Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 210

Chapter 210: 210

The reinforced military truck crashed through the fence like a battering ram from nowhere.

Bullets pinged off its armored hull as it skidded sideways in the dirt, cutting a swath between Winter’s group and the firing squad.

Dust and gravel clouded the air, temporarily blinding the guards.

"MOVE!" Mike’s voice boomed from the open passenger door, rifle already in hand, muzzle spitting fire.

Zara didn’t hesitate. She shoved Leo forward, her arms scooping him up as she ran. Behind her, the others scattered in desperate formation.

Ima, her hands slick with her own blood and trembling with weakness, was the first to stumble into the truck.

Miles’ eyes flicked wildly, caught between the two women: Naomi and her two kids already piled into the back of the truck, safe for now. Relief flickered in his chest like a fragile flame.

Marcus, sweat-slicked and breathing hard, stumbled through the open door, a grin breaking across his dirt-smudged face. "You’re alive. All of you."

But there was no time to celebrate.

Zara, clutching Leo tightly against her chest, was next in line. Her legs shook as she lifted herself toward the truck’s entry, muscles screaming in exhaustion. The bullet came out of nowhere, a deadly whisper slicing the space between them.

Without thinking, Richard lunged forward, shoving Zara and Leo inside with a fierce shove. Pain exploded through his abdomen as the bullet tore into flesh and muscle. He stumbled, eyes wide, but did not fall. Not yet.

"Richard!" Zara screamed, her voice cracking with raw terror as she pushed Leo gently towards the back of the truck before trying to reach for Richard.

Winter was already there, catching Richard under the arm as blood seeped through the fabric of his sleeve, warm and sticky against his skin. "Hold on, damn it," Winter hissed, hauling him inside.

Richard gritted his teeth and brought his rifle up, firing blindly at the shadows outside even as the world swam.

The truck jolted forward, tires biting into the dirt as Mike slammed the accelerator, careening them toward the line of soldiers who dodged out of the way.

*****

Inside the truck, chaos clung to every breath.

Zara knelt over Richard, her hands slick with his blood. The wound in his abdomen bled steadily, thick and dark. His skin had gone pale in minutes, and his breathing was shallow—too shallow.

"No, no—stay with me, Richard," she whispered, voice shaking. Her hands pressed down over the wound, but it was like trying to hold back a tide with broken fingers.

"First aid kit!" she yelled, desperate.

Sam, already clambering between crates and haphazard supplies in the back, found it and tossed it her way. The box cracked open as it hit the floor, bandages and syringes scattering across the floor of the truck.

Leo sat beside her, knees drawn up, clutching her coat. His eyes were wide—not crying, not making a sound. Just staring. At the blood. At Richard’s face.

Zara caught the look. "Hey," she said, trying for soft, trying for calm—but her voice trembled. "Leo, sweetheart, look at me."

He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

"It’s okay. We’re okay, alright? We’re just helping him. Just a little red, that’s all. Like paint."

Still, nothing.

Then Ima slid beside her, face pale, one arm bandaged tight from her own injury. She nudged Zara aside with a grunt. "You keep the kid. I’ve got him."

Zara hesitated, but then Leo clung to her and she gathered him up into her lap, holding him tightly. His little hands fisted in her shirt, the fabric dark with blood. She rocked him gently as Ima went to work.

The truck jolted, bouncing hard over rubble as Mike tore through half-ruined streets at full speed. Cracks split the pavement beneath them.

Entire walls of abandoned buildings leaned in ominously, windows shattered like jagged teeth. Crumpled cars and broken signage flew past in a blur of color and ruin.

Winter and Miles crouched near the back hatch, rifles in hand, using narrow slits in the plating to return fire. The armored vehicle in pursuit kept pace—sleek, deadly, and relentless. The bullets came fast now, pinging off the rear and sides.

"Two more tailing us!" Miles shouted. "Can’t shake them!"

Winter gritted his teeth, fired off two shots—one hit the hood of the nearest pursuing truck, but it didn’t slow. "We need to lose them!"

Zara ducked lower, shielding Leo with her body as gunfire thundered around them. The air was thick with exhaust, cordite, and panic.

Ahead—trouble.

A checkpoint loomed, unmanned but barricaded. Old rusted tanks sat like corpses across the road, razor wire strung like spiderwebs between them.

Mike’s eyes scanned the blockade—no time to go around. "Hold on!" he roared.

"What?!" Marcus yelped from the passenger seat.

Mike gritted his teeth. "We’re going through."

The engine howled.

The truck slammed into the barricade at full force.

Metal screamed. Wire caught the tires, tore at the undercarriage. Something exploded underneath with a bang, and the whole frame shook violently.

The front tires cleared the tangle, but the rear snagged hard, shredding rubber and spraying sparks.

The truck skidded, rear axle groaning like a dying beast.

But they were through.

Mike slammed the gas again, hard. The truck jolted forward like a kicked horse, swerving into the wider streets of Sector 2—inhabited, full of confused onlookers and wandering patrols.

Soldiers in mismatched gear dove out of the way as the battered vehicle tore past.

"What the hell—?"

"Are those fugitives?"

They weren’t shooting. They weren’t chasing.

Clearly, they had no orders from Adrian.

Zara could barely breathe. Her arms wrapped tighter around Leo as she felt his tiny heart hammer against her chest. Richard groaned behind her, and Ima swore under her breath as she packed the wound with gauze.

*****

In the pursuit vehicle, Adrian watched it all unfold through the windshield. Blood still dripped from his shoulder, staining the inside of his collar. He didn’t wipe it.

He was leaning forward slightly, one gloved hand gripping the frame between the seats. His eyes burned, but not with rage alone.

With obsession.

"How far?" he asked his driver coldly.

"Quarter mile. They’re struggling—hit wire, I think. Might lose their back tires."

Adrian’s lips twitched.

He was exhilarated. The thrill of the chase. The chaos. The desperation he saw in Zara’s eyes. Winter’s fury. The blood.

He could almost taste the moment he would have them all back under his thumb.

"I want them alive," he growled, voice low and tight. "Every last one. Don’t you dare kill a single one of them."

He wanted them broken.

But not dead.

Not yet.

*****

The truck tore through the broken remnants of the fence, tires screeching as they skidded onto the cracked asphalt of Sector 2. Civilian streets blurred past—rows of prefab homes, shuttered market stalls, and flickering neon signs half-lit by failing generators.

People scattered as the vehicle roared through the narrow lanes, some ducking behind carts, others just staring in stunned silence. Faces pressed to windows.

Mothers clutching children. Men holding tools, frozen in place. No one dared stop them. No one tried.

We’re not stopping," Mike grunted from behind the wheel, his jaw tight. "We don’t have time to warn them. They’ll figure it out soon enough."

The gates of Sector 2 were open, probably because some soldiers had been sent into the main base to continue clearing it out for use.

It seemed like they were finally getting that strole of luck they desperately needed.

It almost seemed too lucky for winter. Had someone expected they would pass at this moment? How? Who? Bale?

"Hold on to something!" Mike called, accelerating through the drive way and out the gates.

Winter’s arm was braced against the roof as the truck bounced. Richard groaned from the backseat, cradled between Ima and Naomi.

Blood was soaking through the makeshift bandage. His skin had gone a terrifying shade of gray. Zara sat beside him, fingers brushing Leo’s curls as she tried not to shake. They were almost out. Almost.

"Gate ahead!" Marcus called from the passenger seat, pointing through the dust-smeared windshield.

The truck shot past a final row of ramshackle buildings before emerging into the wider corridors of City H’s main base—the heart of the regime.

High concrete walls loomed around them, ringed with towers and blinking floodlights. Military trucks were parked in rows.

Drones hovered above like silent vultures. Soldiers turned at the sound of the engine.

"Shit," Miles cursed. "They know."

And then the final gate came into view.

It stood at the edge of the city, massive and foreboding—more fortress than door. On the other side lay nothing but wild terrain: crumbled roads, forests thick with rot, and the endless unknown. The wilderness.

But the gate was shut. Heavy, sealed, and guarded.

Even before the truck screeched to a halt, Adrian’s voice rang out through the comms—amplified through the sector’s loudspeakers.

"Seal the final gate. Do not let them through. Shoot if necessary."

The soldiers at the gate hesitated. Conflicted. Scared. But they raised their rifles.

Mike’s foot slammed the brake. "It’s not on the same grid—we need to bypass it!"

"I got it!" Marcus yelled, already flinging the passenger door open. He leapt out, toolkit in hand, and sprinted for the terminal at the gate’s base.

Zara didn’t know what compelled her to jump out immediately, Winter on her heels. They took up position on either side of the truck, firing at the guards with controlled precision.

Screams echoed as one went down. The others scattered for cover.

"The fuck are you doing?!" Winter yelled as they ducked for cover.

"I don’t know?!" Zara yelled back over the sound of bullets. "I just- fuck! I just moved."

"We are having a conversation about this once we get out of here." Winter promised, taking shots at some soldiers.

Zara’s heart couldn’t help the little flutter at the confidence in his voice as he said they’d get out of this hell hole.

Then she promptly dodged a bullet that would have been embedded in her forehead, snapping her back to their current reality.

"Come on, Marcus!" Zara shouted over the gunfire.

"I’m working on it!" he snapped, prying open the control panel. Sparks flew. He cursed under his breath as he bypassed each layer of outdated tech.

Behind them, Miles hurled a smoke grenade. A thick gray cloud erupted across the field, swallowing them in murky fog.

Ima crouched low in the back, tying off Richard’s bandage with trembling fingers. His eyes fluttered open. Barely. "Still...with you," he rasped.

"Stay awake," Naomi whispered, cradling his head. "Just stay awake a little longer."

Back at the gate, Marcus yanked two wires and jammed a power cell into the slot. A deep, mechanical groan filled the air. The gate began to creak open—slowly, agonizingly.

Zara looked back.

Her stomach dropped.

Adrian stepped out of the car. Foolish decision.

Blood streaked his arm. His coat was torn where Winter had clipped him earlier, but he didn’t seem to feel it. His eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite madness—but wasn’t far from it either.

"You’re not going anywhere, Zara," he said.

She didn’t hesitate. Neither did Winter.

Two shots rang out in perfect synchrony.

Adrian staggered. A bullet struck his thigh.

Another slammed into his shoulder. He crumpled to one knee, grimacing. And still, he smiled.

"You can’t outrun fate," he whispered.

"Try me," Zara said raising the gun again.

"Gate’s open!" Marcus shouted. "Go! Go now!"

Everyone scrambled back into the truck, breathless. Mike hit the gas the moment the last door slammed shut. The truck surged forward—metal screaming, tires clawing for traction—just as a hailstorm of bullets erupted behind them. Sparks danced across the truck’s rear. One tire blew. Mike swerved, controlled, keeping them straight.

They broke through the gate just as it began to close again.

Behind them, City H shrank rapidly—its walls receding into the dust and smoke. Red lights flared in the towers. Soldiers scrambled. The faint echo of orders and panic lingered in the air like a dying breath.

Then they were out.

The truck hit uneven ground, bouncing hard. Beyond lay trees tangled in vines, twisted wrecks of buildings long consumed by nature, and fields crawling with fog. No lights. No drones. No safety nets.

Only freedom.

And danger.

Inside the truck, no one spoke.

Only Richard’s breathing could be heard—wet, fragile, shallow.

Ima’s hands were soaked in his blood. Naomi was shielding the children, arms wrapped tight around them. Leo reached across the space between them, his small hand finding Richard’s.

The older man gave a weak squeeze. His lips barely moved. But his eyes locked on Leo’s—and didn’t look away.

Zara stared out the window. Past the broken skyline. Past the walls that had brought them nothing but trauma and scars.

The sky stretched above them—clear and vast and terrifying. No spotlights. No sirens. Just stars.

She reached for Winter’s hand.

He took it, and held tight.

"We made it," he said, voice rough.

Mike checked the rearview mirror. His knuckles were still white.

"We’re not safe yet."

Winter nodded once, gaze forward.

"I know."

They were out of the cage—but the wilds had teeth too.