Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 211

Chapter 211: 211

The truck rumbled over broken roads, its tires thudding over cracks like a pulse—alive, just barely.

The mist hadn’t thickened yet, but it drifted low and slow along the ground, curling like pale fingers reaching for something just out of sight. In the silence inside the truck, the faint growls from somewhere distant felt sharper, more personal, as if the mist remembered them.

Zara didn’t speak.

She stared out the cracked window, one arm protectively around Leo, who lay curled up and sleeping in her lap, his small fingers loosely gripping the fabric of her coat. Winter sat beside her, his hand wrapped around hers, the calloused edge of his thumb occasionally grazing her skin as if to remind her they were still here. Still alive.

Behind them, City H had vanished from sight—but not from memory. Its chaos still rang in her ears: the gunfire, the scream that cut through metal and bone, the sickly wet thud of bodies hitting wet pavement. And above it all, Adrian’s voice, that cruel edge to his laughter when he realized he had them cornered.

Not this time.

She squeezed Winter’s hand harder.

They passed a cluster of houses half-swallowed by vine and rot. Moss climbed the broken siding like veins through a corpse. Windows yawned open, jagged and empty.

Miles, from his seat across the aisle, muttered, "Used to be cleared out. Guess the mist took it back."

His voice was rough from smoke and exhaustion. No one replied. What was there to say?

The truck groaned as Mike guided it off the broken main road, veering onto a semi-sheltered overlook. A once-tall apartment block loomed ahead—shattered but standing, its upper floors still clinging to shape like old bones under loose skin.

Mike slowed to a crawl and then stopped, the engine wheezing like lungs finally allowed to rest.

"We’re stopping?" Naomi asked, already shifting to check on her daughter.

"Richard needs attention," Ima said, climbing carefully out of the back, her eyes scanning the thin mist that lingered just beyond. "And this thing needs time to cool down. So do we."

Zara didn’t move at first. Her gaze lingered on the road behind them.

Winter leaned in. "Zara."

She nodded. "I know."

The debate started immediately.

"Do we stay in the truck?" Sam asked, voice low. "Or go inside?"

"If we’re attacked in there, it’s stairs or nothing," Naomi pointed out. "And we’ve got kids. An injured man. That’s not an advantage—it’s a trap."

Zara’s heart thudded at the mention of stairs. She remembered the slick bite of broken glass under her feet, Leo’s cry as she clutched him tight and flung herself out of the first-story window. The impact. Her ankle twisting like a snapped wire. And Winter—stepping out of the shadow, blade drawn, blood already dripping from his sleeve, asking without asking if she needed help.

She turned slightly. "She’s right," she said. "We’d be cornered."

"But this place—" Miles motioned to the building. "It’s dry. Clear. No one’s here. We just need to avoid the mist."

Naomi glanced at the treeline. "This area was cleared by the military. Before they gave up."

"Did they ever not give up?" Sam muttered.

A pause. Then Winter said, "We’ll go first. Check it. Make sure it’s safe."

He and Miles climbed out together, rifles slung over their shoulders. They moved in silence, sweeping the area, their silhouettes vanishing briefly into the building’s shadow.

"Clear," Winter called from inside.

Everyone rushed out of the truck, ushering the children quickly toward the entrance.

Zara shifted Leo gently and slid out after them, following the others. Her boots crunched glass as she moved toward the entrance, the air thick with mildew and the scent of wet stone.

Nature had crept back in here. Ivy crawled up the concrete walls like veins on ancient skin. A rusted billboard still clung to the building’s side, half its paint peeled away. The words WE SURVIVE TOGETHER barely visible beneath grime and old blood.

The mist was still thin here, but that could change in seconds. No one lingered.

The interior was a time capsule. Furniture—some still upright—stood like ghosts in forgotten rooms. Mold crept up the wallpaper, and the air was stale, but breathable. Someone had once lived here. A family, probably. Toys scattered in a corner. A torn calendar from three years ago still hung on the wall, its days marked with shaky Xs that stopped in June.

They chose an apartment on the third floor. The stairs, miraculously, were intact. They moved quickly, carrying Richard between them on a torn blanket.

Inside, the apartment was dim but defensible. They shut the doors and covered the windows with old sheets and plastic wrap, layering clothing over vents and cracks.

They wrapped themselves in anything they could find. Scarves, gloves, coats. No one could afford exposure. Even one breath of tainted mist...

Zara spread an old quilt on the ground and eased Leo down onto it. He stirred briefly, then sighed, his face pressing into her thigh.

Winter crouched beside him, checking his pulse, his breathing. Then he looked up, eyes sharp.

"You were reckless," he said quietly. "Again."

Zara’s sigh was tired. "So were you."

His eyes narrowed slightly. She looked away.

"I didn’t think. I just... moved." Her fingers brushed through Leo’s hair. "I couldn’t let Adrian win. Not again."

Winter brushed a strand of hair from her face and cupped her cheek. His thumb was warm against her skin, steady, anchoring.

"You didn’t," he said.

His lips brushed her forehead—soft, lingering. When he moved to kiss her lips, she melted into it, the weight of weeks sloughing off her shoulders. But something held her back. Fear, maybe. Or the awareness of the others in the next room.

They parted. Winter shifted so she could lean into him, Leo tucked safe between them.

"He’s going to remember this," Zara murmured. "Even if he doesn’t understand it yet."

Winter’s arm wrapped around her. "He’ll remember you keeping him alive. That’s what matters."

She exhaled, resting her head on his shoulder. The quiet hummed between them.

"What now?" she asked. "We head west?"

Winter nodded slowly. "I heard rumors—an old refuge base besides city H. Northwest of the ridgeline. Hidden. Abandoned... maybe not."

"I honestly don’t want to stay with ither humans. Not after what we just faced."

Winter sighed. "I feel the same."

Zara looked up. "Do you think Adrian survived?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared out the dusty window.

"People like him always do," he said finally.

"Then what do we do?"

"We keep going," Winter said. "And we make sure he never gets close again."

A voice called from the next room. "Everyone—come in here."

They gathered. The apartment’s main room still held the bones of what once was a family’s living space. Richard lay on the couch, his face pale, sweat dampening his shirt.

Ima knelt beside him. "He’s stable—for now. But he’s slipping. He needs a clean med facility. Or better supplies. We’ve got neither."

Zara’s mind briefly flickered towards Leo’s space. There might be something in there that could help. But how would she explain having it without giving Leo’s space away?

Sam stepped forward. "There’s a checkpoint. Outpost 9. Medical—west of the city ruins."

"If it’s still standing," Naomi said flatly.

Miles looked at the map, frowning. "Main road’s fastest—but the mist’s heavier there. Could be suicide."

"The outer route adds two days," Sam replied. "And if Richard doesn’t make it..."

Zara crossed her arms. "We can’t rush into thick mist. Not with Leo. Or Naomi’s kid. Or Richard."

Naomi nodded. "We don’t even know what’s changed outside. We’ve been inside City H too long."

"And fuel?" Miles asked.

Naomi opened a supply bag. "Low. Maybe another hour of drive time—then we’ll need to siphon. Or ditch the truck."

Mike raised a hand. "Truck’s solar. As long as the panels hold, we’re good."

That drew a small breath of relief from the group. One less thing.

Mike stretched. "I’ll keep watch. Check the truck too. Someone wake me if they hear anything."

Zara pointed at him. "Don’t go alone. Call someone down."

He gave her a tired smile. "Yeah. Got it."

One by one, they found places to rest. Blankets were pulled over shoulders. Children tucked into makeshift nests. No one truly slept—but eyes closed, breaths slowed.

Naomi sang softly to her daughter—some lullaby from another world. Miles sat near the window, rifle across his knees, watching.

Zara leaned back into Winter. Leo’s small body warmed her side. Her eyes burned with the weight of memory and the cold edge of tomorrow.

They were still alive. Still whole—for now.

Eventually, Mike’s voice called softly, "Truck’s good to go."

They stirred. Gathered their things. Readied for another stretch into the unknown.

Outside, the mist had crept up the edge of the trees, drifting silently through the branches like breath.

They climbed back into the truck.

Winter took the wheel, jaw set, eyes unreadable.

Leo stirred. His eyes blinked open, heavy with sleep. "Where are we going?" he mumbled.

Zara leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Somewhere safe."

The truck rolled on.

Behind them, the apartment disappeared into mist. Ahead—ruin, hope, silence.

The mist curled along the treetops, slow and soundless, reaching like hands for the horizon.

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