[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 291 - Days Like This Are Really Too Damn Good

The first day of training ended in an absurd yet tense atmosphere.

That night, Murphy was assigned a single dormitory room.

Just as Leon had promised.

It had once been an office.

It wasn't large, but it had a soft bed and a private bathroom.

When Murphy pushed open the door, he froze.

On the table sat an unopened bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey, a carton of Marlboro cigarettes, two roasted chicken legs wrapped in oil paper, and even a pitcher of what looked like absurdly luxurious orange juice.

The prison specialty, freshly squeezed orange juice.

Oranges scavenged from Trust-Mart.

The cold storage facility was now complete, allowing many fruits to be preserved effectively.

Murphy's eyes reddened.

How long had it been since he'd seen things like this?

Ever since the apocalypse broke out, he had first been locked up as a criminal, then used as a lab rat, injected with that damned experimental vaccine. What he ate was always garbage.

Later, when he was with Roberta and the others, things got a little better, but it was only just enough to fill his stomach, and it was all canned cat and dog food.

The taste was revolting, the dog food greasy and the cat food leaning fishy, but at least it kept him from starving.

Things like whiskey and cigarettes, he didn't even dare dream about.

His hand trembling, he reached out and picked up the bottle of whiskey, caressing it as if it were a priceless treasure.

He thought of Vincent.

That elegant psychopath liked whiskey too.

But he only used his whip on him, treating him like a dog.

But Leon...

This bald man, who looked a hundred times more vicious than Vincent, had given him all this.

He wasn't lying. As long as he was willing to work for him, he really wouldn't be stingy with things like this.

Vincent was different. Though he paid lip service to valuing him, when it came to actual benefits, there were none at all — it was all just talk.

Here with Leon, it was the real deal.

Murphy twisted off the cap and took a huge swig straight from the bottle.

The fiery liquid burned down his throat, a wave of warmth instantly surging through his entire body.

Damn.

Now this was what living like a human being felt like.

Murphy picked up a chicken leg and bit into it fiercely.

Even though it had gone cold, the greasy, meaty aroma still burst through his mouth. He ate until his lips were slick with oil.

He wasn't some bullshit hope for humanity.

He was just a piece of trash, a coward scraping by in the apocalypse who just wanted to survive a little longer.

But Leon had given him a choice.

A chance to crawl out of the mud and truly live like a person.

Commander?

Murphy chewed the chicken in his mouth and took another gulp of whiskey.

That word actually sounded... not fucking bad at all.

He walked to the window and looked down at the prisoners patrolling the drill ground below. When they saw him, they all instinctively stopped and nodded toward him.

That was respect.

Something he had never received before.

"Shit." Murphy cursed under his breath.

He picked up the carton of Marlboros, pulled one out, lit it with a lighter, and took a deep drag.

The dizziness from the nicotine made him feel like he was floating on clouds.

To hell with saving the world.

To hell with being humanity's hope.

Right now, all I want is to do my job well.

......

The next day, training continued.

The subject was learning the "Whispers."

"Your voices need to mimic the sounds of walkers as much as possible."

Leon stood before them and personally demonstrated.

He lowered his voice and let out a string of guttural, yet distinctly meaningful, growls from deep in his throat.

"Like this — so your companions can understand you, but without alerting those brainless things."

The prisoners began to try.

For a time, the drill ground was filled with all kinds of strange sounds.

Some sounded like a leaking tire, some like an asthmatic cat, and others just went straight to oinking like pigs.

"Idiot!" Leon kicked a prisoner who was oinking like a pig square in the ass.

"You're supposed to be guiding the walkers, not breeding them!"

Another round of frantic adjustments followed.

In the afternoon.

The first "Whisperer" squad officially assembled.

They changed into camouflage suits made from walker skin and rotting flesh, and put on those twisted, deformed human-face masks dried by the wind.

A thick, nauseating stench instantly spread through the air.

Dock nearly threw up on the spot.

"Leon..." Roberta looked at Leon through the two dark holes in her mask.

"We're ready."

Leon nodded.

It was time to let them go out and try guiding them for real.

➤ Next: Walkers Don't Listen