Chapter 2: The Test
Dawn broke cold, the air biting Elias's skin as he sat sharpening a scavenged knife. The blade's edge glinted, its metallic tang mixing with damp earth and lingering woodsmoke. The rasp of steel on whetstone was a steady rhythm, grounding him against the morning's tension. Shane's voice cut through, laced with challenge, as he loomed over Elias, boots scuffing dirt, his shadow heavy with intent.
"Need someone who 'doesn't make tracks,' Elias," Shane sneered, eyes narrowing. "Or maybe you just got lucky with that backpack. Glenn, take him. See if his instincts hold up without that 'five-star' luck."
Elias nodded curtly, catching Glenn's nervous glance. He rolled his eyes just enough for Glenn to see, a shared defiance sparking between them. The air carried the faint sourness of unwashed clothes and the distant decay of the city, a reminder of the stakes.
The battered pickup rattled into the suburbs, its engine coughing like a dying beast. Inside, tension was thick—Glenn's anxiety a sharp hum, Elias's focus razor-sharp. They found a lightly looted hardware store, its air heavy with stale dust, tool oil, and the distant reek of decay. Elias pushed the rusted door, bracing his foot to silence the hinges. The cold metal handle bit his palm, the texture grounding him. He inhaled, cataloging the scents—cardboard, oil, rot—before slipping inside, moving like smoke. His boots whispered on the gritty floor, every step calculated to avoid a creak.
"Minimal walkers, but they're coming," he thought, Perception humming. Behind a shelf of caulking guns, he focused, brow furrowing with the strain of expanding control. The shelves' metallic tang mingled with the musty air, his fingers brushing the rough plastic of a caulking tube as he steadied himself.
[Control Z-002: 50 SP. Balance: 95. Anomaly in Z-001 – Loyalty 45%. Focus, genius.]
The system's alert was a cold spike, drowning out the store's silence. "Loyalty? For a corpse?" A blinding pain lanced his temple, vision swimming. Z-001—Karen—snarled nearby, her command wavering. Glenn froze, two aisles away, eyes wide, the faint clink of a dropped tool echoing.
Elias dropped to his knees, clutching his head, forcing a ragged moan. His fingers dug into the gritty floor, the cold concrete anchoring him. "God… the stress," he gasped, voice hoarse. "Heard that? It's in my head. Like a ringing bell. Gotta lure them out. Now."
Glenn grabbed his arm, eyes flicking to the shuffling sounds. "What the hell was that? You got a concussion, man?"
"No… it's the silence," Elias panted, selling the lie, his breath hot and sharp. "World's too quiet. I feel them coming. Get the meds, rope! I'll keep quiet."
The feigned collapse worked. Elias reasserted control over Karen and Z-002—"Steve"—commanding a silent distraction loop blocks away. They grabbed rope, bandages, and water, the weight of the haul tugging at Elias's aching arms. He leaned on Glenn, exhaustion serving the deception, the truck's stale air thick with their sweat as they fled.
"Willpower 8. Too low," Elias thought, hands trembling as he slumped in the truck, the vinyl seat sticking to his back. "Zombies with loyalty stats? A glitch waiting to blow my cover." The run's success strengthened Glenn's trust but alerted Dale's suspicion, his watchful eyes catching Elias's limp. "I need an ally, not a prophet's halo." Glenn was the key—witty, open, blind to the magic.
Back at camp, under Dale's hawk-like gaze, Elias and Glenn sorted the haul: rope, bandages, water. The air was thick with dust and the faint sourness of the camp's latrine. Glenn's adrenaline bubbled, his voice bright.
"Man, that was insane," Glenn said, grinning as he stacked cans. "You were like a damn ninja, Kane. That moment—feeling them coming? How'd you know that noise was bad? I didn't hear anything but you gasping."
Elias leaned against the RV's tire, its rough rubber grounding him. He offered a weak smile, 80% exhaustion, 20% strategy. "Not instinct, man. Paranoia. Spend enough time alone, you hear the silence. Every headache's a dead asshole headed my way. You've got the knack too, Glenn. Froze faster than a popsicle at that snarl. Twitchy, but good twitch."
Glenn laughed, a stress-relieving sound cutting the tension. "Twitchy's my middle name. I deliver, you know? But you're right. We're a good pair of twitchy runners. Work on that collapse routine, though. Looked like you saw your pizza guy's ghost."
[Team Synergy: Glenn +5% trust. Don't get cocky.]
"Small win," Elias thought, the +5% trust a lifeline. "Glenn's my shield—witty, loyal, blind to the magic." But SP at 95 was dire. He needed low-cost, high-impact moves, especially for Carol. Her reliance was his vulnerability, her safety his anchor. A can of peaches, delivered by Karen, would deepen her trust without breaking his bank.
An hour before nightfall, Elias approached Carol at the washing lines, her hands folding Sophia's thin shirt with mechanical precision. The air carried the faint soap scent and the damp chill of drying clothes. He held the can loosely, its 20 SP weight a small fortune.
"Carol," he said quietly, voice soft against the evening's hum. "Found this in the truck's cab. Premium stuff. For Sophia. Don't let anyone see it. Just for her."
[Purchase: Food Can – 20 SP. Balance: 75. Secrets weigh heavier than cans.]
Carol took the can, her hand trembling, eyes raw with gratitude. "Elias… you didn't have to. You gave so much already. She loves peaches. This is… thank you. You're a good man."
"Good man," Elias thought, guilt twisting his gut like a blade. "I'm buying trust with lies." Her words burned, but her safety was worth it. He rubbed his gritty jaw, the stubble sharp under his fingers. "Ed's the real threat. I need to destabilize him, test the camp's limits." A prank—cheap, subtle—could ease tension and expose fault lines. Firewood near Ed's tent was the perfect target.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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