Chapter 15: The Departure Prep
The camp was a whirlwind of chaos, the sun blazing high, its heat a suffocating weight, the air thick with the acrid scent of car exhaust and the sour tang of sweat. Tents sagged, half-dismantled, their canvas flapping like wounded birds, a faded "Happy Camping" sticker on one a micro-story of a lost summer. Elias hauled a crate of canned goods, his shoulders burning, his throat raw, tasting of dust and the metallic sting of fear. His fingers fidgeted with a loose strap on his pack, a nervous tic that pulsed with his heartbeat, his temples throbbing from the ZACS system's strain, a fire behind his eyes. I'm holding too many secrets, he thought, his cynical mind calculating survival odds, a memory flashing—his sister, packing for a family trip, her laugh bright, the air warm with anticipation now gone.
He slipped to the camp's edge, his boots silent on pine needles, the air cool in the shade, his focus on Z-002 and Z-001, stationed as passive guards, their decayed forms shadows in the woods. Keep them safe, he thought, his heart racing, the HUD glowing blue, a faint ache in his skull. He sent a command, assigning them to watch the group, a costly 15 SP/day that wiped his balance, a price for their safety.
[SYSTEM: Passive Guard: Group – 15 SP/day. Balance: 0. Pranks risk trust. Zombie whisperer's not a job title, genius.]
The HUD's mocking tone was a cold jab, but Elias's lips twitched, a plan forming. He commanded Z-002 to move a crate of canned goods to the truck, a subtle prank to lighten the mood, the box sliding across the dirt as if by magic. Glenn froze, his cap low, his eyes wide, his breath quick. "Did… did you see that?" he whispered, his voice trembling, his fingers brushing his cap, a tic of confusion.
Elias shrugged, his voice light, teasing. "Wind's weird today," he said, his heart pounding, the lie a shield. Keep it together, he thought, a memory of a school prank flashing, the air thick with laughter now lost.
Andrea stormed over, her arms crossed, her scowl sharp, her breath smelling of mint tea, her eyes burning with grief and suspicion. "That's not funny, Elias," she snapped, her voice a blade, her fingers twisting her sleeve, a nervous tic. "We're packing to survive, not… playing games."
Elias's chest tightened, guilt a cold knot, his fingers relentless on the strap, the tic a drumbeat. I pushed too far, he thought, a memory of his sister's frown after a bad joke flashing, the air heavy with regret. The prank was meant to lift spirits, but it had sparked fear, a reminder of their fragile control, Amy's save making them complacent, a ripple he hadn't foreseen.
Carol worked nearby, her hands sorting clothes, her breath steady, her eyes fierce with new resolve. Ed loomed, his face red, his voice a growl, his breath heavy with stale beer. "Woman, I told you, stick to our stuff," he said, his hand twitching, a tic of rage.
Carol stood, her shoulders squared, her voice steady, her Southern lilt sharp. "No, Ed," she said, her eyes locked on his. "I'm helping everyone. Sophia helped, too. We're part of this group."
Ed's face fell, his bluster fading, his silence a defeat as the group's eyes turned, Dale's gaze a quiet rebuke, his breath smelling of mint tea. She's a force now, Elias thought, a memory of his mother's defiance flashing, the air thick with pride. Carol's stand was a triumph, her trust in Elias a spark that burned bright, a quiet moment of victory in the chaos.
[SYSTEM: Carol trust +10%. Defiance shines. Turning abused spouses into badasses—add it to your resume.]
The HUD's witty jab was a warm spark, but Elias's heart was heavy, the prank a misstep, Andrea's anger a warning. He slipped into the woods, his boots crunching pine needles, the air cool, the scent of sap sharp. Checking Z-001's position, he froze, his eyes catching a folded paper tacked to a pine, its edges crisp, new. His heart lurched, his fingers trembling as he tore it free, the words scrawled in tight, precise ink: WE SEE YOU.
The note was a blade, his paranoia a coiling heat, his breath hitching, the air thick with dread. They're watching, he thought, a memory of a coworker's warning glance flashing, the air heavy with betrayal. He stuffed the note into his pocket, his fingers relentless on the strap, the tic frantic. The Watcher was real, a threat he couldn't name, a rival that could unravel everything.
[SYSTEM: Suggestion: Confront Watcher? 100 SP. Hiding's safer. Your call, saint.]
Elias ignored the HUD, his heart pounding, his decision to hide a cold resolve, an emotional override driven by fear of exposure over the logic of confrontation. I'll get them to the CDC, he thought, the woods a mirror to his secrets, the camp's hope a fire he'd stoked, but the Watcher's note was a shadow, a storm he couldn't outrun.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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