluid leaking from its skull. The body convulsed... then stilled.

Zara stumbled back, extinguisher still in hand, chest heaving.

For a moment, there was only silence. Only the red lights blinking. Only her heart pounding like a war drum.

Then—

A wet sound.

Crack.

The mimic twitched again.

Its body twisted, as if something inside was rearranging. Bones popped. The shattered jaw began to realign.

Zara’s eyes widened.

"No," she breathed. "You’re not done yet?"

But the hallway door slammed open behind her, metal clanging on metal.

Footsteps. Fast.

"Zara!"

Winter’s voice.

Two of the creatures now?!

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