Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 113: Back to school

He leaned his head back slightly as if the air above him held a scent stronger than the lane itself, as if something invisible had drifted through this place and lodged in his senses. His nostrils flared once. His breath drew in slow and deep, not hurried, not startled, but reverent in a way that did not belong in a post-apocalyptic lane.

Like someone who had just smelled the most heavenly dish in a world that had forgotten flavor.

Ivan’s posture tightened.

Voss’s gaze narrowed.

Leaf Team’s eyes remained calm, but something in their attention shifted, a quiet click into place, the kind that meant instincts were waking up.

None of them spoke.

No one asked what he smelled.

No one had to.

Because the scent wasn’t here in a body, It was here in residue, on Ivan’s clothing, on Voss’s skin.

In the faint warmth that clung to men who had been close to Felicity only minutes ago.

The man’s eyes did not widen.

His expression did not change.

But the pause lingered long enough to become a statement.

Leaf Team, the unmated apex mercenaries who had never shown interest, had just reacted to something they could not name.

Somewhere back in the trade lane, Felicity stood between Victor and Damien, shy and bright and waiting for Rose, unaware that a different shadow had just begun to form around the idea of her.

Then the sound of children cut through the lane, bright and messy and real.

Luna and Frost were not small enough anymore to be carried like they were luggage, and not old enough to be left alone like they were soldiers. They had found that dangerous middle ground where a child’s joy could still exist alongside a survivor’s awareness, and they had learned how to weaponize both. Luna ran a few steps ahead, stopped, spun back, and ran again as if movement itself was proof the world hadn’t won. Frost stayed closer to the adults, but his eyes were up and alert, tracking faces, tracking hands, tracking the places a person might hide something sharp.

Tommy walked with them in that loose limbed way that made him look harmless if you didn’t know him, but his gaze moved constantly. His humor hadn’t died. It had hardened.

It had become a tool for keeping fear from swallowing the air. Cooper, Rowan, and Colt flanked the children like living barricades, the horse brothers built for endurance, shoulders broad, presence steady, and even they moved with a particular carefulness around Luna and Frost, because everyone had learned on the trip that children were not only precious, they were vulnerable in ways that made men do stupid, violent things.

They reached the lane that led toward the learning block, the part of Vineyard that had once been called kindergarten with a laugh and a shrug and then quietly became sacred because it was the only place that treated children like children instead of like future casualties.

Tommy stopped at the entrance and looked down at Luna and Frost like he was trying to calculate how to leave without it feeling like leaving.

Cooper bumped his shoulder lightly. "You’re hovering."

"I am not hovering," Tommy said.

Rowan folded his arms. "You’ve been standing here for a full minute."

Colt added helpfully, "That’s hovering."

Tommy scowled at all of them. "I’m briefing the situation."

Luna rocked back on her heels. "No biting."

Frost nodded solemnly. "Unless someone is bad."

Tommy closed his eyes briefly. "That is not the rule."

"It’s my rule," Luna said with complete sincerity.

Tommy crouched slightly so he was level with them, lowering his voice like he was about to deliver state secrets. He kept it teasing because if he didn’t tease he’d feel the weight of it.

"Your rule," he said carefully, "is to listen to the teachers, stay inside the walls, and not climb anything taller than Cooper. If you fall and break your neck I will have to become a villain and that sounds exhausting."

Cooper blinked. "Why me."

Tommy pointed at his chest. "Because you look structurally reliable."

Rowan snorted.

Frost looked up at Tommy and said very seriously, "We won’t die."

Tommy froze.

Children said things like that too easily now.

He swallowed once and forced his grin back into place. "Good," he said lightly. "Because your mother would kill me."

Luna frowned. "Mama doesn’t kill."

Tommy waved a hand. "Metaphorically."

Frost narrowed his eyes slightly. "You’re not our dad."

Tommy straightened. "I am aware."

There was a beat.

Then he added, almost under his breath, "Still. Don’t talk about your mother like that."

Cooper made a strangled noise.

Rowan coughed to hide a laugh.

Tommy glared at them. "What."

Colt shook his head. "Nothing."

The teachers approached.

Two elderly women and one older man, all three wearing practical clothing that had been repaired more times than replaced. Their hair was grey, their hands steady, their expressions sharp in the way of people who had seen too much and chosen to keep working anyway.

The lead teacher, Mrs. Dalloway, stopped in front of them and took in the entire group without blinking.

"You’re late," she said.

Mrs. Dalloway’s shoulders lowered half an inch. Not dramatically. Just enough to show she had been bracing.

Cooper stepped forward. "They’re yours again."

Mrs. Dalloway crouched to Luna and Frost’s height without ceremony.

"Are you hungry," she asked.

Luna nodded instantly. "Always."

Frost nodded too, but added with quiet pride, "We eat very well."

Mrs. Dalloway paused.

Her eyes flicked to their cheeks. Their arms. Their posture.

They were not thin.

They were not brittle.

They were solid. Bright-eyed. Clear-skinned in a way that was increasingly rare.

She looked up slowly at Tommy.

"You’ve been feeding them properly."

Tommy straightened, offended on principle. "Obviously."

Cooper coughed into his hand.

Mrs. Dalloway’s gaze shifted past him to the horse brothers, then back again.

"There’s no ration strain?"

Tommy hesitated for half a second, then shrugged. "We’ve got supply."

That was one way to put it. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

They had Felicity’s space.

They had Victor’s storage.

They had more dried fruit, preserved meats, rice sacks, honey, powdered milk, beans, sugar, flour, nuts, and things that looked suspiciously like pre-collapse bulk stockpiles than most districts had seen in months.

Luna bounced slightly. "Mama makes soup with real vegetables."

Frost nodded. "And meat."

Mrs. Dalloway blinked slowly.

"Meat," she repeated.

Tommy scratched the back of his neck. "They’re... not on travel rations."

"That is clear."

The older male teacher leaned slightly toward Mrs. Dalloway and murmured, not quite quietly enough, "I told you the fox team was different."

Tommy bristled slightly. "Snow Team."

"Yes," the teacher said calmly. "Snow Team."

Mrs. Dalloway studied Luna and Frost a moment longer.

"Well," she said, satisfied. "Good. Growing children need proper nutrition."

Tommy nodded vigorously. "Exactly."

Cooper stared at him.

Rowan looked away, because he was absolutely going to laugh if he didn’t.

Mrs. Dalloway turned her attention back to the children. "You may have second servings today."

Luna gasped like this was a miracle.

Frost nodded with dignified approval.

Tommy lifted a finger. "Not too much sugar."

Mrs. Dalloway’s brow lifted. "I have been running this block longer than you have been shaving."

Tommy froze.

Rowan leaned in slightly. "You walked into that one."

Tommy ignored him. "I just mean," he said defensively, "they get... enthusiastic."

"We are aware of enthusiasm," Mrs. Dalloway replied dryly.

Luna grabbed Tommy’s hand suddenly.

"Are you staying," she asked.

Tommy blinked.

He looked at Mrs. Dalloway.

Mrs. Dalloway looked back at him.

There was a pause.

"Yes," she said calmly. "Tommy may attend."

Cooper pinched the bridge of his nose.

Rowan muttered, "Of course he may."

Tommy puffed up slightly. "I am a positive male role model."

Colt made a strangled sound.

Frost squinted up at him. "You colored outside the lines last time."

"That was abstract," Tommy snapped.

Mrs. Dalloway stood again, adjusting her shawl.

"He helps carry tables," she said. "And he scares off anyone who thinks kindergarten is an easy target."

Tommy nodded, satisfied. "I provide atmosphere."

"You provide volume," the older male teacher corrected.

Luna tugged Tommy toward the doors. "Come on."

He allowed himself to be dragged inside like a very large, extremely muscular child.

Before stepping fully through the doorway, he turned slightly and looked back toward the square.

His gaze landed briefly on Felicity.

Tommy nodded once to himself.

Then he ducked through the kindergarten doors.

Felicity’s expression softened, relief bright in her eyes, but she didn’t ask questions she already knew the answer to. She didn’t need to be told the kids were okay. She had watched the handoff. She had watched the teachers’ faces crack with relief. She had watched Luna and Frost disappear into the learning block with the kind of excited certainty that only existed when a child believed the walls would hold.

Sarge and Marx returned from the housing assessment not long after, and the way they moved made it clear they were carrying information that mattered. Sarge looked calm. Marx looked like he had been personally insulted by architecture.

Rose’s gaze snapped to them immediately. "Report," she said.

Sarge nodded. "It’s good."

Marx scoffed. "It’s a block of apartments that thinks it’s indestructible, but it will do."

Rose’s mouth twitched. "You’re dramatic."

Marx looked offended. "I’m accurate."

Sarge spoke over him. "It’s the reward for clearing the zombies. The block was reserved as an incentive for teams to return and settle. It’s reinforced. Multiple exits. Roof access. It’s the best structure we’ve got without rebuilding from scratch."

Rose nodded slowly, absorbing it as policy. "Where."

Sarge pointed toward the northern residential lanes. "Top floor is already cleared."

Marx added, "Cleared by people who work for you."

Rose’s brow lifted.

Marx’s mouth curved slightly. "Giddy and Finch."

Rose’s expression did not shift into surprise, because none of this was news to anyone who belonged in her orbit. It was simply confirmation. "Of course they did," Rose said.

Felicity’s chest tightened anyway, not because she hadn’t known, but because seeing the names made something settle into place. Giddy and Finch being here meant the world hadn’t stolen everything. It meant there were still pieces of the old Vine that had survived.

Rose turned slightly as if she could summon them by thinking their names.

And as if she could, Giddy appeared from the inner lane with a bag slung over one shoulder and a grin that looked like it had been punched into place by stubbornness. Finch followed him, quieter, eyes sharper, posture heavier with responsibility, but the moment he saw Felicity his expression cracked into something like relief before he shoved it down again.

Giddy’s grin widened. "Well," he said. "Look what the apocalypse dragged in."

Felicity’s eyes warmed. "Hi."