"Hmm??"
Louis's eyes snapped open instantly, and he subconsciously sat up straight.
Sitting beside him, Daryl immediately became alert, his hand instantly moving toward the weapon at his side, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings. "What is it? What did you find?"
Louis froze for a moment, listening intently.
There was only the sound of rain and the splashing of tires rolling over puddles. That voice, full of resentment and malice, seemed to have been just his imagination.
"Nothing..." Louis rubbed his temples and leaned back against the seat again, letting out a weary breath. "Maybe I'm just too tired. I thought I heard someone talking... It must have been a hallucination."
"Tsk, I told you this kid was jumpy."
Merle, who was driving, glanced in the rearview mirror, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth as he muttered indistinctly, "The rain out there sounds like a crying kid. You can't hear a damn thing besides the thunder."
"Daryl, don't let this kid make you paranoid."
"Shut your mouth and drive."
Daryl glared at him irritably. Once he was certain there was no danger, his tense body finally relaxed again.
He turned to look at Louis's face, which looked exceptionally pale in the dim light. He didn't offer any words of comfort, but silently reached out to roll the window up tight, blocking the cold wind blowing in from outside.
"Go to sleep," he dropped the words coldly and closed his eyes again.
Louis also wrapped his blanket tighter around himself.
Maybe he really was too tired.
He closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind, but his thoughts involuntarily drifted back to the battle in the factory earlier.
The magic tonight had been very off.
He hadn't had time to think about it then, but now he felt a surge of curiosity.
After all, this kind of change was a double-edged sword; while it had its benefits, being uncontrollable was fatal.
If he tried to wash a teammate's clothes next time and ended up "cleaning" the teammate out of existence, that would be a disaster.
"What exactly is going on..." Louis muttered to himself. "Is it environmental interference? Or was there something wrong with my gestures and emotions during the casting?"
Louis mentally reviewed the events, but he couldn't find an answer.
"The only silver lining is that Wingardium Leviosa seems fairly stable," he sighed inwardly.
"I wonder when I'll be able to practice it to that level..."
Currently, Wingardium Leviosa had become his primary means of attack and crowd control. Although it was mostly used for throwing steel spikes or heavy objects now, he actually had a much greater ambition in his heart.
His roommate from his previous life, who was obsessed with Harry Potter games, had once confidently boasted to him that although the game protagonist was only a fifth-year student, they could pull off incredible feats with Wingardium Leviosa—
Directly snatching enemies into mid-air and slamming them left and right like ragdolls... Although there was no such performance in the novels or movies, Louis reconsidered and understood why there was no follow-up in the books.
Harry and the others were only in their first year then, and the power of Wingardium Leviosa was naturally limited. By the time they reached the upper years, there were many more convenient spells to replace it.
However, for him, the difficulty of mastering a new spell seemed far greater than deepening one he already knew.
Since the games showed that a fifth-year student in peaceful times could reach that level, there was no reason he couldn't do it in this high-pressure, life-or-death environment, right?
Having thought this through, his mood improved slightly.
But when his gaze swept across the window again toward the now-invisible factory, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.
What a great factory!
In all fairness, if one didn't consider those crazy Believers, the factory's location, sturdiness, and internal facilities actually made it very suitable as a long-term survival base.
As long as it was cleaned up and slightly renovated, it would definitely be better than the previous quarry.
And the result? It just blew up like that.
"What a waste..." Louis sighed in his heart, silently complaining, "It seems Officer Rick's 'Base Destroyer' attribute is passively triggered; wherever he goes, that place has to blow up."
He wondered how things were going at the CDC.
Although Dr. Jenner promised he would try to save it, no one could say for sure if he would succeed.
Once everyone has rested up, they'll still have to go back and check... Meanwhile, in the cab of the truck ahead, the atmosphere was somewhat subtle.
T-Dog was driving, his eyes occasionally glancing through the rearview mirror at the SUV where Louis was. The expression on his face was incredibly conflicted, as if he had something stuck in his heart.
"Hey, Jim..." T-Dog hesitated for a long time before finally speaking up, "Man, don't you think... everything that's happened on this trip is a bit too coincidental?"
Jim was leaning against the passenger window, staring blankly at the curtain of rain outside. Hearing this, he turned his head with a calm gaze. "What do you mean?"
"Just... uh, that kid Louis."
T-Dog organized his words and lowered his voice. "Look, first you knew about that dream, and then Louis could give us an early warning."
"Tonight at the factory, with all that chaos, gunfights and Walkers everywhere, he's an eleven-year-old kid running around in there. Not only was he unscratched, he even saved Daryl..."
"Even that sudden rainstorm." T-Dog swallowed. "Even if he didn't know, it's... it's just too uncanny, right? It's almost like something is helping him."
Jim looked at T-Dog's conflicted face, showing no expression of surprise.
He simply raised an eyebrow slightly. "So? Are you jealous that his luck is better than yours?"
"Hey! What are you saying!" T-Dog got anxious. "I'm not jealous! I'm just thinking..."
He knit his brows in conflict, a hint of worry showing in his eyes. "Look, even though you talk all mysterious and can foresee things, the price is that you're easily mistaken for a crazy person, and you almost had heatstroke and dehydration last time."
"But this kid... he always manages to help us turn danger into safety, every time it's so uncanny. I'm just afraid..."
T-Dog sighed. "Does this kind of good luck have a price? Or some side effects? If he keeps helping us like this, will something happen to him?"
Jim remained silent for a few seconds, his originally somewhat cold face softening. He knew T-Dog was an honest man and was genuinely concerned about the child.
"First of all, I don't talk 'mysterious' at all; my sixth sense is just stronger."
Jim retorted irritably, "And nobody thinks I'm crazy! The heatstroke was from being out in the sun!"
"Regardless of what you think, T-Dog."
His voice sounded exceptionally clear amidst the rain. "In this godforsaken world, everyone has secrets."
"Maybe it's luck, maybe it's something else," Jim said softly. "But if Louis has a problem, or needs help, he'll tell us when he's ready to talk."
"If he doesn't say anything, then it means that secret is safe for him, or it's meant to protect us."
"There's no need for us to dig deep, let alone ask."
Jim turned to glance at T-Dog. "Just treat it as a gift from God. Keep your mouth shut and just accept it."
T-Dog froze for a moment, then smiled with relief as he let out a long breath. "You're right. To hell with it!"
Anyway, they survived, counter-killed that group of crazy Believers, and harvested a truckload of weapons and ammunition. In this world, living well is the greatest luck of all.
The vehicles rolled over the wet road, making a steady rustling sound, carrying everyone and their spoils as they drove steadfastly toward the nursing home.