TWD - Chapter 538: The Rusted Sanctuary (Patreon)

Two days later, at the industrial park helipad.

The Black Hawk had finished warming up, its rotors turning slowly. Beside it sat a slightly smaller Bell 407, a seven-seater with its doors open and several people already inside.

Thompson and Robert were seated in the cockpits of the Black Hawk and the Bell 407, respectively, conducting final checks.

At the edge of the helipad, Calista was giving the final pep talk.

The Black Hawk crew of eleven:

Thompson, Calista, Leah, Carver, Mike, Bossie, Jenson, Turner, Wells, Ethan, Danny, plus three motorcycles.

The Bell 407 crew of seven:

Robert, Jonathan, Wagner, Merle, Daryl, Gabriel, Benson.

Calista gave the final briefing. “Reconnaissance is the primary objective. If we can turn them, we turn them. If not, Plan B. No one plays the hero!”

She looked at Merle. “Especially you.”

Merle grinned. “Calista, when have I ever played the hero?”

Carver muttered from the side, “Last time, the time before that, and the time before that.”

Merle glared at him. “Shut up, pretty boy.”

Carver’s face darkened. He opened his mouth to retort, but Calista had already turned away.

Benson watched the exchange, leaned toward Leah, and whispered, “Is this crew always like this?”

Leah nodded.

“Looks lively. That’s good,” Benson said. “People don’t die as easily in lively places.”

The Black Hawk took off, and Rock Fortress grew smaller and smaller beneath them, gradually turning into a blurry patch of color. Benson sat in the cabin, gazing out the window, lost in thought.

The Black Hawk traced an arc across the sky, heading northeast, with the Bell 407 following behind. The two helicopters maintained a safe distance and flew at staggered altitudes to prevent both from being taken out at once.

Inside the cabin, Danny was testing the communications equipment. “Rock Fortress, Rock Fortress, this is Black Hawk One, signal test. Come in.”

Eugene’s voice came through the headset: “Black Hawk One, Rock Fortress copy that. Signal is clear. Good luck!”

Danny smiled and cut the communication.

Calista sat in the co-pilot’s seat, gazing toward the horizon ahead.

Thompson glanced at her. “Nervous?”

Calista shook her head and asked in return, “Are you guys nervous about meeting The Pope?”

Thompson fell silent. In their memories, The Pope was still Pope. He had no idea what the man had become now.

But Calista wasn’t looking for a definitive answer. She didn’t press the issue but instead mentally ran through the plan once more.

It was a long journey, and to facilitate the deployment of combat forces, they’d traveled entirely by helicopter, bringing along three motorcycles for ground reconnaissance. In addition, they had ample supplies of walker attractants and Walker Disruptors.

Three hours later, they approached the airspace over Alexandria.

Bossie opened the drone control terminal, and a small quadcopter drone flew out of the Black Hawk’s hatch, gliding silently downward.

Images began to appear on the screen: the winding contours of the Potomac River, an abandoned industrial zone, rust-red gantry cranes, and the shipyard in the distance.

Benson leaned in for a look. “That’s the place. The Pope calls it the Rusted Sanctuary.”

Bossie zoomed in on the image. On top of that massive gantry crane, a rusted cross swayed gently in the wind, giving it a distinct post-apocalyptic feel.

The Black Hawk and the Bell helicopter landed in an abandoned industrial zone about five kilometers from the shipyard.

The rotors came to a stop, the cabin doors opened, and the team quickly disembarked, spreading out in their predetermined formation.

Bossie launched a second drone, which began patrolling the surrounding area to confirm it was safe.

Calista walked to the entrance of the Black Hawk’s cargo hold and tapped on the items inside.

Three motorcycles: two lightweight off-road bikes and one motorcycle with a sidecar.

“Daryl, Carver, and me,” she said. “One each. Leah, Benson, and Gabriel, you follow.”

Daryl walked over and glanced at the motorcycles. “Whose are these?”

“Rickson dug them out of the warehouse,” Calista said. “Our American cruisers are too heavy. These three are fueled up. I tested them, and they run.”

Daryl straddled one of the off-road motorcycles, started the engine, and listened to the roar for a few seconds. “Looks good.”

Then he looked longingly at Leah.

Just then, Gabriel pulled his black priest’s robe out of the cabin, shook it out, put it on, and carefully straightened it. Then he spotted the nearest motorcycle, crossed the distance in a few quick steps, and dropped onto the seat behind Daryl.

Daryl: …

Leah shrugged and walked naturally to the back, waiting for Calista to give her a ride.

Carver swung onto another bike. A bulging bag was slung across his body, packed with several of Bossie’s portable reconnaissance devices and communications gear. He raised an eyebrow. “Calista, I’ll drive. You ride on the back?”

Calista shot him a look. “You wish.”

Carver shrugged. “Give it a try~”

Benson whispered from the side, “I never would’ve guessed it, but you’re actually pretty bold, kid.”

Calista drove the motorcycle with the sidecar, Benson sitting in the sidecar and Leah on the seat behind her.

Carver rode alone, loaded down with equipment.

Before they set off, Benson leaned over and whispered in Calista’s ear, “Are you sure you can handle this thing?”

Calista shot him a look. “You think I can’t handle it? I’ve driven one before.”

“When?”

“Before the apocalypse, at a resort.”

She swung onto the motorcycle with the sidecar, gripped the handlebars, tested the throttle, and muttered, “Isn’t this basically an off-road go-kart? Easy!”

Benson was silent for two seconds. “…Fine. I’m putting my life in your hands anyway, so go easy on me.”

Calista twisted the throttle, and the three-wheeler shot forward with a “whoosh”!

She launched too fast. Wind roared past her ears and whipped her ponytail sideways. With a sharp “smack,” it lashed across Benson’s still-open mouth!

“Pfft, pfft, pfft!” Benson, having been slapped in the face, quickly shut his mouth and used both hands to brush the strands of hair stuck to his face away.

The three motorcycles rode along a weed-choked path toward the shipyard.

Twenty minutes later, the six of them reached the designated observation point, an abandoned workers’ dormitory complex about eight hundred meters from the shipyard.

They hid the motorcycles inside a half-collapsed building, covered them with weeds, and then climbed to the third floor of the building.

Looking out through the shattered windows, the outline of the shipyard was clearly visible.

Calista observed through her binoculars.

Daryl crouched behind the window and watched as well, his crossbow close at hand and ready to grab at any moment.

Carver was behind another window, while Leah stood in the shadows, peering out through a crack in the wall.

Gabriel stood guard at the top of the stairs.

Three gantry cranes stood beside the river. A massive cross had been welded to the top of the tallest one, stark against the gray-white sky.

The factory perimeter was enclosed by rust-red iron fencing. Strings of blackened objects hung from it, which Benson said were walker skulls. Two walker skeletons were also fixed in front of the main gate, kneeling with their mouths open as if welcoming visitors.

Daryl took in the walkers’ display and muttered, “That’s one hell of a creative idea!”

Benson leaned toward Daryl’s ear. “You’d definitely get along with The Pope. This is the creation he’s proudest of!

“His taste, though... that’s harder to defend.”

Daryl glanced sideways at him, not wanting to say anything.

Calista noticed several buildings on the factory grounds. The largest was the shipbuilding workshop, with a rust-stained roof and a massive emblem painted in white on the wall: a sword surrounded by thorns, its tip dripping with blood.

People were moving about at the entrance to the workshop, and in front of it was a large pit with a fire burning inside.

“That’s the Furnace of Purification,” Benson said, pointing at the pit. “They burn everything in there.”

Daryl took a closer look. “Do they burn people?”

“Yeah.”

Daryl spat. “Son of a bitch!”

Sentries were patrolling the perimeter wall, walking back and forth with rifles in hand. Every few steps, they’d stop and look around. There were probably four or five of them, spread out at different positions.

On the roads surrounding the factory grounds, a pole stood every few dozen meters, with something hanging from each one.

“Over there,” Calista suddenly whispered, “what’s hanging from that pole?”

Benson followed her gaze. An iron pole stood on the road outside the factory perimeter, with a corpse hanging upside down from it, ankles bound, head down, arms dangling.

“That’s the treatment for the ‘Unclean.’ They’re hung for three days, then tossed into the furnace to be burned. They’re usually minor leaders from other factions.”

Calista put down her binoculars and asked Benson, “How often do they change them out?”

“No idea,” Benson said. “There were four hanging there when I left. Now...”

He counted them off one by one. “Whoa, seven now! Wonder where these unlucky bastards came from!”

Carver clicked his tongue. “This place… it really is a fucking great spot!”

The six of them took up positions inside the abandoned building.

Bossie’s drone circled high in the distance, monitoring every exit and sentry post at the shipyard.

Carver pulled a tactical tablet from his bag. The drone feed streamed live onto the screen, and the six of them huddled together to study the terrain and patrol patterns.

Benson pointed at the bright spots on the screen. “Those are the sentries. They rotate shifts every two hours. When they change shifts, a team of about three people comes out of the workshop and walks to the various sentry posts.”

“Is the route they take fixed?”

“It’s fixed,” Benson said. “It hadn’t changed before I left, but I don’t know if it’s changed since.”

Calista nodded. “When is the shift change?”

Benson glanced at the sun. “The next one is in about forty minutes.”

Calista turned to Leah. “Leah, who do you want to make contact with?”