Chapter 4: The Night Watch
The Georgia night was a heavy shroud, the moon a faint smear behind clouds, casting jagged shadows across the camp's uneven ground. The air was cool, sharp with pine and the faint, sour tang of decay that clung to the woods like a ghost. Elias perched on a crate at the camp's edge, his boots scuffing the damp dirt, his breath shallow, tasting of dust and the bitter dregs of coffee from earlier. His fingers fidgeted with the hilt of his knife, a nervous tic that pulsed with his heartbeat, his temples throbbing faintly from the strain of his secret. I'm their shield tonight, he thought, a memory flashing—his father, standing watch over a campsite, his silhouette steady against a flickering fire. The camp slept, tents sagging like weary travelers, the soft snores and rustling leaves a fragile lullaby, but Elias's eyes were sharp, scanning the darkness, his mind tethered to three walkers—Z-001, "Karen," Z-002, "Steve," and a new one, Z-003, unnamed, circling the perimeter like silent sentinels.
He'd volunteered for the night watch, a calculated move to prove his worth without drawing too many eyes. The air was still, heavy with the scent of woodsmoke and the faint metallic tang of his own sweat, his heart a steady thud against his ribs. They need to trust me, he thought, his fingers tightening on the knife, the tic relentless. He focused, the ZACS HUD flickering blue in his mind, a ghostly overlay guiding Z-001, Z-002, and Z-003 in a methodical triangle around the camp, their decayed forms blending into the shadows. The strain was a dull ache, a weight pressing behind his eyes, his willpower fraying like worn rope. I'm pushing too hard, he thought, a memory of his old boss, warning against burnout, his voice gruff but kind, flickering briefly.
[SYSTEM: Control Z-003: 50 SP. Balance: 15. Willpower -1: Headache incoming. Brain's working overtime, Elias. Nosebleed city awaits.]
A sharp pain lanced his skull, white-hot, stealing his breath. He stumbled, his hand gripping the crate, the wood rough under his palm, splinters biting his skin. The HUD's mocking tone was a cold jab, the strain of three walkers a fire in his mind. He rubbed his temples, a low groan escaping, the sound swallowed by the night. Keep it together, he thought, his fingers twitching on the knife, the tic a drumbeat. The camp's quiet was a fragile trust, and he was its unseen guardian, but the cost was carving lines into his body, his nose tingling with the threat of blood.
"You okay, son?" Dale's voice was gravelly, cutting through the dark like a blade.
Elias's head snapped up, his heart lurching, his fingers tightening on the knife. Dale stood a few feet away, his arms crossed, his eyes glinting under the brim of his hat, sharp and unyielding. The old man's presence was a weight, his gaze a probe, and Elias felt the prickle of exposure, his throat dry, tasting of ash. He's watching, he thought, a memory of his teacher, catching him whispering in class, her eyes narrow, flashing. Dale had heard him muttering "Karen," a slip to steady Z-001's connection, and now the old man's suspicion was a live wire, sparking in the dark.
"Just… uh, headache," Elias said, his voice rough, the lie bitter on his tongue. "Too much coffee, maybe."
Dale's eyes narrowed, his face a map of doubt. "Didn't hear no coffee pot tonight," he said, his voice low, measured, his breath smelling faintly of mint from a chewed leaf.
The air thickened, tension coiling like a snake. Elias's fingers twitched faster, the knife's hilt warm in his grip, his heart pounding. He sees too much, he thought, his mind scrambling for a deflection. "Long day," he said, shrugging, his voice light but strained. "Night's quiet, though. Almost… too quiet."
Dale's gaze lingered, then flicked to the woods, his jaw tight. "You've got a way with the dead," he said, his voice soft, probing. "Like you're talking to 'em."
Elias forced a grin, his heart racing, his fingers relentless. "Just muttering to myself," he said, his voice teasing, a shield. "Keeps the boredom away." He's not buying it, he thought, a memory of his brother, calling out a bluff, his smirk sharp, flashing. Dale's silence was heavy, his eyes a quiet storm, and Elias felt the weight of his secret, a stone in his gut.
He shifted, his boots scuffing, and gestured to the ground, his voice casual. "You see that?" he asked, pointing to a carved arrow, its wooden shaft half-buried in the dirt, its arrowhead glinting faintly. The second one he'd found, closer to camp, a warning from the Watcher that chilled his blood. They're closing in, he thought, his fingers twitching, a memory of a cryptic note on his old apartment door flashing, the air thick with threat.
[SYSTEM: Suggestion: Track Watcher? 50 SP. Your call. Paranoia's free, but survival's not.]
The HUD's serious tone was a cold slap, the suggestion a temptation he couldn't afford. Elias kicked dirt over the arrow, hiding it, his heart pounding, the air cool against his flushed skin. No panic. Not yet, he thought, his fingers tightening on the knife. Dale frowned, his eyes narrowing, but before he could speak, Lori's voice cut through, soft and warm, her blanket-wrapped figure approaching, her hair catching the moonlight.
"Thanks for this, Elias," she said, her voice steady, her eyes cautious but grateful, smelling faintly of soap and worn cotton. "You're… helping us."
Elias nodded, his throat tight, guilt clawing his insides. She trusts me, and I'm hiding this, he thought, a memory of his mother's gratitude for a neighbor's help flashing, her smile warm. His fingers twitched, the knife a cold comfort, and he forced a smile. "Just doing my part," he said, his voice soft, the lie heavy.
Carl padded up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his small frame shivering, his voice a sleepy whisper. "You good at surviving?" he asked, his eyes bright with curiosity, his sheriff's hat tilted.
Elias's heart ached, the boy's innocence a mirror to his own lost youth, a memory of his brother, asking about heroes, flashing. "I try not to trip," he said, his voice light, a weak joke masking his fear. "Stick close to your dad, kid. He's the real deal."
Carl grinned, his nod quick, and Lori's hand rested on his shoulder, her gaze softening. Elias stood, the night pressing down, his fingers twitching on the knife, the tic relentless. I'm their shield, he thought, the Watcher's arrow a burning weight, his secrets a shadow he carried into the dark.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
Love [ The Walking Dead Apocalypse System ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ The Walking Dead Apocalypse System ] with exclusive access to 35+ chapters on my Patreon, plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [Grimm, Teen Wolf ,blacklist,Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!