[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 419 - The Unlucky Newcomers
Leon squinted.
He stared at the man in charge, the one everyone called Robert — and ran through the original plot at full speed.
No.
The leader of Terminus wasn't named Robert.
It should be Gareth.
That man. Polite and refined on the surface, a pervert who secretly penned people up like livestock and ate them.
So where was he?
Right as the suspicion was forming in Leon's mind, the van door swung open and a tall, lean man dropped down from the cab.
He looked to be in his mid-twenties. Clean shirt. The kind of put-together appearance that had absolutely no business existing in this wrecked world.
Gareth.
Found him.
Except the guy's current situation was a long way from the Terminus leader Leon remembered.
Gareth's face was etched with worry he couldn't quite hide, and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that had stopped trying to hide. He walked up to Robert and said something low.
Robert listened. Then he burst out laughing.
He raised a hand the size of a sledgehammer and cracked it down on Gareth's shoulder, hard enough that Gareth visibly rocked on his feet.
"Well done, my good brother!"
The voice carried to every corner of the outpost.
"I knew it — put you in charge of finding people and you never let me down!"
"You always bring us surprises."
"Keep it up. For all of our survival!"
The words sounded noble. Warm. The kind of thing a man says when he means it.
Leon heard the blades tucked inside every single one.
So that was how it was.
Gareth wasn't any kind of leader right now. He was just one of Robert's crew, the one sent out to do the public-facing work, his harmless face serving as the bait.
Interesting.
"Christ, these bastards can really perform."
Merle squeezed the mutter out low in his throat.
He watched the three survivors being played like fiddles and let a slow, contemptuous sneer spread across his face.
"Acting like that? Damn waste they didn't end up in Hollywood."
Shawn jabbed him with an elbow. Shut up.
He wasn't in any mood for jokes. This Terminus was a bigger problem than he'd walked in expecting.
Robert threw a warm arm around the three newcomers' shoulders and walked them deeper into the outpost.
"Come on. Let's get you registered first."
The smile on his face could melt ice off a mountain.
"We need to know your names. What you're good at."
"Everyone here is part of one big family. Everyone carries their share."
He led them to an office that had once been a shipping container. Leon and the others kept moving too, drifting sideways until they had a clean line of sight.
A middle-aged woman in glasses sat behind the desk, pen and paper in hand, looking for all the world like a neighborhood clerk.
"Alright, kids. For everyone's safety — and to show a little good faith..."
Robert pointed at the weapons on their waists.
"Think you could let us hold onto those for a while?"
"Don't read anything into it. Standard procedure."
"You know how it is out there. We have to be careful."
The three newcomers hesitated.
In the apocalypse, giving up your weapons was the same as giving up your life. The man out front, a thick-framed guy who looked to be in his thirties, pressed his hand instinctively over his holster.
"Something wrong?" Robert's smile didn't shift. But something else moved behind his eyes.
"Don't you trust us?"
"We're the ones who pulled you back from the walkers' teeth."
"And look."
He gestured toward the Terminus residents moving around outside.
"None of them are carrying anything."
"You don't need that here."
"What you need is food. Water. A bed where you can actually sleep."
The man held his ground.
The young woman beside him didn't.
She tugged at his sleeve, her voice dropping low.
"Jack. I think... they're right."
"This place looks safe. Everyone seems friendly."
"We can't keep drifting. Not anymore."
Jack looked at her face, all pleading and no pretense, then at the third member of their group, hollow-cheeked and yellow from hunger.
Something in him gave way right then.
Yeah.
They were tired.
They were so goddamn tired.
He drew a slow breath, the kind that comes before a decision you can't walk back. Then he unhooked the holster from his belt and set it on the desk, the pistol barely rattling inside it, barely any rounds left to make noise.
"Thanks for the trust, friend."
Robert's smile got wider.
The other two followed his lead. A dagger. A length of steel pipe, one end ground to a point.
That was everything they had in the world.
The moment that last piece of metal touched the desk.
The room changed.
Robert's smile disappeared. Not gradually. Just gone. One instant to the next.
What replaced it was a coldness that bordered on cruelty.
The registrar, who had been playing warm grandmother this whole time, set her pen down. The look she gave the three of them wasn't the look you give people.
It was the look you give cuts of meat.
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
From outside the office: a tight, rhythmic percussion. Bolts being racked.
Jack's stomach dropped through the floor.
He spun around.
The office doorway was packed with bodies. A dozen, maybe more. All of them armed, the dark mouths of their weapons trained dead on the three of them.
Every Terminus resident who had been smiling thirty seconds ago now wore the same expression: blank, slow, hungry. The look of a slaughterhouse worker who has long since stopped thinking about what he's looking at.
"Welcome to Terminus."
Robert's voice again.
But the warmth was gone, and what filled the space it left was mockery. Pure and unmasked.
"Now... you're truly home."
The young woman's face drained white.
She stared at them, unable to make her mind accept what her eyes were showing her, her whole body shaking in small, helpless waves.
"W... why?"
Robert scoffed. Couldn't be bothered.
He raised his chin.
Several big men moved in and drove rifle butts hard into the back of Jack's skull.
CRACK!
Jack didn't make a sound. The lights went out and he went straight down.
The other two were slammed to the floor and trussed with rope before they could react.
The woman screamed.
Robert, annoyed, shoved his hand into her waistband, ripped out a strip of fabric, and stuffed it into her mouth. After that she could only make low, desperate sounds in the back of her throat.
All of it took under a minute.
Heaven to hell. All it cost was your weapons.
➤ Next: Gerr, Living in Hell