[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 612 - Giving Simon a Vacation

"Go have Ashley organize the survivors and bring the Heavy Trucks from the base."

Chris paused.

"You'll need to make another trip back to The Hive." Leon stood up and brushed the dust from his hands.

"To move house."

"Move house?" Chris's eyes went wide. "We just crawled out of that place, why the hell would we go back?"

"Because all the hardware is already there, ready to go." Leon glanced at him.

"The lower levels have large-scale holographic projection equipment, an independent fuel supply chain, a super liquid-cooling matrix, top-tier surveillance gear, high-precision lab instruments. All of it. If we tried to build any of that ourselves — or even just scavenge for it — we couldn't put it together in years."

"Umbrella left it all behind. So now it's ours."

Chris swallowed hard. He was clearly picturing the several hundred Lickers still down there.

"What are you worried about? That place is our backyard now." Leon's tone was almost reassuring. "Those Lickers are running on my direct orders. They're sitting in there like good little guard dogs, not even a fly gets through unless it's one of our people."

"If the team hadn't been so small last time, and the trucks hadn't run out of space, I would've had you strip the whole place clean right then and there."

Chris's concerns evaporated on the spot.

With that many super-monsters serving as free movers and security, this trip back was going to be nothing but a formality.

"Alright. I'll go organize the crew right now." Chris turned and walked out of the communications room.

With the camp arrangements handled, Leon put his earpiece back on.

"Simon."

"I'm here, Boss."

"What's your situation over there?"

From Simon's end came a ferocious howl of wind, the Arctic gale hammering the outer walls of the Sanctuary.

"Freezing to death. The aurora's pretty, though."

"But I'm almost out of coffee beans. I was planning to head out to a few nearby abandoned research stations these next couple of days, try my luck, scrounge up some supplies." A muttered grumble.

"Perfect timing, then." Leon ran a finger along the edge of his earpiece. "I'm giving you some time off. 1 month."

Silence from Simon's end for a few seconds.

Then a loud cheer.

"Good lord, you're actually giving someone a vacation? That doesn't exactly fit your whole 'squeeze every last drop out of your employees' style."

"Cut the chatter." Leon cut him off. "Remember that place I mentioned before?"

"I remember."

"When you head out to the research stations for supplies, swing by those coordinates on the way." Leon said.

"No problem, Boss. I'll treat it as a paid polar expedition." Simon let out a low chuckle.

The call ended.

Leon looked at the Red Queen's motherboard sitting on the table, his mind already turning over how to transform the entire prison base into an utterly impregnable fortress.

The scene shifted.

The Arctic.

Wind and snow tore across the ice fields without mercy.

In the vast white nothing, a metal structure half-buried in a drift gave off a faint yellow glow.

The heavy windproof door was shoved open from the inside with considerable effort.

Simon emerged dressed in a massive polar survival suit, windproof goggles strapped over his eyes, bundled up so thoroughly he looked like a lumbering bear. He squeezed through the gap, dragging a metal cargo sled packed with equipment behind him.

"Alright, boys — time to stretch your legs!" Simon called out.

The words had barely left his mouth.

Three large shapes came bounding out of the corridor behind the door.

An Alaskan Malamute with a black-and-white coat. A Samoyed, pure white from nose to tail. A blue-eyed Husky that looked like it had never once in its life followed a rule.

These three sled dogs were Simon's only living companions in this utterly desolate frozen world.

They had originally belonged to his colleagues. When the evacuation came, the poor animals were left behind. After the apocalypse hit, they and Simon, the only one who stayed, had kept each other alive.

The Arctic's brutal cold had been their salvation. The absolute physical isolation meant no Walkers ever reached them, and all three were in excellent health.

The Malamute threw itself into the snow with pure excitement, sending powder flying in every direction.

The Samoyed pressed its head affectionately against Simon's thick trouser leg.

The Husky was the most restless of the three. It locked its gaze on a distant ice ridge and let out a low rumbling sound from deep in its throat, like it was one snap of the reins away from launching itself across the tundra.

"Save your energy, you knuckleheads."

Simon deftly pulled out the custom sled harness and fitted it onto all three dogs. The sled itself was a modified snowmobile chassis, crude, but it worked better than anything else on this terrain.

He lashed the cargo sled loaded with canned goods tightly to the frame and checked every strap twice.

The temperature on the ice field was vicious. Every breath he exhaled crystallized into frost on the outside of his face shield.

Simon stepped up onto the sled's footboards, thick gloves locked around the reins.

"Boss gave us a month off. Let's go find out what the hell is hiding at those coordinates."

He glanced at the GPS unit strapped to his wrist. The blinking red dot sat roughly 20-plus kilometers from his current position.

He gave the reins a sharp snap.

"Move out, boys!"

The three dogs exploded into motion.

Eight paws hammered across the hard ice at a dead sprint.

The sled carved 2 deep tracks into the endless white.

Wind hit him head-on, driving ice and snow straight into his face, and Simon tucked his chin down and buried half his face in the fur collar of his survival suit.

The dog team tore across the frozen wasteland and gradually shrank to a single black dot on the horizon.

At the same time.

Back at the prison base, things were moving fast.

A large number of personnel and Heavy Trucks assembled in the square at the center of the camp. James, in his all-black tactical body armor, directed task force members as they loaded cutting tools and rigging equipment. Chris slung his rifle and climbed into the passenger seat of one of the Heavy Trucks.

Leon came down the steps with Alice close at his side.

"Ready?" He looked over the convoy.

"All personnel standing by." Shawn Greene and Rick jogged over.

Leon walked to the front of the column, pulled open the lead vehicle's door, and dropped into the driver's seat.

Engine roar filled the air above the prison.

The Heavy Trucks formed a long column and rumbled out through the gate, heading for the wilderness road.

No panic this time. No unknown dread. This was a looting run, and they all knew it, confident, deliberate, unapologetic.

Those Umbrella underground facilities were nothing more than a free salvage yard now.

The trucks hammered down the wasteland road.

In the cargo hold, task force members talked in low voices, dividing up the disassembly work. Chad Kaplan sat in a corner with an electronic dismantling kit case clutched in both arms, the technical core of the entire salvage crew, the man responsible for getting every piece of precision equipment out in one piece.

Leon drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped casually over the edge of the open window.

Before long, the familiar old processing plant came back into view. The luxury villa that had served as its cover looked dilapidated and hollow in the dark, the gate standing wide open, the tire tracks from before still pressed into the dirt.

The convoy pulled up in a semicircle in front of the villa.

Leon pushed the door open and stepped out.

2 Lickers dropped from the rooftop immediately, they had been waiting, concealed in the shadows. Their exposed brains looked grotesque in the moonlight. But their movements were completely docile, utterly silent.

They crawled slowly to Leon's feet, lowered their heads, and lay still in the mud.

➤ Next: Blizzard