CHAPTER 37: 37: THE WORLD STILL HAS SURPRISES

City B, November 15th? Year 0 of the Great Collapse

Zara tightened her grip on Leo’s small hand as they stepped through the supermarket’s shattered glass doors. The once-bustling store was a hollowed-out remnant of its former self. Shelves were toppled, their metal frames bent and jagged. Cardboard boxes littered the floor, some spilling long-expired cans and dusty packages.

The stench of mildew mixed with the faint, metallic tang of blood set Zara’s teeth on edge.

"This place smells strange," Leo whispered, his voice muffled by the fabric of Zara’s coat as she instinctively tucked him closer to her leg. His tiny fingers clung to her palm, his wide eyes scanning the aisles curiously.

"It’s okay," Zara murmured, scanning the aisles with sharp, darting eyes. The strap of her backpack bit into her shoulder as she adjusted it, and quickly grabbed his hand again, keeping him from running off. Her other hand brushed the comforting weight of the block of wood at her side. "We’ll find something quickly and leave."

The store was silent except for the soft crunch of broken glass under Zara’s boots and the faint squeak of Leo’s little boots.

"Stay close," Zara whispered, her voice barely audible. She shifted the weight of her backpack, the strap cutting into her shoulder, and scanned the room. It seemed deserted, but the apocalypse had taught her one brutal truth—things were rarely as they seemed.

Leo’s small fingers gripped hers, his wide eyes darting around the store. "Mama, can we find crackers?" he asked, his voice hopeful despite their bleak surroundings.

Zara forced a smile, her heart aching at his innocence. "We’ll see what we can find, sweetheart. Stay quiet, okay?"

They moved cautiously, weaving through the aisles, avoiding the shards of glass and debris scattered across the floor. Zara’s free hand hovered near the knife strapped to her thigh, her body tense and ready to act.

They moved cautiously, Zara sweeping each aisle before venturing in. Her heartbeat steadied when she spotted a half-crushed box of energy bars peeking from under a fallen display. As she crouched to retrieve it, she caught the faintest sound—a shuffle, then the click of something metallic.

As they approached what used to be the snack aisle, a voice barked out behind them.

"Who do we have here?"

She froze.

The voice was rough, dripping with malicious amusement. Zara straightened slowly, pulling Leo behind her. Three figures emerged from the shadows, their faces grimy and sunken. The leader, a stocky man with a rusted crowbar slung over his shoulder, grinned at her like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Looks like a mama bear and her cub," he sneered, his companions chuckling darkly. "Where’s your man?"

Zara’s pulse quickened. She couldn’t give them the impression that she was alone. "We don’t want any trouble," she said evenly, her voice calm but firm. "We’re just passing through."

"Trouble’s already here," another man sneered. He was wiry, his clothes hanging loose on his bony frame. A jagged scar split his upper lip.

The third man stepped closer, tilting his head as he examined her. "Passing through with a nice, heavy pack? Doesn’t seem fair to keep it all to yourself."

He jabbed a finger toward her backpack. "What’s in the bag?"

Zara’s fingers twitched. She glanced at Leo, who stared back with wide, frightened eyes.

"Just a few things for my son," she said carefully. "Nothing that would be worth—"

"Don’t lie to us," Scar sneered, stepping closer. Zara shifted her stance, subtly moving her body to shield Leo. "We’ll be the judge of what’s worth it."

Zara’s grip on her bat tightened. Of all the times to be attacked, this dimly lit space would not be good for running around.

"Please," Zara said, her voice hardening. "We’re not looking for a fight."

"But we are," the leader growled, hefting the crowbar.

Zara’s mind raced. Fighting them head-on was out of the question, not with Leo here.

She tried to keep her voice steady. "Please, I have a child. Let us go, and we’ll leave you alone."

The leader smirked, stepping closer, his hand hovering near the knife on his belt. "Or maybe you leave the pack, and we let you leave."

Zara adjusted her stance, planting her feet firmly as the scavengers closed in. Her pulse roared in her ears as she mentally mapped an escape route, but their formation left little room to manoeuvre with Leo in tow. The leader swung his crowbar lazily as if savouring the moment while Scar crept toward her side.

"Stay behind me," Zara murmured to Leo, her voice low and steady. She tightened her grip on her bat, shifting it to her dominant hand. The feel of the worn wood under her fingers gave her a semblance of control.

"You really think that stick’s gonna save you?" the leader sneered, taking another step closer. His grin widened when Zara didn’t respond. "Feisty one, huh? Maybe we’ll keep you around for a while."

Zara’s stomach churned, her mind racing. Think. Don’t panic.

Scar lunged first, his hand darting out to grab her arm. Zara reacted instinctively, twisting away while swinging her bat in a wide arc. The wood connected with his forearm with a sickening crack. Scar yelped, stumbling back as he cradled his arm.

"Bitch!" he spat, his face twisting with rage.

The leader lunged forward, swinging the crowbar in an arc. Zara ducked instinctively, her free hand grabbing a nearby tin can and hurling it at his face. The man stumbled, swearing loudly. Leo scrambled somewhere behind her.

Fuck!

Zara moved to block the men, her stick drawn, breath coming fast. She slashed at the wiry one as he lunged, forcing him to back off.

But her advantage was short-lived. The leader advanced again, his crowbar swinging low. She dodged just in time, but the motion sent her stumbling against the shelves.

A cry escaped her as the metal dug into her back.

"Stay down!" he snarled, raising his weapon for another strike.

She hastily scrambled to her feet, making sure Leo was behind her again. "I said stay down bitch!"

Before he could take another step, a sharp crack echoed through the air. The leader jerked sideways, clutching his shoulder, where a small rock had embedded itself. Blood welled from the wound, staining his already filthy shirt.

"What the hell?" Scar shouted, spinning toward the source of the attack.

"Leave them alone."

The voice was clear, cold, and commanding. Zara’s gaze snapped upward. A teenage girl, no older than eighteen, stood on the store’s upper level, perched on the remains of a collapsed staircase. She held a slingshot in one hand, her stance confident and poised. Her dark hair was tied back, her sharp eyes glinting with defiance.

"Who the hell are you?" the leader barked, his voice tight with pain as he staggered back.

"Your worst nightmare," the girl replied coolly, pulling back the band of her slingshot. Another projectile gleamed in its cradle. "Now, walk away before I put the next one between your eyes."

The scavengers hesitated, their bravado faltering. Scar snarled, "You think a kid with a toy is gonna scare us?"

The girl’s lips curved into a humourless smile. "Try me."

Scar lunged forward, but as his foot landed, a sudden snap echoed. The floor beneath him gave way, dropping him into a concealed pit. He yelped as he landed, scrambling to his feet, only to yelp again as a makeshift contraption of broken glass and barbed wire tore into his arms and legs.

"What the—" the leader began, but another trap triggered. A line of cans rigged to a tripwire came crashing down from a nearby shelf. The noise was deafening, and the sudden chaos sent the remaining scavengers scrambling.

"Run!" the girl yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Zara took the chance. She yanked Leo’s hand and bolted toward the exit, her breath ragged. The scavengers, disoriented and injured, didn’t follow. Her heart pounded like a drum, and her legs burned with effort, but she didn’t stop until they burst into the open, the cool air stinging her face.

What the hell was that all about? Who was that girl?

If those scavengers hadn’t come, would I have fallen into that trap? Zara shuddered at the thought of glass touching her baby’s skin.

She crouched behind a rusted dumpster, pulling Leo into her arms. His small body trembled against hers, his breath ragged.

"It’s okay," she whispered, stroking his hair. "We’re safe now."

But as the adrenaline began to fade, Zara’s senses sharpened. Someone was following them. She could feel it—a faint rustle, the sound of footsteps too careful to be random.

She stood slowly, her hand moving to the knife at her side. "Who’s there?" she called out, her voice firm despite her racing heart.

Silence.

"Relax, lady," the voice called. It was the same voice from earlier—the girl’s. "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have saved your ass back there."

The teen stepped forward from the shadows, her slingshot dangling at her side. Up close, Zara could see her properly. She was wiry, her frame lean and agile, dressed in patched-up clothes that looked cobbled together from scraps. Her face was smudged with dirt, but her piercing eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Zara demanded, still holding her block of wood.

The girl raised her hands, her expression calm. "Nothing. Just wanted to make sure you two were okay."

Before Zara could respond, a smaller figure peeked out from behind the girl. He was a boy, no older than ten, with a mop of unruly brown hair and an oversized jacket that hung to his knees. His round face was streaked with dirt, but his wide eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Mia, who are they?" he asked, tugging at the girl’s sleeve.

"I was about to ask them the same thing," the girl—Mia—replied, her gaze flickering back to Zara. "Who runs around in other people’s territories like that?"

Zara stared at them, the block in her hand faltering. She hadn’t expected to see children—especially not like this. Mia’s stance was protective, her arm subtly blocking the boy from Zara’s view, much like Zara had shielded Leo earlier.