Free Web NovelChapter 135: Chapter 135 - Whitewater
They stepped back through the iron maze and out of Motherhold just as the last gate sealed behind them, and the fading light made the clearing feel wider and more exposed than before.
Their belongings were returned one by one.
Boots.
Jackets.
Weapons.
The same guard handed Iyisha her gloves and looked at her directly.
"The sun’s going down," he said. "Do not occupy any empty buildings in the area. Go to Whitewater and stay there."
He shifted his rifle slightly.
"They don’t tolerate wanderers or raiders taking up abandoned structures. If you’re found inside one without registration, they treat it as hostile intent."
Iyisha nodded slowly.
Malcolm gave a short nod as well.
They walked back toward their vehicles, gravel crunching under their boots.
"Whitewater?" Iyisha asked Waldo quietly.
"It’s the Freezone I’m staying in," Waldo replied. "It’s in the Campbridge City."
Marybeth added, "I’m heading there before I got captured so I’m going with Waldo."
Iyisha nodded, readying herself for separation again.
But Waldo stopped Malcolm before he opened the Land Cruiser door.
"Malcolm," he said seriously, "best you two come with us."
Malcolm looked at him.
Waldo continued, "Whitewater has strict rules. If you’re not registered and you’re found inside empty buildings within their territory, they’ll assume you’re raiding. And they don’t warn twice."
The message was clear.
"They’ve killed wanderers for less," Waldo added quietly.
Iyisha looked at Malcolm, then back at Waldo. "Then we don’t have a choice, do we?"
Waldo shook his head. "It’s safer inside."
Malcolm’s jaw shifted slightly, then he gave a short nod.
"Good rule," he muttered.
Waldo nodded back.
The sky was turning darker by the second.
Whitewater was no longer optional.
It was the only smart move.
Iyisha shifted slightly in her seat as they drove.
"I’m sorry," she muttered.
The words felt small, but the weight behind them was not. Escorting Waldo and Lauren had delayed them. Walking through Motherhold had delayed them more. Now they were rerouting south toward a place none of them had planned to enter.
Malcolm glanced at her briefly.
"Hm."
"It can’t be helped," he said simply.
No irritation.
No edge.
Just fact.
Iyisha blinked at the road ahead.
She had expected him to be annoyed but he sounded almost indifferent, like the detour did not threaten him at all.
She found herself smiling despite it.
They followed Waldo south, and even as the sun lowered the landscape remained unexpectedly beautiful. Open fields. Clean stretches of road. It felt wrong for the world they were living in.
Not far from Motherhold, another checkpoint appeared.
Waldo stopped.
So did they.
The men here did not wear military uniforms. They looked like civilians, but they carried rifles comfortably and stood with practiced awareness.
One approached Malcolm’s window and knocked.
Iyisha rolled it down slightly.
"Purpose?" the man asked, looking between her and Malcolm.
"We’re passing through," Iyisha replied. "The sun’s going down, so we’re seeking shelter."
The man studied them for a moment, then nodded once.
"Straight through," he said. His eyes moved over the Land Cruiser. "Weapons and vehicles will be confiscated at the entrance. Only personal items go through. You get them back when you exit."
Malcolm and Iyisha nodded.
The man stepped back and whistled sharply, waving them forward.
The entrance to Whitewater was built from walls of welded cars and reinforced scrap, layered with sturdy materials that looked improvised but strong. The gate itself was rusted metal, but guards were positioned everywhere, watching from elevated spots and ground level.
As usual, the screening was strict.
Stricter than Iyisha expected.
She had not imagined a Freezone operating like this.
Freezones were supposed to be loose, almost lawless.
This felt structured.
Ordered.
Whitewater did not operate like the others. It functioned more like a city state or a safe zone.
There were lines of people waiting for processing, documents checked, bags inspected.
When they were finally cleared and stepped inside, Iyisha’s eyes widened.
It looked like a normal city.
People moved along streets with purpose. Small stalls were open. Lights flickered on inside buildings as dusk settled.
A guard motioned for them to follow.
At a registration post, their weapons were logged and stored under guard, and they paid for overnight lodging the same way one would pay for a room before the world collapsed.
One firearm was accepted as currency and recorded under Malcolm’s name.
A receipt was stamped and handed back.
"You’ll get the remainder credited when you leave," the clerk said flatly.
The man handed them keys.
They were escorted toward a row of townhouses.
The buildings were intact. Windows unbroken. Lights working inside.
Iyisha glanced around and saw silhouettes moving behind curtains, heard muted conversations, the ordinary rhythm of people living.
It felt strange.
Marybeth and Waldo walked behind them.
"This is the quarantine block," the guard explained. "Overnight guests and those under observation stay here."
Marybeth gave a low whistle.
Iyisha stared at the townhouse.
She had thought the Route was impressive with one to one holding cells, but Whitewater assigned entire townhouses for quarantine.
The guard looked directly at Malcolm and Iyisha.
"You’re allowed within the quarantine zone only," he said. "You must exit by twelve noon tomorrow if you intend to leave the territory."
They nodded.
The guard unlocked the townhouse and pushed the door open.
"Overnight only," he reminded them. "Stay within quarantine limits."
Malcolm stepped in first.
Iyisha followed.
The air inside was clean and faintly scented, not stale, not abandoned. The guard lit candles revealing a modest but well maintained living space. A two seater sofa faced a small wooden coffee table, and beyond it was a compact dining area with four chairs neatly arranged.
Nothing looked scavenged.
Nothing looked temporary.
The floor was tiled and recently cleaned. The walls were painted a soft neutral color, and framed prints hung evenly spaced as if someone had cared about how the place felt.
Marybeth stepped in behind them and looked around slowly. "This is quarantine?" she muttered.
A short hallway branched off from the living room.
Three doors.
The first bedroom held a double bed with clean sheets tucked tightly under the mattress, two pillows arranged evenly, and a small bedside table with a working lamp.
The second room was similar but slightly smaller, fitted with a single bed and a narrow wardrobe built into the wall.
The third bedroom had two twin beds with blankets folded neatly at the foot of each.
All three rooms had windows with curtains drawn, and when Iyisha pulled one aside slightly she saw the fenced quarantine yard outside, lit by overhead lamps and patrolled quietly by guards.
There’s running water.
Clean towels folded on a rack.
Basic toiletries placed on a small shelf.
It did not feel like a holding unit.
It felt like temporary housing for people meant to comply.
Iyisha stood in the center of the living room, turning slowly.
For a place that confiscated weapons at the gate and enforced strict territory rules, the comfort inside felt strategic.
Malcolm walked through each room without comment, checking windows, corners, closets, and the back exit.
Only after he finished did he close the front door and lock it from the inside.
Marybeth walked straight into the third bedroom, dropped her bag on the floor, and threw herself onto the bed.
"Mine," she declared, then buried her face into the pillow and let out a dramatic groan. "Oh my God."
Iyisha stepped back into the hallway with Malcolm, and they moved toward the living room where Waldo was still standing near the door.
"This place is amazing," Iyisha said quietly.
Waldo nodded. "Whitewater gang cleared this city first," he said. "Before the military even stabilized surrounding zones. They pushed out the infected, secured the grid, and built the walls fast."
He glanced toward the window. "They came early. That’s why it works."
"You know this place," Iyisha said.
He nodded again, but he did not elaborate.
"They’re territorial," he added instead. "So make sure you exit the territory early tomorrow."
Iyisha nodded.
There was a knock at the door.
She stiffened.
She looked at Waldo.
He shook his head slightly, signaling he had not called anyone.
Iyisha approached carefully and peered through the small side opening.
Two women stood outside.
They were thin, almost gaunt, but they were smiling in a way that looked practiced and steady.
"It’s some women," Iyisha said before unlocking the door.
She opened it halfway.
"Hi," one of them said warmly. "You new here? I’m Elizabeth, and this is Reya."
Iyisha gave a cautious nod. "Hi."
She scanned them quickly. No visible weapons. No guards nearby. No aggressive posture.
"Are you here to enforce rules?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Elizabeth laughed softly. "No, no. We’re from the inner city. We just came to welcome you."
Reya stepped forward and held out a woven basket filled with red apples.
"A small welcome gift," she said.
Iyisha’s eyes dropped to the apples.
They looked fresh.
Too fresh.
Suspicion flickered automatically.
Then she heard Marybeth’s voice from behind her.
"Reya?"
It was not casual.
It was sharp.
Iyisha turned.
Marybeth had stepped out of the bedroom and was standing frozen in the hallway, staring at the woman outside as if she had just seen a ghost.
