Erysichthon Protocol (3)
I practiced various poses in front of the mirror.
Shoulders spread wide, muscles popping and flexing when I tensed up.
Anyone who saw my face would think I’d swapped into someone else’s body.
Well… no. Even my face had changed a little.
The freckles and moles were all gone, and my nose had sharpened just a touch.
My eyebrows looked thicker, and my expression had softened into something almost… refined.
“What the hell changed?”
It was subtly handsome, yet I couldn’t figure out why.
I covered half my face with a book and flipped it side to side.
The left and right sides matched almost perfectly.
Originally my left jaw had been a bit sharper, but now it looked slim and refined.
Even though it was still my own face, the sudden surge of confidence was hard to ignore.
This was enough to make me think I could walk into any bar without getting noticed.
Especially after a shower, staring at a fresh, smooth face in the mirror like any normal person would.
And my stamina had improved too.
Of course I’d always loved working out.
My cheap one-room apartment had no elevator, so every day I had to climb six flights of stairs just to get to the roof.
But yesterday morning I was busy scaring off zombies, and all afternoon I was biking like crazy.
Now, after sleeping, there wasn’t even a hint of muscle soreness.
“Must be some kind of compensation, huh?”
The mirror didn’t answer.
Before bed I slipped on the socks I’d laid out to dry, tightened my sneaker laces until they were rock-hard.
Brown long-sleeve shirt that reached my wrists, blue jeans that hit my ankles, and a brown leather belt.
It felt almost like going naked under the challenge, but if I was going to miss something, I’d miss it on purpose later.
I packed my gear.
A plastic water bottle, a hunting knife, and an empty lubricant can.
Everything else—my bike and the backpack—stayed in the container.
I left the backpack behind.
In the green-and-brown forest, that glaring pink was going to stand out like a sore thumb.
Plus that creepy Barbie doll’s smile had been driving me nuts.
I’d scrape it off later if I had to.
I stepped out of the container.
The air felt clean and sharp in my lungs.
“Hah.”
The forest was dead quiet.
No insect buzz, no bird calls—only the useless 50-meter transmission tower poking up through the trees like some kind of twisted joke.
I headed toward the lookout.
There was a big hollowed-out rock at the top that hunters called the perfect sniper spot.
The downside? If a bullet hit me there, I wouldn’t even see it coming.
So I moved carefully, picking a big tree that would hide me perfectly.
The closest tree was too open; I’d be spotted in seconds.
I picked another one farther away, on a gentle slope with plenty of underbrush.
I crouched, slid through the grass, and dropped to one knee beside the tree.
I kept my eyes and ears open, ready for anything.
Everything was silent.
I let out a long breath of relief, then slowly calmed myself down.
I could’ve just sprinted to the top and felt awesome about it.
But the real problem came after.
My goal wasn’t to reach the top fast.
It was to get back alive.
Zombies could strike at any second, so I had to conserve every ounce of energy.
I kept walking.
Every few steps I grabbed a handful of tall reeds and tied them into a simple loop trap.
Even though I knew these things wouldn’t always catch people, they were worth the effort.
Zombies weren’t smart enough to think about stepping over a tripwire, so they’d walk right into it.
Rustle.
A sound I hadn’t made.
I lowered myself even more until the thick bushes hid me completely.
Flap!
A bird flew up from the branch I’d been staring at.
Whether it was just sleeping or something else, it didn’t matter.
I kept walking along the edge of the paved road.
A rusty old truck sat abandoned, probably from some hunter who’d died here long ago.
The doors had rusted clean off.
Oil stains on the ground were just faint shadows now.
The front and passenger seats were long gone—someone had already cleaned them out.
But if I used the tires as a step and just stepped up into the cargo bed…
Creek…creak…squeak…squeak…
The sound was loud, but I had no choice.
I grabbed a bundle of thin wire, an old pair of nippers, and two long wooden stakes.
I hopped down, hugged the loot to my chest, and ran back the way I’d come.
“Hah… hah… haaah.”
Of course.
Two broken-down zombies had already gathered around the truck.
I tapped the metal body with my fist, tilted my head like I was confused, and wandered off into the trees when they didn’t notice me.
Just beyond the truck was a parking area—once a nice campground with benches and tables.
There were still a lot of zombies around, but nothing worth looting unless something special dropped.
I took a moment to catch my breath, then made a few more simple traps with wire in the shade.
I pinched the wire with the nippers and shook it gently to minimize the clinking sound.
I’d never made a trap before, but I’d watched game characters do it a thousand times.
And somehow it still looked convincing.
‘Must be some kind of compensation again?’
Or maybe I was just that good at faking it.
I’d watched top chefs on YouTube for years, yet I couldn’t cut an onion properly.
Trapping was the same—something you had to do over and over to get good at it.
I made four neat traps.
I tied thick wooden stakes to each one.
They looked sturdy enough to hold a body.
Two of them had empty water bottles tied inside.
Fill them with small stones, set them, and the clanking would tell me exactly where the problem was.
I kept walking toward the lookout.
I set a wire trap near the path in a thick patch of grass and leaves.
The sun was beating down hard.
Mid-morning, maybe ten or eleven o’clock.
The rock at the top was smooth; even crawling on my belly wouldn’t hurt me.
I dropped flat and started inching forward like a spider.
I scanned the area.
The view was beautiful.
Warm sunlight on the sniper spot made my body relax.
Krrroooaaarrr.
A huge sound.
My stomach growled loud enough to shake the trees.
“Ugh…”
It hurt.
I curled up and clenched my fists.
I wished I’d brought the sausage, but it would’ve made me thirsty all day.
People need to eat or they’ll die…
I heard a faint voice in my ear.
No. Not now.
I shook my head hard and forced myself to focus.
My stomach kept rumbling.
Since there was nothing else to do, I calmed down again.
Flutter.
Birds took flight in the direction I’d decided to head.
The caretaker’s house.
Full of dry rations, water, bags, and weapons—almost everything a survivor needed.
But it wasn’t stocked to the brim, which was why the locals had started calling it the “tasting corner.”
Still, in my current situation it was a goldmine.
I saw the birds and knew there were zombies nearby, but I’d brought the traps for exactly this reason.
“Good.”
No major obstacles ahead.
I quietly descended the slope, repeating the same pattern I’d used all morning.
Pick a spot, check the area, drop low and charge, weave a trap with whatever bushes I could find, then lay the wire traps in the thickest patches of small trees.
The lubricant can traps went near the creek.
One just with stakes went at the intersection of the trails.
Eventually I reached the creek.
Three little footbridges looked cute.
The water babbled cheerfully.
Still, I didn’t drink.
I’d seen too many people die from tainted water.
The sun got hotter as noon approached.
My mouth felt dry.
The creek kept calling to me.
I set the last trap.
Finally I saw them.
Two zombies shuffled across the open field in front of the caretaker’s house.
One wore a red-checked shirt and blue jeans, with a dirty beard and patchy hair.
That had to be the caretaker.
The other looked similar—probably a partner.
This was the exact spot where the most beginners died in the Transmission Tower Forest.
If I charged in here and lost, I’d either become one of them or die bleeding out.
Winning wasn’t the same as surviving.
But if I used my knowledge and just a little luck, I could make it through.
Luck was something you could train for.
Like this.
“Delivery!”
I walked up and casually threw a rock.
Missed.
No big deal.
One more try.
It hit the guy’s head dead center.
Krrreeee—
The zombie lunged at me full speed.
I didn’t even look back.
I walked away quickly along the path.
Even when alive, that guy had been in great shape.
He moved way faster than a normal zombie and was built like a tank.
Most bullets wouldn’t finish him in one shot.
The slower zombie behind him froze.
When they saw me, they realized I was dangerous.
I stood still, turned, and watched them approach.
The caretaker’s face twisted in a scowl.
I didn’t want his bad mood to carry over to me.
So when I felt it coming, I did what I knew would help.
I lightly poked my cheek with my index finger and twisted my hips just a little.
It was the key pose.
Any idol group that tried it had gotten the audience excited.
My customer would feel the same.
“Grrrrrrraaaahhh!”
The caretaker’s bloodshot eyes bulged.
No.
I wasn’t satisfied.
I did it again.
Hand on my hip, other hand poking my cheek.
“What’s the secret to this dance move?!”
I snapped my hips.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
“Kyaaaaahhh!”
The caretaker charged like a girl, screaming at the top of his lungs.
Guys got girly energy after a certain age, I guess.
Even with blood dripping from his forehead he kept coming.
Now the whole forest knew I was a super star thanks to my die-hard fans.
But I was still a normal guy, so I didn’t pull off any fancy dance moves.
That was for amateurs to try and fail at.
Instead I walked across the gravel in front of the creek.
I twisted my hips and struck the most seductive pose I could.
The caretaker, now acting like a girl, drooled and whimpered.
From my perspective I could see exactly how his ankles kept twisting and rolling on the uneven stones.
His steps slowed dramatically as the pain shot through his feet.
Creak!
He was caught.