QuillMistress

You’d think seeing the future would give me a head start on surviving the apocalypse. I had it all planned—until everything I knew shattered when my husband sacrificed himself to save me and our son. Now it’s just me, my three-year-old son Leo, and my cursed gift of foresight that only seems to kick in when it’s nearly too late.

I’m doing my best to keep us safe, to find food, to make some kind of plan—

“Mommy?”

I glance down, trying to ignore the tug on my pant leg as I focus on our supplies. “Not now, Leo. Mommy’s thinking.”

“Mommy!”

I sigh and finally look down. My three-year-old is standing there, clutching… I blink. “Leo, where did you get a knife?”

He shrugs, grinning like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

My heart stutters. “No, really. Where did you find that?”

I try not to laugh. I mean, he’s three. Maybe he just—found it somewhere? But the next day, it’s a water bottle. Then, a tiny flashlight, somehow with batteries still inside. 

I don’t even know what else; he’s pulling things out one by one with the pleased grin of a kid who’s just figured out his favorite game.

Well, we may just survive this mess after all.

Now, if only the universe could have spared me from him. I don’t even know his name, but I know his type: tall, broad, and annoyingly handsome, with an air of calm control that’s out of place in this chaos. Ex-military, if I had to guess, with a voice that’s just as infuriating as his smirk. The man has a habit of showing up at the worst—or best—possible times, with a gun at the ready and secrets buried as deep as those bright green eyes.

I mean, he’s probably useful, but I’m trying to keep my eyes on the prize here: survival. 

For Leo and me. 

Because, foresight or no foresight, nothing is guaranteed in this new world—except the fact that people like him are trouble.

Apocalypse Days: I Rule with Foresight and a Powerful Son

Zara pressed her palm against her throbbing temple, her vision blurring as she tried to focus on Leo's tiny voice. The cold rain pattered relentlessly against the roof of the car, masking the distant groans of the undead.

Despite her splitting migraine, she kept her attention on Leo, holding him close as he sniffled and clung to her.

"Leo," she whispered, her voice hoarse and raw from her earlier cries. She shifted him slightly so she could look into his tear-streaked face. "What did you mean by hiding in your happy place? Can you tell me, baby?"

Leo squirmed in her lap, his small fingers gripping her shirt as he buried his face against her chest. "It's bigger now, Mummy," he mumbled, barely audible over the storm. "I told you before, remember? But you were busy, so I didn't say more..." He trailed off, his words breaking into quiet hiccups.

58: The World after the Storm