[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 570 - Luring Sherry

The female Walker's withered fingers had nearly grazed the tip of Sherry's nose.

The gaps under her fingernails were packed with blackish-brown filth and rotting flesh. The stench hit like a fist to the skull.

Sherry noticed.

Even someone as slow as her understood what this meant. She was finished.

Her own fault for being careless. Outside was crawling with these things.

She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the tearing agony to come.

BANG!

The bullet blew off half the female Walker's skull.

Dark-red slurry splattered across Sherry.

She screamed, stumbling backward until she collapsed onto the ground, the surface littered with broken glass. The shards sliced into her palms. Blood seeped out instantly.

She didn't register the pain.

More gunfire. Rapid muzzle flashes strobing through the street.

The coarse crack of each shot echoed off the buildings as several Walkers closed in — then dropped, one after another.

A large, heavyset figure stepped out from behind an abandoned police cruiser at the corner.

He wore a police uniform, reasonably clean, the collar pulled tight. His belly strained the fabric into a round, stuffed bulge.

His name was Brian Irons.

Chief of the Fort Benning Police Station. Covertly backed by the Umbrella Corporation.

Before the outbreak, he had been the biggest local tyrant in the entire jurisdiction.

On the surface: a warm, affable fat chief with a passion for public service. Behind closed doors: extraordinarily vile appetites.

He loved collecting works of art.

His most prized pieces were the young girls he had personally skinned and mounted as specimens.

When the outbreak hit, he hadn't gone out into the streets fighting like the other officers. He'd barricaded himself inside the solid walls of the police headquarters.

Then Leon ransacked the Spencer Mansion. Sherry went missing. And Umbrella's upper echelons sent down a standing order.

Bring William Birkin's daughter back.

The purpose was simple: use the girl as a hostage against William, who might have already turned. There was also the possibility that William had taken Sherry himself.

None of that mattered much. Umbrella only needed to issue orders to its dogs. They needed insurance against whatever problems might arise.

To that end, Brian had been wandering these ruins for 2 solid days.

This godforsaken place had nothing but flesh-chewing Rotters. Not a single living soul in sight.

He had nearly run out of patience. He'd even started contemplating finding some little girl's corpse to pass off as his quarry and call it done.

Then he heard the sobbing.

Now he stood in front of Sherry, looking down at the filth-caked little girl from above.

Sherry stared up at the fat man in terror.

Her small body wouldn't stop trembling.

Brian didn't speak right away. His gaze traveled downward along her dust-covered face, swept across her thin chest heaving violently with fear, and finally locked onto her bare calves.

Those legs were covered in scratches and dirt.

But to Brian, they radiated something, a frailty that sent his nerves into a frenzy. A particular kind of tenderness. Untouched. Unspoiled.

He was a connoisseur. This was exactly the kind of prey he liked most.

That look of pure terror in the eyes. That helpless, feeble resistance. It always gave him the same rush, that extreme, intoxicating thrill of holding total control over another life.

He swallowed.

His throat bobbed.

A profoundly sick greed flickered behind his eyes.

It looked nothing like a police officer regarding a rescued civilian.

It looked exactly like a fat, starving hog sizing up a choice cut of fresh meat.

He was already composing it in his mind, what pose to arrange the little one in for maximum artistic effect.

But not yet.

He had to keep this prey calm first. Umbrella's people were still waiting for him to deliver.

Brian tucked that repulsive expression away.

He replaced it with what he considered an extremely warm and kindly face, the fat of his cheeks bunching together, piled into a benevolent smile.

"Thank God." He crouched slightly toward her. "Are you alright, little girl?"

He slung his gun behind his back, then pulled a reasonably clean handkerchief from his pocket and moved to wipe the blood from Sherry's face.

Sherry instinctively shrank back. A startled little rabbit.

Brian's hand stopped mid-air.

He didn't mind. His smile only grew warmer.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm a good person. I would never hurt you."

"Do you have any idea how chaotic the world is right now?"

He let out a long sigh, his face settling into an expression of heartfelt anguish.

"Those damned monsters are eating people everywhere. And even people are eating people now."

"For a girl as young as you to have survived out here alone — that's nothing short of a miracle."

He tapped the gleaming badge pinned to his chest.

"See this?"

"I am the Chief of the Fort Benning Police Station. Personally appointed by the mayor." A pause. "Brian Irons."

"My job is to protect lost little angels just like you." His smile widened. "And of course — countless other survivors."

➤ Next: Claire Watching from the Shadows