[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 421 - We Are the Living

Leon had been trying to figure out how to get inside and release the fluid.

But these bastards had holed up and weren't coming out, and forcing his way in would cost too much.

He wasn't about to lose any of his people over trash like this.

Then the opportunity walked right up to him.

Gareth's face swam into focus in Leon's vision, blood-smeared, humiliated, broken.

He gripped the machete with unsteady hands. His eyes were dead.

From behind Terminus's chain-link fence, a wave of jeering and whistles erupted.

"Come on, Gareth!"

"Give us a show!"

"Use that smooth mouth of yours, the one that talks people into coming back — go ahead and have a little chat with them!"

Robert leaned against a shipping container, cigarette hanging from his lip, watching the free gladiator match with the relaxed interest of a man at a sporting event.

This was exactly what he wanted. Everyone watching. Everyone seeing what happened when you defied him.

You got thrown in to fight Walkers. Hand to hand.

Gareth's feet stopped.

Less than 3 meters from the front of the staggering pack.

He raised the machete.

Just as he was about to swing wild,

He saw the eyes of the Walker at the front.

Those weren't Walker eyes.

Dark gold pupils, like two bottomless whirlpools. One look, and they pulled his entire mind straight down into them.

Bzzzt.

Gareth's brain went blank.

The world stopped.

The jeers, the whistles, all of it bled away into distant, shapeless noise.

The machete felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

He wanted to move. He couldn't.

He forgot where he was. Forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

"Shit, did that coward just freeze up?"

"I give him ten seconds, tops!"

The men behind the fence laughed harder. Louder.

They wanted the show. Wanted to watch Gareth go down, throat torn open, wanted to hear him scream.

A voice reached him, almost indistinguishable from the groaning of the dead.

"We're alive."

Gareth's pupils snapped tight.

"Want revenge?"

The voice came again.

His whole body began to shake.

He saw it now. Saw the owner of those eyes. Beneath the mask of gore and rot, the lips were moving. Just barely.

Living people.

They were actually living people.

Not a hallucination.

"If you want revenge, don't make a sound."

"Now."

"Run."

"Fastest you've ever moved in your life. Toward the woods."

Gareth's mind didn't have time to ask who they were or what they were doing here.

He only knew one thing: this was his only shot.

God, he wanted revenge so badly.

And whoever these people were, they clearly had their sights on Terminus. They were planning something.

Screw it.

"Ahhh—!"

He let out a shriek, wild, unhinged, exactly what a man losing his nerve would sound like.

He dropped the machete. It hit the ground like he'd been scared right out of his body.

Then he turned and ran, half-stumbling, half-crawling, tearing toward the distant tree line.

"HRRRGH—"

Leon let out a low growl.

Behind him, Merle, Shane, and the rest caught on instantly. Every one of them dropped into full performance mode.

Stiff legs. Twisted shuffle. Lurching forward in that perfect rotting gait, "chasing" after him.

To every set of eyes behind that fence, a hunt had just begun.

"Ha! Look at that pathetic piece of shit!"

"Run! Run faster, you stupid bastard!"

"Fall down! Trip, you son of a bitch, fall down!"

"Christ, slow down a little, would you?!"

Robert watched Gareth's scrambling silhouette grow smaller, the smirk at the corner of his mouth deepening. He cracked open a beer, settled back against the container, and drank at his leisure, savoring every second of the spectacle.

Nobody suspected a thing.

In their eyes, Gareth was already half a corpse.

And those dozen Walkers were just enjoying a meal that had delivered itself.

Gareth felt like his lungs were going to burst.

He'd never run this fast in his life.

He crashed into the woods.

Dead branches clawed at his face and opened thin red lines across his skin. He didn't feel them.

Run.

Keep running.

Until the fence was gone from sight.

Until the laughing was gone from his ears.

Finally.

His legs buckled. He hit the snow hard, full-body, face-first into the thick white pack.

He lay there and gasped.

Behind him, the growling cut off all at once.

Gareth went rigid.

He turned his head slowly.

10 Walkers stood in the snow not far behind him.

None of them moved.

Then, as Gareth watched in terror, one by one, they straightened up.

The one at the front raised a hand and dragged a rag across his face, wiping away the blood and filth in a single careless pass. Underneath was a young face, cold and sharp.

He reached into his pocket. Shook out a cigarette. Put it between his lips.

Click.

Leon took a long drag. Let the smoke out slow, a pale ribbon curling into the frozen air.

He walked over to Gareth, still sprawled in the snow, still blank-faced, and looked down at him.

"Now."

His voice was calm.

"We can talk."

➤ Next: The Past