TWD - Chapter 526: The Chosen One (Patreon)

The moment Leah finished speaking, someone moved among the figures gathered behind Benson.

The straps of the black moth mask came loose, revealing a face that had clearly been touched by fire.

A patch of fresh pink skin stretched from the left brow to the cheekbone, a shade lighter than the surrounding skin and bordered by irregular edges. The new flesh still carried a faint sheen that caught softly in the sunlight.

The man in the white skull mask removed his own mask next.

A palm-sized patch of scar tissue ran from the right side of his forehead to his hairline. It was darker than the surrounding skin and slightly rough, leaving the eyebrow on that side noticeably thinner.

He blinked several times, as if no longer used to exposing his face directly to sunlight.

One by one, the others removed their masks.

Some were people Leah had seen before but could no longer name. Others she knew well.

Sunlight fell across faces that had been scorched by fire, revealing raised scar tissue, areas of discoloration, and uneven textures left behind by healing.

One or two had burn scars along the neck, partly hidden by their collars. Only small patches of pink scar tissue showed above the fabric.

Leah’s gaze snapped back to Benson.

He lifted his left hand. The skin across the back of it was thinner and paler than the surrounding area, faint veins visible beneath it. Contracture had bent the joints slightly, leaving him unable to fully straighten his fingers.

He pushed his sleeve higher and exposed his forearm.

Several burn scars of different sizes were scattered along the outer side. The largest was about the size of an egg. The smallest were no bigger than coins. Some were still pink, while others had faded to a pale white almost matching his natural skin tone.

Leah opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Then two people stepped out from behind Benson, a Black brother and sister.

Leah recognized them immediately.

Elijah and Josephine.

There had never been many women at Sentinel Tactical, so Leah had known Josephine fairly well.

The siblings had joined the company a year after Leah. Elijah was steady and quiet. Josephine did not talk much either, but she had always been strikingly beautiful. When she smiled, her eyes curved like crescent moons, and everyone at the company knew she was one of the prettiest people there.

Elijah’s face appeared untouched.

The left side of Josephine’s face had been almost completely destroyed.

Her left outer ear was gone, leaving only the opening. The skin of her chin had fused to her neck, forcing her to turn her whole upper body whenever she wanted to look sideways. The right half of her face remained intact, still unmistakably beautiful.

The nine of them stood among the bodies, every one carrying the marks of what they had survived.

Leah finally found her voice.

“Josephine... what happened to you? What did you all go through?”

She could not finish.

Her own path after the apocalypse flashed through her mind.

She had suddenly discovered that she had a younger sister. At that sister’s invitation, she had gone to a remote mountain estate and avoided the worst of the chaos when the Wildfire virus spread out of control.

Her sister had money. Supplies. Ammunition. A warm place to stay. Food that never truly ran out.

Rock Fortress. Blackberry Ranch. The Knoxville Industrial Park.

Their territory had only continued to grow.

And the people standing in front of Leah had once been just like her.

No. They had once been stronger than her.

Benson had trained her. Elijah and Josephine were younger than she was.

Now they stood here in ragged tactical gear, completely out of ammunition and covered in wounds, with dozens of people they had killed piled behind them.

Leah stood fifty meters away, fully equipped and completely unharmed.

Benson saw the expression on her face and knew it immediately.

Every stranger who saw them after the apocalypse reacted the same way. First shock. Then that awkward hesitation, as though they no longer knew where to look or what to say.

Of course, most of those strangers eventually ended up dead.

Benson lowered his arm and let his sleeve cover the scarred skin again.

“Do you remember what things were like before the walker virus spread everywhere?”

Leah nodded.

She remembered the reports about a “new strain of rabies.” Television stations replayed footage of people biting others while experts confidently insisted it could not spread from person to person.

Sentinel Tactical’s contracts had suddenly multiplied. Private security. Quarantine work in infected areas. Escorts for specialized supplies.

If Leah, Rickson, and the others had not happened to be on leave at Twilight Manor after finishing a mission, they would have been recalled too.

“The company sent almost everyone out,” Benson said. “South America. Europe. Southeast Asia. The people overseas...”

He did not finish.

Leah knew what he meant.

Everyone sent abroad had eventually disappeared from contact.

“We had three teams still operating in the country,” Benson continued. “East Coast, West Coast, Gulf of Mexico. We were split up and working independently.

“Then everything collapsed. Communications went down. The government vanished. Walkers were everywhere. All three teams had to find their own way back.”

He paused.

“A lot of people died.”

Leah listened in silence.

She knew how many familiar faces were hidden behind those few words.

“My squad was the first to make it back to the company. The other two arrived later,” Benson said. “The Pope. Back then, he was still just Pope. He had us inventory the company armory, then we tried to break out.”

Josephine picked up the story.

Perhaps because the burn scars pulled tightly against her skin, her voice was rougher than Leah remembered.

“The area outside the company was packed with walkers. We left with more than a dozen vehicles. Only six made it through.

“We took shelter in a church. St. Clare’s. It was on the edge of a small town in rural Virginia. The priest was still there and led us into the basement.

“The walkers surrounded the church. We had only managed to bring some of our weapons when we fled, and we were surviving on whatever food was left in the church. Three days later, we were out of both ammunition and supplies.”

Benson nodded.

He lifted his burned arm and looked at the contracted scars with a conflicted expression.

“We decided to break out. My squad stayed behind to cover everyone else. Before we left, I had my people set the church entrance on fire and burn the walkers blocking the way.”

His gaze became distant, fixed on something only he could still see.

“My team gathered fuel, alcohol, anything flammable we could find inside the church. We poured it out, lit it, and started falling back.”

He stopped.

For a moment, he could not continue.

Josephine touched the ruined side of her face and gave a bitter, self-mocking smile.

“Obviously, we didn’t get back fast enough. The flames ran along the fuel toward us. The doorframe caught. Then the roof. Soon the entire porch was burning.

“When we tried to get out, we were covered in fire. I tore off my clothes and rolled on the ground, but it was already too late.

“Everyone in our squad was burned. Some worse than others...”

Her voice failed.

Her eyes had turned red.

Benson sighed and looked at Leah.

“They survived. The Pope, the other two squads, and the priest.

“They hid in the cemetery behind the church’s back entrance. They watched the church burn. Watched the walkers burn to death. Watched us come rolling out of the flames with our bodies on fire.”

He paused, then forced out the final words.

“After that, the Pope started calling us the Chosen Ones.”