Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 191

Chapter 191: 191

Above ground, the base was a mess of chaos. Sirens blared, casting a red hue over the sterile corridors. Emergency lights flickered, creating a strobe effect that disoriented more than it illuminated.

Automated drones buzzed overhead, their sensors scanning for any unauthorised movement. The air was thick with tension, every creak and groan of the facility amplifying the group’s anxiety.

Ima led the group, her fingers dancing over a portable terminal. Miles flanked her, his eyes darting to every shadow. Naomi kept close to the children, a boy and a girl between seven and ten, whispering reassurances. They had packed as little as they could easily move within these conditions. Sam and Mike brought up the rear, their weapons drawn, senses heightened.

Patrols moved with mechanical precision, their boots striking the metal floors in unison. The sound was too crisp, too predictable. It made it easier to hide... but also reminded them how little room they had for error.

Ima’s fingers danced over the portable terminal she had jacked into the wall, sweat dampening her gloves. She gritted her teeth. The encryption here was different, new. Someone had changed the locks.

Behind her, the others waited, crouched behind stacked crates and equipment racks.

The boy—Aren—clutched Naomi’s hand with a grip so tight it had gone white. His little sister, Lia, huddled close to Sam, wide eyes reflecting the rotating emergency lights like mirrors. Her small chest rose and fell rapidly, shallow breaths of someone trying very hard not to cry.

"Almost there," Ima muttered, tapping in a bypass.

Mike paced near the door, rifle ready. Every time the metal hallway groaned, he froze.

"We’re pushing our luck here, Ima."

"I’m aware," she snapped, biting back her panic.

A hiss. The console clicked. With a soft sigh, a recessed panel opened.

Ima crouched behind a toppled console, her fingers flying faster over the keyboard. More sweat beaded on her forehead as she bypassed security protocols, her eyes darting between the screen and the corridor beyond.

"Got it," she whispered, pulling up the base’s blueprints. Her eyes widened as she scanned the data. "Shit."

"What’s the verdict?" Mike asked, peering over her shoulder.

Ima exhaled through her nose, blinking at the screen. "The underground tunnel exits are randomised," she replied, her voice tinged with frustration. "There’s no way to predict where Winter will emerge."

A silence fell like a dropped stone.

"They could be anywhere," Naomi said quietly, squeezing Aren’s hand.

Their little group had been formed a few minutes ago, and things were still a bit tense. The atmosphere hadn’t had time to settle. The children didn’t know Sam or Mike. Naomi didn’t trust easily. Miles was watching everyone like they might vanish or betray them.

The air felt stretched too thin.

Flashback – 14 Hours Earlier

The intersection was a dead zone—low power, no motion sensors—but Mike had his gun drawn anyway when he turned the corner and nearly slammed straight into Ima.

Both froze.

Mike’s rifle came up on instinct. Ima’s eyes widened, her hand halfway to her shock baton.

"M-Mike?" she breathed.

He lowered his weapon first.

"Thank god," he muttered, already lowering his voice. "I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were—what are you doing up here? Where’s Sam?"

"Right behind me," came Sam’s voice, cautious, just as he emerged from behind a blown-out terminal door. His hand hovered near his holster, though he hadn’t drawn yet.

They weren’t alone.

Two kids clung to Naomi and Miles, who followed behind Ima. The entire group stared at each other, bracing for betrayal.

Sam’s brow creased. "Where’s Winter?"

Ima stepped forward, voice low and firm. "He’s underground. Went after his family. We need to move."

Mike nodded slowly. "He told me to find you. Said you’d be coming."

They exchanged only a beat of eye contact before turning to their groups. No time for stories, no room for debate.

Naomi sized Sam up. "You with him?"

He nodded.

"Then keep up."

It was awkward, clunky. Like smashing puzzle pieces together and hoping they’d hold under fire.

Aren tugged at Miles’ sleeve. "Are they... good guys?"

Miles hesitated, then gave the only answer he could.

"For now."

They moved in silence for several steps, weaving between the shadows of half-collapsed support beams. The air was thicker here—older, stale from neglect. Somewhere above them, metal groaned.

Then Sam’s voice cut through the tension.

"How did you know about the old shaft? That Maintenance Route Seven-B?"

Ima didn’t answer at first.

Naomi narrowed her eyes. "That’s not on the standard layouts. You didn’t just guess your way here."

Ima’s jaw flexed, gaze fixed ahead.

Flashback – 15 hours earlier

Ima burst into Bale’s office, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Bale, we have a problem," she said urgently.

Bale looked up from his desk, concern etched on his face. He looked tired, even by military command standards in the apocalypse. "What’s wrong? Why are you here? The base is on lockdown!"

"Winter’s family has been taken by Adrian. Winter’s gone after them. Winter thinks... he thinks if he can break into the lower wards, he might be able to get them back. If things go as planned, we’re leaving the base."

Bale sighed, rubbing his temples. "That idiot," he muttered, not unkindly. "That brave, stubborn idiot."

"Do you know where you’re planning to go?"

Ima shook her head. "We don’t know. He left things open. But he told me to gather the others and be ready to move."

Bale nodded slowly. "I wish you all could stay and help end this purge, but I understand."

He stood and crossed to the wall terminal. With a few keystrokes, a small map illuminated on the wall screen.

"There’s an old escape route—Maintenance Shaft Seven-B. You’ll have to cut through the comms wing and into the south loading bay. It hasn’t been used in years, and it’s not on most maps."

"Why would it still work?"

"It was kept live in case of internal breach. Most people forgot it exists."

Ima stared at him, gratitude rising like bile. "You could be court-martialed for telling me that."

"I’ll be dead before that happens," Bale said simply. "Get them out, Ima. And tell Winter... I hope he comes back."

Present – Command Deck Subsection C

Ima exhaled slowly. "Bale told me. Now lets be quiet."

They moved fast now.

Mike had the radio pressed to his ear. A garbled voice crackled through—faint, barely cutting through the static.

"...Adrian... topside... not alone... bringing... up—"

Mike’s stomach clenched. "We’ve got a problem."

"Define problem," Sam said, pulling Lia closer.

"Adrian’s coming up. He’s not alone. And they’re moving something big."

Miles stepped forward. "I saw movement earlier—toward a wing marked ’Containment Observation: Obsolete.’ That’s where Adrian’s pet project was housed."

Naomi stiffened. "Subject 17?"

"Maybe. Or worse."

Ima swallowed hard. "If we’re sabotaging anything, now’s the time."

South Comms Wing

They ducked into the side corridor, slipping past a camera that Mike shorted with a magnetic spike. The hallway narrowed, shadows stretching long and twisted. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like insects trapped in glass.

Ahead, two guards wheeled a tank—large, reinforced, humming with low energy pulses. The tank’s viewport was fogged. But even through the condensation, a silhouette writhed inside.

Subject 17.

Its outline wasn’t entirely human—long arms, disproportionate limbs, shifting mass, like it didn’t know what shape to be. It pulsed, almost like it was breathing.

Naomi caught Lia’s eyes and gently turned her away.

"Don’t look," she murmured.

Aren watched too long. He blinked up at Naomi. "Is that... is it alive?"

She didn’t answer.

The guards didn’t notice the group behind the racks, too focused on the creature and the weight of the metal unit they were pushing. The group remained still, hardly daring to breathe.

"What the hell is that thing?" Sam whispered.

"A mistake," Mike answered.

They waited for the guards to pass, then moved again—silent shadows slipping toward the server wing.

Main Server Room – Five Minutes Later

The server room was a cathedral of humming machines, cold blue lights pulsing in rhythm. Miles crossed the floor quickly, pulling a satchel from beneath his coat.

He knelt by a main node, fingers working fast.

"Explosives armed. I’ll rig a time delay—give us fifteen minutes to reach the shaft."

Ima’s screen beeped once. "I’ve got eyes on the tunnel shaft entrance. It’s still active."

Naomi leaned close to the terminal. "Any sign of Winter?"

"No," Ima said. "But..."

Mike stepped away from the group, radio pressed to his ear.

Then he froze.

His voice was quiet. "They found them."

Everyone turned.

"What?" Ima asked.

"I intercepted another signal. Adrian has Winter’s family. He’s bringing Subject 17 up... to lure him out."

The silence was deafening.

"That has to be a lie," Naomi said.

Sam’s knuckles whitened. "We have to go after them."

Miles rose slowly, detonator in hand. "If we don’t end this system first, no one gets out."

Naomi moved beside Mike. "What’s the call?"

Ima stared at the terminal, hands clenched. Her mind raced—Winter’s plans, Bale’s map, the children, the ticking clock. She thought of the way Winter smiled when he mentioned his kids. The weight of his voice when he said, "I’ll handle Adrian."

She looked at the others. The air was still. Too still.

Then she made her decision.

"We’re doing both."