Although he was suspicious, he simply nodded on the surface and didn't say much.
This was something that hadn't happened in the original story.
After all, in the original plot, the group, who had suffered heavy casualties from the Walker horde, didn't set out until the second day.
But now, due to his interference and the fact that the number of Walkers last night far exceeded expectations, everyone set off immediately after some simple preparations.
He hadn't expected that such a small difference in time would lead them to encounter a lone survivor.
Louis leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the outside through the car window, continuing to observe the situation.
Rick and Shane were both experienced police officers. They stood to the left and right, appearing relaxed but subtly forming a pincer movement.
Their expressions were serious and their gazes sharp as they continuously cross-examined the other party on various details.
The young man calling himself Martin put on a very convincing performance.
He choked up at times, grew angry at others, and trembled with fear, perfectly portraying a survivor whose camp had been destroyed, whose companions had died tragic deaths, and who had narrowly escaped with his life.
However, Louis, who was equally skilled in acting, keenly captured a sense of dissonance.
When Martin described the horrific scene of his companions being torn apart by Walkers, although his eyes were full of fear and sorrow, those emotions seemed only skin-deep.
In his narrative, he repeatedly emphasized how he had narrowly escaped death, but rarely showed mourning or grief for those 'dead companions'.
Perhaps this was just a self-preservation instinct under extreme fear.
But Louis felt that, at the very least, it showed Martin's personality might not be as helpless and kind as he portrayed; he seemed to care more about himself.
The interrogation lasted for over ten minutes.
Although Martin's answers were somewhat confused in the details, this was actually more consistent with the normal reaction of someone who was overly frightened, and there were no obvious loopholes in the major timeline or the logic of events.
Rick glanced at Shane with an inquiring look. Shane's brow was furrowed; he clearly still didn't quite trust this guy of unknown origin.
"Officers, I know you don't believe me. That's normal. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't easily trust a stranger either."
As he spoke, Martin took the initiative to unbuckle the heavy-looking backpack he was carrying and handed it to the two of them. "You can search me, and you can check my bag."
"Everything I have, besides a few cans of food and some water, is... just this."
Seemingly afraid they wouldn't believe him, he hurriedly dragged the heavy backpack in front of him and clumsily unzipped it.
Clatter—
Several black firearms, including what looked like rifles and handguns, as well as a bag full of bullets, appeared before everyone's eyes!
In the dim light, these cold metal weapons emitted a lethal allure, causing even the somewhat impatient Merle's gaze to sharpen.
Rick and Shane's pupils constricted even more. They subconsciously took a step forward, their gazes locked on the backpack and the young man.
"Where did you get so many guns?!" Shane's voice immediately became alert.
"I... we found them!" Martin was startled by the sudden pressure of the two men approaching and quickly took a step back.
"Yesterday, I went out with two others to look for supplies. We got lucky and found an abandoned police car. These were inside!"
"Is that so?" Rick's brow furrowed tightly as he stared into Martin's eyes, his tone scrutinizing.
"You had so many weapons, so why were you the only one who made it out in the end?"
"When we found the guns, we were still some distance from the camp!"
Martin interrupted him urgently, his face filled with pain and fear. "By the time we got back, most of the people were gone..."
"The camp had already been attacked! Those things came too fast... there weren't enough weapons in the camp, and there were old people and children..."
He described the tragic scene incoherently, tears streaming down his face uncontrollably. "The people who went to find supplies with me... to save their families, they were also..."
Martin choked up and couldn't go on. He looked at Rick, his eyes filled with despair and pleading. "I don't know if there's anyone else alive from my old camp besides me..."
"But if it's just me, even with these guns, I won't survive! I don't even know how to use a gun properly!"
He pushed the open backpack forward a bit. "These guns... and the bullets, they're all yours! I don't want anything, just let me follow you, give me a chance to survive!"
Shane looked at the weapons on the ground, then at Martin's expression of desperation to prove himself, his heart filled with complexity.
The other party was willing to hand over all his belongings; he was indeed very sincere.
And these firearms and ammunition were enough to arm several people, a huge supplement to their team's current firepower.
Although Shane had a more secure method in mind: directly seize the weapons and then drive the person away.
But he immediately dismissed the thought, at least until Martin showed hostility, Rick would never agree to such a thing, and the others in the camp would have objections.
Rick looked at the young man's near-breakdown and listened to his chaotic yet seemingly reasonable explanation, and his vigilance involuntarily softened a bit.
He thought of what happened that night when they returned to the camp from Atlanta.
If they had returned a step late, or if their luck had been a bit worse and they hadn't retrieved the weapons, would they have ended up with the same fate as this young man described?
Scattered by the horde, watching companions die, and then struggling to survive in despair alone with heavy weapons?
Moreover, this young man looked only a few years older than his son... In the end, compassion and practical needs won out.
He exchanged a look with Shane and then said in a low voice, "Let him follow us for now. We do need these."
The suspicion on Shane's face didn't completely fade. He stared at Martin for a few seconds, seemingly trying to find some flaw in his face. But in the end, he slowly nodded.
He and Rick stepped forward to search Martin thoroughly. After confirming there were no other hidden weapons, they signaled that he could go to the RV to rest first.
Martin climbed onto the RV with a thousand thanks.
After nightfall, everyone ate some simple dry rations.
Rick arranged the night watch rotation. Because Martin was "injured" and had just joined, he was arranged to rest in a separate small car.
Of course, this was also a subtle form of surveillance.
The children had long since fallen asleep, but Louis had no intention of sleeping. He lay on the bunk at the back of the RV, pretending to be asleep, but his ears were constantly listening for any movement in the front.
Time passed bit by bit. The surroundings of the gas station were silent, with only the occasional low growl of a Walker in the distance and the chirping of unknown insects.
Just when Louis almost thought he was overthinking and was about to relax his guard to sleep for a while, there was a slight movement at the front of the RV.
He immediately held his breath.
"...Sorry, I want to go relieve myself." It was Martin's voice. He seemed to have opened the car window next to the driver's seat and called out to the person on night watch outside.
"Oh, okay, be careful." Glenn's voice came from a distance, sounding a bit sleepy.
"Wait a minute." An alert voice suddenly rang out, stopping Martin who was about to get out of the car.
It was Daryl. He had patrolled near the RV at some point.
"There's a toilet in the RV. Why do you have to use the one over there?"