[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 501

Prison communications room.

The radio crackled with static.

Leon pressed the transmitter and adjusted the channel frequency.

"Citizen Z?"

Two seconds of silence. Then Citizen Z's signature voice came through, keyboard clatter running underneath it.

"Oh man, Leon, you actually made it."

"I heard from Roberta you were circling the drain. Something about an injection."

"Skip it. I need you to find something." Leon dragged over a chair and sat down.

"We need heavy machinery. Tracked excavators, bulldozers, the heavier the better. We're running a major construction project at the prison."

"A major project?" Citizen Z was already pulling up the area maps.

"God almighty. You people are doing infrastructure in the middle of the apocalypse."

"There are plenty of ways to survive. I'm going with the most reliable one. Start searching. Atlanta perimeter." Leon said.

"Alright, hold on. Give me 30 seconds, let the satellite get a scan."

Leon's fingers tapped the tabletop, idle, while he waited.

"Got it." Citizen Z's voice jumped with excitement.

"Three locations."

"First one's an unfinished commercial district east of Interstate 85. A few Caterpillars sitting there collecting dust."

"Second is a heavy machinery rental yard on the city outskirts. Last one is an abandoned quarry to the west. Coordinates packaged and sent."

"Good work. If we ever meet in person, I'll track down some real bourbon for you."

"Holding you to that. And don't try passing off industrial alcohol."

Coordinates in hand, Daryl Dixon strapped his Crossbow to the side of his motorcycle and pulled on his riding gloves.

"Grab a few of the guys. Two flatbed trailers." He tilted his head toward T-Dog.

T-Dog grinned and shoved a shotgun under the truck seat.

"Finally. A job that doesn't involve those damn Rotters."

The convoy rolled out of the prison and pushed toward the outskirts along empty, sun-bleached roads.

The iron gate of the heavy machinery rental yard had long since rusted solid. T-Dog cut straight through it with bolt cutters.

Inside, weeds had grown waist-high.

Several yellow behemoths sat quietly among them.

Walkers had zero interest in these diesel-reeking iron hulks.

As for other survivors?

Who in this wrecked world would bother stealing an excavator that burned enough fuel per hundred kilometers to bankrupt a small town?

The thing was slow. It was loud enough to pull every Walker within ten miles down on your head.

Nobody except a group with real numbers and a real base would ever want one. That meant nobody except Leon's outfit.

Daryl Dixon walked up to the nearest excavator and kicked the tracks.

Solid. No rust.

"Get up there. Take a look." He nodded at T-Dog.

T-Dog climbed into the cab and fumbled across the control panel.

"How do you even start this? I've only ever driven pickups."

"Clutch in, key, ignition. And don't touch that red lever unless you want to knock this wall down."

Daryl Dixon blew out a smoke ring and talked him through it, unhurried.

The engine turned over with a low, heavy growl. The exhaust stack coughed black smoke. The tracks bit into the gravel.

"Easy. Drive it onto the trailer. You flip this thing, I'm strapping you to the tracks."

T-Dog worked the joysticks with both hands, careful as a man defusing a bomb. The excavator lumbered up onto the flatbed trailer.

The whole thing went surprisingly smoothly.

On the way back, a few Walkers drifted along the roadside.

The engine noise pulled their heads around. They dragged their wrecked bodies toward the sound.

Against the bulk of the convoy, they were cardboard.

The trailer didn't slow. It rolled straight over them and left a long smear of black-red on the asphalt.

Probably the easiest job they'd ever pulled.

...

Prison. Intensive care unit.

The hallway lights burned a dim, jaundiced yellow.

Leon leaned against the wall. Through the glass, he could see Ashley on the hospital bed, tubes and monitor leads running across her body from every direction.

Marcus's leech avatar was working an old piece of equipment. The movements were practiced, fluid, nothing like what you'd expect from a body stitched together out of parasites.

In the corner, Bruce, Sam, and Max lay still and obedient, bandages wrapped around their front legs. The three dogs had bled for this. Donated plenty to extract the purest T-Virus serum they could get.

All three carried different expressions of the T-Virus. Bruce had the strength, Sam had the intelligence, Max had the speed. Different branches, but the same root. Compatible enough.

Candice stood with a clipboard, trading data with Marcus in low voices.

Leon pushed the door open and walked in.

Marcus's eyes swiveled over.

"Smoother than expected. The serum activity from these three is extremely high. They're practically ideal living cultures."

"The Progenitor virus's lethal toxins are being isolated and neutralized as we speak."

There was an academic fervor in his voice.

"This girl's body is undergoing something close to a rebirth. Her genetic sequence is being rewritten."

"I only care about when she wakes up." Leon pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down.

Ashley's color had come back. No more of that deathly blue-purple. Her complexion was rosy again, and her breathing had steadied and grown stronger.

"Medicine isn't magic. It requires time."

Candice kept her eyes on the waveforms rolling across the monitor.

"Her vitals are stable. Her body is adapting to the new strength."

"Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week."

"She's past the danger. It's just a matter of waking up now. You can put your mind at ease."

Leon reached out. His fingertips stopped an inch above Ashley's cheek and stayed there, feeling the warmth rising off her skin.

That single-minded, stubborn woman who'd always trailed after him. The woman who had been willing to throw her life away for him without a second thought.

He was not a cold machine. Not some bloodless thing that only knew how to kill.

His heart ran warm too.

"Worth flagging," Marcus said, and broke the quiet.

"The Progenitor's original toxicity is too potent. Even with T-Virus serum neutralizing it, the modification will leave permanent traces. Irreversible ones."

"Plain language."

"When she wakes up, she won't be an ordinary human anymore."

"Strength, speed, cellular activity, all substantially elevated. And naturally, like you, she'll have the appetite to match. A full pot of food in one sitting. Her metabolic demands across the board will increase. But that's also the only reason she's still alive."

Leon pulled his hand back.

Eating more was no problem. Food was the one thing they weren't short on.

Even if Ashley put away ten pots a meal, Leon could keep her fed.

Superhuman or ordinary, it didn't matter either way.

As long as she was still Ashley. Still breathing. Still able to argue with him.

That was enough.

"You'd better not let anything go wrong." Leon glanced at Marcus.

"I wouldn't dare gamble with my own life." Marcus spread his hands.

Coming from a body built out of leeches, the gesture landed somewhere between unsettling and genuinely funny. The shrug of an old operator who'd learned long ago how to keep himself useful.

Meanwhile, Ada hadn't been idle either.

➤ Next: Cunning Ada — The Conversation