Chapter 16: The Resistance Schism

Dr. Sarah Martinez arrived at the Federal Hill meeting thirty minutes early, carrying a leather briefcase full of documentation. Seventeen case files, brain scans, medication response charts, and a preliminary treatment protocol she’d developed after four sleepless nights.

Pastor Williams was already there, pacing beneath the park’s old oak trees with his Bible open, muttering prayers under his breath. He looked up when she approached, his face drawn with exhaustion.

“Doctor. Thank God you’re here early. We need to coordinate our approach before the others arrive.”

Sarah set down her briefcase and pulled out a manila folder. “I’ve documented everything. Shared psychotic disorder with religious and paranormal delusions, triggered by infrastructure stress and social contagion. It’s treatable, but we need controlled environment and pharmaceutical intervention.”

Pastor Williams closed his Bible with a snap. “Pharmaceutical intervention? Doctor, we’re dealing with demonic influence. These people need deliverance, not drugs.”

“They need medical care.” Sarah’s voice took on the authoritative tone that had served her well in hospital settings. “I’ve seen seventeen patients this week with identical symptom profiles. Auditory hallucinations, dissociative episodes, rejection of previous identity structures. Classic presentation of mass hysteria with psychotic features.”

“Mass hysteria?” Williams stepped closer, his voice rising. “I’ve lost half my congregation to this… this invasion. Good Christian families, destroyed overnight. Children turning against their parents, spouses abandoning decades of marriage. This isn’t hysteria, it’s spiritual warfare.”

Other people began arriving—Devon with his camera equipment, several parents clutching photos of their “changed” relatives, a handful of concerned professionals who’d seen Sarah’s posts in medical forums. They gathered in a loose circle, everyone speaking in hushed, urgent tones.

Devon set up his phone to livestream. “Forty-three people confirmed tonight, plus maybe twenty more watching online. Dr. Martinez, can you present your findings first?”

Sarah opened her briefcase, but before she could speak, Williams raised his hand.

“Before we hear medical theories, we need to acknowledge what we’re really facing. I’ve performed seventeen exorcisms this week. Seventeen. Every single person showed signs of demonic oppression—speaking in unknown languages, exhibiting supernatural knowledge, rejecting Christian doctrine they’ve held for decades.”

“Speaking in tongues isn’t supernatural,” Sarah interrupted. “It’s glossolalia, a known phenomenon in altered states of consciousness. And rejecting previous belief systems is classic cult indoctrination behavior.”

“Cult indoctrination?” Williams’ face flushed. “Doctor, with respect, you’re applying secular psychology to a spiritual battle. These people aren’t joining a cult—they’re being possessed.”

A woman in the circle raised her hand. “My daughter hasn’t eaten in three days, but she says she doesn’t need food anymore. She just hums and stares at the walls. Can medicine fix that?”

Sarah nodded. “Anorexia nervosa with delusional features. We can treat it with—”

“She’s being sustained by demonic energy,” Williams cut in. “I’ve seen this before. The entities provide just enough supernatural sustenance to keep the host alive while they complete the possession.”

“There are no entities!” Sarah’s professional composure cracked. “There are no demons, no supernatural forces, no possession. There’s a psychological epidemic spreading through social contagion, and if we don’t intervene medically, more people will—”

“Will what? Be saved?” Williams stepped forward. “Doctor, I’ve watched the most faithful members of my congregation transformed overnight into… into something else. Something that looks like them but speaks with voices I don’t recognize. You want to drug them back into compliance. I want to cast out the spirits that have stolen their souls.”

Devon lowered his camera. “Wait, wait. We’re all on the same side here. We all want to save these people.”

“But we disagree on what they need saving from,” Sarah said, her voice tight. “Pastor Williams sees demons where I see mental illness. That’s not a minor difference of opinion—it’s incompatible treatment approaches.”

A man across the circle spoke up. “My wife tried to leave me yesterday. Said she was ‘remembering who she really was’ and that our marriage was ‘performance for other people’s expectations.’ Twenty-two years of marriage, and she talks like she never loved me.”

Williams nodded grimly. “The demons attack the sacred bonds first. Marriage, family, church community. They isolate people from their support structures.”

“Or,” Sarah said, “the psychological break allows suppressed feelings to surface. Your wife may have been unhappy for years but unable to express it within your relationship dynamic.”

The man’s face darkened. “Are you saying my marriage was fake?”

“I’m saying acute psychological episodes can reveal underlying—”

“She’s saying demons are lying to you,” Williams interrupted. “Making you believe your love was never real. That’s exactly how they operate—they corrupt our most sacred relationships.”

Devon looked between them, frustration growing. “How do we know which approach works?”

“Exorcism,” Williams said immediately. “Cast out the spirits, and people return to themselves.”

“Controlled environment with psychiatric medication,” Sarah countered. “Remove the triggering stimuli and stabilize brain chemistry.”

“Have either of your approaches actually worked?” asked a woman holding a photo of her teenage son.

Silence.

Sarah cleared her throat. “The medication trials are… still in progress. We need more time to determine proper dosages.”

Williams looked down. “The exorcisms have been… challenging. The spirits are resistant to traditional deliverance methods.”

“So you’re both failing?” Devon’s voice carried a dangerous edge.

More silence.

A new voice came from the edge of the circle—a police officer who’d been listening quietly. “My partner started humming during our shift yesterday. Real quiet at first, then louder. Dispatch couldn’t reach us for two hours because our radio kept cutting out. When I asked him about it, he looked at me like he didn’t recognize me.”

“Demonic interference with technology,” Williams said.

“Electromagnetic effects from altered brain states,” Sarah said simultaneously.

The officer shook his head. “I don’t care what’s causing it. I care about what stops it. And it sounds like neither of you know.”

People began shifting restlessly. The alliance that had felt so solid in Devon’s apartment was fracturing along lines of fear and methodology. Some nodded along with Williams’ spiritual warfare language. Others seemed more convinced by Sarah’s clinical approach. A few looked skeptical of both.

Devon tried to regain control. “Look, we don’t have to agree on the cause to agree on the solution. We need to intervene before more people are affected.”

“But how?” the mother with the photo demanded. “If the doctor’s drugs don’t work and the pastor’s prayers don’t work, what’s left?”

From somewhere in the distance, barely audible, came the sound of singing. Not one voice, but many, harmonizing in patterns that seemed to make the air itself vibrate.

Everyone in the circle went quiet.

Williams gripped his Bible tighter. “They’re coming.”

Sarah reached for her phone to call hospital security.

Devon grabbed his camera and started recording.

The singing grew louder, and three people in the circle—including the police officer—began humming along without seeming to realize it.

“We need to leave,” Sarah said, backing toward her car. “Now.”

“We need to stand and fight,” Williams said, opening his Bible to a page marked with several bookmarks.

Devon kept filming as the group splintered—some following the doctor, some staying with the pastor, others simply walking away into the night.

By the time the singing stopped, half the resistance meeting had dissolved into confused, frightened individuals with no plan and no leader.

The revolution had fractured before it even began.