Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son
Chapter 214

Chapter 214: 214

how’s this?

"Maybe we don’t even need the truck," rasped the bald one. "Just tie the bitches to the hood and drive slow."

Winter moved first.

One clean pull of the trigger.

CRACK.

The man with the filthy tongue—the one who’d commented on Zara—jerked backward as the top half of his skull exploded in a fountain of pink mist and bone shards. His body crumpled before the others registered the shot.

Then it was chaos.

Sam dove left, firing as he rolled. Two rounds caught the woman with the teeth—one in the chest, one in the neck. She dropped mid-scream, gurgling.

Miles didn’t wait. He lunged at the nearest scavenger, using the butt of his shotgun like a club. It cracked against the man’s jaw, teeth flying.

The scavenger swung wildly with a chain, slicing Miles across the temple. Blood sprayed, but Miles didn’t stop. He tackled him into the mud, roaring, fists pounding.

His wife and kids were in that truck. None of these fuckers were getting anywhere near it.

One rushed the truck, brandishing a crowbar. Zara didn’t hesitate—she fired through the open side panel, hitting the man in the gut. He crumpled.

Naomi screamed, shielding the children.

Leo flinched beside Zara and she looked down, glad he couldn’t see the carnage outside but outraged that he’d learnt to fear the noise.

Winter moved calmly through the chaos. Another round—CRACK—and a second raider fell, a hole between his eyes. He turned just as another scavenger lunged from the side, swinging a broken bat studded with rusted nails.

The bat landed with a sickening whump.

Pain flared bright and sharp, stealing his breath. He staggered, boots slipping in the churned mud, but he didn’t fall.

He drove his rifle butt into the attacker’s jaw with a crunch, blood spraying the nearby tree.

The man reeled. Winter twisted, slammed an elbow into his ribs, then buried a boot knife in his thigh. The scavenger screamed.

Winter ended it with a point-blank shot to the throat.

No time to hurt. Just keep moving.

Sam and another scavenger fought over a machete, the blade slicing deep into Sam’s arm. He ignored it, grabbed the man’s wrist, and slammed it down on the side mirror until bone cracked.

The machete fell.

Sam picked it up and embedded it into the raider’s collarbone with a grunt, pinning him to the metal panel like a grotesque ornament.

Another scavenger tried to run. Winter didn’t allow it.

CRACK.

His leg snapped inward mid-stride. He hit the ground screaming. "I give up! I—!"

Winter walked over, cold and calm.

"You were going to rape a woman and murder a child for a vehicle."

The man whimpered. "I didn’t mean—!"

Winter didn’t wait for the rest. The butt of his rifle came down, once, twice. The third blow cracked open his temple. The man stopped moving.

Miles stood now, covered in blood, chest heaving. The man he’d tackled wasn’t moving anymore, his face caved in from a rock Miles had used to finish the job.

Silence again.

But this time, it was darker.

Heavier.

Sam leaned on the hood of the truck, wincing and pressing a rag to his arm. "Jesus."

"They weren’t scavengers," Miles muttered, voice shaking. "They were monsters."

Winter scanned the bodies, checking each one with quiet, efficient loathing. "This world’s letting men like that crawl out of the dirt. Feed on what’s left."

"They’ve done this before," Sam said, pointing to the tattoos on one man’s neck—brands, scorched letters. "Seen them. Down past City B. They ran a trap line. Lured travelers. Kept some alive for fun. They must have recognized the truck."

Winter’s voice was low. "They won’t do it again."

The bodies lay twisted in the mist, blood soaking into wet leaves.

Winter wiped his mouth, staggering slightly.

Miles leaned against the truck, panting, blood dripping from his arm.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

Zara stormed out from the truck, hands already reaching for him. Naomi right behind her. "You absolute idiot," she snapped, eyes scanning the blood on his shirt, the smudges on his face. "What were you thinking taking a bat to the ribs like that? You’re not invincible, Winter!"

Winter winced, whether because of his ribs or being scolded, one would never know.

"Hello to you too," he muttered with a crooked grin, but he swayed.

Zara caught him before he slid down the side of the truck. She looped an arm around his waist. "Come on. Inside."

He didn’t argue. She helped him limp toward the open side panel of the truck.

Naomi was already helping Miles into the vehicle, her hands urgent, guiding him past the crates and kids. He stumbled, and she caught his elbow. "Sit. Now."

"You’re bleeding too much to act like this was no big deal," she said, voice sharp with worry. "What if it got infected? What if it clipped an artery?"

Miles winced as she pressed too hard. "I’m fine, Naomi. Just a graze."

She shot him a look. "Don’t start with me."

Sam circled around from the front of the truck, finally clambering into the passenger side with a grunt. He leaned back against the door, pressing the rag harder to his wound. "Man, it’s real sweet seeing all you guys getting patched up by your personal medics. Makes me feel downright neglected."

"Shame," winter mumbled with a smirk.

"Ima," Sam called with mock betrayal, pressing a cloth to the cut on his arm. "Even you won’t fuss over me?"

Ima chuckled as she opened the med kit. "You didn’t take a bat to the chest or catch shrapnel to the face. You get a bandage and a smile. That’s the best I can do."

"Story of my life," Sam muttered.

Mike snorted and clapped him on the back. "You want me to kiss your scraped knee too?"

"No, thanks," Sam said dryly. "Your breath smells like wet tarp and trauma."

Ima moved past them with a soft laugh, approaching Winter with gauze and a damp cloth. He was already easing himself into the truck, jaw clenched against the pain.

"I’ll take care of you," she said, gentle but firm. "Hold still."

"Thanks," Winter muttered, tugging off his ruined shirt with a wince. His ribs were a mess of bruising already, the purple-black swelling creeping along his side. Ima cleaned the blood with practiced hands, then began to wrap him up.

Zara sat nearby, arms crossed, lips tight.

"You’re lucky that bat didn’t crack anything," she said, voice sharp with worry.

Winter gave her a crooked smile. "Didn’t have time to duck. Glad you were there."

She looked away quickly, though a flush crept up her ears. "Shut up."

Before he could say more, a small blur launched toward him—Leo.

The boy scrambled into his lap, patting Winter’s chest with tiny hands. His face was scrunched in concern. "Are you hurt?" he asked, whisper-soft.

Winter froze. His blood-smeared hands hovered in the air, unsure where to land. "I’m okay, little man," he said, voice catching in his throat.

Zara was at his side in an instant. "Leo," she said gently, kneeling. "You can’t sit on him right now, sweetie."

"Why not?" Leo blinked up at her, lip trembling.

"Because he has blood on him, and we don’t want you getting sick, okay?" She carefully scooped the boy into her arms. "He needs to clean up before you give him snuggles."

Leo nodded solemnly, but not before leaning down to plant a kiss on Winter’s forehead. "You be okay."

Winter stared at the floor of the truck for a moment, jaw clenched. Then he leaned back with a hiss as Ima finished tying off the wrap.

Not far off, Sam and Winter met eyes.

"We don’t bury them," Winter said hoarsely, nodding toward the scavengers strewn about the path, some still twitching faintly. "But get them away from the truck."

Sam’s mouth pressed into a grim line. "Yeah."

With a wince, he pushed himself back out of the truck. Mike joined him, and together they dragged the corpses—some still twitching—off the path and into the trees.

Then Mike went back to check the tires.

"Can we fix the tires?" Naomi asked, hands on her hips, voice tight from lingering adrenaline.

"Patch job," Mike said from where he knelt beside the ruined wheel. "It’ll hold for twenty, maybe thirty klicks if we go slow. But after that, we’re dead in the water."

"We’ll have to risk it," Sam muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Better dead in motion than sitting ducks."

Naomi moved to the rear, where the supply crates had been shoved around during the ambush. She checked them one by one—water, food packs, ammo. It should tide them over.

The group was quiet again.

The kind of quiet that came after surviving.

After realizing survival just meant waiting for the next horror.

Zara sat beside Leo. He crawled into her lap, trembling.

"I was brave," he whispered.

"You were," she whispered back.

Winter sat across from them, pressing a hand against his bandages ribs.

They needed to have a talk.

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