Free Web NovelChapter 148: Chapter 148 - Get Out
Iyisha blinked.
"Yeah," she answered, the word coming out smaller than she intended.
She had known the risk. They had all known it. They had planned for Marybeth to do the hallway watch because she moved more naturally inside the church, because no one would question her presence the way they might question Iyisha’s. But when she saw the tremor in Marybeth’s hands before they left, when she saw how unfocused her eyes were, she had made the choice herself.
She had seen the hesitation in Malcolm’s eyes when she clipped the pen to her shirt.
She had ignored it.
Now she braced herself for the reprimand she knew was coming.
"You did good," he murmured.
She blinked at him.
He was already turning away, walking toward their room without waiting for a response.
"We need to get out of here before this turns into open conflict."
That word hung between them.
War.
Iyisha nodded once, even though he was no longer looking at her.
She crossed the apartment and knocked softly on Marybeth’s door.
It opened a crack.
Marybeth’s eyes were red, her breathing uneven.
Iyisha stepped inside just far enough to see Reya tied to the chair in the center of the room, wrists bound behind her, cloth forced between her teeth. Reya was struggling hard enough to rock the chair against the floor, fury burning in her bloodshot eyes.
Iyisha stepped back immediately and pulled the door nearly closed behind her so the noise wouldn’t carry.
She looked at Marybeth.
"We’re moving out with Whitewater," she said quietly. "If you’re coming, pack."
Marybeth swallowed.
"She won’t go peacefully," she whispered, glancing toward Reya, who was still trying to force herself free.
"I can’t put you in danger."
Iyisha exhaled slowly.
"If we carry her out like this and church members see us, it puts all of us in danger," Marybeth added.
Iyisha couldn’t just leave them behind. "It’s already dangerous. Just pack."
Marybeth hesitated, then nodded, a faint strained smile flickering across her face before she turned and began gathering her things quickly, shoving clothes and essentials into a bag without organizing them.
Iyisha stepped back into the main area.
Malcolm was already preparing, checking the small pack they kept ready for emergency movement.
When Marybeth finally emerged with her bag slung over her shoulder, her eyes were irritated, swollen from crying, but there was something else there too.
Resistance.
"She don’t want to go," she said, tears spilling despite the pack hanging from her shoulder. "God, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be."
Before Iyisha could respond, Malcolm moved toward the bedroom.
He opened the door fully.
Reya was still fighting the restraints, muffled shouting spilling past the cloth in her mouth, her entire body tense and straining.
Her eyes were wild.
Malcolm stepped inside calmly.
Iyisha and Marybeth followed instinctively, stopping just short of the chair.
Reya thrashed when she saw them.
Malcolm did not argue.
He stepped behind her, lifted his hand, and struck the back of her neck with precise force.
The sound was dull.
Reya went limp instantly.
Marybeth gasped.
Iyisha froze.
Malcolm untied her efficiently, removed the cloth from her mouth, then lifted her unconscious body over his shoulder as if the weight meant nothing.
"We don’t have time to negotiate," he said evenly.
Marybeth stared at Reya’s slack form, shock and hurt battling in her expression.
Malcolm adjusted his grip and walked toward the door.
"We move now."
There was no room left for hesitation.
They moved fast.
Not running.
Running would draw attention.
But fast enough that Iyisha could feel her pulse climbing again as they crossed the compound yard toward the Whitewater gate.
They still needed to retrieve their cleared items. Their tagged weapons. Their vehicle release.
Malcolm carried Reya over his shoulder, her arms hanging limp, her head angled toward his back. From a distance it could pass as someone exhausted. Up close, it would raise questions.
A soldier at the gate looked up as they approached.
"Name?" he asked without much interest.
"Astrell Millers," Iyisha replied immediately, using the alias she had fully absorbed since arriving.
The soldier’s fingers hovered over the keyboard.
His eyes shifted to Malcolm.
Then to Reya’s unconscious form.
"And her?" he asked lazily.
Marybeth stepped forward before Iyisha could answer. "She don’t want to leave."
The soldier smirked slightly.
"They usually don’t," he said, tone edged with quiet pride. "Most of them regret coming once they see what’s outside. Some wouldn’t dream of leaving."
Iyisha kept her face neutral.
Faster.
Faster.
The man typed.
"Millers," he muttered. "Is that with one L or two?"
Her heart thudded violently.
"Two," she answered with a small polite smile.
He typed again.
She glanced at Malcolm briefly. He looked calm. Marybeth tried to look irritated instead of terrified.
The soldier nodded at the screen.
"You’ve got one registered vehicle. Fifteen declared weapons. Six pistols. Three shotguns. Five army knives. 4 machete. Ammunition logged."
Iyisha nodded as if reviewing something routine.
"You surrendered one pistol during your stay," he continued.
"Yes," she replied evenly. "We did."
He scanned the monitor again, verifying entries.
"You’re cleared. Go to the weapons counter and claim your tags. Then vehicle clearance."
Relief began to loosen something inside her chest.
She exhaled slowly.
Then the alarm went off.
Red lights flashed along the perimeter towers, sweeping across the yard in sharp rotating beams. No siren at first. Just the sudden pulse of warning lights painting everything in urgent red.
The soldier’s posture changed instantly.
His laziness vanished.
His eyes sharpened.
Suspicion flickered across his face as he looked at them again.
Iyisha froze.
Under her breath she cursed.
Another guard ran toward the checkpoint, breath short, leaning close to whisper into the soldier’s ear.
"There’s an emergency," he said quietly but urgently.
The soldier’s gaze snapped back to Iyisha.
"We are not releasing anyone," he announced, voice no longer casual.
Iyisha stepped forward despite the instinct to stay still.
"Wait," she said, forcing control into her tone. "We need to go out. Please. Ask Waldo. Or Darius."
The soldier’s expression shifted slightly at the names.
Curiosity.
Why does she know them?
But it disappeared just as quickly.
"We follow Whitewater protocol, miss," he replied flatly. "Return to your lodging."
Behind him, another guard moved into position at the inner gate, rifle raised at a ready angle, body squared as if preparing for potential escalation.
"Go," the soldier said, sharper now.
Malcolm adjusted Reya’s weight on his shoulder.
For a second Iyisha considered pushing.
Forcing.
Arguing harder.
But the rifle pointed near chest height ended that thought.
They turned.
Walked back toward the compound buildings under the sweep of red light.
Inside her head, one word pounded harder than the alarm.
Too late.
