The truck groaned beneath them, old axles wincing with every twitch of wind. Rain hamred the roof in steady bursts. The air slled of wet tal and sweat.
Zara sat in the back, Leo tucked into her arms. He’d fallen asleep there, face nestled against her chest, breaths deep and even. But her own breathing wasn’t as calm. Her chest felt tight, her heart pounding like a second storm inside her ribs. Her fingers, tangled in Leo’s curls, trembled.
Winter sat nearby, not speaking. Just watching her. Quiet concern in his eyes. Understanding. The kind that didn’t require words.
She hated that he could see her unraveling. But she didn’t pull away.
Would they understand?
Ima. Marcus. Sam. Mike. Miles. Naomi...
Would they see Leo as a child? Or would they see the impossible?
Would they try to use him?
Would they protect him?
Would they fear him?
The thought made bile rise in her throat.
She looked down at Leo. His little hand still clutched the edge of her jacket. His cheeks were warm, lashes fluttering in dreams that she prayed were better than the world around them. She kissed the top of his head softly.
"You’re thinking about telling them," Winter said quietly. Not a question.
She flinched.
"Maybe," she whispered. The word tasted like glass.
He didn’t push.
"They’d never hurt him," he said after a mont. "They’re not Adrian."
Zara closed her eyes. The mory of Adrian—the way he’d looked at Leo like he was a puzzle piece to a world-ending machine—flashed behind her lids.
Winter’s voice was lower now. Almost... prophetic.
"But once it’s out, it’s out."
Zara opened her mouth to speak—but Leo stirred.
His head lifted from her chest, sleep-fogged eyes blinking up at her. One small hand patted over her heart gently, sensing her tension.
"Mommy," he whispered, voice soft as a breath, "It’s okay."
She nearly broke.
That tiny mont of innocence shattered her fear—but it also terrified her.
Because what if the others didn’t understand?
What if they tried to understand—and ended up hurting him anyway?
She kept spiraling around the sa thoughts.
Miles’s voice cut through the thick silence. "Look—we’re not here to take anything from you." His voice was gruff, but not unkind. "But if there’s sothing that might help us survive, now’s the ti."
Zara looked at Winter.
He didn’t say anything. Just nodded. Once.
So she began to speak.
Her voice was steady, but her body wasn’t.
"Leo has an ability," she said, eyes flicking between them all. "Not destructive. Not offensive. It’s... protective."
The silence sharpened. Everyone was listening now.
"He can open... a space. A safe one. Like a bubble in the world, where ti stops. Where nothing gets in."
Gasps. Naomi clutched her children closer, her mouth parting in stunned awe. Mike leaned forward, eyes wide. "Like... another dinsion?"
"Sort of," Zara said. "But it costs him. He’s still small. It drains him—like Winter’s rifle drains him. And it doesn’t last forever. At least... not that we know of."
"You don’t know?" Mike asked, frowning.
Winter stepped in then, voice calm. "We haven’t had the ti to test it properly."
Ima narrowed her eyes. "That’s how you’ve survived. When the cities fell... he hid you and supplies?"
Zara nodded. "He saved my life. He doesn’t understand it, not completely. But he’s learning."
Marcus leaned forward. "Can we use it? If we’re attacked?"
Winter’s voice ca fast, cold and final. "He’s a child. Not a weapon."
Silence.
It didn’t last for very long.
Naomi, voice gentler now, said, "No one wants to use him, Winter. But if we’re going to protect each other, we need to know what we can rely on. What he can do."
Zara lifted her chin. "He can make the pocket hold two people. At least it did the last ti. But... he says it’s getting bigger now."
Miles spoke next, quieter than before. "That’s enough to regroup in a fight. Or to keep the kids safe."
The mood shifted.
There was awe—but also sothing else now.
Respect.
Reverence.
Leo, nestled in Zara’s lap, curled into her again. His small hand found hers.
"Can I sleep, Mommy?" he whispered, voice thick with exhaustion.
Zara kissed his knuckles. "Yes, baby. You can sleep."
Everyone sat in silence then, each one chewing on what they’d just learned. Zara remained tense, eyes scanning their faces. Watching. Waiting.
She trusted Winter. And Winter trusted them.
Still...
I’ll die before I let anything happen to my baby.
And she wasn’t leaving him alone again. Not ever.
Winter finally stood.
"I’ll protect Leo with my life," he said to the group. "And if anyone tries to use him... they answer to ."
Zara’s heart swelled. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from lting on the spot. Part of her wanted to kiss him then. But she stayed still.
Miles gave a slow nod. "We won’t let that happen. But you need to trust us back."
Zara scanned their faces again.
Sam and Mike, she felt she knew to so degree.
Naomi. Miles. Ima. Marcus.
They were rattled.
But not cruel.
Not power-hungry.
Just people who’d lost too much. People who understood what it ant to protect sothing precious.
She nodded.
"I’ll show you," she said softly. "Later. When he’s stronger. When I’m sure it’s safe. For now... just help keep it secret."
Everyone nodded. So solemnly. Others slowly. Processing.
Winter leaned closer to her. "You did good."
She didn’t get the chance to answer.
A distant shriek pierced the air like a needle through silk—unnatural, jagged.
Everyone jolted.
Winter stood instantly, gun raised. "We’ve got company."
Chaos followed.
Naomi dragged her kids close.
Marcus checked Richard’s pulse—still unconscious.
Ima and Miles were already flanking the truck’s rear exit, weapons ready.
Zara tried to stand with Leo in her arms. Her legs buckled—but Winter caught her.
Mike fumbled at the front, trying to start the truck.
Winter looked back at her. "Get ready to run. If they get close—you use Leo’s pocket."
Run? In this weather? With the mist and the creatures? And leave him alone? Hell no.
"No," she said firmly. "He’s tired."
"I know," Winter said. "That’s why I said if."
Sam was already gathering packs. "If we lose the truck, we need basics on us. Water. Gauze. Food."
Then they heard it.
Not footsteps.
Sothing... else.
Scraping. Wet, slapping sounds. Like flesh dragging across concrete.
Zara’s skin crawled.
Sothing was climbing onto the bridge above them.
"Mike!" Marcus hissed. "Get the damn thing started!"
"I am!" Mike snapped, voice rising with panic. "It’s not—shit!"
Too late.
A hideous clicking erupted just outside—like bone snapping backwards.
The mist crept over the hill, thick and alive. And with it... ca them.
Zombies? Or not. These things resembled the experints in the base’s tunnels.
Elongated limbs.
Skin pale and stretched too tight.
No faces. Just hollow skin and open mouths that didn’t breathe.
They dropped from the bridge like spiders, long limbs wrapping around cables and beams before slamming down onto the ground with a bone-jarring thud.
Winter’s weapon was raised instantly—but he didn’t fire. None of them did.
Mist surrounded them.
Shooting ant giving it a path in.
They were trapped.
Sothing slamd into the truck with enough force to tilt the back wheels off the ground.
The truck groaned louder, like it was in pain.
"Shit!" Winter cursed. "If this thing tips, we’re fucked!"
Zara struggled again to stand, Leo now awake and crying softly into her shoulder. His fear fed into her blood like ice.
Winter turned to her, frantic. "If it cos to it—you run."
"No."
"You use the pocket."
"You run with ," she snapped. "You don’t stay behind."
The back of the truck warped inward with another slam.
Screeching tal. Moaning rubber.
The creatures were circling now.
Waiting.
Hunting.
Ima’s eyes were cold. "They’re waiting for sothing."
"They probably don’t know what the truck is."
Winter whispered, "They’re watching us."
No one moved.
They’re boxing us in," Miles said, voice low. "They’re not rushing because they don’t have to."
"We can’t shoot," Ima growled. "We open a window, we invite death in."
The mist pressed against the glass like it was breathing.
Mike slamd his hand on the dashboard. "Co on! Just start, dammit!"
The children were crying now—Naomi trying to hush them, her voice cracking with fear. One of them started screaming.
Zara pulled Leo tighter against her, her hands shaking.
Winter gritted his teeth, then turned to Miles. "We open the door. One of us draws them off. Just enough ti for the rest to—"
"No," Zara snapped.
"Absolutely not," Naomi echoed, eyes on Miles.
Winter sighed, frustrated. "Now’s not the ti for heroics—"
"Exactly! So stop thinking about it."
Before anyone could argue again—
BOOM.
The truck jerked violently, tires screeching across wet concrete as sothing massive slamd into them, sending the whole vehicle skidding out from under the bridge.
People scread as they were flung sideways.
Zara clutched Leo tighter, shielding his head with her arm as they were flung against the side. Her back slamd into the wall with bone-rattling force—pain shot up her spine and blood filled her mouth where she’d bitten her tongue.
Naomi crashed into the tal cabinet behind her seat, her head bouncing off the edge with a sickening thunk. One of her kids wailed in terror.
Marcus sprawled across the floor, his shoulder slamming into a crate of supplies that split open on impact, canned food rolling underfoot.
At the front of the truck, Sam was thrown hard against the passenger-side door, his shoulder crunching into the windowfra. He gasped, struggling to push himself upright, one hand braced against the dashboard.
Mike slamd into the steering wheel with a brutal oof, the horn giving a pathetic, short blare. His head bounced forward, narrowly missing the windshield, and he blinked dazedly, blood trickling from his nose.
Miles barely managed to catch himself, his palms skidding along the wet floor. "Shit—everyone okay?"
Ima let out a guttural grunt, dragging herself upright with blood streaming from a fresh cut above her brow. "Fuck—what the hell was that?!"
Zara blinked through the haze, disoriented, the world spinning. Sowhere to her left, Richard moaned, still unconscious but jostled into a twisted position beneath a bench.
Winter was already moving, gun shaking in his hands as he stared toward the warped rear doors. His breathing was sharp, controlled—but barely.
"That wasn’t one of them," he said, voice low and grim.
The growl ca again—louder now. Closer. A sound that didn’t belong in nature.
Leo’s hands flew to his ears, fingers digging in. "No," he sobbed, voice cracking. "No no no—go away!"
Zara held him tighter, brushing his hair back, but her hands were trembling too hard. "Leo, baby, it’s okay," she murmured, trying to calm him. "You’re safe, I’ve got you."
He wasn’t listening. It hurt to see her baby this way.
He squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling fast and yelled. "Go away!"
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