chapter thirty-seven : newborn in the tombs { season three - episode four }
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"JAYCE!" KLOE WHISPERED, her bow slightly raised as her and Isabelle passed a corner. "Jayce Bryant! We know you're here. Your buddies told us," she continued, peeping inside random rooms that were sided off in the hallway.
"We've been searching for an hour. Maybe he's..." Isabelle stopped herself, gulping as she thought of another person who was possibly innocent, dead. She gripped her machete tighter as the pair turned another corner.
"We have to keep looking until we find something," Kloe muttered to the teen beside her, peering inside a room that was slightly open. "Hey, let's check in here." She pushed the heavy metal door open, a loud screech filling the silent air. "Jayce, we're here to help you," Kloe whispered out as Isabelle quietly shut the metal door so no walkers could get in while they examined the room.
It was partially empty, a few boxes and trays laying around that were covered with paper files that belonged to the officers that worked there. Isabelle aimed her flashlight at a few documents on the ground, noticing a familiar name. "Hey, check this out."
Kloe whipped her head over to where the teenager was pointing, narrowing her eyes down at it. She carefully crouched down, picking up the singular paper that was left untouched on the ground. Her eyes scanned the paper and her eyes widened as she checked the name.
It was Jayce's document file. There was a picture of him facing the front and the side - it was his mugshot photos. Her eyes dragged down to the reason he was sent to prison, and her eyes went even more wide than before.
It originally said, 'Crime Records: Robbery & Murder.' But it was scribbled out with a black pen with the words, 'I am not a murderer or a thief! - Jay' on top of it. "He's been here," Kloe whispered to her friend, folding the paper in quarters and shoved it inside her jeans pocket. "He's gotta be close. The paper hasn't been out for long."
"When do you think he did that?" Isabelle questioned, eyeing the room suspiciously. "It doesn't look like the paper's dirty or anything."
"Yeah. He was here today, I can tell you that because when we went down here yesterday, that door wasn't open," Kloe gestured to the door that Isabelle had closed. "He's alive." She slowly turned around, growing wary at the uncomfortable silence.
"He's twenty-four..." Isabelle whispered to herself, remembering his birth date on the paper. "Jayce!" She then shouted in a loud tone, making Kloe's eyes widen and glare at the teenager.
"Isabelle!" She yelled in a hushed tone, causing the teen to turn to the older girl and send apologetic eyes. Kloe blinked and stepped away, pulling out a box to check for the man. "Jayce. Or Jay. Whatever you wanna be called," Kloe started, scanning the room, "we don't want to hurt you. We want to help you."
