CHAPTER 29: 29: THE WORLD WHERE NOTHING WAS GUARANTEED

City B, November 6th? Year 0 of the Great Collapse

The room was cold, the faint moonlight tracing silver outlines over Zara’s slim figure as she curled herself protectively around Leo. He had nestled into her chest, his small fingers clutching the fabric of her coat even in his sleep.

Zara brushed a stray curl from his forehead, her throat tightening as she looked at his peaceful expression.

Peaceful.

Her fingers trembled as she held him closer, her tears slipping silently down her cheeks. Almost a year. That’s how long it had been since the world fell apart, since everything they knew and loved had been swallowed whole by death and chaos.

And in two months, if her memory of the calendar was correct, Leo would turn four. Her chest tightened. Four years old, and he’d never have the chance to celebrate like he should. No friends, no balloons, no cakes with crooked frosting. Instead, he had nights filled with fear and the constant ache of hunger. His childhood, stolen by the apocalypse, and she could do nothing to get it back.

Damon should have been here for this. He always loved to fuss when it came to anything about Leo. The thought sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through her.

Flashback

"You’d think you were the one carrying this baby," Zara teased, leaning against the doorframe of their tiny kitchen. Damon was pacing, one hand combing through his messy hair while the other clutched a pen and a crumpled list.

"I just want everything to be perfect," he muttered, glancing at her with a sheepish smile. His dark eyes were filled with that familiar mix of excitement and nervous energy that had defined the last few months.

"It will be," she assured him, stepping closer to place a hand on his chest. "Damon, it’s just a diaper bag."

He looked at her like she’d just suggested taking a nap during a hurricane. "Just a diaper bag? Zara, this is our diaper bag. What if I forget something important? Like...like extra wipes? Or his blanket? Or—"

Zara cut him off with a laugh, pulling him into a hug. "Relax, okay? We’ll figure it out. You’re going to be an amazing dad."

She took his hand and pressed it against her belly. "They’re lucky to have you."

"No," he murmured, "I’m the lucky one." His arms tightened around her, and he buried his face in her hair. "I just want everything to be perfect,"

Zara had squeezed him lightly, heart warm with love. "It will be. Because we’ll do this together."

*****

Zara blinked back to the present, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Leo shifted against her, his small body seeking comfort even in sleep. She tightened her hold on him, pressing her lips to his temple.

"I miss you," she whispered into the darkness, her voice cracking. "I don’t know how to do this without you."

Damon should have been here to see him, to hold their son and marvel at how much he’d grown despite the horror surrounding them. Instead, Zara carried both their burdens, her love for Damon a raw wound that never healed.

Damon was gone, and she was lost without him.

*****

When the sun finally began to rise, its pale light spilling over the dead horizon, Zara pulled herself together. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat, careful not to wake Leo as she shifted him into a more comfortable position.

The sound of distant voices reached her ears, a reminder that the world outside their room was still moving, still demanding.

She made her way to the balcony just as Winter and his group were preparing to leave. His tall, broad figure stood out among the others, his rifle slung over one shoulder and a machete strapped to his back.

He glanced her way as she approached, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment.

She remembered their conversation earlier that morning...

The knock on her door was soft but insistent. Zara jolted awake, blinking against the darkness as she instinctively tightened her hold on Leo.

"It’s me," Winter’s voice came through the door, low and even.

She hesitated before slipping out of bed, careful not to disturb Leo. Opening the door just enough to see him, she was greeted by the sight of his sharp features framed by the dim hallway light.

"We’re leaving at sunrise," he said without preamble. "I wanted to let you know."

Zara nodded, her voice caught somewhere in her throat.

Winter’s gaze sharpened, his brow furrowing as he studied her. "You’ve been crying."

She stiffened, instinctively stepping back, but he reached out, tilting her chin up with his calloused fingers. The contact was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of awareness through her.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice softening in a way that caught her off guard.

The intensity of his gaze made her feel exposed and vulnerable. She opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. Instead, she turned her head, breaking the connection and leaving his hand hovering awkwardly in the air.

"It’s nothing," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Winter stared at her for a long moment before letting out a sigh and dropping his hand. "Fine. If you say so."

He stepped back, his expression shifting to something more guarded. "After we head out, confirm the depot locations—food, medical, ammunition. We don’t have time to waste."

"I will," she said, grateful for the shift in focus.

"And stay out of sight," he added, his tone firm. "Act tired or sick if you have to. The fewer people asking questions, the better."

End of flashback

Back at the gates, Winter’s group was a mix of rough characters. With her long braid and sharp eyes, Nadine lingered too close to Winter, her flirtatious smile bordering on predatory. The same scar-faced man leaned against a post, his expression twisted in perpetual disdain.

A burly man with a shaved head adjusted the straps of his pack while three others—each with their own weathered, hardened edges—traded crude jokes.

As the gates creaked open, Winter glanced up at the balcony where Zara stood, Leo still hidden in her coat. Their eyes met again, a silent exchange passing between them.

He gave her a small nod before turning away, stepping into the harsh, unforgiving world beyond the fortress walls.

Neither of them noticed Nadine glaring at Zara, her lips pressed into a thin line.

******

Back in her room, Zara carefully removed Leo from her coat and laid him on the bed. She was worried because he had been sleeping a lot since he put the clothing items in his space.

Was it an after-effect of stress? Had she pushed him too far? Would she need to call someone’s attention? The questions kept coming.

She decided to wait and watch.

If, heaven forbids he doesn’t wake up by the time winter gets here, then she’d let him know.

Frankly, he was the only one slightly worth trusting in this complex. Only slightly, and only as a last resort.

She smoothed his hair, her heart aching at the sight of his fragile form. For now, he was breathing. That was all that mattered.

******

Outside the base

The snow fell in thick, relentless waves, muffling the world in an eerie silence. Visibility was poor, and the icy wind cut through the group as they moved cautiously through the city ruins. Their boots crunched against the snow-packed ground, amplifying every sound in the quiet, brittle air.

He didn’t trust these people—Nadine with her calculated advances, the scar-faced man with his sneering comments, the burly brute who laughed too easily at violence. They were a means to an end, nothing more.

As they moved, their conversation painted a grim picture of the world beyond.

"The militia’s been getting bolder," Scar-Face muttered, spitting to the side. "We caught a few of their rats last week. Got some good intel out of ’em."

Burly chuckled, the sound low and guttural. "Yeah, once they started screaming, they gave up everything. Always do."

Winter shot him a look of disgust but kept his mouth shut.

"They’re planning a raid," Nadine chimed in, her voice smooth. "Big one. Take out their hideout and grab whatever supplies they’ve been hoarding. Should be fun."

"Fun?" one of the others scoffed. "You mean suicidal."

"Wonder how long it’ll take to wipe them out," one of the others mused.

"Not long," Nadine chimed in, sidling up to Winter. "Not with someone like you on our side."

Winter ignored her, his focus on the path ahead.

"Oh, come on, Winter," she purred, leaning closer. "You don’t have to be so cold."

One of the men snorted. "Give it up, Nadine. He’s married, remember? And isn’t his wife about to pop?"

Nadine glared at him. "Shut your mouth."

The group laughed as Nadine fumed, but Winter tuned them out, his focus on marking potential routes and fallback points.

Now that Zara’s ankle was healed, it would be easier for them to cover more ground and... he blinked as he found himself putting the woman into his plans.

That was dangerous, he shouldn’t be factoring others into his plans in a world where nothing was guaranteed.

"Keep quiet," Winter said, his voice barely audible. "The snow makes it hard to hear, but it does the same for them. Don’t give anything away."

The group nodded in grim agreement, their focus sharpening as they pressed on.

The attack came without warning.

A shadow flickered at the edge of Winter’s vision, and then the world erupted in chaos. A hunter zombie—a wiry, emaciated creature with unnervingly long limbs and glowing, hollow eyes—leapt from a ruined building, its claws extended.

Winter fired instinctively, the sharp crack of his rifle shattering the silence. The creature dropped mid-air, blood spraying across the pristine snow.

Before anyone could react, dozens more emerged, their grotesque forms slipping through the storm like predators on a hunt.

"They’re swarming!" Nadine shouted, swinging her machete frantically. The blade cleaved into the decayed chest of the nearest zombie, splitting brittle ribs with a sickening crunch, but the creature didn’t falter. Its clawed hand lashed out, raking a jagged line across her thigh.

She stumbled back, gasping in pain and frustration. Before the thing could lunge again, Scar-Face stepped in, raising his shotgun. The deafening blast shattered the creature’s skull, scattering bone fragments and blackened brain matter onto the blood-coated snow.

Burly wasn’t as lucky.

A hunter leapt onto his back, its claws sinking deep into his shoulders with a wet, meaty rip. His scream cut through the chaos, raw and pained. He thrashed, but the creature clung to him like a predator, its fetid breath misting his neck.

Two more closed in, their grotesque faces twisted in unnatural hunger. They moved with an almost sinister coordination, yanking him to the ground. One tore into his abdomen, shredding through cloth and flesh alike, while the other clamped its rotting jaws around his throat.

The wet sound of tearing flesh mixed with Burly’s gurgling cries, blood spurting in arterial bursts. His arms flailed weakly before falling limp as his entrails were pulled free in stringy, glistening loops, glinting under the harsh light like grotesque garlands.

"Hank’s down!" someone yelled, panic spreading like wildfire.

The group was breaking apart, their fear leaving gaps in their defense. Winter took a deep breath, forcing his mind to clear. Fear was a weapon, and right now, the hunters were wielding it masterfully.

"Form up!" Winter barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Back-to-back! Don’t scatter!"

The remaining fighters scrambled to obey, their initial fear giving way to a desperate attempt to survive. Winter took position at the center, his rifle barking as he fired at the closest threats.

"Scar-Face! Cover the rear!" Winter bellowed, his voice commanding. "Nadine, left flank! Use the cars for cover!"

Scarface sputtered, screaming over his shoulder at Winter. "Bastard! The name’s Felix!"

Yet it was clear the sharp orders cut through the chaos. Though shaken, the group began to follow his lead.

"Focus fire! Aim for their heads!" he instructed, his tone steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

A hunter darted toward him, its claws outstretched. Winter sidestepped at the last moment, slamming the butt of his rifle into its face before delivering a fatal shot.

The snow was both a curse and a blessing. The thick flakes obscured their vision, but it also slowed the hunters, making their leaps less precise. Winter used it to his advantage, directing the group to higher ground—a crumbled staircase that offered a narrow choke point.

The hunters adapted quickly, circling the group and testing their defenses. One lunged low, trying to slip beneath Nadine’s swing. She adjusted, kicking it back and driving her blade into its throat.

Felix fired his shotgun at point-blank range, the blast sending two creatures sprawling, but his ammunition was dwindling fast.

"They’re thinking," he spat, reloading with shaking hands. "These bastards are thinking."

Another hunter charged at Winter, its claws slicing through the air. He ducked, driving his rifle butt into its jaw and firing a clean shot into its skull.

"They’re trying to split us up!" he warned, his voice rising over the cacophony. "Stick together!"

Slowly but surely, the group began to regain control. Nadine managed to shove a hunter off her, plunging her knife into its neck.

Felix found his rhythm, firing shots that dropped two hunters in quick succession. The remaining men rallied around Winter, their fear giving way to grim determination.

Still, the hunters pressed on, their movements growing more coordinated. One leapt onto a car, using the vantage point to pounce on a distracted man. Winter intercepted it mid-air, firing a burst that sent it crashing to the ground.

Winter saw an opening. "Grenade," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos.

Nadine tossed it to him without hesitation. He pulled the pin and lobbed it toward the densest cluster of hunters. The explosion lit up the snow-covered street, sending limbs and black blood flying.

"Move! Now!" he ordered, pointing toward a nearby building that offered a defensible position.

The group sprinted, their boots pounding against the pavement as the hunters pursued them. Winter was the last to enter, slamming the door shut and barricading it with a metal shelf.

*****

Inside, the group collapsed against the walls, their bodies trembling with exhaustion. Blood smeared their weapons and clothing, steam rising from their sweat-soaked forms in the cold air.

"Holy hell," Felix panted, his shotgun clattering to the floor. "What the hell were those things? They’re not supposed to be this far in."

"They are definitely moving faster than I remember," Winter said grimly, his voice steady despite the chaos that had just happened.

He wiped the blood from his rifle, his eyes scanning the group. "We need to assume they’ll keep coming. Stay sharp."

The group fell silent, their respect for him evident in their expressions.

"Man," Felix said after a moment, his voice tinged with grudging admiration. "You’re a real man, Winter. Keeping your cool like that, protecting us. Bet your wife’s proud."

Winter stiffened, his expression unreadable as he glanced out the window.

"She would be," he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

The group exchanged awkward glances, sensing they’d stumbled into something personal.

"Those aren’t ordinary zombies. They’re getting stronger," Felix muttered, his voice filled with unease. "We haven’t seen hunters this deep in months. Why now?"

"Something’s changing," Winter said, his tone thoughtful. "We’ll need to figure out what before it’s too late."

The group fell into a tense silence, the weight of their situation settling heavily on their shoulders.

Winter leaned back against the wall, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he caught his breath. The sound of the wind outside was faint, a constant reminder of the hostile world waiting for them.

He let his mind wander briefly, taking him back to the base. He wondered what made the crazy lady cry...