F O U R

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CHAPTER FOUR
THE FALSE PROPHETS

tw: past domestic abuse, violence and gore, implied/referenced sexual assault

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tw: past domestic abuse, violence and gore, implied/referenced sexual assault

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We blew out all the candles, locked all the doors, and we set out into the forrest. We have no lights, no way of seeing or knowing, so we walk blindly down the dirt road until the church is only a glimpse between the trees.

It feels like a standstill. We're walking, we're moving, we're striking first, but it doesn't feel like we are. The plan is a clever one, but it leaves a lot of room for things to go south.

Rick leads us to the edge of the forrest, halfway between the town and the church. He choses to stop here. The moonlight casts a dark shadow across his face. I can still see that look on his face despite it— the look of someone who's won before the game even begins.

Rick holds up hand up, signaling stillness from us all. I hold my gun a little tighter as sit and wait, just to be sure. My eyes scan the tree line, the buildings of the little town, and come up with nothing. It's only us out here, like Rick said it would be.

"All right," Rick breaks the silence. "Everyone ready?"

There's a few nods and hums of agreement. Rick looks to every face again, but this time he knows we're all meant to be here. We are the ones that need this.

Rick brushes past our shoulders and walks on that dirt path again. We follow as we had before. This time there's no stumbling in the dark, looking over our shoulders or scared by our own shadows. This time, there's purpose.

One of us walks up beside me, and through the moonlight I make them out as Javi. "This feels like Terminus all over again, just without all the guts."

"But this time's different." I tell him with purpose. "They won't come back from tonight."

Javi has nothing more to say about that, because what else is there? We know the plan, we've all know the plan the second we left the church. If you had anything to say about it, you had time before.

It only takes a few minutes to hike back to the church. The front doors are cracked open, dents by the doorknobs and hinges. They certainly tried to make a grand entrance.

Rick signals for us to get into our spots. I run as quietly as I can over to the windows. I peek through the glass, barely able to spot the men gathered inside. I count them off and gesture ti Rick that there's six in there.

WHEN THEY COME, glenn rhee² Where stories live. Discover now