Chapter 56: A World of Emotions
For the past few days, the biting cold had become a permanent fixture in Zara’s life, clinging to her like an unwelcome shadow. Each step felt heavier than the last, and her boots soaked through from trudging through endless puddles and half-melted snow. Her body ached, her feet blistered and raw, and the persistent chill seemed to seep into her very bones. The rain came down in icy sheets, plastering her dark hair to her face and soaking through her tattered coat.
Leo clung to her chest, his small arms wrapped loosely around her shoulders, his head resting against her neck. He was so quiet, so still, that for a moment, Zara worried he might have fallen asleep or worse. But the faint warmth of his breath on her skin reassured her. She adjusted her grip on the rusted metal pipe in her hand and scanned the stretch of abandoned highway ahead.
The skeletal remains of cars lined the road, their metal husks rusted and frozen. Some were overturned, others stripped for parts or left half-submerged in icy ditches. Most people had tried driving out of their homes during this start of the apocalypse, only to be struck by the mutant weather or torn apart by the zombies, the cars becoming their coffins. Some cars still had faded blood stains or white sun-bleached skeletons on them.
She shuddered to think of what happened to them.
Zara’s sharp eyes caught sight of a vehicle with its doors ajar, its interior appearing mostly intact.
"Hold on, Leo," she murmured, her voice hoarse from days without proper rest. She adjusted his weight and made her way to the car, her legs trembling with every step.
When she reached it, she leaned heavily against the doorframe, peering inside. The back seat was cluttered with debris—old wrappers, a faded blanket, and a plastic bag containing a few cans of food. It was a miracle. Or a danger, this meant someone had been using this car for a while now. Were they still here?
No, she thought, looking at the thin layer of frost that had begun to gather. The person hadn’t been back in some time. She hurriedly crawled inside, pulling Leo with her, and slammed the door shut against the relentless rain.
Inside, the air was stale but warmer than outside. Zara set Leo down on the seat and began inspecting him for injuries. Her hands were shaking—partly from exhaustion, partly from the lingering fear that something, anything, could go wrong.
She quickly stripped him of his wet clothes, dried him up and changed him to a dry pair she had taken from the cache. Back then she hadn’t questioned why the billionaire had needed children’s clothing and even now she didn’t care. All that mattered was leo.
Zara let her head fall against the cold glass, her breath fogging the window. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the ache in her muscles, the sting of her cracked lips. Her body ached as if it were breaking under the strain of months of relentless survival. She glanced at Leo, who sat quietly, his small frame dwarfed by the seat.