Chapter 21: The Glitch Crisis
The CDC's lower halls were a claustrophobic maze, their flickering lights casting jagged shadows that danced like specters, the air thick with bleach and a faint, sour stench of decay seeping through the walls, a reminder of the world outside.
A distant groan echoed, chilling, unnatural, clawing at Elias's nerves like nails on a chalkboard, the sound a raw wound in the quiet.
He stood near the group, his fingers rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous tic pulsing with his heartbeat, the raw skin stinging, each movement a spark of pain that kept him tethered to the moment.
His throat was raw, gritty with dust and fear, the metallic tang of dread a constant weight on his tongue, a bitter taste that never faded.
His temples throbbed, the ZACS system a fire in his skull, each command a strain that left him hollow, teetering on the edge of collapse.
Something's breaking loose, he thought, cynical, calculating odds, a memory flashing—a machine jamming in a warehouse, his coworker's curse ringing in his ears, the air thick with frustration and failure.
Z-001, Karen, lurched into the hall, its decayed form twitching, eyes wild, snarling at the group, a berserk anomaly that shattered Elias's control like glass, the sound raw, guttural, a knife in the quiet.
Carl yelped, his breath quick, high-pitched, smelling of canned peaches, his small frame shrinking behind Lori, eyes wide with terror, hands clutching her arm like a lifeline.
"What's… what's it doing?" he asked, voice trembling, a high-pitched plea that cut through the air.
Elias's heart slammed, a frantic drum, his vision blurring, the HUD flaring blue, jagged text pulsing, a warning that burned in his mind like acid, searing his thoughts.
[SYSTEM: Anomaly in Z-001 – Willpower -2. Balance: 150. Fix it, saint, or they'll start asking questions you can't answer with your psychic nonsense.]
The HUD's mockery was a cold blade, its flicker a glitchy strobe, slicing through his thoughts like a knife through flesh.
A nosebleed started, warm, sticky, dripping onto his lip, the metallic taste sharp, grounding him in the pain, a stark reminder of his limits.
My fault. Pushed her too far, he thought, guilt a cold fist squeezing his chest, his cynical mind tallying the cost of his overcontrol, his fingers rubbing his neck, the tic frantic, relentless, the raw skin screaming.
He raised a hand, voice sharp, desperate, a lie spilling out like blood from a wound.
"Stay back! It's… uh, my psychic thing," he said, eyes darting to Dale, the words a flimsy shield, crumbling under scrutiny.
"Messes with walkers sometimes, you know."
Dale's eyes narrowed, breath smelling of mint tea, hand brushing his hat, a nervous tic, his voice low, cutting, suspicion a dark flame that burned too close.
"That's real convenient, Kane," he said, eyes boring into Elias, unyielding, a hunter scenting blood.
"Real damn convenient."
Elias's stomach churned, the lie sour, his fingers rubbing harder, the tic a frantic drumbeat, the raw skin burning like fire under his touch.
He's got me pinned, he thought, a memory flashing—a teacher's scrutiny in a classroom, the air thick with accusation, his own excuses faltering under pressure.
Carol stepped forward, her small frame a steady anchor in the chaos, hands on Carl's shoulders, breath smelling of mint, her Southern lilt calm, protective, cutting through the panic like a lighthouse in a storm.
"Easy, Carl," she said, voice soft, firm, eyes fierce with resolve, a mother's strength shining through.
"It's okay. Elias has it handled."
Carl's eyes flicked to Elias, trust flickering, his voice small, trembling, a fragile thread of hope.
"You… you sure?"
Elias nodded, heart racing, forcing a smile, the effort like lifting stone, his voice strained, cracking at the edges.
"Yeah, kid," he said.
"Karen's just… uh, having a bad day."
[SYSTEM: Carol trust +5%. She's got this. You're lucky she's covering for your mess, saint. Don't expect a parade.]
The HUD's wit was a faint spark, a brief light in the dark, but Elias's chest was tight, Carol's calm a lifeline in the storm that threatened to drown him.
Daryl snorted, his crossbow slung low, breath heavy with sweat and leather, his voice gruff, a half-smirk breaking through the tension.
"Your knack needs a damn tune-up, man," he said, eyes glinting, the "Karen" quip a spark of humor in the chaos, a private joke turned sharp, cutting.
Elias forced a laugh, the sound hollow, scraping his throat like sandpaper, his fingers rubbing his neck, the tic relentless, the raw skin burning like fire.
"Yeah, she's… uh, moody today," he said, deflecting, the lie a bitter weight, his cynical mind tallying the eyes on him, each one a threat.
They're watching. Too close, he thought, the group's gazes a pressure, Dale's suspicion a blade, the glitch a crack in his fragile secrets.
The air was heavy, the CDC's walls closing in like a vice, Z-001's snarl a warning of chaos brewing, the Watcher's note a burning shadow in his pocket, his lies a fraying rope in a world that demanded truth, each step a gamble against exposure.
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