Free Web NovelChapter 86: Chapter 86 - Iyisha’s Decision
Iyisha paced the length of the room like a trapped thing.
Back and forth.
Back and forth. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
Her boots thudded softly against the floor, the sound doing nothing to calm the heat boiling under her skin. She dragged her hands through her hair, breath sharp, chest tight, disbelief crashing into anger over and over again.
She couldn’t fucking believe it.
They were using Malcolm like he was replaceable. Like he was just another tool to be picked up and sent out again the moment things got hard. He had barely survived the last run. Barely made it back alive. And everyone knew it. Everyone knew that only two of them had come back.
Two.
Her steps slowed, then stopped.
No.
She wasn’t going to sit with this.
Iyisha grabbed her coat and pushed out of the room, jaw set, heart pounding with a resolve that burned hotter than fear.
People pointed where he is.
The stables were alive when she reached them.
The barn doors were thrown open despite the cold, light fixtures hanging from beams casting warm, uneven light across the interior. The smell hit her immediately, thick and familiar. Hay and manure. Warm bodies and damp wood. The sharp edge of winter air mixing with the earthy heaviness of animals packed close together.
Horses stamped in their stalls, breath puffing white in the cold. Pigs grunted from a partially repaired pen, the boards newly nailed, still lighter in color than the rest. Chickens rustled and clucked from their enclosure, feathers ruffling as people moved past them.
Men and women worked quietly, hands busy, voices low. Someone hammered a loose plank back into place. Another carried a bucket of feed down the narrow aisle.
This was where the real security was.
Animals were food.
Animals were trade.
Animals were survival.
Lose them, and the community didn’t just starve, it collapsed.
Mario stood near the far end of the barn, sleeves rolled up, checking a horse’s leg while speaking quietly to someone beside him. He looked tired. Older.
Iyisha watched him for a moment, the sounds of the barn grounding her just enough to keep her anger sharp instead of reckless.
This wasn’t just about hunters.
This was about what they were willing to risk.
And this time, she wasn’t going to let it pass without saying something.
Iyisha crossed the barn without slowing.
"Take Malcolm off the list," she said.
Her voice didn’t shake. That surprised her more than anything.
Mario looked up from where he stood, fingers still resting on the horse’s flank. He didn’t bristle. He didn’t dismiss her. He just studied her for a moment, something like understanding settling into his expression.
He exhaled and motioned for her to follow.
They walked past the pigs and the chickens, deeper into the barn, until the noise shifted. Softer. Constant. The rustling and thumping of movement layered over quiet squeaks.
The rabbit pens.
They were packed. Dozens of bodies pressed together, white, gray, brown, ears twitching, noses moving constantly. Heat rose from them despite the cold, the air thick with fur and hay. A living, breathing mass.
Mario rested his hands on the edge of the enclosure.
"Rabbits are one of the best animals to raise," he said calmly. "They reproduce fast. Faster than anything else we have. One doe can give us multiple litters a year."
"I don’t care," Iyisha said, the words cutting in sharp and immediate. "I don’t care about rabbits."
Mario nodded once, as if he’d expected that.
"They eat little," he continued anyway. "They turn scraps into meat. They give fur. Warmth. Trade. If everything else fails, these"—he gestured to the pen—"are what keep us alive."
Iyisha stepped closer, jaw tight. "Then guard them better. Don’t send him out again."
Mario finally turned to face her fully.
"This pen," he said quietly, "only matters if there’s someone outside bringing food back too. If all we do is consume what’s inside the gates, we buy time. That’s all. Time runs out."
Her chest tightened.
"Malcolm isn’t expendable," she said.
"No," Mario agreed. "He isn’t."
That stopped her.
"But he is capable," Mario went on. "And experienced. And alive because he knows how to come back. The last run proved that."
Only two of them came back.
"I hate it," Mario said, softer now. "Every name I say. Every time."
He looked back at the rabbits, at the way they shifted and pressed against one another, endlessly multiplying, endlessly fragile.
"These survive because they never stop moving forward," he said. "They don’t get to choose safety. Neither do we."
Iyisha’s fists clenched at her sides.
"So you’re sending him because he’s good at surviving," she said. "Because he knows how to survive? Bullshit!"
Mario met her eyes.
"I’m sending him," he said, "because if I don’t, more people inside these walls will."
The rabbits rustled loudly, unaware, alive and multiplying.
Iyisha swallowed, the fight draining into something heavier, knowing she hadn’t won, knowing she hadn’t lost either.
Iyisha understood.
Of course she did.
That was the worst part.
It wasn’t the logic that bothered her, it was the timing. Just when he was here. Just when his presence had settled back into the rhythm of her body, into the fragile sense of now. He survived one run, so they marked him for the next. Because he had a better chance of coming back. Because survival made him useful.
It didn’t sit right with her. Not in her chest. Not anywhere.
She looked out through the open barn doors, past the fences and the watch posts, toward the white stretch of winter beyond the compound. People could leave. Anyone could. Take their chances. Walk out and hope they were stronger or smarter or luckier than the cold and whatever waited in it.
But she knew herself too well.
She was a coward.
She didn’t want to die. She wouldn’t survive out there. Not in winter. Not like him.
Mario watched her quietly, then spoke again.
"If he goes out," he said, "we’ll give you the vehicle."
Iyisha blinked.
Her gaze snapped to the building where the mechanics worked, the cars parked just inside the doors. The luxury off-road cars. Quiet engine. Reinforced undercarriage. Clean. Meticulously wiped down, like they were something precious instead of practical.
It would be faster.
Safer.
Easier to travel in than anything else they had.
Mario wasn’t finished.
"Fuel," he added. "Food for your trip."
Her heart started pounding harder, faster, the sound loud in her ears.
It felt wrong.
Transactional.
Like a bargain she hadn’t agreed to.
Like trading Malcolm.
Anger flared hot and sudden, rushing up her spine just as she opened her mouth—
"Malcolm already said yes," Mario said calmly. "I’m just offering perks."
The words landed like a slap.
Iyisha’s eyes sharpened instantly.
"Yes?" she echoed. "Why would he say yes?"
That wasn’t him. He didn’t volunteer. He didn’t throw himself into danger for speeches or ideals or people he barely knew. He survived by choosing carefully, by keeping his distance.
Her mind churned, turning the question over and over.
Mario’s expression softened, just a fraction.
"You talk with him, darling," he said gently.
And Iyisha knew, with a sinking certainty, that whatever answer she was about to get would change things whether she liked it or not.
"If he’s going," Iyisha said, the decision tearing out of her before she could think about it, "then I’m going too."
Mario studied her for a long moment. There was no surprise in his face. Just a quiet weighing of consequences, of risks he already understood.
He nodded once.
"If that’s what you want."
She didn’t wait for anything else.
Iyisha turned and walked out of the barn, the sounds of animals fading behind her, her mind erupting into noise the moment the cold air hit her face. Doubt. Fear. Anger. Resolve all collided at once, impossible to separate.
Would Malcolm be happy with her decision?
Would he be irritated?
Would he think she was reckless, or foolish, or in the way?
She didn’t know.
She only knew she couldn’t stay behind and watch him disappear beyond the gates again.
