TWD - Chapter 546: Eyes in the Dark (Patreon)

After the gathering ended, Cyrus returned to his room. He shut the door, leaned against it, and gulped in air, his hands still trembling.

He remembered the look in The Pope's eyes. Before the apocalypse, those eyes had belonged to the man who led their company. Now, they were the eyes of a man who would kill him.

Cyrus took a deep breath, pressed the walkie-talkie to his ear, and held down the transmit button. “Hello?”

A few seconds of silence passed before a calm woman's voice answered. It was Calista. “I'm here.”

Cyrus’s eyes suddenly stung. He lowered his voice and whispered, “Someone here wants to leave.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know yet, but there’s someone.”

“Okay.” Calista paused. “Be careful.”

Cyrus nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him. “…I know.”

He released the button, tucked the walkie-talkie back into his clothes, lay down on the bed, and stared at the crack in the ceiling. Outside, the sky was already beginning to grow faintly light.

Cyrus woke early after going back to sleep. Old Ivan's snoring next door had stopped, replaced by the grumbling noises of him getting out of bed.

In the room next to that one, someone slammed a door shut with a loud bang, causing the metal walls of the shipping container to shake.

Cyrus opened his eyes and stared at the crack in the ceiling for three seconds. Gray morning light was filtering in from outside.

He sat up, rubbed his face, and quickly slipped on his jacket. By the time he pushed the door open, there was already someone in the hallway.

Dubin walked over from across the hall, shirtless, revealing his bulging muscles and a thick patch of black hair on his chest.

When Dubin saw Cyrus, he grinned. “Hey, you're up. Which chick were you dreaming about last night?”

Cyrus glared at him. “Your mom.”

Dubin burst out laughing and slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. “Fuck you! My mom's already a walker. If you're dreaming about her, you've got some seriously fucked-up taste!”

Zike appeared behind them with a blade of grass between his teeth. “Can you two stop yelling first thing in the morning? I didn't get to sleep until three last night!”

Dubin curled his lip. “Who told you to stay up that late? You don't even have a phone anymore. What the hell were you staying up for?”

Listening to their bickering, Cyrus couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. These guys argued like this every day.

Cyrus watched Zike and Dubin head toward the cafeteria with their arms around each other's shoulders. A thought suddenly came to him. What would this place be like if they all left?

If they all followed him, how would The Pope treat them?

Cyrus shook his head and pushed the thought aside. This was not the time for it. He needed to find Victor first.

When Cyrus found Victor in the cafeteria, Victor was sitting alone in a corner with a bowl of thin porridge in front of him. He had not touched it. His head was bowed, and he seemed lost in thought.

Cyrus walked over with his tray and sat down across from him. “Victor?”

Victor looked up, his face instantly lighting up with excitement. “Cyrus!”

He lowered his voice and leaned in. “I talked to three people yesterday.”

Cyrus’s heart skipped a beat. “Which three?”

“Mika, Douglas, and that guy with the acne. What was his name again? I forgot...”

Cyrus thought for a moment. He knew Mika. Douglas used to run with Valentino, and after The Pope had Valentino killed, Douglas had been assigned to an outer sentry post. Cyrus did not know the name of the man with acne.

“So, what happened?”

Victor's eyes brightened even more. “Mika said he'd think about it. Douglas... Douglas asked me straight out how to leave.”

Cyrus furrowed his brow. “What did Douglas say?”

“He said he'd wanted to leave for a long time but never had the nerve. When Valentino was around, he at least had someone to talk to. After Valentino died, he was alone. He couldn't take it anymore.”

Victor kept his voice low, but he could not hide his excitement. “The guy with the acne didn't say much, but he didn't snitch either. If he'd wanted to, he would've done it already!”

Cyrus fell silent, watching the unmasked, childlike excitement on Victor’s face. “Victor.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you sure they’re all okay?”

Victor froze. “What... what do you mean?”

“Snitching,” Cyrus said. “What if one of them goes and tells The Pope?”

Victor’s expression changed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out.

Cyrus watched him. He knew exactly what Victor was thinking. Victor was far too naive.

Victor assumed everyone was like him, that once they started wavering, they would simply say so. He had forgotten that someone could say they were “thinking about it” to his face and then go looking for the priest behind his back.

“I... I don't know.” Victor's voice dropped. “I think they... they probably wouldn't...”

“Probably,” Cyrus repeated. “Probably!”

Victor fell silent.

Cyrus stood. “All right. Keep eating. I'm going to take a look.”

He walked away carrying his tray, leaving Victor sitting there alone as the excitement on his face gradually faded.

Cyrus did not head for the cafeteria exit. He circled around to the side of the kitchen, climbed through a broken window, and made his way behind the scrap pile next to the cafeteria.

From there, he had a clear view of several entrances and exits to the cafeteria.

He crouched down and waited.

The sun climbed higher. People came and went from the cafeteria. Dubin and Zike eventually walked out together.

Xavier led several people toward the workshop. A few others Cyrus did not recognize drifted away in groups of two or three.

Then Cyrus saw Douglas leave the cafeteria. He did not head toward the sentry post or the dorms. He went in another direction, straight toward the priest's quarters.

Cyrus's heart skipped a beat as he watched Douglas hurry across the factory grounds, pass the massive iron pillar, and head toward the row of small bungalows behind the workshop.

The priest lived there.

Only one thought filled Cyrus's mind. That fucking bastard was going to snitch!

He jumped to his feet, rounded the scrap pile, and quickly set off in pursuit.

But after following him for about thirty meters, Cyrus realized something was wrong.

Douglas was walking way too fast!

This was not the normal pace of someone who simply had somewhere to be. Douglas was moving like someone knew he was being followed.

He knew he was being followed!

There was no helping it. Every Reaper was a capable fighter with sharp instincts.

Cyrus pressed his lips together and stopped, watching Douglas disappear around the corner of the workshop.

No one came out.

Cyrus’s heart sank. He slowly drew a knife from his waist, gripping the hilt tightly as the blade glinted coldly in the sunlight.

He continued walking briskly forward. As he rounded the corner of the workshop, Cyrus took a deep breath, blinked hard, and braced himself.

But nothing happened. Douglas was gone.

Cyrus froze just beyond the corner. An empty passage stretched ahead between the walls of the workshop and warehouse. At the far end stood the row of small bungalows where the priest lived.

From there, one couldn’t see what was happening here.

There was no sign of Douglas anywhere in the passage.