Chapter 81: Chapter 81- A Quiet Night
Iyisha was only able to leave after midnight.
The community was still awake, lights glowing behind windows, low voices carrying through the cold air as if sleep had become something distant and unfamiliar. People sat on steps and doorways, wrapped in blankets, staring into nothing, replaying the day over and over because closing their eyes felt too dangerous.
No one slept.
Iyisha walked slowly, every part of her aching, bone tired in a way that sank deeper than muscle. Mary walked beside her, silent, her steps steady but hollow, as if words no longer served any purpose. Ester had gone home earlier, guided away when her sobs turned weak and hoarse.
The bodies were already buried.
There had been no time. No pauses. No space to fall apart properly. Graves were dug while the hospital was still overflowing, while blood was still being scrubbed from floors that would never look clean again.
Lando was buried with the others.
Iyisha’s chest tightened every time the thought surfaced. It felt wrong that the earth had closed over him so quickly, that grief had been rushed the way everything else had been rushed today.
Her heart shattered quietly, piece by piece.
This place had been fragile before. Now its peace was gone entirely, splintered beyond repair. She knew, with a certainty that settled heavy in her bones, that the community would never be the same again. Trust had cracked. Safety had become a memory.
One mistake.
That was all it had taken.
One moment, one decision, and lives were gone.
They had lost eleven people in the hospital alone. Eight more were still in critical condition, suspended between breaths, between hope and loss, while families waited in hallways that smelled of antiseptic and fear.
Iyisha stopped at the edge of the street and looked back once, at the lights still burning, at the people still awake, at a home that no longer felt whole.
The night offered no comfort.
And as she stood there beside Mary, the weight of what they had lost settled fully into her chest, heavy and unyielding, knowing that morning would come anyway, and the world would expect them to keep going.
Iyisha slowed as her steps angled instinctively toward the familiar corridor, toward the direction of the room she shared with Malcolm. The thought of it tightened something in her chest before she could stop it.
Mary noticed.
"You can go home," she said quietly. "I’ll check on Ester myself."
Iyisha shook her head at once.
"No," she said, the word coming out sharper than she meant it to. Then softer, steadier, "I’ll come with you. Ester needs a friend right now."
She hesitated, then added, almost too quickly, "Malcolm’s probably asleep anyway."
It was only half true.
What she didn’t say was that she didn’t think she could face him yet. Not tonight. Not with her heart in pieces and her body still remembering the way his arms had felt around her. They had been too close. Too intimate. And yet somehow not enough to make sense of it.
Her cheeks warmed, heat creeping up for no reason she could properly name.
It was ridiculous.
The man had seen her naked.
Had held her while she cried.
And still, the thought of seeing him now made her feel strangely shy, unsteady, as if she didn’t know where to put her hands or her eyes or herself.
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
When they reached Ester’s place, Mary knocked gently.
It took a moment.
Then the door opened.
Ester stood there with eyes nearly swollen shut, lashes clumped from dried tears, her face puffy and drawn as if sleep had tried and failed to claim her. She stared at them for a second, uncomprehending, before her expression crumpled.
"I couldn’t sleep," she whispered, voice breaking.
Iyisha stepped forward without thinking and wrapped her arms around her.
"We know," she said softly.
Ester leaned into her, exhausted, and for the first time since the hospital, Iyisha felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.
They sat around the small table with chipped edges, hands wrapped around mugs of coffee that had long since gone too bitter to pretend otherwise. No one complained. The heat alone was enough.
Iyisha’s gaze drifted to the door.
The lock was busted, the wood around it splintered and scarred. A makeshift latch had been hammered into place, crude and uneven, as if whoever had done it hadn’t trusted their hands to stop shaking.
Ester’s hand.
The hammer lay abandoned on the floor beside it, nails scattered where they had spilled.
Lando’s crutch still leaned against the wall near the door.
Untouched.
It stood there like it was waiting for him to come back and pick it up, like he had only stepped out for a moment and forgotten it.
Iyisha swallowed and looked back down at her coffee, the warmth suddenly tight in her throat.
"How are you," Iyisha asked quietly.
Ester looked up and smiled. It was small and crooked and didn’t quite belong on her face anymore.
"I don’t think I can cry anymore," she said. "I think I ran out."
Mary snorted softly into her cup. "Hopefully not," she said. "You won’t be able to see if you do."
For a second, Ester chuckled.
It slipped out of her like a reflex she hadn’t managed to kill yet.
Then her face crumpled.
The sound that followed was broken and sharp, tears spilling fast as if they had been waiting for permission all along. She shook her head, breath hitching, one hand coming up to cover her mouth.
"I’m sorry," she sobbed. "I don’t know why. I really thought I was done. They just... they won’t stop."
Iyisha was on her feet immediately.
Mary moved at the same time.
They closed in on her from both sides, arms wrapping around her shoulders, her back, pulling her in until Ester was folded between them, her face pressed into Iyisha’s chest as her body shook with the force of it.
"It’s okay," Iyisha murmured, over and over, her hand smoothing Ester’s hair. "You don’t have to stop. You don’t have to be okay."
Mary rested her forehead against Ester’s, one hand firm at her back, holding her steady when the sobs turned violent.
They stayed like that, the coffee forgotten, the night stretching on outside the windows, letting the grief come in waves because there was nothing left to do but let it pass through them together.
They managed to get Ester to sleep eventually.
It took time. Gentle words. Sitting with her until her breathing evened out and her tears finally dried into exhaustion. When they were sure she wouldn’t wake at the smallest sound, Iyisha and Mary slipped back into the kitchen.
The coffee was reheated. Still bitter. Still welcome.
They sat at the small table, the same chipped edges, the same dim light, the night pressing quietly against the windows.
"You think she’s gonna be okay?" Iyisha asked at last, her voice low.
Mary stared into her mug for a long moment.
"I don’t know," she said.
Silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Just full.
Then Mary spoke again, almost like she was stating a fact to herself.
"Clara is dead."
Iyisha’s fingers tightened around the cup.
Clara.
Iyisha felt the weight of it press into her chest.
Did Clara know, she wondered, what opening that gate would cost.
Did she know it would end like this.
"The northern gate was unlocked," Mary continued quietly. "The guards there were killed. All of them."
Iyisha closed her eyes.
"Maybe Clara did it herself," Mary added. Not accusation. Just possibility.
Iyisha nodded slowly.
"I heard they’re closing the other two gates," she said.
Mary nodded back.
"Yeah."
Another silence.
Things were changing. Not gradually. Not gently. The kind of change that came after blood had already been spilled, when survival stopped being about hope and started being about control.
Iyisha stared down at the dark surface of her coffee, feeling the shape of the place she loved shifting beneath her feet, knowing, deep down, that whatever came next would not allow mistakes anymore.
