Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 212

Chapter 212: 212

The truck rumbled quietly beneath them, its ageing engine a tired hum in the dawn-tinged silence.

Mist clung to the edges of the world outside, its pale tendrils slinking across the ground like they were searching for an open window, a broken seal, a breath.

Inside the truck, there was no warmth. Just tension. Claustrophobic and thick like the air before a storm.

Sam drove with one hand on the wheel, eyes sharp despite the bags beneath them. Mike dozed beside him, head tilted toward the fogged window.

In the back, Richard’s breathing was growing shallower, his chest rising and falling in short, hitching spasms as Ima dabbed sweat from his brow with a ripped shirt sleeve. His lips were pale. His skin waxy.

Zara held Leo against her chest, his small arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. He was awake but quiet, his wide eyes locked on Richard with the raw, heavy curiosity only children carried—the kind that didn’t yet know how to look away from pain.

"Mommy," he whispered, "he hurting."

Zara brushed her fingers through his curls. "I know, sweetheart."

Richard suddenly coughed—a sound that tore through the truck like gunfire. Everyone flinched. Blood sprayed across the cloth Ima had pressed to his mouth, dark and wet. The coppery tang hit the air immediately. Leo buried his face in Zara’s coat.

The wound smelled wrong.

Not just infected. Rotting.

Ima swore under her breath. "Fever’s worse. He’s burning up." She pressed her palm against his clammy cheek. "We’re losing time. Fast."

Everyone shifted closer, but none dared speak first.

"Can we treat it?" Naomi asked. Her daughter clung to her, eyes darting toward the red-stained cloth.

"Not like this," Ima replied tightly. "He needs proper antibiotics. IVs. Surgical cleaning. If we don’t get him real meds, he won’t last 48 hours."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full—of what-ifs, of doubts, of the kind of quiet that came right before someone made a terrible choice.

Would they?

"There’s Outpost 9," Sam said finally, his voice gravelly. "If it’s still standing."

"It won’t be empty," Naomi said. "If Adrian made it out of City H, that’s where he’d post lookouts."

"There’s the northwest route," Winter offered again. He sat by the back door, rifle still strapped across his chest, his eyes scanning the edge of the ruined cityscape through the cracked panel. "That old refuge base—past the forest line. It’s a long shot, but it’s not a death trap."

Miles stirred, half-woken. "We’ve been through this. Mist’s heavier that way. And we’ve got kids. You really wanna drive blind through fog with monsters crawling in it?"

Zara wasn’t listening anymore. Not to the arguing. Not to the fear curling off the group like smoke. Her mind was spinning somewhere else.

Leo’s space.

There were clean tools in there. Sealed antibiotics. Burn kits. Syringes. Things no one else had seen in years.

They could save Richard. Now.

But...

Her hand tightened around Leo without realising.

If they knew about it—about him—would they protect him? Or would they start seeing Leo as something to use?

They all knew Leo had an ability. They knew it had to be one of the good stuff if Adrian was as interested as he’d been. But only she and Winter knew the truth. Of what it was specifically.

She closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw the tiny room inside his space. The things she’d taken from City B’s cache would definitely be able to help in some way.

"Zara."

Winter’s voice, low and close. She turned.

"Come here," he murmured, pulling her to the corner near the back.

Leo reached for winter silently, nestling against his arms as he was carried.

"You’re thinking about the space, aren’t you?" Winter asked.

Zara didn’t answer immediately.

"We could save him," she said at last. "Right now. Just open it, take the kit, seal it again. But if they see..."

Winter looked at her, eyes calm but serious. "You don’t have to explain the whole truth. Just say you had it hidden. Say you were saving it for Leo."

She swallowed. "We don’t know what they’ll do if they find out. Some of them have kids. If they think he’s useful—"

"They won’t." He took her hand. "I trust them. With my life. And with yours. They’ve fought for us. Bled for us. If we give them a reason to believe in us, they’ll follow."

Zara looked at Leo. His small face was pressed over Winter’s shoulder now, still peeking toward Richard.

She exhaled slowly. "Okay."

Back in the middle of the truck, the mood had gone from tense to suffocating. Richard was slipping in and out of consciousness now, sweat soaking his collar, a low moan leaving his cracked lips.

Naomi’s voice broke through the silence. "Zara. Is there anything else? Anything you have?"

Zara hesitated.

Then she reached down, pulled aside a loose pack near her feet—a decoy—and fished into its base.

"Leo baby," She whispered, waiting for him to turn to her. "Can you search for something in your happy place for me?"

Leo sat up slightly, looking at her with curiosity.

She cradled his cheek gently. "Do you remember the shiny box, the one that’s silver and a little heavy? It has a red cross on the top, like the ones we drew together. That’s a med-kit, sweetheart. It has medicine. We need it to help Uncle Richard."

Leo’s brows furrowed like she’d asked him to solve a puzzle. "It’s... a box? Like a lunch box?"

"Kind of, baby," she said softly, brushing his curls back. "But it’s more serious. It helps people feel better when they’re really, really sick."

He blinked up at her. "Like Uncle Richard?"

"Yes, like him," she told him, her voice catching. "Can you check for it in your happy place? I think it’s hiding."

Leo bit his lip, clearly concentrating. He mumbled, "Okay..."

Then, something in him shifted. His eyes became distant, like he was looking through layers of the world no one else could see. His small hands rose in front of him, and for a moment, they disappeared.

Zara felt her chest tighten as she shifted a bit to block him from view.

Winter stepped closer, saying nothing.

Leo frowned. "It’s really high up. Like, way up on the sky shelf. It almost fell on my hand."

His voice was soft, a little annoyed—like he was describing a stubborn toy. Then with a grunt, he pulled, and his hands snapped back into view—gripping a silver box half the size of his torso.

He handed it to Zara with a little triumphant puff of breath. "It bonked a bit."

Zara and Winter exchanged a look. The side of the kit was visibly dented, like it had smacked something hard—maybe a wall or an invisible shelf. But there were no shelves in leo’s space as far as they knew.

"How did it—" Winter began, but Zara shook her head. Not now.

"Thank you, baby," she said, voice tender with awe and fear both. She kissed his forehead, holding the box against her chest.

Then she turned to the others.

She held it up, voice steady. "I saved this. Just in case."

Ima took it without question, already tearing the seal.

But Miles wasn’t looking at Richard. He was looking at Zara. At the space where no such bag had existed ten minutes ago.

Still, he said nothing.

*****

Richard’s fever had broken slightly. His breathing was shallow but steady. They’d administered a clean IV, dressed the wound, and given him pain meds. He was stable. For now.

Everyone gathered for a vote.

"We go to Outpost 9," Sam said. "If it’s occupied, we scout. Avoid direct contact."

Naomi nodded. "It’s our best shot at a clean med ward."

Miles leaned forward. "Agreed. The forest’s suicide."

"I say no," Winter said calmly. "Too predictable. If Adrian’s watching, that’s where he’ll wait. The forest’s dangerous—but it’s empty."

Zara didn’t answer at first. All eyes turned to her.

She felt the weight of Leo against her side, asleep now.

"If the kit holds," she said slowly, "Richard will make it. We head west. I’m not risking Leo. Not for a base that’s probably a trap."

Silence.

Then Mike nodded. "West it is."

That night

Zara stepped out onto the truck bed, needing air. Mist curled low over the fields below, like it was waiting for something.

"Miles is watching," Winter murmured behind her.

She stiffened. "He asked you?"

Winter nodded. "Didn’t push. But he knows."

Right on cue, Miles appeared from the shadows near the wheel well. His face was unreadable in the half-light.

"Zara," he said. "Where did those supplies come from?"

She stared at him, arms folded.

"I’m not accusing you," he added. "But... if you’re hiding something, I need to know it won’t hurt my family."

She met his gaze, cold. "It won’t."

Miles didn’t flinch. "I want to believe you."

"Then trust Winter," she said. "He knows. He trusts me. That should be enough."

A pause. Then Miles nodded, reluctantly. "Okay."

He turned away, fading back into the mist.

Winter stepped closer. "What was that about?"

"Nothing important," she said, but her voice cracked.

Winter just wrapped his arms around her.

They stood like that, quietly watching the sky fade from bruised violet to gray.

Morning was coming.

And with it, more decisions.