[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 308 - Even the Tank Is Useless!

"I want them to choke down every breath. I want them plugging their asses just to keep from farting."

"I want those hundreds of thousands of Walkers wrapped around them so tight not even air gets through — like a zongzi stuffed and sealed."

Leon closed his eyes, as if savoring the distant roars and screams.

"Seven days. That's enough time to burn through every last round of ammo, eat through all their food, and drain the final drop of clean water."

"But most importantly — those seven days will destroy every last shred of trust and faith they have in the Governor."

"When a ruler can't provide safety, when all he can do is watch his people drown in fear, his end has already come."

Leon opened his eyes. His gaze was unreadable.

"We besiege and don't attack. We rotate shifts and sleep."

"We make the people of Woodbury sit in that bloody stench and wait to die."

"This is the final lesson we're going to teach the Governor."

"Real terror was never the killing. It's the waiting."

By evening, Woodbury's tank was still roaring, but the ferocity had drained out of it.

The ground was slick with too much death.

Crushed flesh and churned earth had merged into something thick and dark red, clinging to everything it touched. The tank's treads began to slip. The engine groaned, muffled and labored, like a beast slowly losing ground in a swamp.

"Shell! Reload, now!" the commander bellowed from inside, face soaked in sweat.

"Gone! The last round's already in the breech!" the loader screamed back.

BOOM!

The final shell punched out and shredded the cluster of Walkers directly ahead. It didn't matter. Dark figures were already closing in from both flanks, piling beneath the chassis, jamming their rotting bodies into the treads.

"Retreat! Retreat!" The Governor waved frantically from the top of the wall. "Get back and refuel!"

He watched the Walkers claw their way onto the turret. His heart seized.

The steel beast reversed through a cloud of thick black smoke, grinding backward with tremendous effort, and crawled back through Woodbury's iron gates.

CLANG!

The gates slammed shut. Guards put down the Walkers that had pushed through in the gap.

Then there was only one sound left.

Fingernails on iron. Low, overlapping groans pressing in from every direction, washing against the walls, wearing away at the eardrums of every person inside.

"Lights out! Shut down every generator! Nobody makes a sound!"

The Governor's voice rang through the empty streets, laced with hysteria.

He understood now. He couldn't win a direct fight.

He had to wait. Wait for the Walkers to lose interest. Wait for them to drift away on their own.

Woodbury went dead quiet.

The commercial strip, once loud and alive, stood empty. The watchtowers that used to blaze with light were dark.

Residents sealed themselves inside, shutting every door and window, barely daring to breathe. Somewhere in the dark a child broke down crying, terrified. Before the second wail could escape, his mother slammed her hand over his mouth so hard she nearly smothered him herself.

People sat in the blackness and listened. The fence wire trembling under the weight of the dead. Fingernails scraping across steel plates, high-pitched and relentless.

Every minute felt like a century.

Hunger spread, but no one dared light a fire. Even a single wisp of smoke might draw more of them.

Fear has no color and no smell. It was everywhere anyway.

Outside the walls, deep in the horde, Murphy and Michonne sat on the roof of an abandoned school bus.

Each held a pack of crackers, chewing away with complete calm. All around them, Walkers shuffled

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