[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 487 - The Solution — What Was Lost

Leon stood at the ICU's glass window, looking in at Ashley.

Her skin was a patchwork of flushed red and mottled bruise, the vascular network writhing like gnarled roots beneath the surface.

Her cheeks, once soft, had caved in. Her eye sockets were deep hollows. Her lips were cracked and dry. It looked like everything alive in her had been wrung out overnight.

Candice stood behind him.

"Ashley's condition isn't good."

"While you were unconscious, we ran into Ada. She had a suggestion."

Leon turned. His gaze settled on Candice.

"Ada said you could convert Ashley into a Mutant."

"Use your blood to forcibly reconstruct her body. It might keep her alive."

Leon's breath stopped.

"What do you mean, forcibly reconstruct? She's already like this. If I convert her now, what does she become?"

"Her body may still be dying," Candice said.

"In the end, she becomes a Walker that obeys your commands. Or rather... a kind of mutated bioweapon."

She paused, then added:

"Her body has already been eroded by the Solar Stairway. The conversion process is an unknown. It could be even more agonizing. And it's possible... she won't be Ashley anymore. Just a monster wearing her shell."

"It would be nothing like what happened to me when you converted me."

Turning Ashley into that. That wasn't the survival he wanted.

What Leon wanted to save was a living, breathing Ashley. Flesh and blood. Someone who could cry, who could laugh. Not a puppet that obeyed his commands the way a Walker did.

"There's no other way?"

Candice shook her head, then the corner of her mouth twitched.

"There is one more."

"Find Marcus. The one who researched the Progenitor Virus."

"He understands the Progenitor Virus better than anyone alive."

Leon laughed, a raw, hollow sound.

Marcus?

Where the hell was he supposed to find Marcus?

The Leech Queen that Marcus had become was long gone, blown to paste by a rocket launcher, shredded meat scattered across the ground, ashes scattered to the goddamn wind.

He couldn't exactly expect that pile of Rotters to pull itself back together and hand him a solution.

This joke wasn't funny at all.

He looked back through the glass. Ashley's ravaged face hit like a fist.

He reached out slowly, as if his hand could pass through the glass and reach her pain.

"No. I have to go to the Spencer Mansion."

Candice blinked.

"The Spencer Mansion? What is that? Why go there?"

"There are higher-grade biomedical research facilities there. I might find something that can cure Ashley."

Leon's eyes stayed on her.

"I need to get William Birkin. That virus-obsessed madman. He might have an answer."

"But your body is still in the adaptation phase right now. You're not at full strength." Candice's voice carried a note of worry. "The T-virus gave you that power, but it's still unstable. You need more time before you can fully control it."

"Ashley doesn't have that time." Leon shook his head.

He knew she was right. He still couldn't wait.

The neutralizing agent could slow the damage. But every second that passed, Ashley was suffering.

He felt pressure closing in from every direction. His chest was so tight it was hard to breathe.

He pushed open the lab door and walked out.

Rick and Shane were waiting in the corridor. When they saw Leon, both of them looked up with the same question in their eyes.

"Ashley needs a quiet environment right now."

Candice shooed them both away.

Leon walked out through the prison gates.

Early spring. But it felt like a winter night. The cold had gotten into his bones and wasn't letting go.

He needed somewhere. Somewhere he could put this pressure and rage into something.

He walked straight toward the scrapyard outside the prison walls.

Jim had people haul in vehicles for parts. They could hold back a horde when needed, or get melted down for steel when they couldn't. Over time, they'd all ended up here, piling higher and higher, rusting in place.

One SUV sat alone in the corner. Body eaten through with rust. Windows long gone. Abandoned so long it had become part of the dirt.

Leon stopped.

His right hand curled into a fist.

"God damn it."

The words came out low, almost quiet.

Then he hit the window.

CRACK. His fist blew through the glass and slammed into the steering wheel with a heavy, dead thud. The wheel buckled. The airbag punched out.

Not enough.

He moved to the front of the car and drove his boot into the bumper. The rusted metal twisted under the force like it was made of wet clay.

He kicked it again. And again. And again.

Every kick carried the full weight of everything tearing through him, all of it, unleashed, until the entire front end was unrecognizable. Until there was nothing left to wreck.

➤ Next: The Sewer's Clogged?