TWD - Chapter 537: Father, Where’s Your Black Robe? (Patreon)

Ever since seeing Benson and the others again, Leah had not slept through a single night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the people she had once gone on missions with, the ones who had traded trash talk with her under the blazing sun.

They stood among piles of corpses, looking at her. Not accusingly, but with a look that seemed to say, “What took you so long?”

Early this morning, Leah sat up in bed once again, staring at the ceiling and starting to count sheep.

When she reached the three hundred twenty-seventh sheep, it turned into Benson’s face, and he said to her, “Can’t sleep? Me neither.”

Leah hurled her pillow at the wall.

The next morning, she appeared at the door of Calista’s office with two dark circles under her eyes.

Calista was reading through documents. Her light golden hair was loosely tied behind her head, with a few strands hanging over her forehead. She casually tucked them behind one ear and looked up at her sister. “Didn’t sleep well?”

Leah walked to the chair across from her but didn’t sit down right away. “How did you know?”

Calista’s gaze swept over Leah’s face, lingering on those two obvious dark circles. “With dark circles that pronounced, how could I not notice?”

Leah silently touched her face, then sat down.

Calista set down the documents in her hands and leaned back in her chair. Sunlight streamed in from behind her, casting a pale golden halo around her entire figure.

She tilted her head. A few strands slipped loose again, but this time she left them hanging. “Go ahead.”

“I’d like to go there as soon as possible.”

“Alexandria,” Calista said with certainty.

Leah said, “Right. About The Pope. I want to see if I can make contact with some of our old colleagues.”

She repeated what Benson had said. Some of the peripheral members might be turned, which could add elite combat power to Rock Fortress.

Calista listened without interrupting. After Leah finished, she stood and paced a few steps. “I want them too, but I don’t want you taking that risk.”

Leah pursed her lips. “Even if there’s only a one-in-ten-thousand chance, I have to try.”

Calista looked at her. The sisters remained deadlocked until the younger one finally relented. “Fine.”

She walked back to the table, sat down again, and called out to the guard outside the door, “Send Benson in.”

Before long, Benson was summoned to Calista’s office.

When he pushed open the door, Leah was there too. Calista sat behind the desk with a map spread out in front of her.

Her head was bowed, and the top button of her blouse was undone, revealing a small patch of fair skin at her collarbone.

Benson stood in the doorway, stunned for a moment. He had seen plenty of beautiful women, but their beauty had always been decorative, built out of makeup and lighting.

The woman in front of him was different. She was beautiful like a knife, striking, but not something you wanted to touch.

“Have a seat, Benson.” Calista looked up at him, her gaze cold and sharp enough to make anyone hesitate to cross her.

Benson walked over and sat down across from her, crossing his legs. “Getting ready for something big?”

“Leah is going to make a trip over to your end.”

Benson dropped his leg. “What?!”

“She wants to try turning them first.” Calista set down the map. “I want you to guide us there. Okay?”

Benson turned to look at Leah. “Leah, are you serious?”

Leah nodded. Benson turned back to Calista. “Jesus, do you know what it’s like over there? Do you know how The Pope treats traitors?”

Calista’s expression did not change. She only narrowed her eyes slightly. “Well, you did say some of the people on the periphery might be turned.”

“It’s possible,” Benson said. “Only possible, and it depends on who, the circumstances, and how you approach them. You’re sending her alone...”

“Not alone,” Leah interrupted him. “We’re going together, and there are others.”

Benson was silent for a few seconds, then he sighed. “Fine. You guys saved my life anyway.”

He paused. “But there are a few things you need to know.”

Calista nodded.

“The people on the periphery are definitely a possibility,” Benson said. “They’re not core members. The apocalypse has dragged on for so long that they’re exhausted. If they get a chance, they’ll leave.”

“But...” He raised one finger. “Forget about the core members. The Pope has completely brainwashed them. Their minds stopped working like normal people’s a long time ago. Tell them, ‘Come with us,’ and they’ll think Satan sent you.”

Leah said nothing.

Benson held up a second finger. “And then there’s that priest.”

“The priest?”

“Right, The Pope’s partner,” Benson said. “The Pope handles the killing. He handles the brainwashing.

“If he spots you, you’d better run fast. If you can’t get away, pray he doesn’t brainwash you. I won’t be praying for you, though. I don’t believe in that stuff myself.”

Calista took careful notes. “Anything else?”

Benson thought for a moment. “There are probably seventeen or eighteen peripheral members. They’re often sent out to work. If you can make contact, try. Just don’t get your hopes up. People over there ran out of hope a long time ago.”

Leah stared intently at him. “What about you, Benson? How much hope do you have left?”

“Me?” His answer was bitter. “My squad is treated like the lowest of the low. As long as you treat us better than The Pope did, I’d give you my life.”

The office was silent for a few seconds after Benson finished. Calista thought for a moment, then suddenly asked, “That priest. What exactly does he do? Just lead prayers?”

Benson thought for a moment. “That sort of thing. Reciting scripture, preaching, counseling people.

“Every morning and evening, he leads everyone in prayer. Every Sunday, he stands before the altar and preaches from the Bible. Before long, he always gets around to the necessity of ‘purification.’

“When someone starts wavering, he takes them aside for a private talk. Afterward, they fall back into line.

“If they still don’t fall into line after the talk, The Pope says they need to be purified...”

He paused and spread his hands. “In The Pope’s eyes, if your devotion isn’t absolute, then you aren’t devout at all.”

Calista nodded thoughtfully, then stood up, walked to the door, and said to the guard in the hallway, “Go to the training camp and bring Gabriel here.”

Benson froze for a moment. “Who’s Gabriel?”

Leah glanced at him. “The priest.”

Benson’s eyes widened, and he gasped in disbelief. “You have a priest, too?”

“Yes.”

“Who does he help?”

“Us.”

“Do you guys… have a religious indoctrination department, too?”

“Sort of, but right now he’s at Mike’s intensive reserve training camp.”

Benson’s expression turned complicated. “What’s the priest doing at the training camp?”

“Training.”

“Training for what?”

“Training on how not to get killed.”

Benson opened his mouth, then closed it again. He began to wonder if he was still half-asleep.

There was no helping it. Leah was too tight-lipped. Benson looked back at Calista, hoping she would clear things up.

Calista had already walked back to the table and sat down again. She picked up the pen on the table and began twirling it between her fingertips. Sensing Benson’s gaze, she raised an eyebrow. “Just wait.”

Benson kept his mouth shut.

A dozen or so minutes later, the door swung open.

A Black man in combat fatigues walked in. He was around forty, with mud splattered across his uniform. He was not especially broad, but his shoulders were drawn slightly back, the unconscious posture of someone who had just finished training. “Commander, did you call for me?”

Calista looked up, tilting her chin slightly, and studied the man standing before her. Hmm, he looked completely different from that timid coward she’d seen before. “Have a seat, Gabriel. We’ve got a mission coming up.”

Benson stared at him. No matter how he looked at him, this man didn’t look like a priest at all. A priest should wear a black cassock, carry a Bible, hold up a cross, and speak in a slow, measured tone.

Had this guy just crawled out of the mud?

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Benson blurted out, “Father, where’s your black robe?”

Gabriel sat down, his gaze sweeping across Benson. He said calmly, “Call me Gabriel.

“I don’t need a black robe. I’m still the best priest there is.”

“Gabriel,” Calista said. “We’re going somewhere with a priest whose specialty is brainwashing people into believing murder is a sacred mission.”

Gabriel’s expression didn’t change.

“You used to do this kind of work too,” Calista said. “I need you to come with me. Not to debate. I don’t even know how to put it. I want you to show them what a real priest should look like.”

Gabriel looked at her. “You want me to sway them?”

“I want you to try,” Calista said. “If that man can brainwash people with the Bible, can’t you use the Bible to bring them back to their senses?”

Gabriel couldn’t help but laugh. “The Bible is meant to save people, not to kill them.”

“Then prove it to them.”

Gabriel nodded. “All right.”

“Oh, and bring your full gear. I know you’ve got what it takes, but you’ve still got to look the part.”

“Okay.”

Benson watched from the side with only one thought in his head: Damn, this woman really had every kind of person under her.

He looked over at Calista, who was circling and marking up the map on the table, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked up and met Benson’s gaze.

There was no question in those eyes, only matter-of-fact confidence, as if she were saying, What, is there a problem?

Benson shook his head. No problem. Not a single one.