City B, September 10th? Year 0 of the Great Collapse
The world was quiet.
The room was dark and hushed, the air heavy with the quiet that had settled over Zara and Leo's lives.
She moved carefully, her footsteps soft as she checked the boards over the windows, hands tracing over each crack and nail to make sure nothing had shifted in the night.
A faint draft brushed her fingers, and Zara pressed her palm against it, feeling the cool whisper of the outside world seeping in. A small shiver travelled up her spine, but she ignored it, pressing the wood more firmly into place.
This had become Zara's new routine, her dawn ritual. The boards had to hold; they were all that separated Zara and Leo from what prowled out there.
It had been months since Zara had seen daylight, felt the sun on her skin, or breathed anything other than the stale air in their house.
Months since the world ended and Zara lost her beloved. She could still see the last look on his face, a fierce kind of love mixed with terror, just before he shoved Zara and Leo into the safety of the ditch.
For some strange reason, the mist hadn't entered, only floated along the paved grounds around it in a straight line.
Zara hadn't been able to reach him in time. She still had nightmares.
The small sounds of Leo mumbling to himself as he played drifted from the corner of the room. Zara looked around the small room that had become their world, her gaze drifting over the walls she'd fortified, the boarded windows, the bags and supplies Damon had insisted they stockpile "just in case."
Back then, Damon had humoured Zara, indulging her need to prepare when the visions had first begun. Flashes of destruction and vague glimpses of ruin, had haunted Zara's nights, warnings she couldn't understand.
She'd begged Damon to listen, to buy supplies. And he had, reassuring Zara with his soft, steady voice, telling her they'd be ready for anything. It turned out, he'd been right to trust Zara's instincts.
A faint giggle pulled Zara back to the present, grounding her amidst the memories. Leo had made his way over to Zara with a stuffed toy in his hand.
They had been looking for that for a while now; where had he found it? "Do you need something, baby?" Zara cooed softly.
"Water, please?" Leo asked, squeezing the neck of the stuffed bear. He had Damon's smile, that same crooked grin that appeared every time he discovered something new.
Zara shook herself, drawing her focus back to the present. "Let's get you something to drink," she said, moving to the small cabinet where she kept their clean water.
Supplies were running low. Each time Zara counted, it seemed there was a little less, a slow draining that filled her with quiet dread. They'd have to venture out soon—Zara knew that. She just didn't know when.
"Here." Zara poured the water carefully, watching the clear liquid trickle into the cup. She handed it to Leo, who took it with both hands, his small fingers gripping the cup as he took small sips.
As Zara watched him, her thoughts were drawn to the past. The days after the world ended were a blur of chaos and survival. She had tried to call her family but couldn't reach them.
The storms had downed the power and telephone lines. Zara remembered helicopters overhead, government voices blaring announcements:
Stay inside. Do not engage with the creatures. Avoid the mist. Help is on the way.
She'd pressed herself and Leo against the wall, listening to the frantic commands, the rumbling engines fading as they drifted out of range.
Zara had clung to their words, hoping and praying they would be rescued. But the helicopters had stopped coming. The promises had faded into silence.
Zara had understood then that no one would save her and her child; she would have to do everything herself.
"Mama, can I have the can of peaches?" Leo asked suddenly, looking up at Zara with hopeful eyes.
Her heart twisted. That can of peaches was a luxury; they barely had any left because of the expiry dates being so close.
But seeing the way his face lit up, Zara reached over and retrieved the can from the shelf.
"Just a little, alright?" she murmured, feeling a pang as she opened it and scooped a bit onto his plate.
He smiled in delight, picking up the sticky pieces with his small hands, and Zara watched him, her heart aching at how simple it was to make him happy in this new world.
Zara moved around him as he ate, tidying up and counting their supplies under her breath. Each night, usually after Leo was fast asleep, Zara counted the supplies, tallying each item carefully.
The inventory felt like another ritual—a strange comfort, even as it brought Zara face-to-face with how little remained.
Tonight, Zara paused over an empty spot where she swore she'd seen an extra bandage roll the night before.
What the? Zara frowned as she checked under the shelf and the surrounding furniture, nothing.
Zara counted again, fingers running over the few cans and bags they had left. It made no sense; there should have been more than this remaining.
Was someone in the house with us? No, Zara shook her head. That's impossible; I'd have noticed.
They would need to ration more carefully; the day was coming when even stretching things wouldn't be enough.
Zara tried to recall the last full meal they'd had, pushing away the nagging thought that she was somehow miscounting.
Though Zara had been a scientist, she had surprisingly been scatterbrained, and Damon covered for her lapses. Leo noticed Zara's gaze drift toward the corner, to where Damon's empty chair sat.
Damon…
"Mommy?" His voice tugged at Zara again, and she shifted her attention back to him, reaching to brush a stray curl from his face.
His innocence, his ease—it kept Zara grounded, made her remember why she was fighting to keep them safe.
"Yes, Leo?"
"Why can't we go see Daddy?" His question was soft.
Zara's heart tightened, and for a moment, she had no words. Leo's memory of Damon was soft and faded, a collection of half-remembered smiles and shared games.
It was better that way, she reasoned. Better he remembered the fun, the love, not the hollow, desperate fear of that day.
How could Zara explain it? How could she tell him that Daddy wasn't coming back, that the mound at the edge of the yard had become a place she could no longer bear to look at?
Zara hadn't been able to leave Damon there, his body exposed to the elements, to those creatures. She'd crawled out in the dead of night, the mist thinning just enough to let her reach him, pulling his lifeless form back through the yard, digging a grave in the backyard with her bare hands.
"Daddy's… watching over us," Zara finally managed, the words tasting bitter as they left her mouth. "He's somewhere safe, and he wants us to be safe too."
"That's why we stay inside?" Leo asked, tilting his head slightly.
"Yes, my smart boy. That's why we stay inside."
The images of that day haunted Zara still, vivid as the first time she'd felt his stillness in her arms.
But Leo didn't know, didn't need to know. All he remembered was his father's laugh and the safe arms that had once held him close.
Now it's just me, Zara thought, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white. Just me to protect him.
The wind howled outside, a reminder of the storms that had first swept through, carrying the mist and all its horrors. In those first weeks, Zara had kept herself awake, watching the creatures that the mist had created.
They were twisted things, humans and animals alike, hollow-eyed and mindless, staggering in packs, looking for prey. It was straight from those stupid sci-fi movies Damon used to love watching.
Zara had come to recognize their patterns. The creatures hunted by sound and sight, by any flash of movement or glint of light.
But the last few nights had been quieter. The creatures seemed to have drifted further away, perhaps following the sounds of other survivors, driven by whatever hunger the mist had left them with.
There was a strange calm in the air now, an unsettling stillness that made Zara's stomach twist.
She'd come to trust the noise, the distant howls and screams as a sign that things were contained, that they hadn't reached her doorstep. But silence—it could mean anything.
In Zara's mind's eye, she saw Damon's empty chair, the ache lingering beneath her skin. "I wish you were here, Damon," Zara whispered. "We'd all feel safer."
Leo, oblivious, busied himself on the table, playing with an old spoon. And for now, that was enough. Zara had to make it enough.
Soon, she'd have to make the decision she'd been dreading—go out and scavenge, with Leo's safety hanging in the balance.
Zara knelt down, picking up Leo's discarded toy from the floor, running her fingers over the worn surface. Whatever was happening, they were running out of options. And outside, there were creatures far worse than the mist.
They settled into a quiet routine, the hours blurring together as Zara went through the motions. She checked the boards again, making sure nothing was out of place.
From what Zara understood, wearing multiple layers of clothes could stop the mist from making contact with their skin. That in turn saved them from instant death or worse, becoming one of those things.
She always made sure her body was covered and Leo went to bed almost swaddled, just in case something happened while they slept.
Each creak of the house felt magnified, a reminder that she was still alone in this silent fight.
Zara glanced back at Leo, who was happily humming to himself. Again, he had become Zara's light in the darkness, a reminder of all the love that remained, even as everything else crumbled away.
She straightened, her heart heavy, forcing herself to focus on the tasks at hand. Supplies. Safety. Leo's next meal. Safety.
Later, as she tucked Leo into bed, she found herself lingering, watching his peaceful face as he drifted off.
His soft breaths filled the silence, a comforting rhythm that kept her grounded. She ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead, feeling the soft warmth of his skin.
A wave of dizziness washed over her, and suddenly, she was somewhere else—running with Leo, shadowed figures closing in. Her baby's voice was faint, calling out, filled with fear.
The vision faded, leaving her gasping, heart pounding as she tried to shake off the lingering sense of dread.
She looked around, disoriented, struggling to ground herself back in reality. But before she could fully regain her composure, a loud crash echoed from somewhere in the house, sharp and jarring in the quiet.
She froze, every nerve in her body on high alert as the sound reverberated through the walls. Leo stirred beside her, a soft whimper escaping his lips as he shifted in his sleep.
She pressed a hand over his back, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths, and forced herself to take a steadying breath.
She waited, straining to hear past the silence that had reclaimed the room. One beat. Two. And then it came again, another soft scrape.
Her stomach dropped.
Someone—something—was in the house.