Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 192

Chapter 192: 192

The red line on the tunnel wall snaked deeper into the underground like a pulsing vein, barely visible beneath the flickering emergency lights. The air was sweltering now—thick, moist, and rank with the stench of rust, mildew, and decay. Each step echoed ominously, the sound bouncing back like a warning. Distant skittering and guttural growls reminded them they were not alone.

Winter’s grip around Zara tightened as she stumbled again.

"Easy," he whispered, shifting Leo’s weight on one arm and wrapping the other around Zara’s waist. "We’ll stop soon. Just a little further."

Zara didn’t answer. Her breath came in ragged bursts, and blood soaked through the bandage wrapped around her side, dripping between her fingers. The makeshift gauze had long since failed. Pain throbbed at her temple, a punishing rhythm in sync with her heartbeat—a side effect of using her foresight too many times.

Her knees buckled. Winter caught her with a grunt, staggering under the weight of both her and Leo.

"We’re slowing down," she murmured bitterly.

"You’re bleeding," he said. "You’re not deadweight."

"But I will be soon if we don’t find a way out of this maze."

Leo stirred. "It’s hot," he whimpered, voice trembling. "It feels wrong. Something’s wrong."

Winter’s jaw tensed. He was sweating too—not just from the heat, but from the growing pressure pressing on his chest. The stench. The sounds. The flickers in the dark. Every clink or distant skitter made his pulse spike.

"We need to divert," Zara said suddenly, her voice brittle. "The main tunnel isn’t safe. There’s a shaft—there." She pointed weakly toward a narrow opening barely wide enough for one person.

Winter hesitated. The shaft was little more than a crawlspace, slick with condensation and swallowed by darkness.

Zara didn’t wait. She crouched, gritting her teeth as she forced herself through the opening. Winter passed Leo into her arms, then squeezed in behind them, twisting to protect the child’s head.

The shaft was pitch black, the only light coming from the dim glow of the emergency lights flickering sporadically.

The space was pure silence save for the rasp of their bodies against metal and the slow, mocking drip... drip... drip of water from rusted pipes above. The walls felt closer here—more like a tomb than a tunnel.

"This place is a tomb," Zara whispered, her voice trembling.

"But we’re not dead yet," Winter replied, though his voice lacked conviction.

As they crawled, the shaft opened just enough to reveal the remnants of old labs—shattered observation glass, rusted surgical tables, and grotesque remains piled in corners. Human-animal hybrids lay in twisted heaps, their bodies skeletal, wires protruding from their skulls. Vats of viscous, glowing liquid cast eerie shadows, warping across the walls like ghosts.

Leo whimpered and buried his face into Winter’s chest.

Inside the lab, more horrors waited. One tank held a half-human child suspended in yellow fluid, eight spider-like limbs curled around its fragile torso. Another room showed headless hybrids—humanoid bodies with animal torsos—tangled in barbed wire as if they’d torn themselves apart trying to escape.

Winter instinctively shielded Leo’s eyes, though the boy had already seen far too much.

"What the hell happened here?" Zara asked, her voice hollow.

"Experiments," Winter said grimly. "Failures. So this is what Adrian was hiding."

He wished he could show this to Bale—send proof, shout it into the world. But for now, all he could do was survive it.

Zara stopped suddenly, one trembling hand braced against the wall.

"Dead end?" Winter asked.

"No," she whispered, fingers pressing to her temple. "Let me see..."

"Zara—don’t—"

"I’m not weak," she snapped. "I can handle a minute."

She closed her eyes and pushed past the screaming in her skull. Foresight split her mind like lightning. She gasped, blood trickling from her nose, but the vision came: a branching tunnel up ahead—one side caved in with debris. The other... led to stairs. Airflow. Hope.

She nearly collapsed forward, catching herself on her knees. Winter was at her side in seconds, gripping her shoulders.

"Dammit," he muttered.

"You’re bleeding more."

"I saw stairs," she rasped. "We’re close."

Winter didn’t answer right away. He reached into his satchel, retrieved a half-used roll of gauze, and began tightening her bandage.

"I told you not to do that again."

"You also said we needed to survive."

Their eyes met.

For a moment—just one, fragile second—despite the blood, the rot, and the quiet horrors around them, the world shrank down to the three of them. Her, him, and Leo. Still breathing. Still fighting. Still here.

Winter’s hand brushed her cheek.

"We’re getting out," he said quietly. "I promise."

Zara’s lips twitched into a weary smile. "I’m holding you to that."

Then—Leo shrieked.

His small body jerked like he’d been shocked, and space itself rippled around them. The shaft flickered—reality skipping like a scratched tape—before stabilizing again.

Objects blinked into existence: cans of food, a battered flashlight, a thermal blanket, a small radio.

Winter dropped the gauze and wrapped both arms around Leo as the boy sobbed, trembling.

"It’s here," Leo whimpered. "It’s in the dark—it’s crawling on the ceiling—"

"Shhh," Winter whispered, holding him close. "I’ve got you. You’re okay."

Zara unfolded the blanket and draped it over Leo, steadying his shoulders with her palm. "Breathe with me, baby. Count. One... two... in and out..."

Leo hiccupped, nodding as his breathing slowly began to calm.

But Winter’s eyes lifted.

Above the ceiling tiles... a skittering.

Light but fast—too fast. Like claws scraping against metal. It moved forward. Then back. Then paused... directly above them.

It knew they were there.

A metallic bang rang out somewhere down the shaft—louder this time, closer.

They all froze.

Leo’s power pulsed again, reacting to his fear. More things popped into the corridor—a jar of antiseptic, a cracked compass, old bandages.

"Leo, it’s okay," Winter said softly. "We’re safe."

"I don’t like it here," Leo whispered.

"I know, buddy. But we’ll be out soon, alright?" Winter said, already gathering the items, keeping his voice calm despite the dread crawling up his spine.

Zara glanced down the corridor. "We’re nearly at the fork I saw," she whispered. "Left leads to the stairwell."

Winter nodded. "Move. Quiet and fast."

She went first, Leo in her arms, while Winter picked up a rusted pipe from the floor—his rifle was too loud for tight, echoing tunnels like these.

They reached the fork.

Another sound from above—metal creaking.

Winter looked up.

A flash of motion—something pale and spindly behind a ceiling vent.

"Go left," Zara urged, her voice strained.

Winter backed toward the fork, pipe in hand.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Drawing it away."

Before she could protest, Winter hurled the pipe with all his strength. It crashed through a ceiling tile behind them.

A shriek erupted—a hollow, warped sound like metal dragged over bone. The ceiling groaned, and something lunged toward the noise.

"GO!" Winter shouted.

They ran.

Zara limped badly, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but she kept going. Leo clung to her neck like a lifeline. Winter sprinted behind them, every muscle screaming, ears straining for pursuit.

They didn’t look back.

They couldn’t.

They just ran

The trio raced down the left path, the sounds of the creature pursuing them growing louder.

Zara stumbled, her strength waning. Winter caught her, lifting her into his arms without breaking stride.

"I’m sorry..." she murmured.

"No, it’s fine. We’re almost there."

They burst into a stairwell, the creature’s screech echoing behind them. Winter slammed the door shut, barricading it with a metal rod.

"That won’t hold it for long," Zara said, her voice weak.

"It doesn’t have to. Just long enough for us to get out."

They climbed the stairs, each step a struggle. At the top, they found another door, this one leading to a corridor bathed in red emergency lights.

"We’re close," Winter said, hope flickering in his eyes. They had to be.

The lights here were worse—flashing in slow strobe bursts, distorting their movements like a nightmare stutter.

Winter reached the door and shoved Zara and Leo inside.

Then it came.

A mimic—half-man, half-thing, all hunger—slithered into the room behind them. Its form shimmered between human shape and insectoid limbs, face stitched with eyes that weren’t its own.

Winter slammed the stairwell door shut and braced it with his back.

"Keep climbing!" he barked. "GO!"

Zara didn’t argue. She pushed Leo up the metal stairs ahead of her.

The mimic slammed into the door, screeching.

Winter’s shoulder cracked, but he held.

One minute. Just one.

He could hear Zara’s labored breathing, Leo’s terrified sobs, the metallic clang of their feet on the stairs.

The thing outside howled.

The door buckled.

Winter threw all his weight into it and screamed, "MOVE!"

Zara reached the top landing and kicked open another door—this one leading into a long, grated walkway. She turned back. "WINTER!"

He let go.

The mimic crashed through the door just as Winter dived up the last few steps, shoulder bleeding.

The thing lunged.

Zara grabbed a broken pipe from the floor and swung it into its face with everything she had.

It shrieked.

Winter tackled it over the railing and sent both of them crashing into the depths below.

"NO!" Zara screamed.