The Governor patted Martinez on the shoulder, not too hard and not too lightly. "Get ready. Pick a few sharp people. We need to send our new neighbors a 'welcome gift.'"
Martinez spoke first. "Crowley and I can go again!"
"He can't go, and neither can you," the Governor continued. "You two would draw suspicion too easily. We need people who look more helpless, more like ordinary survivors."
Martinez frowned. "You want to send untrained people?"
"Not untrained." The Governor shook his head. "They need to look untrained.
What about Gargulio? He's young, in good shape, and he used to play college football. He's been hiding and running ever since the apocalypse.
Pair him with a woman, pretend she's his girlfriend or sister, and make the two of them look believable."
"Gargulio only joined us two months ago," Martinez reminded him. "Are you sure he's reliable?"
"I'm sure he'll do what I ask," the Governor said flatly. "Because he wants a place here. He wants protection. And I can give him that place, or take it away."
The room fell silent again.
"Give them a complete story," the Governor continued, speaking to Martinez. "The details need to feel real, with parts that can be verified.
Equip them properly. Not too well, or it'll look suspicious. Not too poorly, or they won't make it to the prison.
Keep it at the level of ordinary survivors. One gun, limited ammunition, some food and water."
"When do they leave?"
"Three days from now," the Governor said. "After you choose the people, bring them to me.
Tell them the people at the prison are dangerous raiders who attack lone survivors and leave no one alive.
Give them a righteous reason to carry out the mission."
Martinez felt his stomach tighten slightly.
The so-called "evidence of raider attacks" was nothing more than a show staged by the Governor himself, blaming the bodies of victims found outside, or people they had killed, on an invented enemy.
But it was necessary. The Governor had once said that fear and a sense of justice could push ordinary people to do extraordinary things, and make them believe their leader's orders without question.
"Yes," Martinez finally answered.
"All right." The Governor waved a hand. "Go prepare."
On his way back, Martinez ran into Haley.
The young, pretty girl was carrying a cloth bundle. She was Woodbury's street messenger. She knew how to use a bow, though her archery was terrible. Before the virus outbreak, her greatest dream had been to compete in the Olympics.
When Haley saw Martinez, she nodded politely and smiled. "Good evening, Captain."
"Good evening, Haley," Martinez replied, looking into her clear eyes.
She was the kind of person who still held on to innocence. She believed Woodbury was a miracle in the apocalypse, and believed the Governor was a wise leader guiding everyone in rebuilding civilization.
She was a suitable choice.
After settling on Haley in his mind, Martinez suddenly felt a deep exhaustion wash over him.
He returned to his small house, closed the door, and shut out the warm, false world outside.
The room was so simple it was almost shabby, with only the necessary furniture.
Martinez dragged a small locked metal box out from under the bed and opened it. There were no weapons or secret documents inside, only a few old photographs:
A picture with his family before the apocalypse, another of him in uniform with his arms around his comrades, and a faded, childish doodle drawn by his daughter.
He stared at the photos for a long time, then lit a wrinkled cigarette.
Martinez thought of the life he had seen at the prison through the binoculars during the day.
Those people ate together, worked together, and protected their children.
They did not have neat streets, but they were trying to survive too.
And Woodbury?
Here, there was electricity, hot water, relatively plentiful food, and the laughter of children.
But all of it was built on lies.
The residents lived in peace and comfort, unaware that the spoils brought back by outside teams were sometimes stained with the blood of innocent people. They did not know that the safety they enjoyed came at the price of ruthless plunder beyond the walls.
This was a gilded cage, and Martinez was one of the hounds guarding it.
He stubbed out the cigarette, locked the metal box, pushed it back under the bed, drew the curtains, lay down, and closed his eyes.
The prison and Woodbury. Martinez knew which world was real, and he knew which world he had to live in. ... When Haley was brought in by Martinez and told to work with Gargulio to infiltrate a nearby community and gather information, her first reaction was excitement at being entrusted with an important task, followed by anger.
"...So we've received reliable information. A group of raiders is occupying the prison. They attack lone survivors, steal their supplies, and leave no one alive.
Do you two remember the brother and sister who came from the direction of Atlanta last week? The sister had a fever, and the brother begged us to take them in. They were victims who escaped from the prison."
Haley remembered that after they had been sent to the infirmary, they never came out again.
Martinez shook his head beside her, full of regret. "The infection was too severe. They didn't make it."
The Governor continued, "We can't allow such an inhuman camp to keep existing, but a direct assault would sacrifice our people for nothing.
So we need information. We need someone to get inside the prison and find out their defenses, their numbers, and their weaknesses."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Gargulio and Haley. "I'm not asking you to kill anyone. I'm not asking you to sabotage anything. Just observe. For Woodbury's safety, and so the children can grow up in peace."
Tears shone in Haley's eyes as she nodded, thinking to herself, how could those raiders not even spare a sick teenager?
"I think the two of you are the best fit," the Governor said solemnly. "You're young, you don't look threatening, and you both have practical skills.
Haley can teach children archery, and Gargulio is young. He can repair things and do manual labor. Raiders need people like that."
Gargulio asked, "Do they really... kill people?"
Martinez's expression turned grave. "We once found a camp they had ransacked. There were children's toys and little shoes, but no bodies. Do you know why?"
The two of them shook their heads.
"Because walkers ate them all," Martinez said softly, his eyes full of unbearable pity. "And the raiders watched from the side. They waited until the walkers had eaten their fill and left, then went in to pick through whatever supplies were left."
Haley felt sick. Raiders were a cancer among humans in the apocalypse.
"We'll go," she said firmly, and Gargulio nodded too.
The Governor personally gave them their briefing before departure.
He spread out a hand-drawn map and pointed to the prison's location. "This group of raiders is about the same size as us."
Haley gasped. "They have more than seventy people too?"
The Governor shook his head with a troubled look. "According to Martinez's information, they may have even more."
Gargulio took careful notes.
"Still, you don't need to do anything dangerous," the Governor emphasized kindly. "Just get inside, observe, and then find a chance to leave.
If you're discovered, say you're peace envoys from Woodbury and want to establish friendly relations. Though I don't think those animals will listen."
He handed them a cloth bag. "There are some homemade cookies and dried fruit inside. If you run into children at the prison, these might help them lower their guard around you.
But be careful. Those children may already have been trained as little spies."
Haley took the cloth bag, her nose stinging.
The Governor really was a good leader. He had even thought of details like this.
Even if it was only a reconnaissance mission that did not sound too difficult, she had to do it well for Woodbury.