[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 282 - New Recruits Join

Doc felt he was about to fall in love.

No — fall in love again.

His heart, shriveled into a raisin from a lack of nicotine and various psychotropic substances, was now being re-infused with the waters of life.

Like a reconstituted sea cucumber, plump and springy.

He hid behind the second-floor wire mesh, like a pervert peeping into a women's bathhouse, his old eyes gleaming green as he stared dead at the group of new "merchandise" on the parade ground.

Namely, that bunch of drug dealers.

My God, just look at them.

Every single one sallow and scrawny, eyes sunken deep, those hollow gazes, those fingertips faintly trembling from long-term drug use, that bone-deep air of decadence and despair...

This was not a fucking group of people.

This was a mobile, breathing, Amazon rainforest teeming with every kind of rare medicinal herb!

Doc was so worked up he could barely keep hold of his pipe.

He could practically smell a different "fragrance" wafting off each one of them.

That kid who looked like the boss, the one called Paco.

Mm, a whiff of marijuana mixed with cheap cigarettes, all-natural, organic.

The scrawny one next to him, looked like a monkey, definitely a hardcore meth head; that sickly-sweet chemical stench, no doubt about it.

And that one, that one...

Doc felt his salivary glands going into frantic overdrive.

He felt his second spring had arrived.

Goddamn, this prison was practically heaven!

Not only was there food, water, and safety here, but now even the fucking spiritual sustenance was delivered right to his door!

"Brother Leon, you've got to take them in."

"Bro feels like bro's alive again."

Doc clapped a hand on 10K's shoulder beside him, his voice carrying the quiver of a drought-stricken land finally receiving sweet rain.

He felt he was about to fall in love with that man called Leon.

......

On the parade ground.

Paco and his brothers huddled in the center of the field like a flock of quails awaiting judgment, too scared to even breathe heavily.

Around them stood those expressionless prisoners, automatic rifles in hand.

Those eyes looked at them like they were a bunch of dead rabbits, already skinned and ready for the pot.

Paco nervously swallowed.

He stole a glance at the man walking toward them.

Leon.

This was the man who made Glenn, that guy who feared nothing in heaven or on earth, speak of him like he was talking about Jesus.

How will he deal with us?

Just slaughter us and keep the supplies?

Paco's heart rose to his throat.

He had already prepared for the worst; if the other side made a move, he would be the first to kneel.

Leon came to a stop in front of them.

Leon saw the fear in their eyes, and also saw the wounds on their bodies that had yet to heal, and even more, saw the broken guns they had scavenged from the battlefield.

He didn't ask who they were, where they came from, or where they were going.

All of that was fucking nonsense.

Their actions had already answered every question.

They had brought these spoils of war, people, vehicles, everything, back intact.

That was more than enough.

In this fucked-up world, actions always carry more weight than words.

Leon's gaze finally settled on Paco.

"Starting today, you are people of this place."

Paco snapped his head up, his face filled with disbelief.

Just... just like that?

No interrogation? No test?

"I don't give a damn what you did before. Murderers, junkies — here, you fucking forget all of it."

Leon pointed at the prisoners busily working around them.

"Here, there's only one rule: work, eat, and don't fucking cause me trouble."

"If anyone dares to pull any shady shit, peddle contraband, form cliques..."

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of Leon's mouth.

"I wouldn't mind burying a few extra bags of fertilizer in the prison farm."

Every single drug dealer shuddered involuntarily.

"Ashley! Amy!"

Leon turned his head and shouted toward the near distance.

Two girls immediately ran out from the crowd.

"Take them to registration, then arrange their quarters and work."

Leon pointed at the group of drug dealers still standing there dumbfounded.

"Tell them our food standards here — explain everything clearly."

"Okay."

Ashley and Amy led the group of drug dealers, still in a dazed state, toward the dormitory area.

Paco walked at the very back. He couldn't help but turn his head to look back at the bald man standing next to the armored vehicle.

He saw that the man was talking with someone who looked like a mechanic, a reassuring smile on his face.

Paco suddenly felt that he had... bet on the right horse.

......

"My Lord Almighty, Leon, where the hell did you drag this iron monster back from?"

Jim circled the armored personnel carrier, round and round.

That look in his eyes was more focused than watching a stripper.

He stretched out his hands, covered in engine oil, and traced them gently across the bullet-riddled armor, like caressing a lover's skin.

"M2A2 Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle."

Jim's Adam's apple bobbed once.

"Though it looks like a castrated version, the chassis and powertrain are still there."

"The engine compartment got blasted through by an RPG, one track is snapped, the drive shaft is probably shot, and the electrical system... the electrical system is likely burned into a lump."

Jim murmured to himself as he inspected it.

That expression was like a seasoned old Traditional Chinese Medicine doctor, diagnosing a patient at death's door.

Every word he spoke made Rat Boss's heart sink a little colder.

"Done for, done for," Rat Boss covered his face.

"I risked my life hauling this back, and it's just a fucking pile of scrap metal?"

Leon paid no mind to Rat Boss's wailing.

He only looked at Jim.

"Can you fix it?"

That was the key point.

Jim didn't answer right away.

He circled to the back of the armored vehicle, pried open the already deformed rear hatch, and crawled inside.

A few minutes later, his head covered in dust, he crawled back out like a groundhog just emerged from an ancient tomb.

In his hand he held a stack of charred-black documents, and a thing that looked like an operations panel.

He lifted his head and looked at Leon.

"Hard."

Jim spat out the single word.

"Very hard."

He added another sentence.

"The engine needs a major overhaul; a lot of parts will have to be fabricated from scratch."

"The tracks need replacements sourced from elsewhere, the weapon systems... I'll need time to study the manuals on this thing."

➤ Next: The Water Source Has a Problem