Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son-Chapter 220

Zara was caged between Winter’s arms, her back brushing the cool metal shelving as he leaned in, his body warm and close. His hand was splayed beside her head, fingers resting against the edge of a dark container.

His eyes held hers with such quiet intensity it stole the air from her lungs.

Then, he leaned in.

Their mouths met without preamble.

His lips were warm, parted just enough to breathe her in. He kissed her like he’d done it a thousand times and would still never get enough. Firm, slow, open-mouthed—not aggressive. Zara sighed against him, her lips moving with his in rhythm, responding with a hunger that was familiar but never dull. Her hands came up between them, pressing against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Winter’s other hand dropped to her waist, his thumb sliding just beneath the hem of her jacket to find a sliver of skin.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Their noses brushed. His teeth grazed her bottom lip before he caught it, sucked it in gently, then released it with a soft pop. Zara’s breath caught in her throat.

Zara’s fingers twitched at her sides, almost rising to card through his hair—

Crash.

The sound tore through the moment—metal clattering, something tumbling from a top shelf.

Zara startled; Winter jerked back slightly, their foreheads nearly knocking. She sucked in a breath, heat flashing over her cheeks.

"Ima," Winter muttered with a dry sort of fondness, tilting his head toward the aisle beyond the shelves.

Zara jerked back slightly, her lips still tingling. She looked past Winter’s shoulder to see Ima ducking sheepishly from behind a stack of crates, her eyes wide with guilt.

"Sorry!" Ima squeaked, disappearing again.

Zara cleared her throat and ducked under Winter’s arm. "We should check on the others."

Without waiting for a reply, she stepped sideways, slipping out of the half-embrace, brushing invisible dust from her pants like it mattered. Her steps were brisk, but her shoulders were tense.

Winter didn’t follow immediately.

He lingered for a moment, one thumb dragging across his bottom lip where her kiss still burned faint and familiar. The corner of his mouth curved warmly.

There was a glint in his eyes that hadn’t dimmed—amused, tender, a little self-satisfied. A chuckle escaped him, soft as breath.

Then he pushed off the shelf and followed her.

Zara was already in motion—busy with the clutter around her, stacking boxes, shifting supplies, labelling shelves with strips of duct tape and a scavenged black marker she probably picked from one of the boxes in the corner.

She didn’t look at him when he joined her, but she didn’t stop him from helping either.

Winter crouched beside her, grabbing a battered cardboard box and peeking inside. Juice boxes. He lifted one and handed it to her wordlessly to be sorted.

Zara reached deeper into the lower shelf, fingers closing around the edge of a worn cardboard box. She pulled it free with a faint grunt, frowning at the faded cartoon illustrations on the side.

It was a cereal box.

Not just any cereal—"Space Flakes," the kind with glittery foil packaging and marshmallow rockets. She stared at it, her breath catching.

It was empty now, but still sealed with care, like someone had tucked it away deliberately.

She turned it over in her hands, slowly. Leo had begged for this once at a roadside gas station—the box had been bigger than his whole torso, and the cartoon astronaut on the front had made him giggle uncontrollably.

"He carried this damn thing all the way back to the van," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Insisted it was going to be his ’space rations’ for when we got to the moon."

Winter looked over. "The moon?"

Zara nodded faintly, eyes soft but far away. "We told him we were driving to the moon. It was the only way to explain why we had to keep moving every day. He used to wake up asking how many miles we had left. Sometimes he’d press his hand against the van window and say he could see craters in the sky."

She ran her thumb along a crease in the box, lips curving. "He never even liked the cereal. Just wanted the box. Said it would ’keep the aliens away.’"

Winter’s smile was small but genuine. "Did it work?"

"Only the friendly ones ever found us," she said, quieter now. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Silence stretched for a moment.

Then Zara glanced at him, the box still in her lap. Her voice lowered, steady but edged with something vulnerable.

"You really mean it?" she asked. "That he’s yours too?"

Winter looked at her, expression still. "I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t."

Zara’s throat bobbed. She nodded once and stood, tucking the juice box into a crate of "kid supplies." Something in her posture shifted.

Mike was crouched by the truck near the rear exit, one hand braced against the bumper. His other hand scraped a wrench across a loosened panel with mild frustration. He was muttering to himself.

"If I can just reroute this and patch the leak... might make it another fifty miles—if we even find gas—hell, maybe if I tape the line with gauze—"

"Mike," Zara called gently, and he turned, eyebrows arched, grease smudged along one temple.

"Hey. You two good?"

"Fine," she said. "We’re getting organized."

"About time," he muttered. "We’ve got a few tools. I’ll see what I can rig."

She walked past the truck, where Mike was crouched low, half under the chassis, muttering to himself. "If I can rig the housing... might get it to hold another twenty miles. Assuming the bolts haven’t rusted through—shit, where are those clamps...?"

Nearby, Naomi and Miles were digging through canned goods with more purpose now, creating piles: proteins, fruits, vegetables, mystery labels. Miles pulled out a can with no label at all and raised a brow. "Could be peaches. Could be cat food."

"Either way, we’re not wasting it," Naomi replied, taking it from him and setting it in the ’open later’ pile.

Zara and Winter returned to the centre of the room. Sam was sitting cross-legged with the kids—Lila asleep on one side, Leo still unconscious beside her, and Aren nearby with his arm splinted.

Richard dozed against the far wall, whispering something incoherent under his breath every so often.

Sam looked up.

"Everyone’s breathing. That’s the good news. But we’re going to need food and a plan before people wake up hungry and scared."

Zara crouched beside Leo, smoothing the child’s hair, fingers combing through soft curls. He was still unconscious, but color had returned to his cheeks. Her voice was steadier now. "Then let’s figure out what we have."

Naomi appeared around the shelf, arms loaded. "Miles found cookies. I found gauze, antibiotics, and a bunch of granola bars."

Zara nodded. "Good. We’re doing this in teams."

She pointed quickly, assigning roles.

"Mike, tools and vehicle. See if anything here can patch up that truck."

"Got it," Mike called, still mostly under the engine.

"Naomi, Miles—med supplies. Sort what’s expired and what we can use."

"Already on it," Naomi said, nudging Miles who was sneaking a cookie into his jacket pocket.

"Ima, Marcus—food and water. Start cataloging."

Marcus gave a half-salute. "Feels like prepping for a dinner party in hell."

"You’re only invited if you do the dishes," Ima shot back, already scribbling a food tally on a ripped scrap of cardboard.

"Winter and I will float and help where needed," Zara said.

With fresh purpose, the group scattered. They found markers and masking tape in a utility drawer and began labelling shelves—medical, food, kid stuff, spare clothing, tools. The space gradually shifted from chaotic clutter to a functional outpost.

Naomi caught him. "Seriously? Cookies in the pocket?"

"Research," he said, deadpan.

"You have a child. Set an example."

Zara stood back and watched it unfold. The chaos thinned. The energy shifted—panic bleeding out into something almost... normal.

This—this was what they’d needed. Not just food and plans. Connection. Purpose.

Sam stayed with the kids. Lila stirred, a soft moan escaping as her eyes blinked open. She sat up slowly, rubbing at her face.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lashes stuck together with sleep. She blinked once. Then again. The ceiling above her was an imitation of the sky. Not her room. Not anywhere she knew.

"...Mommy?" she whispered.

Sam heard it. He was crouched beside Aren, checking the sling he’d rigged to cradle the boy’s broken arm, when he glanced back and saw her sitting up slowly, blanket slipping from her shoulders.

Lila’s lower lip trembled. Her fingers curled into the worn fabric at her chest.

"Where’s Mommy?" she asked again, louder now. "Where’s Daddy?"

Sam stood slowly, keeping his voice soft. "Hey, kiddo. You’re safe. Your mom and dad are here. They’re just nearby, getting some things for everyone. They’ll be back in a minute, okay?"

Lila blinked up at him. "This isn’t my house."

"Nope," Sam said gently. "It’s not. We’re somewhere new for a little while."

She looked around, taking in the shadowy space, the shelves, the scattered gear. Then she turned, eyes landing on the baby curled up in a bundle beside her.

"Who’s that?" she asked, whispering again like it was a secret.

"That’s Leo," Sam said. "He’s taking a long nap."

Lila leaned closer, nose wrinkling a little. "He’s really tiny."

"Yup."

"Is he sick?"

"He got hurt, but we’re helping him," Sam replied, crouching beside her now so he wasn’t towering above. "He’s just resting while his body gets better."

Lila’s brow furrowed as she stared at Leo’s peaceful face. "He’s cute," she said. "Can I hold him?"

"Maybe later, sweetheart," Sam said, smiling a little. "He needs sleep more than anything right now. Just like you did."

Lila hugged her blanket tighter. "My tummy hurts."

"Probably hungry," Sam said. "Your mom’s bringing food. Would a snack help until then?"

She nodded, slow and unsure.

Sam fished into the side pack beside him and pulled out a sealed pouch of applesauce. He handed it over, along with a plastic spoon. Lila took it with both hands like it was treasure.

"Where’s Aren?" she asked suddenly, the thought just catching up with her.

"Right here." Sam turned and tilted his head toward the boy beside them, dozing with a pained crease in his brow. "He’s got a hurt arm, but we fixed it up a little."

Lila scooted closer until her leg was touching Aren’s. She peered at his face, then gently brushed her fingers across his uninjured sleeve. "He’s still sleepy."

"He’ll wake up soon," Sam said. "And when he does, he’ll be proud you were so brave."

Lila chewed on that for a moment. "I don’t know if I like this place. It smells like... strawberries."

Sam chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, that’s fair."

She shifted again, suddenly anxious. "What if Mommy and Daddy don’t come back?"

"They will," Sam said, no hesitation. "They’re not far. And they’d never leave you and Aren behind."

Lila looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to believe him. Then she nodded solemnly and opened the applesauce.

"Okay," she said. "But I want to be the first one to play with Leo when he wakes up."

"You’ve got it," Sam said, gently brushing a curl from her forehead. "You’ll be the official Leo Welcoming Committee."

Lila grinned—small, but real."

Richard, still slumped against the far wall, mumbled something—eyes closed, breath shallow.

"Close the gates," he whispered. "Before the light turns black..."

Sam pressed a hand gently to his shoulder. "It’s ok, big guy. We’re safe now."

A voice—Marcus, again—called from the far corner.

"Hey. There’s a door over here. It’s kind of... weird."

Zara and Winter approached. The others followed. A heavy metal door stood in the far wall, partly rusted, half-concealed behind shelving.

"It’s always been here," Zara said quietly. "Never opened, never moved."

Miles ran his fingers along the edge. "Looks sealed. No obvious lock."

"Maybe we break it down?" he suggested. Naomi slapped the back of his head.

"Don’t be an idiot. We don’t know what that would do to Leo. Or any of the kids. We have what we need. For now, we stay."

"Yeah, yeah," Miles muttered. "Just exploring possibilities."

Winter cleared his throat. "Let’s keep our energy on things we can control."

Zara stepped forward, glancing once more at the door.

Then she turned back to the group. "We stay close to the truck. At least until Leo wakes up."