Chapter 16: The Road Ambush
The asphalt stretched like a wound through Georgia's desolate heart, its cracks jagged under a sky swollen with gray, rain-heavy clouds.
Rusted cars littered the roadside, their shattered windows glinting like broken teeth, a micro-story of panicked escapes long abandoned.
The air was thick, sour with rotting leaves and the faint, rancid stench of decay that clung to everything.
Elias Kane slumped in the RV's back, his shoulder grinding against the cold metal wall, the chill seeping into his bones.
His fingers worked the frayed edge of his jacket sleeve, a nervous tic, relentless, matching the thud of his heart.
His throat scratched, dry as dust, tasting of metallic fear, a bitter tang that coated his tongue.
His temples pulsed, the ZACS system a fire in his skull, each command a needle in his brain.
Too many variables, he thought, cynical, calculating survival odds, a memory flashing—a late-night drive, his old coworker's knuckles white on the wheel, the air thick with storm-soaked tension.
The convoy's tires hummed, a low drone, voices murmuring inside, a fragile cocoon against the silence outside.
A lurch.
The RV shuddered.
Shane's voice cracked like a whip from the driver's seat, his breath heavy with coffee and barely leashed rage.
"Walkers! Heads up!"
The air turned electric.
Fear sparked in every eye, every tightened jaw.
Elias's HUD flared, a glowing blue assault, jagged text pulsing as he sent an active command to Z-001 and Z-002, hidden in the woods' shadows.
Divert them. Now.
His heart slammed, the command a white-hot spike through his skull, his vision blurring at the edges.
The zombies lurched, their decayed limbs dragging, groans rising like a guttural hymn, pulling the herd away from the convoy's path.
[SYSTEM: Active Command: Divert – 50 SP. Balance: 0. Willpower -4: Dizzy yet? Push harder, saint, and you'll be kissing asphalt.]
The HUD's mockery was a cold slap, its blue flicker a strobe in his mind.
Dizziness crashed over him.
His grip tightened on the bench, knuckles bone-white, the world tilting.
A faint nosebleed started, warm and metallic, dripping onto his lip.
Keep it together, he thought, wiping it with his sleeve, the fabric rough against his skin.
The RV swerved hard.
Shane cursed, loud, raw, tires screeching as a stray walker's hand smeared black grime across the hood.
The jolt threw T-Dog, standing near the door, into a table, his arm twisting, a sharp cry tearing from his throat, his breath quick, smelling of sweat and fear.
"T-Dog!"
Glenn's voice was a high-pitched snap, his cap low, eyes wide, fingers fumbling with a first-aid kit, a nervous tic shaking his hands.
Elias staggered up, legs unsteady, vision swimming, the ache in his skull a relentless drum.
My fault. My ripple.
A memory flashed—a friend's fall during a climb, his own voice apologizing, the air heavy with guilt.
He knelt beside T-Dog, hands steady despite the pain, fingers probing the injury—a sprained wrist, maybe a fracture, the skin hot under his touch.
"Hang in there, man," he said, voice low, grounding, forcing calm through the chaos.
T-Dog's eyes locked on his, pain carving deep lines, but gratitude flickered, his urban accent thick, breath hitching.
"You… got those walkers away, Kane."
"Saved us."
Elias's chest tightened, guilt a cold fist, the lie of his "luck" a bitter weight.
I'm a cheat, not a hero, he thought, fingers relentless on his sleeve, the tic a frantic pulse.
The group exhaled, relief mixing with the stench of exhaust and fear, the air thick, oppressive.
Shane's eyes burned from the driver's seat, suspicion a dark cloud, his breath heavy, his hand twitching near his gun.
"You're too damn lucky," Shane muttered, voice low, a warning.
Elias met his gaze, heart racing, forcing a shrug, his voice light, deflecting.
"Luck's all I got," he said, a half-truth, the words sour on his tongue.
[SYSTEM: Team Synergy: T-Dog +10% trust. Reliable guy. Shane's glare could melt steel, though. Watch your back.]
The HUD's wit was a faint spark in the dark, but Elias's stomach churned, T-Dog's loyalty a fragile shield against Shane's growing paranoia.
The convoy rolled on, the walkers diverted, but the cost lingered—Amy's save had drawn this herd, a ripple he hadn't foreseen, T-Dog's injury a scar on his conscience.
Hours later, they stopped to regroup, the air cooler now, the scent of pine sharp.
Elias slipped into the woods, boots crunching on trampled foliage, the ground a chaotic canvas—snapped branches, scuffed dirt, a walker's torn shoe, its laces frayed, a micro-story of a herd's relentless march.
Ignored it. Stupid.
His fingers worked his sleeve, the tic relentless, guilt a heavy stone in his gut, a memory flashing—a missed deadline, his boss's sharp words, the air thick with failure.
[SYSTEM: Suggestion: Scout herd? 100 SP. Still ignoring? Bold move, saint. That ripple's gonna bite hard.]
The HUD's sarcasm was a blade, slicing through his thoughts.
He crouched, fingers tracing the shoe's frayed edge, the texture rough, the herd's threat a growing shadow.
I fueled this, he thought, his cynical mind tallying the cost of his choices, the Watcher's note burning in his pocket, a reminder of eyes unseen.
His secrets were a fraying rope, and the herd was a storm he couldn't outrun.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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