Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son

You’dthinkseeingthefuturewouldgivemeaheadstartonsurvivingtheapocalypse.Ihaditallplanned—untileverythingIknewshatteredwhenmyhusbandsacrificedhimselftosavemeandourson.Nowit’sjustme,mythree-year-oldsonLeo,andmycursedgiftofforesightthatonlyseemstokickinwhenit’snearlytoolate.I’mdoingmybesttokeepussafe,tofindfood,tomakesomekindofplan—“Mommy?”Iglancedown,tryingtoignorethetugonmypantlegasIfocusonoursupplies.“Notnow,Leo.Mommy’sthinking.”“Mommy!”Isighandfinallylookdown.Mythree-year-oldisstandingthere,clutching…Iblink.“Leo,wheredidyougetaknife?”Heshrugs,grinninglikeit’sthemostnaturalthingintheworld.Myheartstutters.“No,really.Wheredidyoufindthat?”Itrynottolaugh.Imean,he’sthree.Maybehejust—founditsomewhere?Butthenextday,it’sawaterbottle.Then,atinyflashlight,somehowwithbatteriesstillinside.Idon’tevenknowwhatelse;he’spullingthingsoutonebyonewiththepleasedgrinofakidwho’sjustfiguredouthisfavoritegame.Well,wemayjustsurvivethismessafterall.Now,ifonlytheuniversecouldhavesparedmefromhim.Idon’tevenknowhisname,butIknowhistype:tall,broad,andannoyinglyhandsome,withanairofcalmcontrolthat’soutofplaceinthischaos.Ex-military,ifIhadtoguess,withavoicethat’sjustasinfuriatingashissmirk.Themanhasahabitofshowingupattheworst—orbest—possibletimes,withagunatthereadyandsecretsburiedasdeepasthosebrightgreeneyes.Imean,he’sprobablyuseful,butI’mtryingtokeepmyeyesontheprizehere:survival.ForLeoandme.Because,foresightornoforesight,nothingisguaranteedinthisnewworld—exceptthefactthatpeoplelikehimaretrouble.