Umbrella Corporation Is Hiring

Atlanta's streets were clogged with abandoned cars haphazardly parked, wandering zombies gathering in twos and threes, ears perked and claws bared, constantly alert to any movement on the roads.

Any hint of life would stir them into a frenzy.

Trash, corpses, wreckage—all kinds of debris blocked traffic, turning the once-spacious roads into rugged, impassable terrain.

The closer to the city center, the worse it got. In this city, finding a road suitable for driving was nearly impossible.

Driving a military truck scavenged from outside the CDC, Leon had a cigar dangling from his lips, one hand on the wheel while the other marked up a map.

He didn't try to push deep into the city—those roads were blocked and impassable.

Instead, he chose to skirt the urban edge along Interstate 83 in the suburbs, bypassing the dangerous downtown.

Leon didn't drive fast. He meticulously recorded intel along the way: where the hordes were, where the shops were, where supplies might be stockpiled, and where could serve as a stronghold.

This was long-term work, not something to rush. There were plenty of days ahead, and they'd eventually explore and scavenge this place.

But that was for later. Leon had only two goals this trip: the quarry on the southern outskirts of Atlanta and St. Joseph's Nursing Home on the southern edge.

Both locations might hold survivor settlements.

The quarry was where Shane, Daryl, Rick's wife, and the others had set up camp.

St. Joseph's Nursing Home was where the group that tied up Glenn was holed up at the start of the story.

The nursing home crew should be easy to find—they'd held their ground there since the disaster began. As long as he went there, he'd find them.

As for the quarry...

It was still a month before the story started. Leon wasn't sure if Shane and the others had already camped there; they might still be elsewhere.

But it didn't matter. He planned to check both spots and see the reality for himself.

The quarry was about five kilometers from the city. Following his map, Leon quickly arrived nearby.

It was a small valley surrounded by woods, with flat ground, a lake, and forests. Secluded and not far from the city, it was indeed a good spot for camping.

But there were no buildings, no defenses, no natural barriers. If zombies attacked, they'd have to form a human wall—pretty dangerous.

Instead of barging in, Leon chose a hidden high ground to scout carefully from above.

By a lake ringed by trees, he was pleasantly surprised to find traces of many cars and tents.

No doubt about it—that was Shane's camp.

Lucky me, finding it so easily. Is this protagonist's luck?

But it makes sense. Humans need water. With most buildings now without power or water, a natural reservoir like this would be a top pick for survivors.

Target found, Leon didn't hesitate. He returned to the truck and connected the radio to the nearest signal source.

Showtime again. I guess I do have some acting talent.

He'd done well negotiating with Dr. Melpha.

Clearing his throat, he spoke in a relaxed tone:

"Hey!"

"Anyone there?"

"This is Leon Castor."

"Come in, please."

He called out three times before getting a response.

Static crackled from the radio. After seven or eight seconds, a woman's voice answered excitedly, but he couldn't make out the words. Then, a few seconds later, a low male voice came through clearly:

"Hello."

"This is Officer Shane Walsh."

"Mr. Leon Castor, can you hear me clearly?"

Leon smirked, a hint of cheer in his voice.

"Loud and clear, Officer."

Shane's voice perked up with excitement.

"Good, Mr. Castor."

"May I ask where you are right now?"

"Is it safe there?"

"I'm safe, Officer Shane," Leon replied.

"And I'm in Atlanta."

The radio went silent for a few seconds, then a slightly puzzled tone came through:

"You're in Atlanta too?"

"Yes, Officer Shane."

"Our Umbrella Corporation base is here."

"Umbrella Corporation? What's that?"

"You have a base?"

"Heh, that's a really good question, Officer Shane, but it's a bit complicated to explain." Leon said.

"You can think of it as a self-rescue organization."

"Can we talk face to face?"

"I'm near the Quarry."

Shane's voice instantly turned wary.

"You're here?"

"How many of you are there, and what's your purpose?"

Leon chuckled lightly and replied:

"Don't worry, Officer Shane, it's just me."

"It was because I spotted your camp that I used the radio to contact you."

"Take a look at your twelve o'clock."

"About a kilometer due north, that camouflage truck under the big tree—see it?"

"That's my ride, and I'm right there."

"Rest assured, I come with good intentions. I won't make any rash moves."

From a distance, Leon saw a small commotion break out at the camp. About two minutes later, Shane's low voice came through the walkie-talkie again.

"Mr. Leon, don't come over yet."

"We'll come to you."

Leon didn't mind. In times like these, caution was the right call.

"Alright, Officer Shane."

"I'll wait for you here."

Seeing how easygoing Leon was, the voice on the other end softened considerably.

"Thanks for cooperating, Mr. Leon. Please wait a few minutes; we'll be right there."

About three minutes later, Leon saw two cars slowly moving from the Quarry toward his position.

They stopped about fifty meters from Leon's camouflage truck.

Shane got out first, holding a black shotgun.

Behind him, five armed men also stepped out of the cars, clustering together and following behind Shane.

As soon as they got out, a crisp male voice rang out from across the way. From the camouflage truck, a tall, imposing man stepped down.

"Hey, Officer Shane, we meet again."

"I'm Leon Castor. Do you still recognize me?"

Hearing the voice, Shane looked up and saw a somewhat familiar figure. His pupils contracted slightly.

The man had striking golden blond hair and a strong, tall build. He wore a brand-new black high-end suit, and over the suit, a military-grade heavy bulletproof jacket.

His features were very handsome, with deep, dark green eyes, and his face seemed to always carry a calm, confident smile.

A sleek, pitch-black fully automatic assault rifle was slung across the man's chest. On his camouflage combat belt, faintly visible, hung a pistol, magazines, fragmentation grenades, and other light weapons—well-equipped and carrying a very strong deterrent presence.

Shane's voice was a bit hesitant as he asked uncertainly: "Dr. Castor? Is that you?"

Leon nodded, his smile unchanged.

"That's right, it's me."

"But, Officer Shane, I'm no longer a doctor. I'm now the manager of Umbrella Corporation."

Behind Shane, a man in a leather jacket with a weathered face, looking like a thug, spoke up: "Umbrella Corporation, what's that, an army?"

Leon recognized him—Merle Dixon, Daryl's brother, a scumbag, but also a good brother.

"Heh, an army?"

A mocking smile crossed Leon's handsome face. From his memory, he had already identified all six people across from him: former officer Shane, old thug Merle, Korean-American deliveryman Glenn, good-natured Dale, black man T-Dog, and good father Morales.

He stared at Merle without any politeness, sizing him up, and said in a casual tone: "Mister, there's no army anymore. All the armies have been crushed by the zombies."

"New York, Los Angeles, Washington—whether it's the government, the military, or the police, all official organizations have already failed."

He paid no mind to the shock on the six men's faces and continued: "No one's coming to rescue us. If we want to survive, we can only rely on ourselves."

"Impossible, you're talking nonsense. How could you possibly know all this?"

Morales suddenly cut in, his face ashen. Hearing Leon's words, he instinctively assumed it was a lie.

"Half a month ago, I heard on the radio that the military had set up refugee camps in Alabama. They had troops, they had food, they were taking in survivors—there's no way they'd fall that easily."

Leon shrugged indifferently and said:

"Believe it or not, the intel I got is that ten days ago, all twelve military refugee camps deployed across the country were overrun by zombies."

"The command structure was destroyed, a massive number of soldiers and civilians were slaughtered, and only a handful of survivors managed to escape."

"Across the whole of America, there's no longer any force capable of facing the zombies head-on."

"How is that possible!" Morales's face shifted from ashen to pale gray. He stood there, dazed, muttering to himself.

The others were much the same. Their expressions were grim, and they huddled together in a mix of belief, doubt, and anger, whispering about the news Leon had brought.

Shane didn't join their discussion. He'd already suspected as much. With a dark face and furrowed brows, he growled in an impatient, low voice:

"So what then? You still haven't said—what exactly is the Umbrella Corporation?"