[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 569 - Sherry Birkin

The next morning.

Leon walked down to the second basement laboratory for his daily progress check.

William stood with both hands braced on the workbench, eyes locked on the glass vessel in front of him. Rebekah was beside him, recording a series of complex molecular formulas.

"How's the progress?"

Leon walked over and pulled a chair close.

"Perfect, so far." William pushed his glasses up and pointed at a slice of fruit flesh inside the vessel. "The fruit does contain a small amount of T-Virus. The pre-adaptation response has been exceptionally effective."

"Two more experiments and we can consider administering this directly to living subjects."

Leon nodded.

"Good work. Keep it up — I won't shortchange you."

William's expression froze. He looked like he was struggling to find the words.

"About that... any leads on my daughter?"

He reached into the inner pocket of his lab coat and pulled out an old leather wallet. He opened it, drew out a worn photograph, and handed it to Leon.

"Sherry." William's voice went rough and dry. "She's so young. You didn't find her at the Spencer Mansion, so I think she may have slipped out on her own..." He paused. "She's timid. She's never been outside alone before."

"I'm begging you to find her. Whatever the price — as long as she's safe."

He looked at Leon, eyes reddening at the rims.

Leon took the photograph.

A little girl. Pink dress. Sweet smile.

A distinctive silver pendant hanging around her neck.

By now, that pendant should be carrying the G-Virus.

"Enough with the gloomy talk." Leon tucked the photograph into his pocket. "Not finding her last time doesn't mean it's over. I'll put more people on it right away. As long as she's still alive, my people will bring her back."

He turned and walked out.

Up the stairs, out to the yard.

3 modified Ford pickup trucks sat parked in front of the Administration Building. Heavy anti-ram steel beams bolted to the front bumpers, wire mesh welded over the windows.

Daryl Dixon leaned against the door of the first truck, head down, running a cloth along his Crossbow.

Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine were going through the ammo and supplies in the back.

Today was their rotation to lead a resource run.

Leon strode over and slapped the photograph down on the hood.

"You're heading out? Hold on a second — everyone take a look at this."

The group stopped and gathered around.

"Whose little girl is this?" Chris picked it up and studied it.

"William's daughter. Sherry."

Daryl leaned in, said nothing, and quietly filed away her features.

"William is a critical asset." Leon lit a cigarette and exhaled a slow breath of pale smoke. "If something happens to his family out there, it'll affect his work. You're going out for building materials anyway, keep your eyes open. I'll brief the Scavenging Team separately."

"Any girl matching her description, bring her straight back."

Jill passed the photograph to the team members beside her and had them pass it around.

"A ten-year-old girl." She frowned. "Wandering out there alone for this many days. The odds are too slim."

"Do what we can." Leon flicked the ash off his cigarette. "Alive or dead, I want confirmation either way. Unless she turned into a Walker and wandered off somewhere on her own."

Chris pulled the passenger door open and got in. "Understood. We'll work our way down the highway and check as we go."

"Move out."

Engines roared to life.

The 3 trucks formed a column and drove out of the prison.

......

Manchester.

The sky was a flat, pressing gray, clouds sitting low over the rooftops.

Shop windows lining both sides of the street lay shattered across the pavement. Dry black bloodstains spread across the asphalt in every direction. A cold wind swept through and lifted loose newspapers and plastic bags from the ground, spinning them lazily through the air.

Abandoned vehicles sat jammed in every direction at the Crossroads.

Sherry dragged herself along the garbage-strewn street.

The pink dress had long since lost any trace of its original color. Grayish-brown mud caked the fabric. The hem was torn open in several places by thorns. The soles of her feet had blistered over and over until each step drove a searing pain straight up through her legs.

She had walked all the way here from the Arklay Mountains.

She didn't even know where she was. She only knew she had to keep moving forward. Maybe she would find her father somewhere ahead.

"Dad..." She sniffled, nose burning.

She raised her dirty little hand and wiped the corners of her eyes.

She was so hungry. Her stomach cramped and twisted in violent spasms. 2 days and 2 nights, and all she'd had were a few sips of murky water from roadside puddles. Her throat was so parched it felt like dry smoke, and even swallowing her own saliva hurt.

She stopped in front of an abandoned Convenience Store.

Shelves had toppled to the floor. Packaging was scattered everywhere. She stood on her tiptoes and picked through the debris.

She actually found a bag of crackers.

She tore the packaging open and shoved the broken pieces into her mouth. But the crackers had gone thick with mold. She chewed twice and a wave of nausea hit her like a fist.

"Ugh, "

She bent over and retched up every crumb, then heaved up several mouthfuls of bile after that.

Sherry sat on the floor in despair.

She reached into her collar and closed her hand around the silver pendant.

William had given it to her on her birthday.

Right now it was the only comfort she had left.

She had never suffered like this before. William had protected her so completely, wherever she went, someone was always there to take care of her. But now those people were all gone. Father was gone. The world had become a terrifying hell.

She got to her feet and staggered out of the Convenience Store.

She truly couldn't walk anymore. Her legs were impossibly heavy, muscles shaking beyond her control. She made it to a Chevrolet with its front end crumpled in and sank down against the rusted tire.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face into the crook of her arms.

Grief. Loneliness. Fear.

Everything broke open at once.

"Dad, where are you..."

She couldn't hold it anymore. She broke into full, heaving sobs, tears streaming down her dirty cheeks, carving 2 clean tracks through the grime. Her thin shoulders shuddered with every breath.

In this godforsaken world, she was just a child with no one. Crying was the only thing she had left.

The more she cried, the more hopeless it felt. She sank deeper into it, lost entirely in her own grief.

She forgot.

In this world, noise got you killed.

Her crying rang out across the wide, desolate street. Sharp. Carrying.

It drifted on the wind into the dark alleys on both sides. Down into the shadowy basements below.

In the darkness,

Milky, clouded eyes opened. One pair, then another.

Walkers. Starving.

The hunger for fresh flesh was carved into every instinct they had left.

A Walker in a tattered suit crawled out from the mouth of an alley. Its lower jaw had fallen half away, a dark red tongue lolling loose beneath. Then a second. A third. From beneath the chassis of abandoned cars. From behind overturned trash cans.

More and more of them appeared on the street, dragging their ruined legs, soles scraping across rough asphalt with a rasping sound that crawled under the skin.

All of them moving toward her.

Sherry clutched her knees and sobbed with everything she had. Completely unaware.

The ring tightened.

10 meters.

5 meters.

Still she cried.

A female Walker led at the front. A large chunk of flesh had been torn from her neck, exposing bleached-white vertebrae beneath. Withered fingers spread wide, the gaps between her nails packed with black grime.

Less than 2 meters.

It shuffled forward, arms reaching out, lunging straight for Sherry's golden hair.

➤ Next: Luring Sherry