Seraphina's Revenge: A Rebirth In The Apocalypse Novel

Chapter 339: The Return Of Lachlan’s Baby

Glass screamed, and the sound didn’t stop.

Blood hit what was left of the windshield hard enough to leave streaks that looked black in the broken headlight. A rib bounced off the hood. Something heavier—a half-torn leg, still in jeans—landed on the roof and slid off into the dark.

And still, the truck didn’t slow down.

Zubair had both hands tight on the wheel, shoulders locked, his eyes trained forward.

Only one headlight still worked, the left one, throwing a crooked cone of white into the rain of red. The rest of the glass was gone and the cold air cut through the cab, sharp enough to sting.

Lachlan wiped his sleeve across his face and kept his tone light. "Guess we found the storm season."

A hand slapped the door.

Another hit the side mirror and took it off clean.

The noise was constant—wet, solid, ugly.

Sera leaned forward in the passenger seat, chin propped on her palm like she was watching something mildly interesting. "It’s like the sky’s cleaning out the freezer," she said. "And tossing everything it doesn’t like over its shoulder."

Elias checked the rear through the half-broken window. "The road’s getting slick. Heavier toward the shoulder."

"We’ll stay in the middle," Zubair replied with a nod of his head.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. Everyone could hear the strain in the engine, the way it fought for traction against whatever was coating the asphalt.

Luci whined low from the floor. His ears were back, his fur stiff. He didn’t know what to growl at. The air smelled wrong—metal and salt and something that wasn’t decay but wasn’t alive either.

A ribcage hit the hood, bounced once, and fell away.

Fingers caught the edge of the door frame and dragged before the motion ripped them loose.

A skull cracked against the shattered windshield and rolled onto the dash before sliding down onto the floorboards.

No one screamed.

No one stopped.

After all, if they haven’t done worse, they’d at least seen it.

"Front line’s fading," Elias said, nodding toward the horizon. The light beyond the headlamp flickered once, as if the world had blinked. "We should pull off."

Sera tilted her head. "Why? It’s almost done."

He looked at her, then at the windshield, then back at her. "You’re calling this done?"

"Everything ends eventually," she said, calm. "Might as well keep moving until it does."

Zubair didn’t argue. He kept the wheel steady, following the only strip of road the working headlight gave him. Pieces kept falling from the sky—slower now, heavier. The truck continued to bounce over body parts like they were just a new type of pothole or speedbump.

A boot.

A jaw.

A shoulder with a chain still attached.

The truck hit something solid. The tires jumped, and the cabin jolted hard enough to rattle their teeth.

"That wasn’t roadkill," Lachlan muttered.

"Doesn’t matter," Zubair said. "It’s behind us anyways."

The sound changed then.

Still wet, still close, but lighter—drops instead of thuds. The kind of sound rain should make, not flesh.

Elias turned his head toward the shattered window. "Pressure’s changing."

Zubair felt it too. His ears popped.

Then everything stopped.

No slow fade.

No dawn.

Just light.

White, hard, overhead.

Sera blinked once as her eyes adjusted to the difference and leaned back against the seat.

Outside, the world was clean.

The sky was cloudless.

And the road ahead stretched clear and dry, like the last ten minutes had never happened. There wasn’t a single mark on the hood. No blood. No bodies. No smell.

The only proof was the broken glass still under their feet and the single working headlight cutting through daylight that didn’t need it.

"Every time," Lachlan said quietly. "Just wipes itself clean. No warning, no trace."

Sera’s eyes stayed on the horizon. "I think it’s polite," she said. "It made the mess, now it’s cleaned up after itself. If only everything could do that."

Elias half-laughed, half-sighed. "That’s one way of thinking about it."

The truck made a grinding noise when Zubair tried to shift gears. He pressed the clutch again. The pedal stuck halfway down. "We’re done."

He killed the engine. The silence that followed was heavy enough to feel. Heat started leaking in from the open sides, the kind that baked everything stale.

Lachlan climbed out first. He kicked at the side panel and watched the fender give. "Well," he said. "We had a good run."

Elias joined him, circling the hood. "Front axle’s bent. Coolant line’s busted. You’d have to weld it just to move five feet."

Zubair checked anyway. He crouched under the bumper and pulled his head out a moment later. "He’s right."

Sera stepped down from the cab. Her boots hit clean pavement. The sunlight didn’t burn, didn’t feel like the day had just started. It was just wrong in the way it refused to explain itself. She looked at the truck, then at the empty road stretching both ways.

"It’s useless now," she said.

Lachlan gave her a look. "What, you planning to walk to our final destination?"

"No," she said, voice soft but sure. "We’re not walking."

She flicked her wrist.

The air in front of the truck shifted—not a shimmer, not a light, just a difference.

A shape unfolded where there hadn’t been space for one.

A Hummer appeared with a sound like air settling.

It was matte black, edges dulled with streaks of white salt, the kind that came from snow covered roads that had been treated not to be slippery, not sea.

The windows were clean but cloudy, like the memory of frost hadn’t left them yet. A small line of rust cut across one door where old metal had been eaten by water.

Lachlan froze. His jaw dropped before the words came out. "That’s mine. That’s my baby."

Sera nodded her head as she walked around the vehicle once. "Yup."

He, too, circled it like he was afraid it might vanish if he so much as blinked. "You—this—how? I thought it got swept away when the tsunami hit City H."

"Why would it do that?" Sera said, more than a little confused. "I took it before the first wave hit."

He turned toward her, half-grinning, half-shocked. "You took it? You put my baby in your space, and I’m just finding out about it now?!?"

"Why leave something useful?" she replied simply. "Besides, I had the space for it."

Zubair ran a hand along the front grill, testing the tires with his boot. "Still holds pressure. It doesn’t even look like the paint has been damaged at all. But the salt might be a bitch to get off."

"It was winter," Sera grunted. "I had no control over the amount of salt that City H used on its roads.

Lachlan put a palm on the hood. It was warm already, soaking up the sun like it had been waiting. "You’re insane," he said, but he was smiling. "I missed my baby. Thank you."

Alexei came around the back, one eyebrow raised. "Looks like new, smells like salt. She has good taste."

Sera shrugged. "It was practical."

Lachlan leaned against the door, still looking like he didn’t quite believe it. "I can’t believe you kept this."

"You keep weapons, Elias keeps literally everything... I keep transportation," Sera said. "We all have our habits."

Zubair gave the hood a short, approving tap. "It’ll get us farther than walking. Load up."

They moved automatically.

The duffels came out of the ruined truck bed first—rope, tape, filters, spare fuel.

Luci jumped down, circled the Hummer once, then jumped into the backseat like he’d been waiting for it.

Lachlan slid into the driver’s seat and adjusted the mirrors. "Still fits."

"You’re not driving," Sera told him.

"Worth a try."

She took the passenger seat as Zubair climbed behind the wheel.

Elias and Alexei loaded in last, careful with the packs and weapons. The truck sat abandoned behind them, sunlight glinting off the broken frame until the distance started to blur it out.

When Zubair started the engine, it caught without hesitation. The sound was low, strong, alive.

Lachlan’s grin widened. "Listen to that. That’s home."

"Home doesn’t rattle," Alexei said, deadpan.

"Yours doesn’t," Lachlan shot back.

Sera leaned her head against the seat and watched the road ahead. "Southeast," she said. "Same direction."

Zubair nodded and put the Hummer in gear.

They drove in silence for a while, the steady hum of the engine filling the space that used to belong to screams and rain. The horizon shimmered with heat, but the asphalt stayed clear. No clouds, no corpses, just an endless stretch of road and the faint sound of tires cutting through dust.

Elias leaned forward slightly, his voice quiet but certain. "We’ll need fuel before the next region."

"I still have some in my space," Sera reminded them. "Plus, the jet fuel."

No one argued.

The Hummer rolled on. The broken truck faded in the mirrors until there was nothing left behind them but heat and light.

Sera looked out at the world that had cleaned itself again and smiled faintly.

Everything looked calm.

It always did—right before it wasn’t.