Chapter 143: Chapter 143 - Free Them
The hall is overflowing.
People stand along the walls, near the doors, pressed into corners. The air is thick, warm, restless. It does not feel like simple sermon.
It feels like momentum. Like they are going to do something big.
Iyisha slides into the bench. Malcolm sits beside her, close enough that she feels the heat of him.
Rick steps forward and the room quiets without being asked.
"Humanity was not made in comfort," he says, voice steady but charged. "We were forged in famine. In war. In sickness. In extinction."
He lets the words settle.
"What is strength without resistance?"
"What is faith without trial?"
The questions move through the room like sparks.
Then his gaze sharpens.
"ERF tells you to hide."
Iyisha blinked at the sudden addition of the government.
"They build safe zones. They build structured communities. They build walls and call them protection."
Murmurs ripple.
"They say the undead are the enemy."
He leans forward slightly.
"They say exposure is death."
Silence.
"But what if fear is the true cage?"
The tension shifts.
"They are afraid," he continues, voice rising now, "afraid of humanity grasping its freedom."
"Afraid of evolution."
"Afraid of change they cannot regulate."
Iyisha feels the hypocrisy twisting in her chest. They stand inside Whitewater’s walls preaching exposure.
He names it now.
"Motherhold."
He shakes his head.
"They call it safeguarding the next generation. They call the children the hope of humanity."
The crowd stiffens.
"But what are they safeguarding?"
A beat.
"Weakness."
A few voices respond.
"They fear mutation because mutation cannot be governed."
The word is spoken clearly now.
Not whispered.
"Under pressure, the human body adapts."
"Under threat, it transforms."
"Under faith, it evolves."
The room answers.
"Amen."
Iyisha feels it building.
This is not about surviving zombies.
This is about pursuing transformation.
"The undead are not the end," he declares.
"They are the test."
"They are the furnace."
"They are the stepping stone placed before humanity."
The energy spikes.
"If you have faith, you will not fear the bite."
A murmur.
"You will not fear exposure."
Louder.
"You will become what God intended."
His voice rings out.
"Stronger."
"Amen."
"Evolved."
"Amen."
"Unafraid."
"Amen."
He raises his hand and the entire room answers before he finishes.
"Chosen."
The word crashes through the hall.
Iyisha’s stomach drops. Even though she heard the same sermon last night, it still unsettled her.
After the final Amen faded and the crowd began to spill out in clusters, Malcolm stayed close to Iyisha as they stepped into the open air.
Rick was already outside near one of the lantern posts, speaking quietly to another member. When he saw them approach, he dismissed the man with a small nod.
"Did you enjoy the sermon?" he asked Malcolm first, almost amused.
Malcolm did not smile nor answer.
Iyisha offered something softer. "Those were some strong opinions."
Rick chuckled under his breath, then shook his head slightly as if the word opinions amused him. He glanced back once at the others leaving the hall before settling his gaze fully on Iyisha.
"You came," he said.
Iyisha smiled at him.
"A deal’s a deal," Rick continued. "Even if you chose to go." As if he expected them to fold for his speeches. Rick studied her for a second, then reached into his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
Iyisha unfolded it carefully.
An Ohio map.
Marked.
Lines drawn in ink across highways and backroads, small notes in the margins, circled checkpoints, shaded zones.
The safest route.
Her eyes moved over it slowly.
She felt Malcolm step slightly closer to see.
She did not look impressed.
She looked cautious.
Rick noticed.
He grinned.
"Suspicious is good," he said. "You’ll live longer outside."
Iyisha folded the map halfway, not fully committing to trust.
"You expect us to believe this is clean?" she asked quietly.
Rick did not flinch.
"With God as my witness," he said calmly, "those are the routes I use."
No hesitation.
No blink.
Iyisha held his gaze a second longer than necessary.
Then she nodded once.
"Thank you."
Rick dipped his chin.
"I had hoped to get you into The Chosen," he admitted lightly. "But it seems evolution is calling you more than spreading the word."
There was no accusation in his tone.
Only recognition.
"Good luck to both of you."
Malcolm gave a short nod.
Iyisha folded the map carefully and tucked it away.
She turned.
Marybeth and Reya were waiting a few steps away, their silhouettes outlined by lantern light. Marybeth looked tense. Reya looked bright, alive with conviction.
Iyisha met Marybeth’s eyes briefly.
"Let’s go," she said.
And they walked away from the hall, the word chosen still echoing behind them.
They arrived back at the apartment in silence.
The door closed softly behind them.
Malcolm crossed the living room and sat on the couch, leaning back as if detached, one arm stretched along the backrest. He looked like he did not care.
Iyisha knew he was listening to every breath.
Marybeth moved to the small kitchen without a word and began making tea. The kettle’s faint hiss filled the heavy quiet.
Reya stood near the dining table, still carrying the glow of the sermon in her eyes.
Marybeth brought the cups over and placed them down carefully.
"So..." Reya began sweetly, smiling at Iyisha. "Marybeth told me you wanted to join us."
Iyisha paused.
She glanced at Marybeth.
Marybeth smiled awkwardly, clearly unsure how else to bring Reya here without raising suspicion.
Maybe this was the only way she knew how to separate Reya from The Chosen.
Iyisha straightened in her seat.
"We did," she said calmly. "We wanted to talk to you."
Reya’s smile froze slightly. She looked at Marybeth with a small, confused curve to her lips.
"Me?" she asked. "I thought I came to convince you."
Marybeth sat down across from her.
Iyisha leaned forward and cut gently through the air.
"Do you love Marybeth?"
The room shifted.
Reya blinked, caught off guard.
Then she became serious.
"Of course I do."
Marybeth swallowed and set her cup down.
"Do you love me enough to leave this place?" she asked, holding Reya’s gaze.
Reya looked stunned.
"You know I love you, Marybeth," she said softly.
"But—"
"No," Marybeth said quickly, shaking her head. "No but."
Silence fell between them.
Malcolm shifted slightly in the living room but remained quiet.
Reya’s jaw tightened.
"This isn’t just a place," she said carefully. "It’s purpose."
She leaned forward, eyes burning now.
"I found my purpose, Marybeth. To spread the word of God. I thought He left us. I thought He abandoned this world. But He is here. And people need to hear His message. His love."
"Stop," Marybeth said sharply, as if she physically could not bear another word.
The air thickened.
"Let’s just go to the Route," Marybeth tried instead, voice strained. "Didn’t you say you wanted to see what it’s like out there?"
Reya’s eyes sharpened immediately.
"Just because you got pulled in by the demons doesn’t mean you can pull me too," Reya snapped. "You made a mistake. I won’t."
Marybeth’s fist curled against the table.
"Reya, we promised to be together," she said, frustration breaking through her voice.
"We will still stay together," Reya replied quickly. "Here. In Whitewater."
"With your crazy religion?" Marybeth shot back.
Reya’s expression hardened.
"We are not crazy," she said, voice colder now. "We are people with purpose. With calling. God chose us."
Marybeth stood up abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.
Iyisha felt trapped between them, heart pounding.
"Your religion is crazy," Marybeth said, words trembling with anger. "How can you not see that? Rick is a fucking pervert who tricks gullible people."
"No!" Reya shouted, slamming her hands against the table. "Rick is a saint. A messenger of God."
The force of it made the cups rattle.
Marybeth stared at her in disbelief.
"Your religion is a scam," she said slowly, emphasizing every word.
Reya shook her head, smiling now, but the smile did not reach her eyes.
"You don’t know," she said quietly. "You left me here alone. And they became more than my family."
The words hit.
"We are stronger than you think."
Marybeth let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
"Stronger?" she said. "Are you fucking kidding me? Strong with what? Apples?"
Iyisha stood halfway.
"Marybeth, stop—"
But neither of them heard her.
Reya laughed then.
Not nervous.
Confident.
Her eyes shone too bright.
"We’ll take down Motherhold," she said.
The words fell heavy.
Marybeth scoffed at first.
"Take down—are you dreaming?"
But her voice lowered near the end.
Because Reya was not joking.
Iyisha’s gaze locked onto Reya’s face.
"Soon," Reya continued softly, almost reverently, "the world will know who The Chosen are."
"We will free the children," she said. "And guide them into the new world."
The room went silent.
From the back of the apartment, Waldo’s voice entered.
"Free..."
He stepped forward slowly, eyes no longer sleepy, no longer casual.
Serious.
"Free them from what?" he asked.
