Chapter 133: Chapter 133 - The Motherhold
Iyisha breathed in slowly as the road opened into a wide clearing, and then she saw it.
A towering fence stood in front of them, high and reinforced, and it stretched farther than she could see from her seat.
They had already passed two more checkpoints after the first one, and each one had been tighter, quieter, more controlled.
But this gate felt different.
This felt like entering a high security compound.
Five men in full military gear were already walking toward them before Malcolm even fully stopped. Waldo’s car idled behind them, both engines rumbling in the open space.
Iyisha rolled her window down.
One of the men leaned in slightly to look inside, while two others moved around the vehicle to check the sides and the back. Another’s eyes lifted and fixed on the mounted automated gun on top of the Land Cruiser.
"We’re here for delivery," Iyisha said, and she pointed toward the back. "We’ve got one pregnant woman near delivery."
The man did not nod.
He looked deeper into the vehicle instead.
"No military escort?" he asked.
Iyisha shook her head. "We just escorted them here."
"Step out," he said.
She stiffened. "No," she replied quickly. "We’re just here to escort them."
The man shook his head. "Just following the rules, miss."
Iyisha looked at Malcolm.
His jaw tightened, and he gave a small nod.
They stepped out.
Behind them, Waldo, Lauren, and Marybeth got out of their car as well.
Marybeth helped Lauren out slowly, but the moment Lauren lifted her eyes to the fencing and the maze beyond, the color drained from her face completely.
She went white.
Her hands began to shake.
Her breathing turned uneven, shallow and quick.
Waldo caught her elbow. "Hey. It’s fine."
Lauren shook her head faintly, eyes fixed on the corridor beyond the gate. "It looks like a prison."
She turned to Iyisha instead of the guards.
"Please," she said, and this time her voice was small and uneven. "Can you come inside with us? Just... just to see it first."
Her fingers clutched at her own coat like she needed something solid to hold.
Malcolm stepped closer beside Iyisha.
He did not touch her, but his presence shifted the space.
Iyisha opened her mouth to say no but the look on her face made her stop.
Lauren’s grip tightened again. "Please."
Iyisha looked at Malcolm.
His jaw flexed once.
"You’re a doctor, right?" Waldo asked Iyisha, and his voice was lower than usual. "You can check it first. Just check it with us first."
He glanced at the gate, then back at her. "Make sure it’s safe. Make sure it’s clean."
It was not the tone of a proud man negotiating.
It was the tone of someone about to leave someone he loved behind.
The guard watched the exchange without interrupting.
After a moment he nodded once. "Companions may enter intake to inspect the facility before admission. It’s allowed."
He looked at the others. "You’ll be escorted. You see the compound. Then you step back out. Only the patient stays."
Lauren exhaled shakily, eyes still fixed on Iyisha.
Iyisha looked at Malcolm.
The guard stepped aside. "If you’re coming in, come now."
Lauren’s eyes stayed on Iyisha, wide and pale, and when Iyisha looked at Malcolm she did not even need to explain what she was thinking because he saw it immediately in her face.
He let out a slow breath, not irritated, not dramatic, just calculating, and then he nodded once.
"Five minutes."
The click of the Land Cruiser locking sounded sharper than it should have, and Iyisha realized it felt like they were sealing themselves out of something familiar before walking into something unknown. Waldo secured his car behind them, and together they followed the guard through the smaller gate.
The moment the metal door closed behind them, Iyisha felt the shift in space.
The corridor narrowed into layered iron fencing that forced them into a guided path, and guards stood at measured intervals while cameras watched from above, and there were no shadows deep enough to hide in and no blind corners to disappear around. It was structured, efficient, and intentionally controlled.
Two screening doctors in full protective gear waited under bright overhead lights.
"Remove outer clothing," one of them instructed.
Iyisha’s fingers paused at the zipper of her jacket, and for a brief second she felt heat rise in her chest, not from embarrassment but from the awareness that she was being reduced to inspection. She took it off anyway, then her shirt, then her boots, until she stood in nothing but underwear on cold concrete while armed men stood only a few feet away pretending not to stare.
She kept her posture straight.
She refused to shrink.
But when gloved hands moved over her arms, lifted her hair to check the back of her neck, ran down her sides and along her spine, to every inch of her skin, she felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with modesty and everything to do with control.
Even when this was done to her couple of times.
Even if she had been the examiner and knew no one cares.
It still felt humiliating.
Lauren was trembling beside her. Marybeth looked around curiously.
Iyisha swallowed and focused on steady breathing, reminding herself this was procedure, not threat, and yet the distinction felt thin.
When they were cleared, heavy robes were handed to them, thicker than hospital gowns and designed to cover every inch of skin. Iyisha pulled hers on quickly and tied it tighter than necessary at the waist, as if reclaiming coverage could restore something that had just been taken.
Malcolm and Waldo followed soon after wearing the same as them. Seeing Malcolm robe ill-fitted him made her smile. His long legs showing on the bottom of his legs.
A soldier approached with a stack of masks.
"Please wear this."
Lauren hesitated before taking it. "What is this for?" she asked, her voice still thin beneath the strain.
The officer answered without impatience. "You’re only staying for a couple of minutes and you’re not going through full quarantine, so you need to wear the mask to avoid infection risk if something happens. This keeps the facility protected while allowing you to walk through."
Iyisha listened carefully.
That sounded reasonable.
If Motherhold was holding children and pregnant women, then infection control would not be optional. They needed to protect the inside population while still being able to showcase the facilities to outsiders who had not cleared isolation.
It made sense.
Controlled exposure.
Layered protection.
"What’s with the cartoon character?" Marybeth asked, turning one of the masks over in her hands. It had a bright Batman face printed on the front, exaggerated eyes and sharp black lines.
The officer’s lips lifted slightly. "We wouldn’t want the kids to get scared, don’t we?"
He handed the rest out.
Up close, the masks looked playful, but inside each one was a fitted mouth piece designed to seal firmly over nose and lips.
Iyisha tied hers behind her head.
The moment it settled into place she felt the difference. The mouth piece pressed against her skin, creating a tight seal, and the air she inhaled felt warmer and slightly restricted, filtered through something she could not see.
She inhaled again, slower this time.
It was not unbearable.
Just close enough.
For a second she wanted to pull it off.
Instead, she reached for Malcolm’s hand.
He let her hold it, his grip steady and grounded, and even through the fabric she could feel the warmth of his skin.
When she tried to speak, her voice came out muted, swallowed by the mask, and that small loss of sound unsettled her more than she expected.
The soldiers made sure the masks were tied properly before stepping aside
"You’ll get your belongings once you exit," the soldier said flatly.
Exit.
The word echoed differently now.
Behind them, the intake gate shut with a heavy metallic finality, and Iyisha felt the sound settle somewhere deep in her chest.
They were inside.
And for the first time since crossing into Indiana, she felt the weight of not being the one in control.
