Just when everyone was justly rebuking the Governor with righteous indignation for leading them to death, Rick looked around and finally said, "Listen up, everyone! The time has come to make a decision! Since we're a group striving for a better future, we're giving you two paths."
After a brief pause, Rick continued, "First, you leave this place and promise never to return. You must avoid any form of contact. If you break that promise, we'll take the necessary measures to ensure it doesn't happen again."
"The second option is to choose to join us. But each and every one of you will be required to undergo training under Corporal Rayan, who will shape you into good soldiers. Those who want to join us can stay and graduate from that training!"
When Rick said this, the crowd erupted into a flurry of chatter. Seeing this, Rick paused again and said, "There's no need to worry. If you can't decide right now, go back to your shelter and think about it for three days. For now, those who want to leave can do so now. Those who want to stay, just remain here for the next two minutes."
Jason listened in silence, his eyes scanning the faces of these people. He thought this test shouldn't be too difficult. Sure, most would probably leave, but those who stayed would share the same vision for the future as everyone in his group.
However, Jason couldn't give them a second chance. If they chose to leave, it was obvious what would happen. He had already told Martínez the first time they met—people only get two chances, and many here were about to waste their second. If they weren't smart enough to realize that this was the best place they could be right now, Jason had already decided what to do with those who walked away.
After speaking, Rick signaled to Corporal Rayan. Rayan understood and nodded, then was pushed in his wheelchair toward the outer door where the prisoners of war were being escorted. At that moment, two cars were lined up, ready to drive toward the gate.
"One more thing. Many of the Woodbury survivors are now on their way here. The citizens have chosen to join our community. If you're worried about their safety, rest assured—they're in good hands."
As a final display of false compassion, Jason dropped the last barrier, hoping those who were still unsure might reconsider their future. Many paused, reflected in silence, then slowly walked toward the outer gate.
It wasn't until several people walked confidently toward the gate that Martínez secretly let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps the people here didn't know what he had done earlier, but he had been included in the video and audio recording from just a moment ago. Though the people of Woodbury hadn't said anything yet, that didn't mean they wouldn't once they got back. And now that many of the survivors from Woodbury were heading to this place, he stopped thinking about what would happen afterward.
Moreover, Martínez couldn't understand how these people had managed to predict everything, even the Governor's death. He realized the other side must have known what they were going to do from beginning to end. That terrifying level of control made Martínez truly afraid.
Thinking about that, he deliberately drew Crowley and a few others closer to him. He quickly formed a plan in his mind. Once they were out of here, he would immediately take the most experienced people and leave Woodbury.
Silently signaling others to follow his lead, Martínez calmly stood in front of the last three cars, while the others quickly got into the remaining vehicles. Other survivors also began walking toward the vehicles but stopped at the outer gate. Many ultimately decided to stay after hearing that most of their people were headed there.
At that moment, everyone from Woodbury understood that their original team had quietly split into two groups. When the gate opened, more than half of the people remained behind.
Everyone had been looking at a car parked halfway to the outer gate. Inside it, the Governor slumped over the steering wheel, eyes wide open. His stern, controlling gaze had lost focus, watching as people kept leaving the prison one after another.
Jason stood at the inner courtyard door and observed as some stayed and others left. He turned his head to look at Merle beside him, who nodded in understanding.
Merle calmly walked away, leaving the crowd at the gate. A moment later, an off-road truck stopped in front of the courtyard, and Jason quietly opened the passenger door and sat down.
"Jason! We're going too!"
It was Daryl and Shane. Jason looked at the two of them and stayed silent for a moment.
"You sure you want to come?"
They didn't reply and sat in the back row. Shane patted Merle's shoulder and said with a grin, "We can't let old Merle do all the work. He's getting up there in years!"
"Ha ha ha ha!" Merle's strange laugh echoed instantly. Jason didn't try to stop anyone from joining. He was about to order them to catch up with those who had left the prison when someone opened the rear door.
"Mind if I take the empty seat?" Michonne stepped forward and opened the door.
Shane frowned and said, "Why are you here? This isn't a game—don't cause problems."
"They killed Janet! I have to go too!" Michonne's expression was serious, her tone carrying a hint of pleading.
Jason sighed softly and asked, "How did you know what we were going to do?"
"It wasn't hard to guess. You said yourself you wouldn't forgive them twice for the same mistake. And I overheard your conversation last night," Michonne admitted.
"You were spying on us?" Daryl's tone was accusatory. He didn't know Michonne well yet and was naturally wary of sword-wielders.
"All right, let's move!" Jason signaled to Merle. He knew Michonne well—if she were excluded now, it could leave a wound that might never heal. That would be unfortunate.
"Got it!" Merle shouted oddly, started the vehicle, and quickly disappeared into the woods.
At that moment, many people saw a vehicle driving out of the prison and couldn't help but ask, "Where are they going?"
Rick, turning around, simply said, "Hunting."
When everyone heard those words, they felt a chill run through them—some were even frozen in place. It turned out this group was never going to let them go.
...
At the same time, Karen was sitting in a large truck filled with people headed toward the prison, apparently fiddling with a radio the Governor had given her.
People around her kept asking questions, and she answered them while watching the trucks behind her.
Finally, when they reached a fork in the road, Karen and the convoy encountered two vehicles heading the opposite way.
She clutched the radio tightly and then realized it was all over. She said aloud, "Look, it's Martínez's group. Looks like they didn't choose to stay."
The people in the truck were ordinary survivors and didn't pick up on the tone in Karen's words. They all turned their heads and saw Martínez and the others driving away on a side street.
A young man in the last row said, "Doesn't matter. We didn't plan to have anything to do with them anyway. The Governor used to rely on killing and looting to keep the camp going. Now that I think about it, we were fools to believe we were living a good and peaceful life."
"It's time to wake up..."
The young man's words shifted the topic, and several people began discussing strange things about the Governor. Karen quietly turned off the radio in her pocket and kept chatting with the others as if nothing had happened.
Later, Merle drove at high speed. When he received information about the group evacuating the prison, he didn't slow down—he stepped on the gas, drawing closer and closer to Martínez's group.
...
Martínez was driving, feeling very uneasy. Today, he felt like he was on his third life. If that damned man had no mercy for his enemies, they'd all be corpses by now.
"Everything's gone to hell! That bastard Governor just died! In the end, we all got dragged into it and lost Woodbury too!" said Crowley from the passenger seat.
Shumpert's voice came over the radio: "We've got nothing. They took everything at that shelter."
Crowley angrily opened and slammed the car door, yelling, "Damn it! Those bastards want us to die at the hands of walkers! Once I get my hands on some weapons, I'm going back to kill them!"
Bang!
Suddenly, a bullet shattered the windshield. Glass burst apart, mixed with blood.
Crowley, mid-sentence, was thrown violently back into his seat, chunks of flesh and blood splattering all over the rear seats.
"Shit!"