CHAPTER 218: 218

The truck slammed sideways with a metallic scream, tires skidding, frame crunching as something massive rammed into them from the mist. The world jolted, turned, then dropped.

Zara didn’t think. She curled protectively around the small boy in her lap as everything tipped.

"Hold on!" Miles yelled from the front.

The truck slammed to a stop, shuddering. A moment of silence followed—just long enough for breath to return—and then came the sound of a child crying.

"Aren!" Naomi unbuckled herself, scrambling back. "Lila? Talk to me!"

"I’m okay!" Lila’s voice cracked from the far bench, clutching the seat hard.

But Aren sat crumpled in the corner, clutching his arm, sobbing.

Zara twisted around and saw Aren slumped beside his sister, cradling his arm—twisted at a sickening angle.

Naomi slid across the floor to him, heart in her throat. "No, no, no—baby, it’s okay—Mommy’s here. Just breathe, okay? I’ve got you."

From the other side of the truck, she heard Sam calling. "Ima—Miles—help—he’s under—!"

"I got him," Miles grunted, hauling himself toward the crushed bench where Richard’s legs were pinned. "He’s breathing—he’s still out but he’s breathing!"

Outside, the creature growled louder, closer now.

Low and monstrous, the sound rattled through the shattered glass like it had teeth.

"Jesus Christ," Miles muttered from the front, white-knuckling the shotgun in his lap.

The mist swelled in response, pressing harder against the truck like it wanted in—like it knew.

"Don’t look at it!" Naomi barked, cradling her son’s head against her shoulder. "Aren, baby, breathe, just breathe—don’t look, okay? I’ve got you—Sam! His arm’s not right!"

Sam was crawling toward her, one hand braced on the bench, eyes wide. "I see it—keep him still, I need to—"

Then Zara heard it.

A sound that wasn’t sound. A pressure. Deep and resonant, vibrating the very air inside the cab. The storm outside was being swallowed, devoured by something even more vast. The mist at the windows thickened—opaque, suffocating—like concrete trying to breathe.

"What is that?" Mike shouted from the driver’s seat, still twisting the key in the ignition. "I can’t get it to—come on!"

Did you feel that?" Ima hissed, pressed against the rear wall, eyes darting. "Something’s wrong. This isn’t just pressure, this is—this is pulling us in."

"What the hell is this?" Miles muttered, knife still in his hand from earlier. He turned toward Winter, who was crouched beside him near the middle row. "Do we engage if it breaks through? We need a plan—"

"We don’t have time!" Winter snapped, eyes narrowing as the air shimmered. "If it’s breaching, we won’t last two seconds out there—"

Then Leo whimpered.

"Go ’way..."

His tiny hands flew to his ears, fingers digging in, nails scraping. "No," he sobbed. "No no no—go away!"

Zara held him tighter, brushing his damp hair back. Her own hands were trembling now. "Leo, baby, it’s okay," she whispered. "You’re safe—I’ve got you. You’re safe."

But the truck was groaning, metal straining like it was caught in a slow-motion implosion.

The air inside twisted sideways—like someone had grabbed the world and wrung it out. Colors bled from their edges. The floor seemed to float.

And the walls seemingly began to bend.

Not crack.

Bend.

Like reality itself was being re-written from the inside out.

Leo was crying harder now, fists tangled in Zara’s shirt, nails scratching, clinging like he was drowning.

"Stop," she begged, voice cracking as she pressed kisses to his burning forehead. "Please, baby, you don’t have to—it’s too much!"

His nose bled freely now, soaking into her collar. His skin glowed—blue-white—like moonlight trapped just beneath the surface.

"Leo!" Zara looked up at winter who was climbing over the seats, fighting the tilt of gravity. "Winter, he’s slipping!"

"What’s happening to the truck?!" Mike cried, still wrestling with the useless ignition. The gearshift floated between his fingers like it had come unmoored from time.

"We’re floating—what the fuck?" Ima’s voice cracked as she tried to brace herself against the ceiling, upside down now relative to where she’d been a moment ago.

"Leo!" Naomi gasped. "It’s him, isn’t it?!"

Zara then looked down, cupped his face, forced him to look at her. "Leo. Look at me. Look at me, baby. You can go in alone. We’re safe. You don’t have to hide us. You don’t—"

"Zara!" Winter shouted, finally crawling over the seats, knees slipping on the now-slick floor. "I’m here—hold him!"

For a heartbeat, his wide, glowing eyes locked on hers.

Then—

Leo cried out.

"Go away!"

And the mist shuddered.

It recoiled.

Like a tide yanked backward by a god’s hand, the fog sucked away from the truck with impossible speed. The air snapped, the sky bent, sound stretched like something tearing through the fabric of silence itself.

"Hold on!" Miles shouted, throwing himself over Naomi and the kids as everything lurched.

"Leo!" Winter called again, reaching just as—

Light.

A soft, moonlit explosion. Not blinding. Not painful.

Just everywhere.

And then—

Stillness.

*****

Silence.

Zara’s ears rang. Her limbs were numb. She blinked once—twice.

Her arms were locked around something small and trembling—hot and damp.

She looked down.

Leo.

He was still in her lap. Still breathing.

But soaked in sweat. His face was pale, clammy, streaked with blood from his nose. His body was slack like a ragdoll. Zara’s heart jackhammered into her ribs.

"Leo?" she whispered. "Baby—can you hear me?"

She brushed his cheek. His skin burned.

The air around them was... wrong. Familiar, yet surreal. Zara glanced at the others.

Still inside the truck.

But the view through the fogged windows had changed entirely.

There was no mist. No road. No monstrous shriek.

Instead—shelves. Towering. Seemingly endless. Lined with boxes, stacked to the ceiling.

"A... warehouse?" Naomi said slowly, blinking at the scene outside the passenger-side window. "Are we—?"

"I’m not dead," Mike said automatically, fingers trailing the inside of the glass. "But this... this looks like the sky."

No," Ima said sharply, her voice trembling. "Where’s the road? The mist? The thing?"

Zara didn’t hear them. She couldn’t. Her entire world had narrowed to the limp, fever-hot child in her arms.

He wasn’t waking up.

Her breath hitched. "No—no no no—Leo, baby—wake up—come on, look at me—"

She adjusted him, holding him closer, feeling the damp weight of him collapse against her chest.

"Zara," Miles said cautiously. "Hey, what’s—?"

"He’s not waking up!" she snapped, her voice cracking on the last word. "He’s burning up, he’s not moving—he’s not okay—"

She was rocking now, gripping him too tightly, her voice growing higher. "He pushed too hard—he did something—he saved us and now he’s—he’s—Winter!"

Winter was already reaching for Leo.

"Zara," he said firmly. "I’ve got him. You need to let go—"

"No—"

"Zara." His hand cupped her shoulder, grounding her. "Let me check him."

Her eyes were wild, hands locked around Leo’s tiny back. "You don’t understand—he’s not even four yet. He doesn’t even know how to talk about what he feels—he doesn’t know what he’s doing—"

"I know, Zara. I know." Winter’s voice was calm, low, threaded with authority. "He did something powerful. He’s exhausted. But he’s alive. I need you to give him to me—now—so Sam can check him."

Zara’s breathing hitched.

She looked down again. Leo didn’t even stir.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay—okay—just—please—help him."

She released her hold with trembling fingers.

Winter eased Leo into his arms with practiced gentleness, then passed him carefully to Sam, who was already kneeling beside the bench, med kit that had been used on Richard open, scanner humming.

"Pulse is faint but steady," Sam muttered, scanning Leo quickly. "He’s overheated. Probably a stress response. We need to cool him down."

Zara hovered near Leo’s side, her hands shaking as she reached for his little fingers. "We will. Just tell me what you need."

Aren, cradling his arm, gave a sharp sob from the backseat. "It hurts—Mom—it hurts!"

Naomi whipped around. "Oh, baby—"

Miles was already helping him down from the bench, careful with the arm. "I know, I know, it’s okay—let me see—"

Aren whimpered, tears streaking his cheeks. Lila sat silently beside him, knees pulled up to her chest, clutching her doll.

"Let me take a look," Marcus said calmly, moving beside them. "Naomi, get the med kit—he needs a splint."

Naomi handed it over with shaking hands while Miles kept Aren still, murmuring soothing nonsense.

"It’s broken," Marcus said after a moment, his tone clinical but gentle. "Clean break. I’ll set it and wrap it, but he’s going to need a proper cast when we get out."

Aren gave another cry as Marcus adjusted the arm. Naomi held her son’s head to her chest, whispering soft apologies, while Lila clutched her doll tighter and looked away.

"Is this heaven?" Aren whimpered between hiccuped breaths.

"No, sweetheart," Naomi said, kissing his hair. "We’re just somewhere... safe."

Winter stood slowly, scanning the strange warehouse-like expanse beyond the windshield. He seemed... less surprised than the others.

"This is Leo’s space," he said quietly.

Naomi frowned. "What?"

"This place. We’re inside it."

"Inside what?" Ima asked sharply. "His... head?"

"Not exactly," Winter said, glancing at her. "This is what happens when he gets overwhelmed. His subconscious pulls him—and sometimes those close to him—into this space. It’s a kind of storage. A sanctuary."

"A pocket dimension," Miles murmured, still holding Aren close as Marcus finished the wrap.

Sam didn’t look up from Leo. "So he... made this?"

"Not deliberately," Winter said. "It’s reflexive. A defense mechanism. He’s scared, and this is where he hides."

Zara swallowed hard, her voice ragged. "He did this... to protect us."

"He’s three," Naomi murmured, stroking Aren’s hair. "That’s so much for one little boy to carry."

"I get it’s a sanctuary," Ima said, climbing out of the truck. "But if he learns—can we use it? For shelter? For travel?"

Zara stood abruptly, glaring. "For fuck’s sake! He’s not a tool."

"No one’s saying that," Miles said quickly, hands up. "We’ve been over it and we’re just thinking ahead. If this keeps happening, we need to understand it."

"What happens if we’re mid-mission," Ima pressed, "and he panics again? What if we’re stranded somewhere we can’t get out of?"

Naomi’s voice was softer now. "Then we help him. Teach him. Not for our benefit—but his. So he doesn’t suffer like this every time he gets scared."

Sam finally looked up, nodding. "He needs guidance. Not pressure."

"Guys," Mike said, pointing through the windshield. "Do you think the creature came with us?"

The silence that followed was instant.

Winter looked to Zara.

"No," she said firmly. "Leo was terrified of it. There’s no way it could enter this space if he didn’t want it here."

Sam looked over his shoulder. "This space—this isn’t physical, is it?"

Winter stood, nodding. "It’s real to us. The supplies are all things from outside also pulled in. Real now. But the space is something we’re still working on. Manifested. Like we said, it responds to him. To what he needs."

Zara watched the way Leo’s chest rose and fell. "It’s safe here because he needs it to be."

Mike turned slowly, looking at the walls of the warehouse. "This looks like a supply depot."

Naomi’s watch beeped. Then went dark.

She blinked. "Stopped. It just... stopped."

Miles pulled his own out of his vest. Same result.

"Time doesn’t work in here like out there," Zara said quietly.

"That means we can breathe," Ima added. "We can breathe. We can regroup, resupply—plan."

Winter nodded. "Everyone out. We assess what’s here, find what we can use, and figure out if the truck’s salvageable. This could be our safest option in days."

Mike stepped out of the truck slowly, turning in place. The floor beneath his boots wasn’t cement—it was a soft carpet, the kind used in children’s playrooms. The air was cool, clean, almost glowing.

Like standing inside a dream.

Naomi kissed Aren’s head again. "Can you stay with Lila for a bit, honey? We’ll be right here."

He nodded, eyes still watery but calmer now. Lila reached for his uninjured hand, and he gripped it tightly.

Zara leaned back down beside Leo, brushing his damp curls from his forehead. His cheeks were still flushed, but the glow in his chest had returned—pulsing faintly. Soft. Rhythmic. Alive.

She held his tiny hand, her thumb tracing the lines of his palm.

"You’re the bravest boy in the world," she whispered against his skin. "But next time... let someone protect you, too."