Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son-Chapter 225

The truck rolled over a bump in the cracked road, and the whole frame groaned like it was too tired to go on.

Travelling for days in a cramped truck would do wonders for a person’s mind.

"I swear this thing is held together by duct tape and spite," Mike muttered from behind the wheel, squinting through the dust-covered windshield.

Zara didn’t look up from the map spread across her lap. "You say that like duct tape and spite haven’t gotten us this far."

"Don’t jinx it," Naomi warned from one of the bench seats in the back. She had one arm braced around her daughter, Lila, who was half-asleep, head bobbing.

The interior of the truck was dim, lit only by the dashboard’s dying glow and the occasional flicker from the mismatched solar panels wired to the ceiling.

Supplies were stacked neatly behind the seats and rattled faintly with every bump. Everything smelled like oil, sweat, and recycled air.

Winter sat in the passenger seat, rifle across his lap, gaze locked on the treeline slipping by. Trees leaned like drunken sentinels, bark stripped in places by wind or worse. Mist curled at their bases like smoke—too thick, too quiet.

They drove another mile in tense silence before Winter finally spoke.

"There."

Zara lifted her eyes.

Just ahead, nestled in a dip between two rocky ridges, was a cluster of buildings, half-collapsed cabins, a rusted water tower, and skeletal remains of what might have been a barn.

The place looked like it had died long before the world did.

"Looks like a hollow," Winter said. "Could be Ashwind. The old road sign was gone back there, but the shape matches."

"Abandoned?" Miles asked, leaning forward between the seats.

"Looks like it. No power. No movement," Winter murmured.

"Could be a good place to scavenge," Naomi offered from the back.

"Or rest," Ima added, adjusting as Aren curled beside her with a half-eaten protein bar in his hand.

"Or walk right into a trap," Sam grunted, his voice like gravel ground through smoke. "We all know how that song goes."

Zara stared at the hollow. Her gaze lingered on the cabins, charred roofs, vines curling up broken porches like claws. But there were no bodies. No signs of firefights. Just... decay.

"Still," she said, her voice quiet, "it’s cover. We all need to stretch, and Leo needs rest."

At the mention of her son, the truck hushed. Leo had been coughing all night, even with the filters running. He was slumped against Richard’s side, cheeks flushed, thumb tucked into his mouth like he was much younger than three.

Winter nodded once. "We’ll check it out."

They coasted to a stop just outside the settlement, the engine ticking softly as it cooled. Everyone began piling out slowly, stretching limbs cramped from too many miles and too few stops.

Leo stirred but didn’t wake as Zara gathered him up in her arms.

Miles slung his pack over his shoulder. "Alright. Same as before. We split."

He, Naomi and Sam headed toward the far end of the hollow.

Mike and Ima moved off in the opposite direction, wordless and in sync like they’d been doing this all their lives.

Zara and Winter stayed behind with Leo, while Aren and Lila stuck close, along with Richard and the mountain of gear that needed sorting before nightfall.

The moment the others were gone, the silence rushed in. Not peaceful. Not gentle. Just... empty.

Zara crouched beside one of the open crates, rummaging through their dwindling med supplies.

A bottle of antibiotics was nearly empty. Another had cracked at the neck. She let out a breath through her nose and shook her head.

Winter knelt beside her without saying a word. He tugged off one glove and reached into the crate, pulling out their last intact roll of gauze.

His hand brushed hers. Brief. Warm.

"You’re bleeding," he said.

Zara glanced down. A shallow scrape along her forearm. Probably from that busted door hinge earlier. She hadn’t noticed.

"It’s nothing," she muttered.

Winter didn’t respond. He just dug through his side pouch, pulled out a disinfectant swab, and took her wrist with careful fingers.

His touch was roughened, callused, yet gentle, as if he were holding something fragile. Zara watched him as he cleaned the scrape.

His brow furrowed in quiet concentration, lips pressed in a thin line.

"You always this gentle with everyone?" she asked, voice low.

Winter glanced up. His eyes, cool and storm-dark, caught hers. "Just you."

Her heart did a strange little stutter. She looked away, scoffing lightly—but she didn’t pull her hand back.

He finished the bandage and sat beside her on the cracked steps of what had once been a general store. She followed him, wiping a streak of grime off her brow.

"You alright?" he asked after a moment.

Zara nodded, gaze drifting to where Leo now slept curled against Richard’s chest. "Tired. But we’re alive. That counts."

Winter looked like he had something more to say, but instead, he just leaned in slightly and reached up, brushing soot from her collar with two fingers. They lingered, brushing the line of her jaw.

"Always end up with ash on you," he said softly.

"Goes with the apocalypse," she replied, just as softly.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It buzzed. Tense. Full of unsaid things that wrapped around them like smoke.

Then a small voice broke through.

"I saw someone."

Lila’s small voice cut across the clearing like a ripple in still water.

Winter and Zara both turned sharply, instinct kicking in before thought. Lila stood a few feet away, stiff-backed, arms wrapped tightly around her stuffed rabbit.

"You saw who, sweetheart?" Richard asked gently.

Lila pointed to the trees. "A man. Over there. He was watching us. Then he ducked."

Winter was already rising, eyes scanning the line of trees. Zara followed, one hand brushing Leo’s curls where he lay nestled in the blankets, just to ground herself.

"Where exactly, Lila?" Winter asked, calm but sharp-edged.

"By that broken fence. He was there," she insisted. "He had eyes."

"Could’ve been shadowplay," Zara said quietly, but her hand was already tightening on the hilt of her knife.

"No," Lila said. "He blinked."

Winter crossed toward the trees, rifle ready but lowered. He scanned the underbrush.

"See anything?" Zara called out, wondering if the others were close enough to hear her yell.

Winter popped out of the brush, shaking his head. "Nothing."

The forest gave them nothing in return but wind. No movement. No crunch of leaves. But the feeling settled in—they weren’t alone.

Mike returned just before dusk, boots caked in mud.

"Found prints," he said, tossing a dented can of peaches onto the tarp. "Human. Fresh. Maybe a day old. Big boot tread. Not ours."

Zara stiffened. "Someone is watching."

Mike paused. "Watching? What are you talking about?"

"She means someone was here earlier. Lila saw them," Richard said, pulling the tarp tighter over a crate. "Said there was a man by the trees. Winter checked it out. Nothing."

"Could’ve been a shadow," Zara said, "but then we found those prints."

Mike looked toward the treeline, his jaw tightening. "And now you’re telling me it lines up?"

Winter nodded. "Fresh enough to not be ours. Big tread. Military maybe. Definitely not old."

The rest of the group returned one by one, boots dragging, clothes dirtied from rummaging through rot and ruin. Sam had a gash over his eyebrow. Naomi looked pale and drawn, carrying a nearly empty satchel. Ima trailed behind.

"Nothing useful," Naomi muttered, dropping beside her daughter. "Except a half-rotted mattress and some rusted cans."

"Place was stripped long ago," Sam added. "Even the damn insulation’s been yanked out of the walls. Scavenger gold mine, apparently."

"Feels off," Ima whispered, glancing toward the tree line. "Too quiet."

"We think someone was watching us," Mike said. "Left boot tracks. Lila saw someone earlier, too."

That earned a few muttered curses. Sam let out a groan and sat down hard on a nearby crate. "Just great. So now we’ve got some creeper playing peekaboo in the woods?"

"Or a desperate survivor," Richard said.

"Or a scavenger waiting for us to drop our guard," Naomi countered.

"Or maybe it’s the kind of trouble that doesn’t wait for an invitation," Sam muttered. "And if they’ve got patience, they’ll wait until we’re asleep."

"Then they’ll be disappointed," Winter said calmly, checking his rifle again. "We take turns. We always do."

A long pause followed. The wind rustled weakly through the trees, tugging at broken shutters and dry leaves. No one spoke.

"We staying?" Mike finally asked.

"We need the rest," Zara answered before anyone else could.

"Especially the kids. We stay tonight. We rotate watch like usual. If anything shifts, we’re gone at first light."

"Unless we get jumped before that," Sam grunted, but didn’t argue.

Zara glanced at Winter, who gave her a slow, sure nod.

Decision made.

As darkness blanketed the hollow, they built a small fire—just enough to see, not enough to draw attention. Leo was tucked beside Zara, and Winter sat near, close enough that their knees brushed. He pulled a worn blanket over Leo and smoothed it down, fingers lingering at Zara’s wrist.

She didn’t pull away.

"You think it’s a survivor?" she asked quietly.

"Maybe," he replied. "Maybe something else. We might not be able to stay here long."

She turned her head. In the firelight, his face looked softer, haunted, but human.

"I’m not afraid," she said.

"Liar," he murmured, but the smile that curved his lips made the word tender.

He leaned in, breath brushing her cheek.

And then—

"Mommy?"

Leo’s sleepy voice cut through the moment as always. Zara sat up quickly, half-laughing. "Hey, baby. You thirsty?"

Winter exhaled, a low chuckle escaping him. "Your kid’s got timing."

Zara glanced at him, grinning despite herself. "You don’t know the half of it."

Leo wiggled between them and latched onto Winter’s coat like he belonged there. Zara’s chest ached.

She wanted to kiss him. Instead, they sat there together, quiet, wrapped in firelight and what-ifs.

Richard took the first watch, much to the others’ complaint.

"Come on," he groaned. "I’m feeling better. Plus, I won’t be alone."

After some back and forth, the rest of them tried to sleep.

The truck was parked just inside the hollow now, serving as both a barricade and a home.

Sometime past midnight, Zara jolted awake. Her skin prickled.

The fire was almost gone—just glowing coals now.

She turned slowly.

Winter was already awake, crouched with his rifle in hand. His eyes were fixed on the trees.

"What is it?" she whispered.

He raised a hand.

And there—there—just past the firelight.

A figure.

Human. Standing still.

Watching.

And then they vanished into the trees.