Chapter 10: Chessboard
The wind swept through the trees as the group moved cautiously down an overgrown road, boots crunching against gravel and broken branches. The morning sky was gray, thick with clouds that promised rain, but for now, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
Axel walked at the front, katana strapped to his back, his eyes scanning the path ahead. He moved with purpose, each step measured. His breathing was steady, calm—even as the others lagged behind.
They trusted him now.
Not because he was kind. Not because he spoke soft words or gave them hope.
They trusted him because he survived.
And in this world, that was enough.
Behind him, Rachel and Mary walked together. Emily stayed close to Jason, whose hands never strayed far from his bat. Hank kept to the rear, his gaze always moving, like Axel's.
Axel slowed down just enough to glance back. His mind wasn't on the road. It was on them.
He watched the way Jason scanned the trees. The way Emily reached for her knife and hesitated. The way Mary leaned into Rachel when a branch cracked under her boot.
They were weak.
But they could become useful.
"A soldier is only as good as his training," Axel's father used to say. "And a leader is only as strong as the pieces he moves."
Axel remembered.
He taught them in silence. One by one.
That morning, he showed Jason how to move quietly through thick brush. How to breathe slower, how to balance his weight on the balls of his feet.
Jason didn't say thank you. Axel didn't expect him to.
Later, he handed Mary a small pocketknife. Told her how to hold it. Where to stab. Not the chest—the neck. The thigh. The eye. Fast. No hesitation.
Rachel he taught how to listen. Really listen. The sound of a squirrel was different from the sound of a crawling walker. The crunch of a boot on dry leaves wasn't the same as a deer.
And Emily—he made her watch him skin a rabbit. She almost vomited. But she didn't look away.
Axel didn't do it because he cared.
He did it because he needed them.
They were his chess pieces. And the world was a battlefield.
He wouldn't survive alone. Not forever.
But with them?
He could move. Manipulate. Survive. Kill.
He didn't need their loyalty. He needed their functionality.
And so, he sharpened them.
Each step they took through the dying forest, he watched them become a little less innocent. A little colder. A little more like him.
The fire in his chest still burned, and the weight of that mark still haunted him.
But for now?
He trained his pawns.
And waited for the moment the kings would meet.
---
It began with a whisper.
Rachel's voice, soft but sharp, cut through the flickering firelight. They were camped beneath a collapsed gas station canopy, the sky bruised with storm clouds, the wind whispering through rusted signs and broken glass.
Emily leaned in close, brows furrowed. Mary, quiet as always, listened but said nothing.
"He's dangerous," Rachel said, her voice steady but cautious. "You all see it, don't you?"
Jason frowned, poking the fire with a stick. "He saved us."
"And killed without blinking," Rachel snapped back. "He acts like it doesn't matter. That girl... that woman. He didn't hesitate. And he didn't ask."
Hank sat on a broken bench, his arms crossed. Watching. Listening. Not speaking.
Rachel's eyes darted between them all. "I'm not saying we turn on him. I'm saying we don't follow him blindly."
She looked at Emily. "Don't let what he did for us blind you. People like him—when their goal is done—they don't need you anymore."
Axel listened from the shadows behind a rusted fridge just outside the glow of the fire.
He wasn't surprised.
From the beginning, he'd felt it. Rachel's energy didn't match her story. She said she was a teacher, a soft woman who once read stories to children and baked cookies in her tiny kitchen.
But her body moved like someone who had seen more.
Her laughter—it was too sharp.
Her smiles—too rehearsed.
Axel didn't trust anyone, but Rachel? He watched her.
He let her talk.
He let her plant seeds.
He wanted to know if the rest would water them.
Would they start doubting him?
Would they question the one who had killed for them, bled for them, kept them alive?
It had been a week.
Seven days since he found them hungry, afraid, shaking like leaves in the cold.
He'd protected them.
Taught them.
Even shared his food when he barely had any for himself.
And now—this was the test.
He didn't need loyalty built on fear.
He wanted to see who they really were.
Would they fold under Rachel's words?
Or would they stand by him?
He stepped out from behind the rusted wall slowly, his boots crunching against the gravel.
Their eyes snapped to him.
Rachel froze.
Axel didn't say a word. He walked past the fire, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it, the flame casting a brief, flickering light over his half-shadowed face.
He sat down, just out of reach, and stared into the flames.
He didn't ask what they were talking about.
Didn't demand answers.
He already had all he needed.
Tomorrow would reveal the truth.
And if they sided with Rachel… well, that would be their last mistake.
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