I woke up early. The kind of early where the sun hasn't shown yet, but the sky's gone from pitch black to a pale gray.
My situation's too tense for me to have a good and full-8-hours sleep.
The couch still sucked.
Stiff neck, sore shoulders, lower back screaming. But I was alive, and that counted for something.
I thought I would regret asking to be put here in this world. Surprisingly. Not a single thought in that line of thinking came to mind. It felt refreshing, freeing even.
After fully stretching for a bit on this God awful couch. ' But... seriously, what's wrong with this couch. It feels like it's made with concrete.' I didn't waste time, and checked my stuff first.
Glock 19, loaded.
Revolver, checked.
Karambit, clipped inside jacket.
Knife kit.
Water.
Protein bars.
Multivitamins.
Purification tablets.
Backpack packed and tight. Coat on. I slipped out the window without a sound. I didn't touch the front door. like that, I'll know if anyone slipped inside while I wasn't in the area.
The woods looked different in the early hours. Mist clung to the ground. Low visibility. Good cover.
I started moving north. I didn't have a destination, but I wasn't wandering either. This was recon. Get the lay of the land. Mark elevation. Identify choke points. Clear paths. Water sources. High ground.
What I learned from the memories from my first template Rank #10 ( Arthur Bishop ) is the key factor to winning any battle is to know the terrain you're surrounded in like the back of your hand.
Cause i wasn't trying to survive.
I was prepping to live.
***
Twenty minutes in, I found a stream. Thin. No more than ankle deep. Fresh water, from the look and sound of it. Good to know. I dropped to one knee, splashed some on my face. Cold enough to wake the brain.
That's when I heard it.
A crunching sound. Like someone trying to drag a 10 kg bag full of wet biscuits.
' Damn, my mind is fucked up for thinking like that.' I thought to myself.
I pulled myself back to reality and dropped low and froze. My hand automatically pulled the Karambit from my jacket. My feet shifted, knees bent. My heartbeat slowed instead of spiking.
It wasn't a person.
The sounds didn't end with just that, there was this mixture of growling and gurgling. Definitely not human. Or an animal either.
I moved to cover behind a tree. Wide enough to block my body. And i waited.
It came into view from behind a brush. Male. Torn-up jacket. Bald spot where the fungus broke through his scalp. Face slack. Mouth twitching. Leg dragging, probably broken.
Stage One. Runner. ' well, more like a walker. That leg ain't taking him far. Probably why he's alone.'
Cordyceps had taken root. Still part human. Slow. But dangerous if you slip up.
I gripped the blade tighter.
I wasn't scared.
That was surprising. I always believed I would shit my pants if I was putt up against a real life zombie.
I even thought I'd feel sick or nervous. But nothing came. Just quiet thoughts. Observation. Tactical angles. Breathing steady.
Arthur Bishop's instincts were kicking in. Clean. Cold. Pulling me to focus on what's in front of me like a Lazer, unblinking.
The infected passed ten meters from me. It didn't notice. Its eyes were glazed, blind. But it paused. Twitched. Turned slightly toward me. Sniffed the air.
I didn't move. That wasn't in the game, can they actually smell you.
It growled, but kept walking. Staggered more than walked. Head tilting to the side every few steps.
I didn't stop to figure if my hypothesis is right or not. I just moved.
Three fast, silent steps.
Left hand hooked the back of its collar. Yanked it down and sideways. Right hand sliced across the throat in one clean arc. Same efficiency I had when I killed that Matt guy.
It choked on air, stumbled forward. I didn't let go. Not giving it any chance to retaliate.
I wrapped my arm around its chest and shoved the Karambit under its left ear, angled up into the brain stem. It convulsed, then dropped.
I let it go, watched it twitch for a second. Nothing more.
"Clean."
[ Ding ] [ Cling ]
[ ( T ) You've eliminated an infected ( Runner ) ×1 earning +1 ( SM ) ]
[ ( SS ) You've eliminated an infected ( Runner ) ×1 earning +10 ( SP ) ]
I ignored the system notifications and checked the body first. No valuables. Just a dead infected. Maybe two days turned. What can anyone expect from a corpse anyway. At least I got points in both of my systems.
I wiped the blade on its shirt and stood.
First infected kill, it didn't feel like anything. Just like my first kill, like a finished job.
I looked down at my hands. Bloody and gross, the infected's blood looked uncannily dark.
" Is it truly okay, to not feel anything from killing." I'm the last person who would actually think this. Back in my previous life I've always been the guy that criticizes Characters in Novels/Anime/etc... for being weak and cowardice when they feel bad about killing and harming others ( bad people, not just anyone of course.)
And here I am thinking the same as them.
Pathetic.
' As much as i want to keep thinking and contemplating about all of this, i don't think I have the leeway to do so right now. ' I pulled myself back from thinking of these things while in this current situation.
I moved on.
***
I reached a high ridge fifteen minutes later. Gave me a view of the trees stretching for miles. Sun was coming up behind a hill. Weak light. Cold wind.
I sat down on a rock, pulled out a protein bar, bit into it. Tasted like cardboard. Probably is too.
Didn't care. on the contrary, most people in this time and age would kill for something like this.
I'm practically eating luxuriously to them right now.
My legs were sore. The body still lagged behind what the mind wanted. I needed time to build it up. Training would need to be scheduled fast as I can have a secure place.
Today was recon. Mapping terrain. Picking landmarks. All that good shit.
Stream to the east. Ridge here. Slope to the west. Dead log clusters near the south path. These were all points I memorized. Not just for escape, but for ambush if it comes to that.
I sat and breathed for a few minutes. Drank water. Took one multivitamin with it, better start building this body up the right way. And that means bulking season is in action.
No sound around me. No birds. Just distant forest and the sound of leaves swaying lightly.
This silence felt both beautiful and eerie at the same time. I've always thought that forests would have been livelier than this.
I stood up. The day wasn't over yet, I still had a job to finish.
***
I kept walking the ridge line.
Not in a straight line, never that. I made irregular cuts through the terrain, using animal trails, dry creek beds, and downed trees as cover. No footprints.
The rule's simple: if someone tracks me, they shouldn't find a trail worth following. I needed to be a ghost to them.
I reached a spot with a downed tree, thick bark, decent vantage. I sat under it. Checked the map again.
It was hand-drawn. Not official. Marked with pencil and blood smudges. Still, it gave me a rough layout. I placed my position visually: halfway between the lakeside and what looked like an old ranger station deeper west.
That could be worth checking out.
Maybe later.
For now, I took out the notebook I picked up from the supply room back in the butcher facility. Wrote down my own layout from memory and today's findings.
• East = Stream
• North = High Ridge (secure, 1 infected spotted)
• West = Steep climb, possible cabin overlook
• South = Sparse trees, long visibility, vulnerable
It might not seem much for now, but It'll eventually be full of every vantage point there is and more. ' That's at least what I think and believe. '
The ranger station symbol was at the far west edge of the map. That gave me a tentative direction for the future. But I wouldn't rush it. Not until I've got the body for that kind of distance.
I heard a rustle.
Stopped writing, and waited.
It was small. Low. Ground level. Probably a squirrel or a bird. I didn't move until it was gone. Can't be too careful like they say. Then I finished the last note and slid the notebook back into the pack.
I took out a bottle of water. Drank half. Used a purification tablet just in case the next refill came from the stream.
From this point, I circled back southward.
Didn't go back the way I came. Created a zigzag pattern. Backtracking is just asking to get caught. Every step forward should always give you two exit plans. ' I'm loving the way I think right now, I feel like I gained extra scores in my [ IQ ]. Every action of mine is backed by 10 different scenarios of action and reaction. It's addicting. '
That's what I was doing, planning.
Eventually I found a dead stump wide enough to sit on. I did some stretches. Slow shoulder rolls, basic neck turns, leg tenses. This body needed slow acclimation.
Did a few push-ups.
Stopped at fifteen. That's all it could take for now. And probably not far from my previous record too.
Arms shaking like twigs in the wind.
I wasn't the most athletic back then, just had the stamina to do my work and enjoy gaming. Energy drinks helped too.
No shame in that. It's a project. A machine under repair. Bishop's reflexes don't mean anything without muscle to back them up.
" But I wonder, do I get his physical potential too. That would be a godsend if it actually was the case." Imagine the potential with all the templates combined I'll be the ultimate human, both physically and mentally, kind of cool.
Mid-squat, I froze. My entire body tensed.
There was movement.
Far off, maybe 300 meters. Between two tall pines.
I dropped. Crouched low. Pulled the Glock slowly.
Didn't aim. Just watched.
Two figures. Moving quiet. One held a long weapon, probably a hunting rifle. The other had a machete on his back. Dark jackets, heavy boots, no coordination.
But they were alert. Looking around too often to be travelers. Not infected either, they looked like they were searching for something or... someone.
My eyes locked on the shoulder patch one of them had. Dark green band, rounded with yellow stitching. Same as the ones the cannibals had back at the facility.
David's people. And from the way they behave and act, definitely Scouts.
They were sweeping wide. Careful steps. Professional enough to stay in formation, but not smart enough to avoid visible paths. That could be a vantage point if I wanted to ambush them.
They eventually passed through a gap and vanished behind a rocky ledge. I stayed still. Listened for footsteps. Nothing. They weren't headed this direction yet. Just a pass-by.
Still. This changed things.
I didn't follow them.
I memorized their direction, then moved the opposite way. Fast, quiet steps. I didn't want to know if they left traps. If they had radios. If they had more nearby.
***
Back to the cabin. It took me twenty minutes. Same caution. Same irregular movement.
I made sure I wasn't followed. Circled the cabin twice. Tossed a rock near the entrance. No sound. No ambush. All clear.
Once inside, I locked the door and pushed the old shelf in front of it.
I took off my bag. Set it down. Leaned against the wall. My legs ached. My throat was dry. For now I ignored it. My attention was needed elsewhere.
I took out the notebook again and added a new section.
• Enemy Sighted
→ Direction: West-Southwest
→ Two men
→ Armament: Rifle + Machete
→ Uniform: Lakeside Band (Confirmed)
So, they expanded the search perimeter. They're smart enough to not panic, even though they didn't know for sure if they were dealing with just a single person or multiple.
But not smart enough to realize who they're looking for. " Poor bastards, I have no mercy for those who forsake their humanity. They wanted be monsters, sure... then I will treat them like monsters." I said with resilient and steady voice that surprised even me.
I slid the notebook back in and took another water sip.
I checked my points from my last kill. 1015 SP and 16 SM. Progress I guess.
Tomorrow, I'd kill again.
Not for revenge.
Not for fun.
But because they won't stop.
So I'll make them.
One by one, until the whole operation collapses from the inside out. But not for now.
Tonight, I recover.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Word count: 2154 words.
Thank you for reading.
To be continued.