Louis took the booklet and walkie-talkie from his pocket and tossed them at the edge of the ruins, making it look as though they had naturally fallen from someone's grasp when they were struck by falling debris. Only then did he head back toward the camp.
A few minutes later.
"Hey, Louis? Why are you out?" Glenn asked, somewhat surprised to see Louis as he leaned against an abandoned car, yawning.
"Couldn't sleep, came out for some fresh air." Louis rubbed his eyes, pretending he had just woken up.
"Don't go too far; it's not safe out there," Glenn warned.
"Yeah," Louis nodded and gave another yawn. "Actually, it's a bit chilly. I'm heading back." With that, he didn't linger and turned to quickly return to the RV.
Slipping back into his warm sleeping bag, Louis closed his eyes. His breathing was steady, as if he really had just gone out for a walk... Some time passed.
Glenn looked at his watch, feeling a bit uneasy.
That young man named Martin said he was going to relieve himself, but he hadn't come back after more than ten minutes.
Even if the guy had some sort of trouble, this was taking far too long.
After a moment's hesitation, he walked over to Daryl, who was dozing by the door, and said, "Hey, Daryl, that new kid went to the bathroom over ten minutes ago and hasn't come back yet."
Daryl snapped his eyes open, his gaze instantly becoming alert.
He didn't ask questions. After a brief word with T-Dog and the others on watch, he picked up his crossbow and signaled Glenn to follow.
The two of them moved cautiously, one after the other, toward the public restroom where Martin had headed.
Before they even reached it, a scent mixed with dust and a faint metallic tang of blood wafted over.
Daryl paused. He made a gesture for Glenn to stay outside and keep watch while he lowered his body and slipped into the restroom.
The interior was a mess. By the faint light filtering in from outside, he could see a large section of the ceiling had collapsed, with rubble and concrete blocks scattered everywhere.
Beneath that pile of ruins, half of a familiar body was vaguely visible.
Daryl frowned and stepped forward. After kicking aside a few large stones, he discovered the corpse beneath, mangled and long since breathless; it was indeed Martin.
"An accident?" Daryl looked at the massive hole in the ceiling and the scattered debris, a flicker of doubt crossing his eyes.
But the scene truly did look like it was caused by an accidental collapse.
His gaze swept the surroundings and soon landed on the edge of the ruins, where a booklet and a walkie-talkie were partially buried under some rubble.
He first checked the walkie-talkie and found it was turned off, then he flipped open the booklet.
After reading just two pages, Daryl's expression changed completely, his eyes turning as cold as frozen earth in winter.
"Damn it..." he cursed under his breath, snapping the booklet shut. "Go! Wake Rick and the others! We've got big trouble!"
...Early the next morning, before dawn, Louis and the others were abruptly woken from their sleep.
Everyone gathered bleary-eyed in the clearing in front of the gas station convenience store, the atmosphere exceptionally grim.
Rick held the booklet, his face dark as he informed everyone about what had happened to Martin.
"...Daryl found this last night by the ruins of the restroom."
Shane looked grim. He didn't know if the booklet had been hidden in the bathroom beforehand or if Martin had it on him; if it was the latter, then failing to find it yesterday was his mistake.
Rick held up the booklet. "According to the records in here, this Martin wasn't a survivor at all. He's a member of a raider group, specifically responsible for scouting and infiltration."
He read a few passages about "disposal," "to be taken," and "fat sheep," making everyone who heard it shiver, their faces filled with lingering fear and anger.
"Then where is he?" Lori asked nervously.
"Dead," Rick said calmly. "The restroom ceiling collapsed last night, and he was crushed inside. It was an accident."
The group found it somewhat hard to believe, but mostly they felt a sense of relief at having escaped a disaster.
"Then the weapons he gave us..." Morales suddenly thought of a key issue. "Have those guns and ammo been checked? Could there be a problem?"
This question made everyone's heart leap into their throats again.
Shane nodded with a somber face, picking up a handgun and a few disassembled bullets from nearby. "The guns are fine. We checked them before he joined; they're the real deal and well-maintained."
"But there's a problem with the bullets."
He showed the disassembled bullets to everyone. "We checked those bullets overnight and took some of the casings apart."
"We found that less than a third of them can be fired normally. The rest are either blanks, have the wrong amount of gunpowder, or even have loose bullets!"
He picked up a rifle round that looked perfectly fine and gave it a hard squeeze—the bullet head was actually pulled right off by him!
"If this kind of ammunition is loaded and fired, at best it'll jam, and at worst... the gun will blow up in your face!"
"Blow up?!" Hearing this, everyone gasped.
How malicious!
If they had used these bullets without any suspicion, the consequences would have been unthinkable!
Seeing the lingering fear on everyone's faces, old man Dale, who had been silent, spoke up to advise them: "Regardless, the man is dead. There's no point in dwelling on this now."
"We should be glad we discovered the truth early and suffered no losses."
He glanced at the distant sky. "And what everyone needs to do now is leave this place as quickly as possible."
"Even if Martin contacted his associates via walkie-talkie before he died, they don't know our destination is the CDC. We must hurry!"
Dale's words calmed everyone down. Indeed, now was not the time for blame or fear; leaving this dangerous place as soon as possible was the priority.
Everyone nodded, suppressing their heavy hearts and anger, and began quickly packing their things to depart immediately.
Just as Louis was about to board the RV with Carl and the others, Daryl looked at him and suddenly called out, sounding a bit puzzled.
"Uncle Daryl? What is it?"
Daryl frowned, as if trying to recall something. "Did you wash these clothes yesterday?"
Crap! I was careless!
Last night after coming back, I was so focused on sleeping that I forgot to change out of these clothes I'd cleaned with "Scourgify"!
Louis cursed inwardly, but his face showed an even more bewildered expression, and he even looked down at his blue jacket. "Huh? No, why?"
"That jacket," Daryl's gaze fell on his cuff. "I remember there were some stains on it yesterday? They're gone now."
Louis's mind raced, but his face showed a look of sudden realization. He lifted his sleeve and sniffed it, then gave an embarrassed smile:
"Oh, you mean that. I thought it was dirty before I went to bed, so I scrubbed it hard with some water and a cloth. I guess I got it off. Why?"
Although Daryl felt something was off, he didn't know much about jacket fabrics, and it wasn't a big deal anyway. So he nodded, accepting the explanation, and didn't dwell on it further.
But Merle, standing beside him, suddenly let out a couple of ambiguous chuckles upon hearing Louis's explanation.
"Is that so? That really is a magical jacket."
After successfully drawing the attention of both men to himself, he added meaningfully:
"But I should warn you, kid. Sometimes... being too fond of cleanliness isn't necessarily a good thing."