TWD - Chapter 551: I Killed Him! (Patreon)

Zike’s expression changed. “Xavier, you...”

“Get him out,” Xavier repeated without expression. “I want to see who it is.”

Zike glanced at the handful of The Pope’s fanatical loyalists clustered around Xavier. None of them moved. Swearing under his breath, he reluctantly fetched a long pole.

Pinching his nose, he began pushing aside the blackish-yellow sludge with the pole. Little by little, a corpse emerged.

First came the arms, then the shoulders, and finally the head. The long-soaked face was pale and bloated, its features almost impossible to recognize. The eyes were still wide open, their cloudy whites smeared with blackish-yellow filth.

Cyrus’s hands started shaking. Afraid someone might notice, he slipped them into his pockets and clenched his fists.

Xavier crouched and studied the ruined face until he finally recognized Douglas. Standing, he ordered a nearby man, “Go get The Pope.”

A little over ten minutes later, The Pope arrived. He was in his fifties, bald and bearded, with deep lines in his face and glasses perched on his nose. His shoes squelched through the black filth, but his expression never changed.

The Pope approached the protruding hand and looked down. No one dared speak. Even the retching stopped.

After a moment, The Pope finally looked up and turned to Xavier. “Who did this?”

Xavier shook his head. “We don’t know yet. We’ll have to investigate.”

The Pope said coldly, “This person killed our brother and may still be hiding among us. Get to the bottom of this! Xavier, make sure our brother is properly laid to rest, and have a priest come to pray for him!”

With that, The Pope turned and walked away, leaving behind a crowd that dared not move.

Xavier moved first. He turned toward the crowd, his savage glare making everyone avert their eyes. “Everyone, assemble in the workshop.”

He also pointed at two Reapers cowering in a corner, ordering them to carry Douglas’s body out, have a priest pray over it, and then bury him.

As the crowd scattered, Cyrus followed Zike toward the workshop. He dared not glance back, afraid the sight of that hand might betray him.

In the workshop, all the Reapers stood at attention.

Xavier stood at the front, with Dubin and Zike on either side of him. The priest had also arrived and stood in the corner, holding a Bible, his expression complex.

Xavier spoke up: “Douglas is dead. He was murdered, and the killer is right here among us!”

No one answered. The room fell completely silent.

Xavier’s gaze swept across the crowd like a knife. “Who saw him last?”

Someone whispered, “I saw him in the cafeteria the morning before yesterday.”

“And after that?”

Xavier’s gaze settled on one person. “Did anyone see Victor talking to him?”

Cyrus held his breath, and just then, someone nearby answered, “I think I saw him.”

Xavier nodded, turned, and walked toward the exit. “Follow me.”

He was speaking to the few subordinates around him, but Cyrus slipped in among The Pope’s most loyal followers as they made their way down to the basement.

Cyrus’s legs were going weak. He was certain that if he had stayed in the workshop, he would have collapsed.

The cell door swung open, releasing a damp stench of blood and excrement. Victor hung motionless from his bonds against an iron post, his head bowed.

At the sound, Victor slowly lifted his head. His face was barely recognizable beneath the swelling. Seeing Xavier and the men behind him, he managed a crooked smile. “What? Here to see if I’m dead yet?”

Xavier walked over, grabbed him by the hair, and yanked his face up roughly. “Speak! Did you kill Douglas?”

Victor went still for a beat. Then he understood and declared, “It was me!”

Cyrus’s heart nearly stopped. Xavier narrowed his eyes. “It was you?”

“Yes,” Victor said with certainty. “I killed him!”

Xavier slammed a fist into his face. Victor’s head jerked to the side, and blood spurted from his mouth. “Why?!”

Victor coughed up a mouthful of blood and slowly turned his head back. “Because he was going to snitch.”

“Snitch?”

“Yes. He was going to tell the priest. He wanted to get my brother in trouble!”

Xavier stared at him, a strange expression on his face. “Brother?”

He repeated, “You’ve got a fucking brother, do you?”

Victor nodded. “Yes, lots and lots of them.”

He knew Cyrus was among the men behind Xavier, but carefully avoided looking at him.

Xavier laughed cruelly. “Lots of brothers? Where are they? Step forward so I can see them!”

Nobody moved or spoke. Victor laughed as well. “They don’t need to stand up. It’s enough that I know they’re here.”

Xavier’s face contorted. He let go of Victor’s hair and took a step back. “Oh, give me a break! You really are a fucking lunatic!”

Victor kept his head down, struggling to breathe. Even a slight movement sent agony through his broken ribs.

Xavier turned and walked out. “Keep him locked up. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Xavier’s men began to leave. Cyrus lingered, watching Victor, who kept his eyes lowered to the blood on the floor and never looked back.

Cyrus spun around and rushed out of the basement. He was moving so fast that he didn’t even realize how he’d made it back to the dormitory, so he didn’t see the priest heading toward the basement.

When the priest opened the basement door, he frowned. The stench was almost as bad as a walker’s.

He let the stench wash over him for a moment, then straightened his black robe and stepped inside.

The basement was dark, lit only by a dim kerosene lamp hanging on the wall. The flame flickered in the breeze, casting long shadows all around. Victor was tied up, motionless.

The priest walked up to him, crouched down, placed the Bible on his knees, and looked at Victor. His eyes were gentle and compassionate, as if he were looking at a wounded lamb. “Victor.”

Victor lifted his eyelids and glanced at him, but said nothing.

The priest gave a kind smile. “You know I’m not here to harm you.”

Victor’s lips twitched. “Then why are you here?”

The priest looked at him. “I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yes,” the pastor nodded. “To help you find your way home.”

Victor said nothing. The priest gently rested a hand on his shoulder. “Victor, you’re one of the Lord’s lambs. You’ve simply lost your way.”

Victor looked at that hand and suddenly said, “I haven’t lost my way.”

The priest’s hand stilled. He looked at Victor, and a fleeting glimpse of impatience flashed through his gentle eyes. “You’re not lost?”

“No,” Victor continued. “I know where I am. I know what I’m doing.”

The priest regarded him as though he were a foolish child. “Child, do you know what sin is?”

“I do.”

“Then tell me, what is sin?”

Victor thought for a moment. “When you kill someone, it isn’t a sin, but when I do it, it is?”

The priest froze, his smile freezing on his face. “W-what did you say?”

Victor looked at him, a strange gleam in his swollen eyes. “You told me to kill people. The Pope told me to kill people. Was that a sin?”

The priest’s expression flickered, but he quickly recovered. Withdrawing his hand, he picked up his Bible and cleared his throat. “That was purification. The Lord willed it.”

Victor looked at him. “Did the Lord really tell you to kill?”

The priest fell silent, his feelings conflicted as he looked at Victor’s face, beaten beyond recognition.

Before the apocalypse, the priest had believed so deeply that he would have done anything for the Lord. Later, he had discovered that the Lord never spoke. Only The Pope did. So he had learned to obey The Pope instead.

But the man before him now...

“A priest once told me,” Victor continued, his voice hoarse but firm, “that the Lord commands us to love our neighbor as ourselves.”

The priest narrowed his eyes. “Which priest?”

Victor smiled. “I’m not telling you.”

The priest stared at him expressionlessly for a long time, then stood up, closed the Bible, and held it to his chest. His eyes were no longer gentle. “Victor, you’re going to die.”

Victor nodded. “I know.”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“No.”

The priest looked at him. “Why not?”

Victor thought for a moment. “Because the Lord is here.”

The priest fell silent. Furious, he headed for the door, only to stop and cast one last look at the unyielding Victor. “You really are crazy!”