Walking Dead: Unlock the Umbrella Corporation Hive Begins with Hunting Chapter 101 101: 101

The highways of southern Georgia looked gray and lifeless beneath the afternoon sun. Cracks spread across the asphalt, and withered weeds pushed through the fissures.

Michonne, a Black woman, walked along the shoulder of the road at an unhurried pace. Her boots crunched rhythmically against the gravel.

Two figures followed behind her—gray-skinned walkers dressed in tattered clothing. Their mouths were restrained with iron muzzles, and their arms had been removed. They trailed behind her like obedient dogs on leashes.

One end of each chain was secured around their waists, while the other was gripped firmly in Michonne's hand. The chains rattled softly with every step.

A katana rested across her back, its black-lacquered hilt protruding over her right shoulder and gleaming darkly in the sunlight.

She had been wandering through these forests for days.

The survivors who escaped from Woodbury had told increasingly unbelievable stories—stories of a walker over two ters tall, possessing imnse strength, capable of crushing skulls with its bare hands, and sohow immune to bullets.

Their leader had supposedly been decapitated so badly that even his own mother wouldn't have recognized him.

As they told their stories, their eyes constantly darted around, and they exchanged subtle hand signals behind their backs.

Michonne wasn't foolish. She sensed a trap.

They had tried to distract her before attacking from behind.

She avoided the killing blow, but her arm had been badly injured and still ached.

Drawing her katana, she killed three of them. Two managed to escape.

Now she walked down an unnad road, with no idea where she was going or what awaited her.

All she knew was that the two walkers trailing behind her still served a purpose. They could block bullets, deter walkers, and perhaps even discourage people—who were often more dangerous than the dead.

The distant rumble of engines echoed through the air.

Michonne stopped.

Turning around, she saw a Humvee erge from a bend in the road, followed by a second and a third.

Behind them ca a line of beige transport trucks covered with tarpaulins, concealing their cargo.

Artillery pieces followed, secured on trailers with canvas covers wrapped around their barrels.

One of the Humvees slowed and stopped beside her.

The window rolled down.

A man leaned out.

Sean looked her up and down, his gaze lingering briefly on the two walkers before shifting to the katana on her back.

"Traveling alone?"

Michonne didn't answer.

Her hand quietly moved to the hilt of her sword.

Sean smiled, opened the door, and stepped out.

Leaning casually against the vehicle, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

"Relax. I'm not looking for trouble."

Michonne's grip loosened slightly, though she remained cautious.

Sean exhaled a stream of smoke and glanced at the restrained walkers.

"That's clever. With them around, other walkers probably think you're one of them."

He flicked away so ash.

"What's your na?"

"Michonne."

"Sean."

He offered his hand.

She ignored it.

Sean simply shrugged and wiped his hand on his pants.

"It's not exactly safe wandering around out here alone. We've got food, shelter, and walls. Better than being eaten alive by mosquitoes in the woods."

Michonne studied him before looking at the convoy still passing behind him.

Lifting a corner of one truck's tarp, she caught a glimpse of soldiers dressed in black uniforms. So chatted casually, so slept, and others cleaned their weapons.

"Who are you people?" she asked.

"Umbrella Corporation."

Sean tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.

"Private ard forces. Not the military. The military's gone."

Michonne remained silent for a mont.

"I'll think about it."

Sean nodded.

"The CDC and the Prison up ahead are both under our protection. If you decide later, head there."

He climbed back into the Humvee.

The vehicle accelerated forward, overtaking the transport trucks before disappearing down the highway.

Michonne stood still, watching the convoy pass.

Truck after truck rolled by.

The soldiers inside laughed, ate bread, chatted, or slept against one another's shoulders.

They looked more like people on a road trip than survivors in the apocalypse.

She counted more than twenty transport vehicles.

Then ca the artillery.

And behind the artillery—

Tanks.

Not one.

Ten.

The tracks rumbled across the highway, making the ground tremble beneath her feet.

Michonne tightened her grip on the chains.

Ten tanks.

Before the apocalypse, she'd seen tanks on television and in news reports.

But she had never seen so many together.

And never belonging to a private company.

She rembered Sean's words.

"The CDC and the Prison are our territory."

After a mont of thought, she turned and began walking toward the Prison.

The Prison gates stood open.

Rick leaned against a Humvee with his arms crossed, watching the road.

T-Dog sat against the wall cleaning his shotgun.

Glenn stood atop the wall, binoculars raised.

Carol leaned casually against another vehicle, spinning a dagger between her fingers.

Tyreese and Sasha stood nearby, speaking quietly.

The siblings had only recently joined the group after being chased by a massive herd of walkers. Fortunately, Carol had encountered them while scouting outside.

Oscar and Andrew inspected crates of ammunition, carefully stacking boxes.

"Rick, how much longer?" T-Dog asked.

"Soon."

Rick never looked at his watch.

His eyes remained fixed on the road.

Glenn suddenly leaned forward.

"I see them. Lots of vehicles."

Monts later, the first Humvee appeared.

Then another.

And another.

Transport trucks.

Artillery.

Tanks.

The convoy stretched along the road like a steel dragon, sunlight reflecting from its armored surfaces.

T-Dog stood up abruptly.

His jaw nearly hit the ground.

"Holy shit..."

Tyreese walked over and stood beside Rick.

Watching tank after tank roll past, he felt the vibrations through his boots.

"This is Umbrella Corporation?"

Rick's lips twitched slightly.

Sasha stared with wide eyes.

She had heard Rick, Glenn, and Carol talk about Umbrella before.

She imagined a large survivor settlent.

Not this.

She counted tanks until she reached eight, then simply gave up.

Glenn jumped down from the wall.

"Looks like Sean's team hit the jackpot at Fort Benning."

Rick nodded.

"They brought back practically everything they could find."

T-Dog slung his shotgun over his shoulder.

A tank rolled past, splashing mud onto his boots.

"Great. I just polished those."

The convoy finally stopped outside the Prison.

Sean climbed out and walked over to Rick.

The two exchanged a fist bump.

T-Dog imdiately approached him.

"Tanks, Sean. Actual tanks. Where the hell did you get them?"

"Fort Benning."

Sean pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Rick before lighting his own.

"The army didn't have ti to take them when they ran."

He took a drag.

"There are still more sitting in storage, but the Boss wouldn't let us bring all of them."

Rick tucked the cigarette behind his ear.

"This ti we're heading to Fort Eisenhower."

Sean nodded.

"Tens of thousands of troops were stationed there before the outbreak. Plenty of survivors probably fled there too."

He flicked away his cigarette.

"When the apocalypse starts, where does everyone run?"

"The military."

The group nodded.

Sean grinned and gestured toward the vehicles.

"With this much firepower, what exactly are we supposed to be afraid of?"

No one had an answer.

Rick simply motioned for everyone to get into the vehicles.