Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 188

Chapter 188: 188

The hallway door slammed open.

CLANG.

Heavy footsteps echoed on the cracked floor.

"Zara!"

A voice—his voice.

Her blood froze. Her grip tightened on the extinguisher, knuckles white.

No.

Not again.

The mimic twitched behind her, still.

Zara didn’t dare look away.

"Stay back!" she shouted, voice hoarse and breaking as she raised the extinguisher again, blood dripping from her fingers. "Don’t—don’t come any closer!"

The figure froze in the flickering red strobes. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a familiar uniform, streaked with dust and ash. She could hear his breath—gasping, labored.

"It’s me," the voice said again, low and urgent as he stepped into the light. "It’s Winter. Zara, it’s really me—I followed your trail through the tunnel—what happened to your side?"

She could barely think through the pounding in her skull, the fire in her ribs, the iron taste in her mouth.

The relief and worry in his voice was almost enough to make her fold.

But she couldn’t!

The mimic had just worn his face.

She had just seen it grin through his jaw.

"I—" Her voice broke. "Prove it." she pleaded, still watching the mimic’s twitching form. It hadn’t moved again, but she wasn’t taking chances.

A beat of silence. Just one. Then

"Ask me anything," Winter said, his voice quieter now. Gentler. "Ask me, Zara."

She swallowed back the sob trying to claw up her throat.

"What did you say," she whispered, "the night I told you about my ability?"

Even in the haze of pain and red light, she saw him flinch—just a little. His breath caught.

He stepped closer, slowly, palms raised. "I said... I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. Things I regret but I had asked if you truly trusted me."

Her legs gave out.

She dropped the extinguisher with a clatter and staggered toward him, lips trembling.

"Winter..."

He caught her mid-fall, one arm curling behind her back, the other cradling her blood-soaked side.

Zara buried her face into his neck, breathing in the sweat, the smoke, the realness of him. Her body shook. Not from fear anymore—but the unraveling release of it.

His hand slid into her hair, gripping her tight. "You’re okay," he whispered. "I’ve got you. I’ve got you."

She raised her face, eyes red, lips parted—and kissed him.

It was desperate and raw—tasting of iron and dirt and despair. A clumsy clash of mouths in a room where death had just stood. But it was him. It was him.

When they pulled apart, she gasped, "Leo—"

Winter blinked, looking around. "Where is he?"

Zara turned, heart racing again. "Leo! Baby—it’s safe now! Come out!"

For a second, nothing.

Then the rusted panel under the console shifted.

A small hand pushed it aside, and Leo crawled out on his hands and knees, eyes wide and wet.

"Mama?"

Zara dropped to her knees, wincing, and opened her arms.

He ran into them.

She clutched him tightly, pressing trembling kisses into his hair, whispering, "You did so good, baby—you were so brave. I’m so proud of you."

Winter crouched beside them, one hand on Leo’s back, the other on her shoulder.

Behind them, the mimic twitched again.

Winter stood slowly, drawing a long combat knife from the sheath at his back. His eyes never left the body.

"That thing’s still breathing," he muttered.

Zara didn’t rise. She just nodded, rocking Leo slightly in her arms.

Winter stepped forward.

"I’ll make sure it doesn’t wear anyone’s face again."

Winter’s boot crunched over broken glass as he stepped forward, knife in hand. The mimic on the ground twitched again—its spine jerked once, like a dying insect’s last nerve spasm.

He didn’t hesitate.

With a low grunt, he knelt beside the thing and drove his blade clean through the base of its skull.

The mimic gave a wet, guttural wheeze.

Winter twisted.

A sickening crack.

Then nothing.

Zara winced as she held Leo close, but she didn’t look away. Not anymore. She was done blinking for monsters.

Leo peeked from beneath her chin, his small arms clinging tightly to her shoulders.

Winter rose slowly, wiping the blade off on his sleeve, breathing hard. His left leg gave a slight tremble as he put weight on it, and he sucked in a breath between his teeth.

Zara noticed immediately. "You’re hurt."

"So are you," he shot back, then softened. "But yeah. Took a fall near a ruptured stairwell. I’m walking on it, though. It’ll hold."

Leo twisted in Zara’s arms. "You’re really here," he whispered, voice shaky but full of wonder. "You found us."

Winter knelt despite the pain in his leg, reached out and pressed his hand to the boy’s head gently. "Of course I did. Promised your mama I’d always find you two, didn’t I?"

Leo nodded rapidly and threw himself into Winter’s chest. Winter wrapped an arm around him, holding on just as tightly.

Zara blinked hard. Her side throbbed, blood hot against her shirt, but for a moment, the pain was background noise.

"You came for us," she whispered, almost like she couldn’t believe it. "You really—Winter, how the hell did you make it down here?"

"I backtracked through the drainage tunnels. Risky as hell, but I figured containment would still have some manual access. Got lucky."

"No one gets lucky down here."

He gave a grim smile. "No. But I’ve got stubborn on my side."

Zara exhaled, a short breath laced with a laugh that nearly turned into a sob. She leaned against him as best she could with Leo between them. "I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I thought I was hallucinating."

"I almost didn’t make it. Something was tracking me through the vents for hours. Same sound you probably heard—the clicking. It didn’t follow me into the chamber, though. You think it was scared of the mimic?"

"No," she said. "I think it was smarter."

His expression darkened. He helped her stand, wrapping his arm carefully around her waist to avoid her injury. Leo stayed in her arms, head pressed against her shoulder again.

"We have to get out of here," Zara murmured.

"Yeah. I still remember part of the route. If we double back to the service stairwell marked for maintenance access, we can hit the main ventilation duct behind Processing. It should lead up to Level 3. From there, if we can get through the labs, we’re maybe twenty minutes from topside."

"Twenty minutes through hell," Zara muttered, then glanced down the corridor.

"Come on love," he coaxed, helping her move.

They didn’t stop walking until the blood trail was dry.

Winter had one arm around Zara’s waist and Leo resting on his hip, whispering comforting things when the boy whimpered at every groan in the pipes. The tunnels stretched on endlessly, some marked with faded red arrows, others swallowing their flashlights whole. But finally, after two wrong turns and a collapsed hallway, Winter spotted a cracked steel door marked "Storage - Sub-Lab B."

He nudged it open with his foot.

"Clear," he murmured.

The room inside was small but cleaner than most they’d passed—just a concrete floor, some dented shelves, and a rusted console pushed against the far wall. A vent overhead filtered in a faint breeze, cool and dry.

"Let’s take five," he said.

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