Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son-Chapter 232

The truck creaked as the world turned gray again.

Zara stirred first, her spine a long line of discomfort. Her neck ached fiercely from sleeping upright, and Leo’s weight—warm, limp, and trustingly heavy—was a quiet ache on her chest.

She shifted carefully, not wanting to wake him, but he grumbled in protest anyway, tiny hands clutching at her coat even in sleep.

Outside, dawn broke slow and sullen. The horizon was a bruise of pale orange under thick clouds. A faint ring of mist loomed in the distance, low and motionless like it was waiting to be told what to do.

Winter cracked open the door with a groan. "Still got visibility," he muttered. His voice was thick with sleep, but his eyes were already alert.

Mike groaned from the back bench, shifting stiffly and wincing as he flexed his bruised hand. "Feels like I punched a tank."

"You did. It just had rubber and bolts on it," Richard grumbled, stretching his legs outside the truck with a hiss.

Naomi had Marcus’s arm unwrapped already. She hovered over him, fingers careful, lips thin. "Still no fever," she muttered. "But the skin’s redder than yesterday."

Zara leaned forward, careful not to jostle Leo too much. "Is it spreading?"

"I don’t think so," Naomi said—but her voice faltered. "Yet."

Ima shifted closer as Marcus stirred, his face tight with discomfort. "Feels like fire ants in there," he said, voice hoarse.

"I’ll get more antibiotics," Zara said, reaching for the kit behind her seat.

"Use them sparingly," Naomi added. "We’re running low."

"We can get more from Leo’s space," Ima chimed from her spot in front of Marcus.

"It’s storage, not multiplication. If we use all of it, we’ll have nothing."

The silence stretched a beat too long.

"I understand the difference," Ima said coolly, but her hands clenched on her knees. "I’m not careless."

Naomi’s eyes lifted, sharp. "I didn’t say you were."

"Didn’t have to."

The temperature in the cab dipped. Tension curled between the two women like wire pulled too tight.

"Hey." Zara’s voice cut through it, firm but not unkind. "We’re all tired. We’re all scared. Save the fights for after breakfast."

Naomi looked away, jaw tense. Ima went back to her patient, lips a hard line.

Winter looked out over the horizon, then back at the truck, completely oblivious to the tension. "Fog’s stalled. Wind might keep it that way, if we’re lucky."

"Which we’re not," Mike said. He rubbed his eyes. "So we move now?"

"Yeah," Richard said, pulling a half-crumpled map from his coat. "According to this and what the folks at City H hinted, there’s an old hydro facility about seventy miles southeast—just past the collapsed ridge."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "That’s a long way out for a rumour."

"It’s not the metro anymore," Richard replied. "We rerouted. The metro was a trap—collapsed on both ends, according to those scavengers we passed two days ago. The hydro station was sealed before the Event. If the walls held, it might be one of the last airtight structures left."

"A big if," Winter said.

Naomi tapped her fingers against her knee. "What about the filters in our masks? If the mist’s reached that far, they’ll clog fast."

"We’ve got backups," Richard replied.

"Three," she said. "Two of which are half-used."

Zara glanced at the back of the truck. "There’s that old filtration unit we picked up near Sector Three. Think it’ll still run?"

"It’ll run," Winter said from the passenger door. "For how long is another question."

Naomi sighed, rubbing her brow. "Then let’s hope this place has more than a roof. If it’s got sealed rooms, running power, even partial systems—it could be enough."

"But better odds than this." Richard nodded toward the still-distant mist. "And it’s too exposed here. We’re visible from every angle."

Zara looked down at Leo, still dozing fitfully. She pressed a hand to his back, feeling the slow rise and fall.

Seventy miles.

That wasn’t a casual drive anymore. That was a gamble, a fuel risk, and hours of praying the roads ahead weren’t torn to pieces.

"Let’s pack and go," she said finally. "Before the mist makes the decision for us."

Winter nodded. "I’ll check the tires."

Naomi gave Marcus’s bandage one final, gentle tuck. "You good to be jostled for a few hours?"

Marcus smirked, though his eyes were dim. "I’ve had worse rides. Let’s hope this one doesn’t end in fire."

Mike groaned. "That’s it. No more optimism before breakfast."

They began to move—quiet, practiced, tired. The mist waited on the horizon, coiled like something watching prey.

But the truck still ran.

*****

The truck rumbled down what used to be a highway—its tires groaning every time they hit a divot or a half-buried tree root. The world outside rolled by in shades of brown and grey. Scorched tree trunks stood like gravestones.

The road was barely visible, lost beneath weeds and cracked concrete. Clouds hung low, as if pressing down on the land itself.

One could see parts of the orb peaking out.

Zara sat in the back seat, her leg braced against the chair infront of her. Leo leaned against her side, his small body tucked under her arm, one chubby hand clutching the pencil she’d handed him earlier. Her notepad rested on his lap. He was deep in concentration.

She glanced down.

He was drawing a dog. Or at least, something that looked like it might be a dog if you squinted hard and tilted your head.

Its legs were mismatched, and the tail curled like a cinnamon roll, but there was something absurdly charming about it. She felt a twitch of a smile despite the headache blooming behind her eyes.

"You giving that pup a name?" she murmured.

Leo didn’t look up. "His name is Muffin. He’s a protector dog."

Zara’s smile widened—tired, but real. "Muffin, huh? Sounds fierce."

"He has laser eyes," Leo added matter-of-factly.

"Of course he does," she whispered, brushing his hair back.

Lila, buckled in beside Naomi near the front, leaned forward in her seat again, third time in five minutes. "Are we gonna see other people where we’re going?"

Naomi didn’t look up from the battered map in her lap. "Maybe."

"We might," Zara added. "We’re heading toward a place where people used to live. Maybe someone stayed."

"Will there be food?"

"Probably," Naomi said, calm and distracted. "We’ve still got some left either way. Enough to share."

Lila nodded, satisfied for now, though her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag.

She went silent for a moment and kicked her feet. "What if they don’t like us? What if they’re mean? Like that scary lady that tried to take big brother?"

Naomi glanced at her then, eyes soft but tired. "Then we don’t stay long."

Aren hadn’t said a word in over half an hour.

He sat behind Winter, one arm on the windowsill, chin resting on his hand.

His gaze tracked the landscape—burnt hills, skeletal power lines, a field where something had once burned bright and hot.

"It looks worse than before," he said finally, voice flat.

Naomi twisted in her seat, watching him. She didn’t say anything at first—just reached across the gap between them and gently rubbed his shoulder.

"Yeah," she murmured. "It does."

Naomi only nodded in response, but her grip on the map tightened.

Winter’s voice broke the silence next, even and focused. "Road’s disappearing up ahead. Trees’ve swallowed most of it."

Zara leaned forward to glance out the windshield. He wasn’t exaggerating. Thick trunks jutted from the cracked asphalt like splinters of a broken bone. Branches loomed over them, clawing at the edges of the path.

"Can we get through?" she asked.

"Probably." Winter adjusted his grip on the wheel. "Might need to clear a few low branches. It’s not impassable yet."

Mike grunted from the rear, stretching his legs. "Impassable. Great word. Just makes me real confident we’re gonna live long enough to be disappointed."

"Don’t tempt fate," Zara muttered.

The road ahead was no road at all anymore—just memories of pavement swallowed by moss and roots. The steering wheel trembled with each turn.

He pointed. "We’ll have to go around that downed bridge ahead. Detour adds another hour."

Mike groaned from the rear of the truck bed, where he was wedged between gear bags. "At this rate, we’ll reach that station in time for next year’s apocalypse."

Winter didn’t respond. His jaw was tight, eyes scanning every shadow.

Zara felt he needed to rest too, once they found a good enough spot, she’d force him to lie down. No look out, no planning. No one was of use if they shut down suddenly.

A tree creaked in the wind. A crow screamed from somewhere deep in the forest.

Leo reached up and held the edge of Zara’s sleeve. "Muffin’s not scared," he whispered.

Zara nodded, fingers tightening around his. "Good. Then we’re not either."

The truck hit a particularly bad dip. Everyone jolted with it. Leo grabbed her arm, clutching his notepad to his chest. Zara pulled him close, anchoring them both.

It’s just road. Just trees. Just the world we’re used to now, she told herself. But the ache in her chest wouldn’t go away.

They weren’t being chased. They weren’t under attack. But the dread was still there, soft and slow, like the mist waiting to seep in.