Back inside the building, it was quite silent.
The air was somewhat stale, smelling like old paper and lemon polish.
We searched the building room by room, keeping our guns ready and our feet light on the hardwood floors.
We cleared a small waiting room, a storage closet, and a bunch of other rooms on the first floor.
Nothing.
We crept up the wooden staircase step by step, making sure to step lightly to avoid the squeaky boards.
At the end of the upstairs hallway, a thick oak door sat slightly ajar.
Light spilt out slightly from the opening.
I nudged the door open with the toe of my boot and stepped inside with my pistol raised, Rick and Merle right on my heels.
The Governor was sitting right there behind a large mahogany desk, looking through a stack of hand-written ledgers with a frown on his face.
The second he heard the door creak, his head snapped up.
His eyes went wide, seeing the three of us standing in his doorway with weapons pointed right at his chest.
But he didn't freeze for long.
The Governor tried to resist, lunging sideways toward a desk drawer where a nickel-plated revolver was sitting in plain sight.
"Don't!" Rick barked, stepping forward.
The Governor ignored him, his fingers brushing the grip of the revolver.
He was fast, but we were faster.
I lunged forward, closing the distance in two long strides.
I grabbed the Governor's arm and slammed his wrist hard against the edge of the heavy desk.
The revolver clattered out of his hand and slid across the floorboards, pausing in front of Rick.
"Who are you guys?!" the Governor snarled.
We didn't answer.
The Governor roared, twisting his body and throwing an elbow right into Merle's ribs, trying to wrench himself free.
He kicked out wildly, knocking over a brass floor lamp that crashed against the wall with a loud bang.
He was fighting like a cornered rat, trying to yell out for his guards.
I didn't give him the chance to get a full breath out.
I stepped in close, reared my right arm back, and clocked the Governor full force straight in the face.
My knuckles made a nasty cracking sound against his jawbone.
His head snapped back hard, his eyes rolled up into his skull, and his knees completely gave out beneath him.
He hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud, knocked out cold.
Looking at the knocked-out cold Governor, Merle snorted in contempt. "Well, that was easy."
"Say that after we manage to convince the residents that their good leader, their only shield that's been protecting them from what's out there, is a psycho who murders other settlements for their stuff," Rick said, glancing over at Merle.
Hearing that, Merle momentarily stiffened before he swore under his breath. "Damn it, I forgot we still have to do that."
"Enough," I said, my voice sharp enough to make the two of them stop messing around. "Let's look around for the Governor's journal that Michonne read and anything else that we may use to get the residents on our side."
The two nodded, and with that, we got to work turning the office upside down.
Meanwhile, outside with Shane and Daryl, the two were still diligently guarding the front of the Governor's building from the shadows.
No one else had come close since the last guy they had knocked out.
Unfortunately, it didn't stay that way for long.
An armed Latino dude walked toward the Governor's building from down the street.
He looked gloomy, his boots dragging through the dirt as he stared ahead.
Shane and Daryl looked at each other, nodded, and silently creeped up on the guy, intending to knock him out fast.
Just as Shane was about to hit him with the butt of his rifle, the man suddenly turned around to face him.
Shane, startled, ruthlessly hit his face with the heavy wooden stock of the gun anyway.
The impact made a loud crack, causing the man to crumble straight down onto the dirt, out cold.
Daryl looked down at the body, then up at Shane. "Good hit," he grunted.
"Thanks," Shane answered, wiping a smudge of cold sweat off his brow. "Let's get him out of here and tied up before someone spots him."
Daryl grunted his agreement, and the two of them hauled the man out of the open lane, carried him back behind the shed, and tied him securely to a thick pine tree alongside the other guy—after they thoroughly searched him.
Back inside with me and the others, the three of us were systematically searching the rest of the room.
We ripped open filing cabinets, shoved aside stack after stack of paperwork, and checked behind the framed maps hanging on the walls.
Merle was pulling out desk drawers one by one until he found a small leather-bound book tucked into a false bottom near the back of the mahogany desk.
He picked it up, flipped it open, and called out to me.
"Found the book, boss!" Merle said, waving the journal in the air.
He skimmed through a few pages, his eyes scanning the scribbled dates, names, and tally marks before he let out a low whistle.
"That lady wasn't kidding. This dude's something else, alright."
I glanced at the knocked-out Governor lying limp on the floorboards for a second before I turned back to Merle. "Keep that safe," I said firmly. "We're gonna need it when we call everyone into the street."
Suddenly, Rick called out from across the room.
He was standing in front of a heavy wooden closet door hidden behind a bookshelf near the back wall.
"Guys, I think you should see this," Rick said, his voice tense.
Merle and I exchanged quick looks, then walked straight over to where Rick was standing.
Rick pulled the closet door open, revealing a hidden door that led to a hidden room built right into the structure of the building.
It had no windows, and the air inside felt cold, thick, and smelled rotten.
I immediately knew what this place was.
I glanced at Rick for half a second before I reached for the door intending to open it...
(To be continued...)