[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 281 - Rat Boss Returns with the Goods
On the watchtower, Carl tilted up his round little face,still carrying a trace of baby fat, and studied 10K with the focused intensity of a kid examining a rare insect.
"Ten thousand?"
He repeated the number.
"Why ten thousand?"
10K went still.
He was leaning against the guardrail, that crude slingshot still dangling from his hand. He looked down at this little brat who barely came up to the barrel of his sniper rifle, and for a moment, genuinely didn't know what to say.
Why ten thousand?
Because... because that's what he'd decided.
"My parents." 10K's voice came out rough. He didn't talk about this with people. "They got eaten by Walkers."
"So I'm going to kill ten thousand. Avenge them."
He'd told himself this so many times it had carved itself into his brain. A creed. A reason to keep going.
But Carl's next question put a crack right through it.
"Then why don't you just kill all the Walkers?" Carl tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "If you only kill ten thousand, won't the rest of them still eat other people's moms and dads?"
10K stood there, completely lost.
Yeah.
Why not kill them all?
Why the hell not?
He'd always treated ten thousand as a finish line, a milestone where he could finally put down his hatred and start over. But the kid was right.
Kill ten thousand. Then what?
Find a corner to lie down in and wait for the Walkers to come knocking?
That sounded... kind of stupid.
Down below, Doc was listening. He nearly laughed his pipe clean out of his mouth.
"Ha! You got stumped by a little kid!"
10K's face went scarlet. He yanked back his slingshot and fired at some unlucky Walker in the distance, flustered and fuming.
"I want to learn that," Carl said. He pointed at the slingshot in 10K's hand, then at the sniper rifle. "When I grow up, I want to kill Walkers too. Protect everyone."
10K looked at those clear, steady eyes, and the irritation just dissolved.
He thought about when he was Carl's age. He'd been fighting the neighbor's dog over a beat-up rubber ball.
"Fine."
He squeezed the word out. Pressed the slingshot into Carl's hands.
"It's yours. I'll teach you when we get the chance."
---
A few kilometers out, on the highway beyond the prison.
A convoy was churning up a wall of dust as it rolled toward the gates.
Out front: a battered, beat-up pickup truck.
Behind it: something that would make any survivor's blood run cold.
The armored personnel carrier. The one left for dead on the battlefield.
It was being dragged by several thick steel cables, grinding out a low, muffled rumble. The hull was stippled with bullet holes and black scorch marks. But that heavy armor and those brutal angles still put out a weight that sat in your chest like a cold stone.
Rat Boss was riding shotgun in the lead pickup, feeling like the king of the world.
No, like General Patton. Scratch that, even Patton never had a moment this good.
"Rat Bro, we're just... rolling in like this? In broad daylight?" Monkey had both hands locked on the wheel, palms soaked. "What if the prison guys think we're hostiles and open up on us?"
"Open up on what?" Rat Boss snorted. "You ever see anybody sneak around when they're going in to collect a reward?"
He glanced back at the convoy. Trucks loaded with weapons crates and gasoline drums. Boxes of food and medicine stacked three high. And those same drug dealers who'd been pointing guns at his head not an hour ago were now sitting on top of the supplies like the most loyal soldiers on earth, backs straight, chins up.
Not trash anymore. Not cannon fodder.
Rat Boss could already picture Leon's face when he laid eyes on that APC. Whatever expression that was, it was going to be something else.
Damn. The credit from this run alone was enough to brag about for the rest of his life.
"Everyone hit your goddamn horns!" he bellowed into the walkie-talkie. "Let the boss know his most capable guy is back!"
"BEEP-BEEP! HONK-HONK!"
Every horn in the convoy went off at once, a wall of noise that tore right through the open sky, louder than any wedding procession the old world had ever thrown together.
---
The prison.
Lee spotted it first from his post on the watchtower. He dropped his binoculars, face tight with vigilance.
"Leon! We've got a situation!" His voice cut through the walkie-talkie. "A convoy is heading straight for us!"
Down on the yard, Leon was bent over a map with Roberta. He straightened.
"Can you ID them?"
"Negative. But they're towing something huge. Looks like—" A pause. "An armored vehicle?"
Leon's brow creased.
The whole prison felt the shift at once. Work stopped. Everyone turned toward the gate, muscles coiled, waiting.
"All personnel, combat ready!" Rick's voice came over the broadcast.
Daryl and Merle hit the wall at a run, weapons up. Roberta's hand dropped to the pistol at her hip.
Then the horns hit.
Leon raised his walkie-talkie. "Rat Boss?"
"BOSS! It's me!" The voice that crackled back was pitched so high with excitement it was barely recognizable. "I brought you something good!"
Leon clicked off the walkie-talkie and waved at T-Dog by the gate. "Open it. They're ours."
The heavy iron doors ground open.
The moment Rat Boss's convoy rolled into view, the entire prison went silent.
Dead silent.
Everyone just stared.
The APC crouched there like a prehistoric beast, its battered hull catching the light. And behind it, truck after truck, stacked with weapons crates, fuel drums, cases of food and medicine piled mountain-high.
A prisoner's wrench slipped from his fingers and clanged off the concrete.
"Did we..." He couldn't finish it. "Did we just rob a National Guard armory?"
A beat of silence.
Then the yard exploded.
"OHHHHHHHH—!"
Prisoners came pouring out like a flood, rushing the convoy. Hands ran over cold armor plating. Shoulders heaved with crate after crate of heavy ammunition. Every face wore the same grin, pure, uncut joy, the kind that doesn't have anything complicated in it.
Rat Boss swung down from the cab, puffed out his chest, and walked straight to Leon, grinning like a grade-schooler who'd just brought home a perfect score and was waiting for the praise.
"Boss!"
Then the grin faded. His head dropped.
"Run went smooth overall. Damn shame I couldn't finish Vincent—he got away in the end."
He laid it all out: what he'd heard about Vincent possibly tying up with the military. Passed every detail on to Leon.
Leon nodded. He already knew.
Honestly? The fact that Glenn and a handful of others had torn the Highwaymen apart this badly, without costing him a single person, he was satisfied. More than satisfied.
As for Vincent, the man was a problem, no question. But he'd almost certainly bolted to Fort Benning by now. Getting to him there wasn't going to be simple.
Let him run. He'd keep.
Leon walked over and brought his palm down hard on Rat Boss's shoulder. Then he stepped past him.
The drug dealers stood in a loose group nearby, still not sure where they stood. Paco and the others stiffened when Leon approached, backs straight, eyes forward, no idea what was coming.
Leon looked them over.
Survivors of the battlefield. Former trash. Former cannon fodder.
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