The Governor moved slowly through the room, his eyes drifting across every shelf, drawer, and piece of furniture as though measuring whether something had been disturbed.
"What is it?" Andrea asked, forcing a small smile. "Did something go missing?"
The Governor didn't answer immediately.
He kept studying the room.
Then her.
"No," he said calmly. "But tell me something… did you notice anything unusual while you were waiting here?"
Andrea felt her stomach tighten.
She forced out a quiet laugh. "Unusual? Other than your obsession with paperwork?" She gestured loosely toward the office. "No. Why?"
The Governor's eyes lingered on her a second too long.
"I could've sworn something was out of place." His tone remained casual, but there was a sharpness beneath it now. "Maybe I'm just getting paranoid."
Andrea crossed her arms lightly, trying to appear relaxed. "In this world? Paranoid is probably healthy."
That finally earned a small smile from him.
"Fair point."
He adjusted his jacket, smoothing the front absentmindedly.
"Still," he continued, glancing around once more, "sometimes I think this place is haunted."
Andrea raised an eyebrow. "Haunted?"
The Governor chuckled softly. "Things move around. Doors creak. Feels like the ghosts don't realize the world ended."
"Well, if you find one, let me know," Andrea replied with a nervous grin. "I'd like to ask it for a drink."
The Governor laughed politely, though his eyes never fully lost their focus.
"How about we continue our coffee?" he suggested smoothly. "Before the ghosts start charging rent."
Andrea nodded quickly. "Yeah. Coffee sounds good."
He gestured toward the hallway and started walking.
But just before leaving the room, his gaze flicked briefly toward the table Dee was hiding beneath.
Only for a second.
Then he walked out, and the apartment door shut behind him.
Silence.
Only then did Dee finally breathe again.
She slowly crawled out from beneath the table and moved toward the front window. Pulling the curtain aside just enough to see outside, she spotted two guards already back at their posts.
Her chest tightened.
He was suspicious.
"Shit," Dee whispered.
She immediately turned and hurried toward the back of the apartment. The rear exit was blocked with nailed boards and heavy furniture shoved against the door.
No way out.
Her breathing quickened as she searched the apartment again.
The walls suddenly felt smaller.
Closer.
For the first time since sneaking inside, real panic started creeping into her chest.
Her grip tightened around the knife.
Outside, Merle Dixon slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle and smirked at the men beside him.
"Alright, listen up," he said. "Whoever's hidin' in there? The Governor wants 'em alive."
One of the men frowned. "What if they fight back?"
Merle grinned wider.
"Then break a few bones first."
A few nervous laughs followed.
Merle spat onto the ground and motioned toward the building.
"Move."
The armed men started toward the apartment entrance.
Inside, Dee heard footsteps approaching.
There was no way out except the front door. Dee forced herself to breathe slowly, fighting the panic clawing its way into her chest.
She scanned the apartment again not for an exit this time, but for anything useful. Anything she could turn into an advantage.
Her eyes swept across the room, heavy curtains, a desk lamp, a liquor bar and old newspapers.
A toolbox near the corner.
Then her gaze stopped on the aquarium room door.
An idea formed instantly.
She moved to the desk and grabbed a fistful of loose papers, rolling them tightly before stuffing them into the neck of a liquor bottle. She tore a long strip from the curtain and wrapped it around the neck, then moved quickly, gathering the remaining alcohol.
---
Lydia had been crying ever since she woke up and realized her mother was gone.
Jerry had spent the last several minutes trying to calm her down, but nothing worked. The more he tried to comfort her, the harder she cried, leaving him looking completely helpless.
"Both women who know how to calm this kid are gone, and now I'm stuck dealing with this mess," Jerry muttered while staring at the crying child. "Hey, Lydia, your mom just went to the bathroom. She'll be back soon, okay? So stop crying so much."
He tried to sound gentle, but frustration still slipped into his voice.
Lydia cried even harder.
Jerry groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
"Damn my luck…"
"Move."
Chicken's voice came from behind him.
Jerry turned. "Brother, how exactly are you gonna stop her when even I can't?"
"Just watch."
Chicken walked over and crouched in front of Lydia.
Then he pulled out a knife.
"Hey," he said calmly, "stop crying or I'll cut your heart out."
The moment Lydia saw the blade, she froze. Then she vanished beneath the blanket.
"There," Chicken said with quiet satisfaction as he slid the knife away. "The child is quiet now."
Jerry stared at him in disbelief.
"Brother, I said calm her down... not traumatize her."
"What matters is the result." Chicken shrugged. "She's quiet."
Then his expression hardened.
"We leave in ten minutes. Go find her mother."
Jerry looked like he wanted to argue, but eventually gave up with an irritated sigh and headed for the door.
The room fell silent again.
Chicken glanced toward the shaking lump beneath the blanket. Lydia peeked at him cautiously through the fabric, tears still clinging to her cheeks.
Chicken let out a slow breath through his nose.
Then, without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out three knives.
Lydia stiffened immediately.
Chicken casually tossed one into the air.
Then another.
Then the third.
The blades spun in smooth silver arcs between his hands with practiced precision.
Lydia slowly blinked as her crying finally faded away.
Without missing a beat, Chicken added a fourth knife to the pattern. The knives danced through the air impossibly fast, glinting in the dim light as they spun between his fingers.
Lydia's eyes widened.
Fear slowly gave way to fascination.
For the first time since waking up, she forgot to cry.
Chicken noticed the change immediately. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as the knives continued moving effortlessly through the air.
"Brother, I looked everywhere. I can't find her mother."
Jerry stepped back into the room, slightly out of breath from searching.
Then he stopped mid-step.
Lydia sat quietly beside Chicken, happily eating a piece of candy while swinging her legs back and forth.
Jerry blinked.
A few minutes ago, she had been buried under a blanket crying like the world was ending.
Now she looked perfectly calm.
He stared at the scene for several seconds, struggling to process it.
"How the hell did you—"
"Time's up," Chicken interrupted flatly.
He stood and began packing supplies into a duffel bag with quick, efficient movements.
"We leave now. With them or without them."
Jerry frowned. "Come on, man. Maybe we should wait a little longer—"
Chicken didn't even look at him.
Jerry stopped talking immediately.
More than anyone else, he understood when his brother had already made up his mind. With a quiet sigh, Jerry grabbed the remaining supplies and started helping pack.
Beside them, Lydia kept glancing nervously toward the doorway, still searching for her mother.
A few minutes later, the group stepped outside into the cold morning air.
Lydia's face immediately lit up.
"Andrea!"
She pointed excitedly down the street. Andrea was walking toward them alongside the Governor.
Chicken's expression hardened almost instantly.
"You're late," he said coldly the moment Andrea got close enough.
Andrea opened her mouth, but the Governor answered for her smoothly.
"My fault," he said with an easy smile. "We got caught up talking and lost track of time."
Chicken ignored him completely. His eyes stayed fixed on Andrea.
She looked nervous.
Too nervous.
That alone was enough to sharpen every instinct he had.
His grip tightened slightly around the rifle hanging at his side as his gaze subtly swept across the street rooftops, windows, movement, exits.
The Governor noticed, so did Andrea.
"Get over here," Chicken said.
Andrea immediately stepped beside him.
For a brief second, their eyes met.
Something was wrong.
She was trying to tell him without speaking.
"Do you know where my mommy is?" Lydia asked suddenly, tugging lightly on Andrea's sleeve. Her voice trembled near the end.
Andrea forced a gentle smile. "She's probably nearby, sweetheart."
Then the Governor crouched slightly to Lydia's level.
"Don't worry, little angel," he said warmly. "I'll help you find her."
He extended a hand toward her. "Come with me."
Chicken stepped between them before Lydia could move.
"If you know where she is," he said evenly, "then take me to her."
For the first time, the Governor's smile faded slightly.
The two men stared at each other for a long, silent moment.
No one spoke.
The tension between them pressed down on the street so heavily it almost felt physical, thick enough to make the air itself hard to breathe.
Around them, people instinctively grew quiet. Even the usual sounds of Woodbury seemed distant now.
Neither man looked away.
Then, suddenly, the Governor smiled again as though nothing had happened.
"Of course," he said smoothly. "Follow me."
Chicken never took his eyes off him.
"Jerry," he said without looking away, "take everyone else to the Humvee."
Jerry frowned immediately. "What? Hold on, I'm coming with—"
Chicken finally looked at him.
One sharp glance was enough.
Jerry fell silent.
"…Fine," he muttered.
He gathered the others and started leading them toward the vehicles while Chicken remained beside Andrea and Lydia, watching the Governor carefully.
Every instinct in his body told him something about this situation was wrong.
And Chicken trusted his instincts far more than he trusted people.