Chapter Five: The Lion's Pit

Within twenty minutes, the Common room, relatively large as it was, was crammed with people, overheated from the crowd, and already starting to smell.

And yet, the mood was more positive than Biggs had ever seen it, even at the Meetings. There were some exceptions. Eleanor was straining at the doorway, as though trying to see through the walls, looking for her son. She wasn't the only one to be separated from her child, but she was the only one Biggs knew. But for the most part, everyone was smiling.

Benedict explained why to the room. "The waiting is over." There was actually a round of applause at this, everyone laughing. "We've all been told to 'keep our eye on the prize', but nowhere in scripture did we know when that Prize would come. It's like we've been reading travel brochures for a place that doesn't exist yet."

Biggs didn't react. There was no privacy in Prison, so if you wanted your own 'space', you had to have it in your head. He was unreadable.

"Our newest brother has been invaluable, knowing the tricks currently being used against us." Christopher put in. "Locking us all in the one space is meant to get us on each other's nerves; turn up the heat. Any other group of 'dissidents', and there'd be a real danger. They don't recognize that our main teaching is to build each other up, and hold onto the support we give each other in trying times. They're putting the squeeze on us, but they're also giving us the means to endure. We've finally gotten to the start of the life we've all been waiting for."

"Go around the room." Benedict said warmly. "This isn't just my cell; we're all here. Does anyone have anything they'd like to share?"

After a long moment, Biggs spoke. "Actually, I have a question: What did you mean before? About 'the lion pit being the safest place'?"

Benedict smiled. "Anyone want to field that one?"

Christopher raised his hand. "Daniel was a friend to the King. But the King was not a servant of Jehovah. His court officials didn't like having Daniel around, so they went to the King and groveled. They said it should be illegal for anyone to worship any God besides the King himself, under pain of execution. The King ate it up and signed it into Law. Daniel prayed to Jehovah anyway, and they were watching, ready to arrest him."

"In the entire Bible record of the day, Daniel was the only one reportedly charged." Benedict put in. "It was a law written specifically to kill one servant of Jehovah God."

"But Daniel survived." Biggs said quietly.

"Not only survived, he was avenged. The King realized quickly he'd been played, and ordered those people who manipulated him into the whole mess would be thrown to the lions themselves; and they didn't even reach the floor before being ripped apart." Benedict promised. "Daniel was victorious from inside the lion pit; and didn't do so much as raise his voice." He looked around the room. "And it's not the only case. Three faithful men who refused to break their integrity? The safest place for them was inside a fiery furnace, even as it was lit. The safest place for Paul to sit down and write a third of the Bible? In a prison cell, chained to the very soldiers who threw Christians into the Colosseum. Moses, a helpless baby; was put on the biggest river in the known world without a boat; and it turned out to be what saved him and his nation."

Biggs looked around the room. "I remember telling Kit that I wasn't much good as a Christian in here. She told me that the crowning achievement of Job's spiritual life was when he was alone, sick; and being told by everyone to give up and pray for death." He almost smiled. "I know Rankin from way back, and the look on his face when everyone burst into applause at the door? I will enjoy that memory for a long time."

Benedict couldn't help the chuckle. The laughter grew louder as they looked at each other.

Elizabeth raised a hand. "Um, most of you know I had a lot of doubts about… well, about being here, to be honest. One of this team. But I've volunteered at a Soup Kitchen for most of my adult life and I have to say that even if, for whatever reason, Jehovah judges that I don't belong in his Paradise Earth; this world has got to stop!"

~~/*\~~

"That appears to be the consensus on the street. Everyone I've talked to agrees: What's happening is long overdue."

"There has been a backlash from-"

"From the people who have wealth and power tied up in religious holdings, to say nothing of their lifelong superstitions. Anyone who's not part of the problem is celebrating. Anyone who went to a Catholic School can give you some horror stories. I was a Jehovah's Witness when I was a kid, let me tell you a few more..."

~~/*\~~

The hatch in the door opened; and a face peered in. Kit looked up, sitting up on the bunk as the door opened. A man in the black suit was there, as well as Rankin. "Good news." Rankin said to her. "We've identified you as a Special Case."

"Meaning?"

"We ran your file. Apparently, you have a history of being susceptible to this kind of influence. You were noted as having freed yourself of two different groups on the Cult-Watch list. You are to be commended for breaking free of the brainwashing twice before. I was able to convince my superiors that you could do it again; given that you haven't been an official member for more than a year."

Kit blinked. "You want to let me out?"

"As quickly as possible. We need the space." Black Suit nodded. "In return, all you have to do is sign The Renouncement, and we can even forgo that, in exchange for a few names."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Kit asked. "I know Rankin as the guy who enjoyed beating up my brother. I don't know you, and you're not in Uniform."

"You can call me 'Jones'." Black Suit said.

"I'm sure it's not your real name, but thank you. Now, a few names?" Kit asked, genuinely curious. "Of who?"

"Anyone who's not already in custody."

"You make it sound like we got caught in a dragnet. Every Believer in the Country turned themselves in two days ago."

"We know that at least some of your people are still out there." Rankin put in from the door.

"If they're out there, then they're not our people." Kit summed up. "And I'd like to go back to the others now, please."

Rankin's face twisted, and the veneer of professionalism vanished instantly. "Listen to me, you little $#!%, I don't know what the hell you think is going to happen here, but I'm giving you an out. The correct answer is: 'Thank you, this is more than I deserve'. This isn't a hypothetical: You're in prison, on an international offence. Your only option is full cooperation. I am offering you freedom! Take it! Or is your brain already completely gone?" He pointed, warning. "And before you answer, remember that if I don't get the answer by asking nicely, I'm going to have to ask again… Much less nicely."

'Jones' quickly stepped forward, and got between Rankin and Kit. "Okay. I know this is at least partly personal for you, but I need you to leave now."

Rankin did so with a dirty scowl. Kit sighed in relief at his absence. "You made the right choice when you got him to play 'Bad Cop'. He and my brother have a history."

"I know." Jones tried again. "Look, if it helps; you're not telling us anything we don't already know. Others of your congregation have already talked, in exchange for the same deal we're offering you." He held out the pad. "So there's really no reason for you not to confirm what we already know. Confirmation is good for us, legally. It's life and death for you."

Kit actually smiled. "Nono, I know that one too." She told him. "That's 'Prisoner's Dilemma'. Where you say 'You can confess, your accomplices have already named you the Ringleader'." She shook her head. "I read an experience from a little kid, the only JW in her school. Her school principal ordered her to salute the flag or be expelled. They told her 'we called your parents and they say it's okay'; which was a lie. Plus, I've been to this prison a thousand times, visiting my brother. If you're going to trick me, you need one I haven't heard before."

Jones sighed and picked up the pad. "I will outlast you." He said simply. "I get to go home, eat well; sleep in my bed; have privacy. I get to live like a human being." He went out the door. "You? You're just here. A caged animal, marking time. Alone."

The door shut behind him, and the lights went out, plunging Kit into darkness. Kit went to the wall, feeling the marks up under the poster with her fingers, where her brother had carved the words. She had to feel along the carvings one letter at a time. "In God I put my trust; I am not afraid. What can a mere human do to me?"

"Not alone." Kit said quietly, and started to pray again.

~~/*\~~

"We are at the end of any grace period. As of now, there is no longer any negotiation. The FRA is now to be enforced; and by order of the UN, the Non-Compliance Act is now in full effect. With few exceptions, the whole matter was done in less than two weeks. For more on this, we go to our field Correspondent, Jamie Dallas. Jamie, what's the mood there?"

"I'm standing at the Renouncement Centre, and the place is still packed. Most people over the age of about thirty or so were on the membership rolls of at least one Religious Institution. Now classified as Illegals, most of those people were amazed to find out they were involved. One of their tricks was to keep people on the Rolls long after they stopped attending. It was a way to inflate their numbers."

"We're told that part of the Revelation Act was that they had to inform all persons listed as members, and advise them to sign the Renouncement ASAP."

"Almost all of them did so immediately, with the penalties involved. A few Human Rights Advocates have begun class action lawsuits against former Clergy, charging them with trying to keep membership data a secret."

"How has the mood changed, with the Grace Period ending?"

"If you can see behind me, the place is still packed with people. Most of them are financiers and small businessmen. The Churches were major shareholders and jobs-creators for some of them. Most of the people who waited until today were trying to find buyers; hoping to recoup their losses before the deadline. But of course, nobody is going to buy religious holdings ever again."

"Any word on where the biggest losses were?"

"It'll take a while for Wall Street to sort that out, but right now, the biggest losers seem to be the people who were on the other side of that door when the deadline passed. The Authorities were waiting."

"Well, we were expecting it to be a very violent transition, but so far it's been peaceful; at least in this part of the world."

~~/*\~~

Andrew felt sick to his stomach. His flight had been delayed by a day, thanks to the chaos breaking out around the world. Andrew was suddenly certain that he'd made a mistake. The news kept reporting that it was a peaceful transition, but he'd driven past supermarkets, all of them under armed guard. Police were in full riot-gear instead of their usual uniforms. They were searching people who went inside. Andrew had been stuck in traffic and gotten a great view of the moment they found someone with a cross on a small chain, hidden under their shirt. The police had hauled them to the curb and beaten them unconscious.

He had driven past a checkpoint. They were searching every car. Andrew had driven on, avoiding the street. He wasn't the only one. Sniffer dogs were deployed, though what they were searching for, Andrew couldn't guess.

There'd been a story on the radio reporting that a police officer had been caught planting religious material in several houses where people were suspected of all manner of crimes; without enough evidence to face charges. The Final Revelation Act meant that they could suspend regular due process and some lawmen were taking advantage to clean up the streets… or settle old scores.

It was a tactic that had also been embraced by criminals and opportunists. The FRA also allowed for people to claim bounties if they could provide evidence of membership as Illegals. The highways were becoming far too dangerous as gangs attacked expensive looking cars, planting religious icons and pamphlets on the owners after murdering the passengers and taking their belongings. Similar tactics were taking place in wealthy neighborhoods.

Andrew had made it to the highway, and seen a few cars just bulldozed out of the way. Many of them had bulletholes through the windows.

The airport was another hour away under normal conditions. Today it was going to take him a lot longer; and he'd never make his flight.

Jehovah God in heaven save me, what have I done?

~~/*\~~

"She's had the bare minimum of food. We can keep the lights on in her cell as long as we like." Rankin reported. "Sleep deprivation and hunger can only help so much. They harden people against the questions being put to them; and of course if someone's loopy from lack of sleep, it's not like their information is hugely reliable." He paused. "Not that it matters, since… Well, we aren't really asking for any information."

Jones nodded. "She's my problem. The rest of the prison is yours. How's that going, by the way?"

"We've got Holdouts from several Illegal Groups in here. Most of them have lasted less than three days before asking to sign the Renouncement." Rankin looked at Jones sideways. "You know they're lying, right? They can sign and go back to their homes with whatever faith they like."

"Yes they can. Personal faith is still legal. Organizing is not." Jones nodded. "What people believe in private, who they pray to in their own homes, it's none of our business."

"What I mean is, we're only getting lip service." Rankin countered. "It's not like we're changing minds."

"We're changing public society, which is more important." Jones told him firmly. "Most everyone pays lip service to their Gods in this part of the world; let them do it where nobody else can see. We are The Law. We only need to keep the streets clear and peaceable."

"Keeping the streets clear might be asking a bit more than we can provide right now." Rankin admitted. "I've had to put triple shifts on and reorganize the cell assignments just to make room for the Witnesses-"

"The Illegals."

"No, the Witnesses. They're the only denomination refusing to sign en masse." Rankin told him. "And that would be bad enough, if my staff wasn't calling in sick."

"All of them?"

"No. But the roads are getting dangerous. It's not like we put Prisons in the middle of town, or near subway stations. Our supply trucks are vulnerable. The food shortages have hit the city hard. People are ambushing supplies; and they know we save our armed guards for the Prisoner Buses… My people are calling in sick to look after their families."

Jones seemed unconcerned. "Well, we knew it'd be disruptive. Until things settle down, we still have a job to do."

~~/*\~~

"You must be a whole new, completely undiscovered level of stupid." Garrett said politely.

Biggs smirked. "Good to see you again too." He lined up with his tray, and Garret slid in next to him. There was a pecking order in Prison, and Garret was ignoring it to speak to him, so he made the best of it. "When did Rankin get put in charge?"

"He's not. The Feds took over the Prison directly when the Law changed." Garret explained. "The regular Warden resigned in protest. Rankin doesn't have his job, officially, but he has seniority."

"Terrific." Biggs said flatly. "You must be feeling it too."

"Less than you think. The Commons and the Courtyard are all off limits now, because of your mob filling up the place. No room for you anywhere else. You thought we were packed in like sardines before…"

"I hear that." Biggs reached the servers and held his tray out. "We're making the best of it. No room to breathe, packed in like that, so everyone's being nice to each other about it."

"That'll change." Garret said and got to the point. "Biggs, we spent ten years talking about what we'd do if we got out. I know that once you've been in for a while, you never really leave; but… You came in with the Illegals." He hissed. "You can leave any time you want. Sign the Renouncement. You don't even have to mean it. Go right back to doing whatever you do that ticked them off so much. Just be smarter about getting caught this time." His voice dropped. "But for the love of mercy, get out of here. Fast."

Biggs reacted. "What? What is it?"

Garrett glanced over his shoulder. The Mess Hall was loud enough to let them speak privately. "You're marked, pal. You, a few of the others in your group. The Tongs and the Irish. They're looking to put you on the spot."

"Why?" Biggs blinked.

"There's a 'bounty' out. If they can get you to sign; they get benefits." Garrett said. "Good ones."

"The guards are getting their prisoners to muscle us?" Biggs was stunned.

"Didn't take a lot of convincing. We both know the only reason half the guys in here don't get shivved is because the other half can't get away with it. Now they can." Garrett glanced sideways at him. "And it wasn't hard to convince them in your case. We know you knew when Grant died. You knew before the rest of us. A lot of the guys who are looking to fill his shoes? They knew you'd be a contender. Or at the very least a strong enforcer. But you got out just in time to escape the power struggle… And now you're back."

Biggs blinked at him. "I'd actually forgotten Grant entirely."

"You forgot?" Garrett repeated in disbelief.

Biggs looked around, expecting to be dragged into a corner and beaten to death any second. "What about you, old friend? Where you at?"

"I think you're insane." Garrett commented blandly. "I think those people twisted your brain around, at the worst possible time. I also think if anyone in here's going to protect the Illegals, you're the best bet for muscle. And as long as we can give a #$&*# cop what's coming to him; I'm happy to play diversion with my old friend."

"Christopher!" Biggs realized and started running, discarding his tray instantly with a loud clatter.

~~/*\~~

"You're too late." Benedict said quietly as Biggs came running to the Common Room. "They got him twenty minutes ago. He was following you to the Mess, and never got there."

Biggs winced. "I have no idea what I would have done if got there in time. Am I allowed to fight back anymore?"

Benedict smiled. "On the way in, you almost struck him yourself when you found out what he used to do for a living." He gestured. "Come on. Let's go see him."

"They won't let us in the Infirmary."

"He's not in the hospital." Benedict said with grim understatement. "Medical Care isn't for Illegals."

Biggs shivered and followed him. "I've seen it before."

~~/*\~~

"...now stands at thirty-two. As yet, we do not know who authorized the use of lethal force; or if it was done without permission; but what is clear is that the Protestors aren't interested in 'peaceful' demonstrations anymore."

"Riots are spreading to food distribution centres all across the country. Without those supplies reaching supermarkets, or for that matter, relief centres; people aren't waiting for deliveries. When the highways became dangerous, others went to the hubs directly. The National Guard has been deployed at all ports. In fact, there are unconfirmed reports that some of the cargo haulers are refusing to dock, for fear of violence against their crews."

"Marches on the UN are nothing new, but authorizing lethal force to break up the Protests-"

"It was inevitable. Protestors marching against the Final Revelation Act went too, combining their numbers. One was there to demand freedom to worship; and the other was there to demand food. When the two protests met; some of the Food Riots turned on the Illegals marching against the FRA. The Guards had to break up the conflict before the bodycount got much higher."

"And in the meantime, the shelves are still empty."

"As yet, the government has made no statement about the violent action, beyond calling on all citizens to be calm; and try to share what they have until Food Drops can be restored by the military. But I cover the Black Friday Sales every year. People are willing to put each other in hospital for a discount on hair dryers; what do you think will happen when food runs out?"

~~/*\~~

Christopher was stretched out on one of the precious bunks; the bruises were obvious, the blood on his clothes still wet. There were a dozen Witnesses gathered around, tending to him; most of them sisters. The brothers were staying closer to the door.

"We told the sisters to stay in close with the Congregation." Benedict said softly to Biggs. "The only women in here are Illegals; almost all of them our people. We didn't think to extend the same protection to the brothers as well."

"Word's out that leaning on the Un-Signed in here would be worth something to the lifers." Biggs explained. "We're all in the Lion Pit now." He didn't say the thing foremost on his mind. Kit still hasn't been heard from.

Christopher opened his eyes. He actually smiled at Benedict. "I didn't feel it." He whispered. "They worked me over forever; and I was praying the whole time. Didn't feel it. I wouldn't sign it. And it didn't even hurt."

"That's good, brother. That's very good." Benedict said with a warm smile. "You did well. You held on; and you said 'no, I won't' one time more than they said 'yes, you will'. You did amazing."

"Enduring to the end, right?" Christopher smiled; and shut his swollen eyes.

"Right." Benedict nodded, tearing up a bit with relief and affection for his brother. "What more can anyone ask? Try to rest now. I don't know if the protection against pain will last, but I do know this is nearly over. It's not like you're going to need a doctor when it ends."

Christopher laughed a bit, and slept again.

Benedict turned to his people. "He Managed. His faith managed." He addressed them. "Scripture says that 'you won't be tested beyond what you can bear'. You just got a prime example of that. Everything we go through, everything we endure in here, down to the amount of pain we experience; all of it happens at Jehovah's sufferance. He doesn't make it easy. If it was easy, everyone would be a Witness. But we have what we need to keep going."

Biggs was staring at Christopher, trying to process about a dozen new ideas.

~~/*\~~

"Just a little while longer, and the wicked one will be no more." Kit read the scratching beside her bunk quietly to herself. There was less room along this edge than there was under the poster. Just room for that half scripture. It was the last thing she saw when she closed her eyes, and the first thing she saw when she woke up. The lights had been kept full the entire night, before going mercifully dark for an hour; and she napped.

The door opened. "Penny for your thoughts." Jones commented as he came in and shut the door behind him. "I had hoped a night alone might help clarify things."

"I'm not going to sign." Kit yawned. "And I don't really have any information about people outside. All the Witnesses I know are here. At least, I assume they are. You haven't let me see them."

"Mm." He nodded. "I've been getting reports. There have been holdouts from every sect of Illegals out there. They don’t exist anymore. Some of them went down shooting. Some of them clung to their icons in burning churches; and let the buildings fall on them. All the survivors? They all admit they don't have the answers either. If God had a problem with any of His servants getting wiped out; He didn't care to save them."

Kit scoffed. "We're still here."

"I thought Christians were all about humility." Jones smirked. "Churches of billions have been eaten up and the bones spat out. You think God's going to stand up and do something for you?"

"Numbers aren't the issue." Kit rubbed her stomach, which was growling loudly. "When Noah's Ark happened, only eight people were saved. Jesus himself said the road to life was narrow and cramped. If there were billions joining the Witnesses, I would know I had the wrong faith."

"No such thing as a 'right' one anymore." He told her, and produced a Bible. "I've read this before, you know. Not exactly a book full of hope. There's wars and bloodshed, violent crimes, slavery…"

"Like any history book." Kit countered. "Unlike any history book, it can tell you what's coming next."

"Prisoner, if you knew what was coming next, you wouldn't be here." He told her, so certain and reasonable that Kit almost nodded automatically. "You're playing dice with your life over something written in a book, by people that have gone to dust so far into the past that most people don't think they really existed."

Kit almost looked back to the scripture carved beside her bunk. Just one verse. "Books don't change your life, sir." She said heavily. "Just a sentence or two in them."

~~/*\~~

"Come with me, Prisoner."

Elizabeth looked up. "Me? Now?"

Rankin nodded, eyes on her. "Right now. Purely routine, I assure you. Just a medical check-up."

Colgan was also in the hall, not looking at Elizabeth. Biggs noticed his discomfort and was at Elizabeth's side instantly. "Medical checks are on the roster. She's not going anywhere until her turn."

"This doesn't concern you, Prisoner. Step back." Rankin said shortly, eyes still on Elizabeth.

Biggs didn't move. "And I'm sure there's a third party present for the transfer, and a female nurse for the 'medical exam'." Biggs looked to Colgan. "I know for a fact that the Night Shift doesn't do 'routine check-ups', so I'm sure you're taking her to an actual hospital?"

Elizabeth heard all this and paled.

Rankin drew a telescoping baton rod and flicked it open. "I told you to step back, Prisoner."

There were suddenly about twenty women crowded around Elizabeth, forming a wall between her and Rankin. No shouting, no calls for help; no threats of violence. Just a human wall, mostly old women; surrounding one of their own.

Rankin glowered at Biggs. "She's coming with me. I'll have her back in half an hour."

Biggs read the situation and knew what it meant. He also knew Rankin from personal experience. There was no way the guard was going to back down. But he could be diverted by a new target. Biggs took a breath and provided one. "Half an hour? I'd be surprised if you took half that long."

Crack! Rankin whipped him across the face instantly. Biggs went down hard, and curled into a ball automatically as the next strike came.

Biggs' vision went dark red for a long moment, a feeling of warmth all over him. His vision cleared and he saw the sisters were surrounding him now too. Colgan had apparently reached his breaking point, pulling Rankin back from the fight. "Enough! Enough! Settle! It's over!"

Colgan slammed the door to the Commons, locking the Witnesses in.

~~/*\~~

Andrew had to ditch the car. It had made him too much of a target. It seemed everyone in the world was trying to get somewhere; even knowing there was nowhere to go. The radio was giving constant updates, telling him which streets were too dangerous to drive on, and he discovered he was cut off in every direction.

Looking around the streets, he suddenly realized he'd been here many times. He parked in the driveway of a boarded up house and walked two blocks to a nice suburban home he'd been to many times. All up and down the street, there were curtains twitching, and no sign of anyone outside. People were hiding in their homes, none of them coming out; but all of them watching. The cars in the driveways all had open fuel tanks, siphoned dry by someone.

Andrew knocked on the door, and heard a low sob from inside. But the door didn't move. "Mandel, open the door."

"I'm not interested." The answer came.

"Mandel, I've got nowhere to go. So I can either sit on your doorstep and keep knocking, or-"

The sound of chains rattling came. Then locks. Then something heavy being pulled away from the door. It opened, and Mandel pulled him in. "Why here?" The man hissed, securing the door again. "I can't-"

"I've been here dozens of times, Mandel. You have to see what's going on in the world." Andrew told him. "And-"

"Of course I can see it! Can you?!" Mandel raged. "You have to get out of here! Why did you come here in the first place?!" He scowled. "They've already been here, questioning me about those magazines. My neighbors knew I took them from you."

"I was trying to get out of town. I can't even make it to the airport. I thought maybe I could find a workaround if I had-"

"Airports won't help you. Shutting down the Airports was the first thing they did. You don't get on a plane without a signed Renouncement." Mandel spat. "If you were declaring war on anyone with a religion, what would you get ready for first?"

"Another 9/11. Of course." Andrew said, and was amazed he didn't think of it sooner. "Then… can I at least use your phone?"

Mandel shook his head. "I don't have a landline anymore. The cell network's been off for over a day."

Andrew bit his lip. "Where's the nearest… Police Station?"

Mandel froze. "You're not going to turn yourself in?"

"I have to." Andrew said seriously. "Only way out now is through. If it's not already too late."

"It's too late." Mandel told him. "Haven't you been following the news? The Grace Period is over. The Bounty is…" Mandel broke off quickly. "You had a month. You spent it all knocking on doors."

Andrew wasn't sure if he was avoiding a topic, or if he'd just realized how much danger he was in having a Witness in the house. "I'll leave." He promised. "Do you… I mean, I'm an inch away from running out of gas, and the streets are dangerous enough without being on foot."

"I don't have any spare fuel. The gas stations are all under guard." Mandel shook his head. "And, to be honest, I couldn't spare any if I had some." He took a breath. "I might be able to help, though. There's a chance I can get you across the border."

"How does that help? This is global."

"You were trying to get to Europe, right? Because the Witnesses there weren't turning themselves in, like they are in this country? Maybe another country is the next best thing?"

Andrew froze. "Maybe." He thought aloud. "How would I get there?"

Mandel hesitated.

Andrew just looked at him. "Of the two of us, I'm the wanted criminal right now. Take as long as you need to decide."

Mandel almost smirked. "Fine. Look, I can't afford medicine. But internationally, the price is less. Some friends of mine will collect everyone's prescriptions and make a road trip out of it. With everything that's going on, that's expanded to include food and fuel."

Andrew nodded. "When are they going?"

"Tomorrow. But with the roads the way they are, there are no promises on when they'll arrive. If I vouch for you, they'll let you tag along."

Andrew nodded. "Thank you." He said quietly. "Listen… I have been bringing you magazines for over two years. I know you never wanted more than that, but you must have reached some ideas about what's going on in the world…"

Mandel wouldn't look at him. "You sure you want to cross-examine me now?"

~~/*\~~

Biggs woke up slowly. He was laying in one of the few bunks. Elizabeth was tending to his laceration. "Hey, you." She said quietly. "Still with us?"

Biggs didn't nod. His head was spinning too much. "Well. It hurt. I'm a little jealous. Christopher got protected from that."

"I got protected too." Elizabeth kissed the back of his hand. "Thank you, brother. I didn't even realize what was happening until you got into it." Biggs tried to sit up, and she pushed him back. "Rest. You earned it."

Elizabeth moved aside as Christopher and Benedict came over. Benedict was smiling widely. "How are you feeling?"

"I've had worse." Biggs admitted. "I guess if I couldn't take the pain, I wouldn't have felt it, huh?"

"I suppose not." Christopher agreed, putting a finger to his own bruises. "Somewhat humbling, knowing God didn't think I could take it when you clearly could."

"Well yeah, but you were just a cop." Biggs needled with a crooked smile.

Christopher chuckled, despite himself. "You'd been our brother for only a few days before it came to this. You'd never attended a meeting, never seen a convention, or sung a Christian Song. You only knew the scriptures you could get from an old convention program, and the only Witness you knew was your sister."

Benedict nodded. "And yet, within a day of being free of this place, you joined the most difficult, dangerous ministry we've ever been assigned to. You voluntarily surrendered to your greatest fear; at personal, physical risk. You went out of your way to protect people you didn't know from threats that were gunning for you personally. And you didn't even blink before you put yourself between Elizabeth and that guard, knowing what it would take to protect a woman you'd barely spoken to, from an opponent you weren't allowed to fight." Benedict smiled warmly, eyes shining. "You are most definitely our beloved brother, sir."

"Amen." Biggs tested his neck. He could still move. He saw Eleanor over in the corner, praying unceasingly. "Still no word on the kids?"

"No." Christopher admitted. "We've all been praying. For the kids, and for Kit."

"Pray for the toilets, too." Biggs croaked.

"What?" The older man laughed.

"Rankin will be angry. When the Guards want to torment someone, they can just stuff something down the pipes at night. Unclogging the drains, refilling the toilet paper… It's not a priority. If my sister's in solitary; she's got a bucket. All they have to do is not empty it out; and wait." Biggs shrugged as best he could while laying down. "It's not much, but there's hundreds of people crammed in here; and not being left in our combined filth is going to take a miracle too."

"I guess so." Christopher nodded.

~~/*\~~

"Jace, this is Jamie and Carrie Patmore." Jones made the introductions. "They're going to be your new family."

Ben looked up at the couple, who were smiling in a friendly way. "Hello."

Carrie crouched down to meet the boy's eyes. "So, we're going to be looking after you."

"What about my mom?" Ben asked.

Carrie sent a quick look at Jones, and spoke gently. "Your mom… has to stay here. She'd want to know you're safe and looked after."

Rankin knocked on the door lightly, and gestured for Jones to follow him. Jones only followed as far as the hallway; and Rankin reported the latest to him. "We're running into a paperwork problem with regards to the kids."

Jones blinked. "There's precedent for legal guardians in prison. Single parents, pregnant inmates… I would think the legal apparatus would be clearly established. Admittedly, not on this scale, but I've read the FRA, and it doesn't change things too much with regards to those procedures-"

"I've been on the phone to child services all morning." Rankin put in. "The problem, for once, isn't the bureaucracy. The FRA's actually trimmed a lot of the red tape. The problem is at the other end."

As if to demonstrate, the door opened, and the Patmores emerged, looking awkward. "Yeah, um… I'm sorry, sir. But I don't think this is going to work out."

"What?" Jones was surprised. "What happened?"

"We just don't think we're... compatible." Jamie said, unable to meet anyone's eyes. "We're very sorry for the inconvenience."

"Forget that, tell me what went wrong." Jones said seriously. It was a tone that allowed no argument. Jones was a man accustomed to getting his own way, and so far, nothing with regard to the Witnesses was going according to plan. "What happened in there?"

Jamie winced. "He wanted to pray for his mom."

"We told you his history." Jones responded, but he didn't miss the look on Rankin's face. It was a look that said this wasn't a surprise. "You knew his family were all Illegals."

"Yeah, but the kid is more involved than…" Carrie tried to say it. "We heard him praying just now; and it led to some questions…" She saw his look and stopped dancing around it. "Look, if we put this kid in school, and he prays over his lunch where others will see? That's enough to get the two of us killed. Everyone will assume it's because of us."

"You two have signed the Renouncement."

"Yeah, and gladly. But it's not like anyone's stopping to check their sources anymore." Jamie retorted. "It's been happening all over the place. There's a deli up the street from our house. The owner signed the Renouncement, but his name sounded a little too Jewish. We've been having lunch there for years, and the place was torched this morning. It was a lynch mob. He'd signed. Just for his name, they beat him to death. We take this kid home…"

Jones stared them down for a moment, before he nodded. "We'll take him back to… holding."

The Patmores made their goodbyes quickly, and all but ran from them.

Rankin nodded after them. "There's a lot of that going around. Most of the kids seized from Illegals have the usual issues you see in seized kids, but… Some of them have full membership in the congregation. Witnesses don't baptize at infancy like most Illegals did. Membership for them is about training. Some of the kids downstairs are full members already."

Jones growled. "At this age, we have a better chance of training it out of them."

"Protective Services agrees, but they're having trouble finding enough families willing to take that on. The Patmores weren't wrong. The Bounty Hunters are the least savage hunters out there right now. At least they're in it for the money. They have to make sure of their targets to get paid. The mob is another story. If they think you've got food in your pockets they'll take you." Rankin waved it off. "We'll find somewhere to put them all. It's just going to take longer than we thought. True of every Government order."

~~/*\~~

Andrew was hidden in Mandel's basement for a while. A few days that felt like a million years. The more he prayed, the more convinced he was that he'd made a mistake.

But eventually, before dawn broke, Mandell opened the basement door and summoned him out. He had two other men with him. "This is-"

"No names." The man barked, turning to Andrew. "I'm told you need discreet transport."

Andrew nodded. Or a police station, to turn myself in as instructed. Say the words, Andrew.

But he said nothing, and the man nodded. "Risky. Risky means expensive."

Andrew nodded and opened up his backpack. His accounts had been closed, and he couldn't go back to the house. The backpack was everything he had left in the world; and there was no point pretending he could negotiate.

Mandel didn't say a word to him when Andrew left the house. The street was still empty as they headed to the vehicle out front. It almost looked like a Humvee. There were three men waiting, all of them armed. They were expecting trouble on this run.

I should say something to Mandel. I should say something…

But he didn't.

"Whats your name?" Andrew asked finally. "I know you said no names, but when we get to the border; it'd be good if they didn't think we were total strangers."

"Call me Digger." The Driver said flatly.

And that was all he was going to get, so Andrew returned to the view.

~~/*\~~

"I think this is way too soon. You're still healing."

"They won't deliver food. Someone has to go line up in the chow line." Biggs said to Benedict firmly. "And it should be me. Nobody else in here knows how to read a room. I can smell an ambush coming, even over Prison food."

The Witnesses had been moved to a larger common area. Less of a room, more of a cage that ran the length of a hallway and foyer. Every prison hallway had cell bars at intervals; and that set their borders. There was no room in the cells for them; and the guards were under orders to limit their contact with the other prisoners where possible. They had been denied amenities until they signed. The Witnesses kept to themselves; but they couldn't last too long without food and water.

"We'll go with you." Benedict insisted. "We're safer in a group."

"You go with me, you're a target." Biggs argued. "We know they have a bounty on us, even in here. And I have enemies of my own in this place. I'm a lightning rod for trouble."

"All the more reason why we should go with you." Benedict called after him, but Biggs was already gone.

Jehovah God… Biggs prayed as he walked. I never thought I'd get out of here alive; but I don't want to take any of the others with me. And if they do send a group, that leaves the ones that stay behind vulnerable. Please. Please.

~~/*\~~

Jehovah God, please. Please. Please. Andrew dozed, leaning against the window. The world outside was blurring, but he could see it coming apart. Every gas station was guarded. Every supermarket had lines out the front, with riot police watching them.

Every house had a piece of white paper displayed in the window. Every household, showing their Renouncement, the way they displayed flags and sports colors. The street was shockingly light on traffic, and Andrew could see everyone in sight was being very aware of them as they drove past.

"They're wondering what we've got that's worth using a vehicle." Andrew noted. "Nobody carries anything of value."

The other men in the car said nothing. Digger looked at him in the mirror. "We're armed well enough to get past the gangs. Remember, the rabbit runs for its life. The lion chases for a snack."

And Andrew had to admit, having three armed guards made him feel better. Not the JW way of thinking. He thought distantly. Tell them to take you to a police station.

Aloud, he said the other thing he'd been thinking. "There might be a problem when we get to the border, since I… don't have a Renouncement." The others laughed, and Andrew felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Oh. W-Where are we really going?"

No answer.

Andrew caved in on himself. "Did Mandip know?"

"Why do you think he called us?" Digger commented. "Don't think too harshly. The penalties if you were caught in his home were lethal… and the reward for turning you in has become downright necessary." Digger looked in his rear-view. "It was never going to happen. They'd never let you over the border without a signed White Paper."

Andrew winced. "Yeah, I should have thought of that. Look, I should have done what the rest of my guys did and turned myself in to the police. I assume we're going to a Police Station…"

"Why bother with a station?" Digger said easily. "The Bounty is 'no questions asked' if you can verify an Illegal."

The man on Andrew's left produced a phone, and he hit a button. Andrew's voice came from the speaker. "And there might be a problem when we get to the border, since I… don't have a Renouncement."

"That's all the proof we need." Digger put in. "Nothing personal."

Andrew shrank into his seat. Please, God; I'm sorry! I should have followed instructions when I had the chance. If there's-

"He's praying!"

"Let him. It's not going to help."

"No, you idiot; I mean you can see him doing it! If someone sees him-"

-into your hands I commend my-

There was a crushing blow against his temple, and it all went fuzzy.

~~/*\~~

Biggs tensed as Garrett slid in behind him at the lunch line quickly. "Trying for Round Two?"

"Trying to get a meal." Biggs told him, piling his tray high. "You know how hungry we're getting down there? We're actually looking forward to this slop."

"How about a loaf and two fishes? Isn't that how it goes?"

Biggs smothered a smirk, but it ran away from his face instantly. "Garret…" He said with open pity. "I actually asked about you. I asked all the Elders in my Congregation. I asked for five different opinions, asking if there was still time. They all agreed. I'm sorry."

(Author's Note: In the book 'Pure Worship - Restored At Last', Teaching Box 16B states: "Righthearted individuals show by their words and actions that they detest the wickedness of this world. Such ones respond favorably to the preaching work, continue putting on a Christlike personality, get baptized in symbol of their dedication to Jehovah, and loyally support Christ's brothers." Paragraph 17 of Chapter 16 in that book adds: "Only those who… enter the great tribulation as pure worshippers will be in a position to be marked for survival." However, the November 2008 WT also states: '[Jehovah's Witnesses] also believe that it is not their job to judge who will be saved. Ultimately, God is the Judge. He decides.')

Garrett stared at him, weirded out; and got back to the point. "While we're apologizing… I'm sorry; about last time. It didn't take much for the Gangs to want you out of here again. Having the guards ask us? Point blank?"

"I get it." Biggs nodded. "I'm not mad."

"You're not, are you?" Garrett was stunned by that. "You should be. Even if you've switched teams; someone should be pushing back after what happened."

"Trust me, man. It's been taken into account." Biggs commented, with one quick glance upwards.

Garrett shook his head. "Maybe I'm wasting my time here."

"Meaning?"

"Look, before you got Religion, nobody in here wanted to mess with you." Garrett said. "Now that you're one of them… Well, we all know that 'anything goes' in a Crusade. If your guys are going to survive in here, they need muscle, same as anyone."

Biggs looked over. "What are you saying?"

"Rule Number One in here is you don't make it on your own. Especially if there's a bounty on the Illegals already. So you gotta cut them loose, or redraw the territory." Garrett told him. "If you want your guys protected you may be the only one that can do that."

"I'm listening." Biggs kept piling extra food on his tray. The fewer trips he had to make to the chow line, the better.

"You remember Leon? He's the one that muscled your pal, the Cop. Take him out; and the others'll know to leave your 'Congregation' alone." Garrett said quietly.

"And if I refuse?" Biggs asked, genuinely curious.

"Then everyone in the place will know you're not the wolf you used to be; and they'll take great pleasure in gutting you." Garrett said seriously. "And if I'm going to make it much longer; I have to be the one to do it. People know we were cellmates. People know we were friends."

Biggs looked at him hard. "You've never beaten me at so much as an arm wrestle, Garrett."

"I know." His old friend said. "But that was then. The boundaries shifted a lot in here while you were out. With Grant gone; all the players are pretty unsettled. Throwing a thousand more men and women into the box doesn't calm that down."

"So everyone has to 'show strength'." Biggs scorned. "And so either I kill someone or you do."

"Your choice."

Biggs scoffed. "I've heard that before. Remember that guy; can't remember his name… He was in here for Racketeering. He had the same tactic with all his marks: 'You're making me do this'. For that matter, it's the same story from every guy in here for Domestic Battery. How dare I make you hit me? Please." Biggs took the tray and turned to go.

Garrett kept pace with him. "I'm not kidding around with you. You make a choice, or I have to."

"Who you kill is your business. I'm not blaming myself for the weapon in your hand." Biggs spat back at him. Was I like this a year ago? "You know why I barely remembered Grant? It's because I'm not afraid of him anymore. Him, or you; or anyone in here."

Garrett was silent for a moment. "You've changed, Biggs. You used to be smarter than this. You used to have common sense."

"I guess I must be hanging around with a bad crowd." Biggs gestured around the prison with biting irony. He took the tray and was walking fast for the door before Garrett could say another word. And that's when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A well-trained sense told him a punch was coming. He looked, and saw that Garrett had drifted back a few feet, giving himself room. The chowline had done the same, everyone leaving their trays behind; getting well out of reach. He looked the other way, gripping the tray tightly. Nobody was looking directly at him, and the doors to the rest of the Prison were shut tight; when normally they would be open.

Oh, God. Biggs thought, and he honestly wasn't sure if he was praying. I'm about to die.

He felt Garrett right behind him, and his old friend wasn't alone. "I'm truly sorry." He said. "But one of us has to live through this."

And then there were other people. Dozens of them. There was no charge, no battle cry; they were suddenly just… there. Biggs looked around, and found he was surrounded by people looking outward. Someone's defending me?

Benedict was on his left, Christopher on his right. "Sorry we took so long. Took us a while to get around all the suddenly closed doors."

Biggs still had his tray, piled high. "Think anyone will stop us if we take our meal to go?"

"Let's find out." Benedict said, and almost a dozen people calmly walked their way past a hundred watching eyes.

"That rule about the sisters not going anywhere alone? It extends to everyone now." Christopher said firmly.

"Then where do we get our food?"

~~/*\~~

"-seventeen officers were killed in the seizure. Their names are being withheld until their families can be notified. The Commissioner says this signals a need for a shift in policy on enforcing the FRA."

"Admittedly, we knew it wasn't going to be painless, but the Holdouts were never going to be a huge concern; given the resources being brought to bear."

"That's what they said about Waco."

"An example that proves exactly how overdue this whole Campaign is. How long are we going to keep treating these Illegals like people?"

"That's the question of the day, it seems; but for now, we have to go to commercial. When we return, the latest revelations about what life is like for Illegals. Former members of the cult are coming forward with…"

~~/*\~~

"Does it bother you that even you can't give me an answer that makes sense?" Jones asked gamely. "If you're going to trust your life to the idea that God won't let you die; shouldn't you at least know your own holy book, Prisoner?"

"The Bible's over two thousand pages. You think I should only believe in God if I have every page committed to memory?" Kit countered. "I'd have an easier time finding the verses if you hadn't set fire to my study guides. And my name is Kit." She looked at him sideways. "Easier for you when you dehumanize us, right?" She stretched her spine out a bit. "Much like God, that way."

"I don't follow?"

"It's easier to argue that God isn't real when you don't think of Him as a person either. Don't even give Him a name, and He's easy to ignore." Kit yawned. "You should have seen me when I found out God had a name. I mean, the stray cats that lived in the alley behind my last apartment had names; but God doesn't? No wonder nobody listened to what He had to say."

"Let's unpack that for a moment." Jones put in. "You admit that nobody was interested."

"Apathy was strong in our territory. We're a minority; that's not a surprise."

"I repeat, that doesn't bother you?"

"You have any idea how many things the majority has gotten wrong?" Kit yawned. "The numbers bothered me at first through sheer force of volume, if nothing else. But I told you about Noah's Ark. Last time God went full scale 'Old Testament' on the whole world, less than ten people were singled out to survive. We have millions. Hundreds of thousands were joining the ranks every year. " Kit yawned again. "Listen, it's been a well-rounded day of you scorning my most cherished beliefs, and me not budging. Don't you have a home to get to? It's getting dark, and I assume it means the day's over."

"I'm good here." Jones commented, looking completely unfazed. "But as it happens, I am hungry. I'm sure you must be too."

Kit had been given little food since being locked in. "I could eat."

Jones knocked, and the door opened. Two trays. One of them was plain bread and a cup of water. The other was a full breakfast. Bacon. Eggs. Toast. Pancakes. A bigger breakfast than any prisoner was getting. A bigger breakfast than Kit had ever eaten, even in her own home. The smell of it made her whole mouth fill with saliva, and her stomach roared in response to its mere presence.

Jones let her take a good look. "See what the majority has?"

"The majority?" Kit scoffed, trying to think logically. "The majority of the human race would consider bread and water to be a luxury. Someone in the world starves to death every three seconds. Please, tell me again how this is all about saving people?"

"Above my pay grade." Jones said easily. "My job is you."

"I'm honored." Kit drank her cup of plain water. It felt good on her parched throat.

"Don't be. I've broken hardened mob bosses and terror kingpins. You're a brainwashed junkie with a record. I'm here because it's my job. Do you even know what you're doing in this room?"

Kit nodded. "There's the magic word." She said seriously. "I was wondering how long it was going to take you to play that card."

Jones thought for a moment. "Brainwashed."

"Before the Witnesses, I was in with some bad people. I've seen brainwashing. I've seen teenage girls getting passed around and people beaten and abused until they're so broken they beg to stay for more. It's freaky, the things the world can do to your mind." She gave him a subzero gaze. "You remind me of those people."

"How so?"

"What you said before, about how I can't quote enough scripture from memory? Give me my notebook back, I'll show you the verses. That's why I wrote them down." She yawned again. "I've been reading news articles about countries that Banned the JW's long before the FRA was signed into law. One of the things they did was ban our books, up to and including the Bible we use. It's a Bible. We can use any of them. When the Witnesses started out, just putting their doctrine together? They used the same Bibles the other Churches did."

Jones actually smiled. "What other churches? The Illegals? None of their Holy Books could save them any more than they could save you."

Kit settled. "Well, I suppose that's true. But that wasn't my point. My point was we've been going back and forth, scoring debating points here and there; but I don't have to convince you. It's not like if I convert you, the door will magically open."

"True enough."

"Jesus Christ himself didn't convince everybody. And when he was arrested and put on trial, the only thing he did was say nothing. That's how it is with… well, with bullies. Shout abuse or beg for your life; if you say anything at all, it just gives them a reason to hit you again."

"You could say 'I'll Sign' and be out of here by dinner." Jones pointed out.

"I know." Kit said heavily. She looked to the wall again; at the poster that hid the carved scriptures. "Not one word out of all the good words that Jehovah your God has spoken to you has failed." She said quietly, then looked to Jones. "For the record, it's not brainwashing."

"Isn't that what brainwashed people say?"

"Sure, but they aren't my proof. You are." Kit told him. "The absolute, proof positive, smoking gun evidence that the JW's know what they're talking about? It wasn't in the Bible. It was you. They've been predicting it for almost a hundred years: Governments declaring war on religion; wiping it out, fast and hard. That has been achieved. If you wanted to prove we were all brainwashed, don't start by proving us right."

Jones said nothing to that.

~~/*\~~

Andrew woke from a light doze, head spinning in pain. He was in an ordinary looking office. Across the table, a man in uniform was looking at him grimly. His nametag read 'Costner'. "Of all the checkpoints they could have taken you to, why mine?"

"Wasn't my plan either." Andrew groaned.

"We have evidence that you are in violation of Federal and International Law." Costner said by rote. "Do you have evidence to dispute these charges?"

Someone in another room, there was the sound of sobbing; but Andrew didn't know who it was. "I haven't signed, if that's what you mean." Andrew moaned, eyes rolling in different directions from the blow to the head. "I surrender. Arrest me."

"Yeah, well…" Costner let out a breath. "About that."

The sobbing in the other room turned to shouting, before a gunshot rang out, and left silence behind. Andrew twitched.

Coster spoke. "The FRA requires you go directly to holding, no court, no appeals, no lawyers. Except…"

Andrew waited for him to finish that sentence, before it struck him. "Except the Prisons are all full, aren't they?"

"The roads have been declared too dangerous for public services, including Prisoner transport." Costner nodded. "And there's no food being delivered to the Prisons anymore anyway. There's just… nothing left." He pulled out a familiar white piece of paper and put it on the table. "Let's make this easy. Sign the Renouncement, and I can let you go."

The unmistakable sound of a body being dragged was audible outside. Somewhere in the building, another gunshot rang out. Andrew was already sweating from the concussion. Now it was worse. "I can't."

"I'm not asking." Costner said, and he drew a gun. "Due Process has been suspended. There's just no time for it. And it's all because of people like you; flooding the Prisons. There's nowhere to put the murderers and rapists anymore, and it's your fault. So we have to do things a whole lot faster now." Costner's flat annoyance was giving way to real anger. "We can't handle the actual criminals, because people like you decided that you're too holy to obey the $#^!*@ LAW!"

"Wait…" Andrew gestured at the closed door, and the obvious killing outside. "Are you saying this is legal? Just… shooting me?"

"I'm saying 'legal' barely matters anymore. But yeah, of the two of us, you're the criminal." As if to punctuate the statement, there was another gunshot. Costner came across the table, hauled Andrew up, and dragged him over to the window. He couldn't tell where they were, but behind the building was an unmistakable sight. It was a huge funeral pyre, already ablaze.

"No judge, no jury. No appeals, or counsel. No mercy, or escape. There's you, and me, and a pen in your hand." Costner growled, right in his ear. "So sign the damn thing, and I can let you go!"

"I-I can't!" Andrew's stomach was flipping over and over so much he was ready to puke. His head was spinning so hard he couldn't tell down from up. The smoke from the pyre was thick and cloying, and he couldn't think past the hand on his neck. Please, God! Help me!

The gun seemed to appear out of nowhere as it slapped his face, and Andrew was slammed down on the table, the paper filling his whole vision. The gun was suddenly pressing into his head so hard that he felt it draw blood. Costner was right in his ear. "SIGN IT!"

"I can't!" Andrew sobbed. "I can't! I wouldn't mean it anyway-"

"I DON'T CARE! There's only two ways out of this room! One of them is with that piece of paper in your hand. The other…"

Andrew was gripping the pen. "Please God, help me, Jehovah God…"

"SIGN IT!" Costner cocked the gun. "DO IT! DO IT NOW!"

"Please!"

"LAST CHANCE!"

"Okay!" Andrew bawled… And he scribbled his signature onto the Renouncement.

The pressure eased instantly, and he was released. Costner picked him up, brushed him off a bit, and put his gun away. "Thank you, sir." He said politely. "You are free to go."

Costner stood and left the room, the door left open behind him. But Andrew couldn't move, weaving on his feet, the paper crushed in his hand.

~~/*\~~

"-decree today, establishing that a state of Martial Law now exists in most population centres. A mandatory curfew is now in place; and the streets will be patrolled; until such time as food drops are no longer necessary. Once again, this country is now under Martial Law. For more on this, our military liaison; Joseph Desmond."

"The order was carefully worded to ensure that this is a temporary measure; until the current state of emergency is ended. The Government was quick to point out the benefits of such an action. For example, the seizure of Resources from Stage One of the FRA has resolved the national debt, entirely."

"A measure that seems to have had little effect on the freefall the economy is in. Mass walkouts are affecting industry, as the economic crash prevents any pay from being allocated."

"Most people were living paycheck to paycheck in the Western World. But the walkouts are also expected to be temporary, until the Final Stage is completed. In the meantime, invoking Martial Law has overcome the problem of bandits on the highways; though not in time to save the Distribution Centres."

"Another reason Martial Law is now in effect. Relief supplies won't be coming. There's nowhere nearby for them to come from. With the recent crop failures becoming a more widespread problem, even the farmers are calling for armed protection, as they scramble to produce something that will-"

~~/*\~~

"Alright folks, can I have your attention, please?" Benedict called. "We're not sure about the food supply, so here's what we're going to do. This tray?" Benedict pointed to the tray from the Mess Hall. "This tray is going to be covered with a sheet; and if you're hungry, grab a bite. But remember, everyone else is doing the same. When it's gone, it's gone. No judgements on anyone who eats first, or more than another. We're going to treat this food like the contribution box."

The Witnesses in holding had been moved again, to one of the larger cellblocks. The cells had no room for them, so the whole block was theirs too; including the central commons, with the perimeter sealed.

"This is not making us popular." Biggs commented to Benedict. "The Cellblocks have always been divided up one way or another. Some prisons, it's severity of crime, or level of threat they represent. But rule number one in prison is 'respect'. You see the other guy, you know who he's with, you don't want any trouble with them. Reputation and Territory is about the only power anyone here has."

"So moving everyone around wrecks the boundaries." Benedict nodded, learning. "Our people will keep to themselves. What about the other factions?"

Biggs thought of Garret. "Hard to say."

Benedict nodded. "All told, it's better this way." He said quietly. "More of us in one place? Like being at an assembly."

"More likely we're protected?" Biggs guessed.

"It's not just angelic protection we're talking about. Anything they do to one of us, they have to deal with all of us; assuming we're all together." Benedict winced. "Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to."

"One upside to moving. Closer to Kit." Biggs set his jaw and gestured at the upper level, where his old cell door was visible. "She'll be okay."

~~/*\~~

Costner came past the open door, and found Andrew still sitting there, right where he'd been left. "Hey." The larger man was surprised. "I told you, you can go."

Andrew was still clutching the Renouncement, signed with his name. Tears were rolling down his face.

Costner didn't seem fazed. "Look, I know you're messed up. Probably feel like you've let someone down, but you have your life back. You're a law-abiding citizen again. And good and evil don't come into that. It's just the law." He opened the door, just as someone was being dragged past.

It was Digger.

Andrew pointed, reeling. "What was his crime? He wasn't an 'Illegal'."

"Who knows?" Costner shrugged. "Anyway, like I said, it's the law. God will understand that. You want to work in a soup kitchen for the rest of your life, you can! You're one of us now; and all it cost was your signature. You're a person again. Part of the world."

Andrew clutched the signed paper to his chest and walked out of the building slowly on wobbly legs, though he had no idea where he was going to go.

~~/*\~~

"For those just joining us, we open with sad news today. Our reporter; Joseph Desmond, has been confirmed as one of those killed in the latest round of Financial Riots. Our deepest condolences go to his family. He will be remembered by those who worked with him as a dedicated journalist, and a good friend."

"Turning now to the current state of emergency; the Walkout has now expanded to public works and services. The greater Metro area can expect water shortages as relief and temporary staff try to restore the works. Stay with us on the air to learn how to harvest and purify drinking water for your own home until the infrastructure is restored; but first, we go to the Metro Area. Luisa, what's the situation?"

"I can barely hear you, but there's a full blown riot in the financial district! With the Market in freefall, there's been a run on every bank. The people here all remember the Financial Crash back in 2007; and what started as an attempt to withdraw their money before it happened again; turned into a free-for-all when the banks locked their doors!"

"Can't the police keep ahead of it?"

"The police were the first ones to force their way in! Their money is apparently lost too; and they were closest to the doors when word got out. Listen, I have to get clear before-"

~~/*\~~

"You're going to die in here." Jones commented. "You understand that, right? In time, your friends will have forgotten you, and so will the world. You'll forget what your favorite food tastes like. You won't know how anything works, you won't recognize anything but these bare walls… I've seen it before. In here for ten years, and they'll never leave. Not really. They'll spend their lives trying to figure out how a smartphone works, never get a job..."

"Hooray for the justice system." Kit drawled.

"I'm serious. Confinement isn't a natural state for humans. Most of them are broken by it eventually. You get through it, you won't recognize the world once you get out. The FRA doesn't give any chance of parole. It's your signature, or your life."

"Truth be told, it's not the first time." Kit countered. "During the Soviet Era, they locked all the Witnesses up in a Gulag. They preached to the prisoners; came out of the Cold War with more members than they ever had before the Ban." She looked at him sideways. "The Nazi's did something similar. They offered to let JW's out if they signed their name too. You comfortable, being on that list?"

"A point for historians to hash out. The only question is where you want to spend the rest of your life: In this box, or out where there's daylight?" Jones pressed. "You've had no trouble listing the sins of pretty much every group or organization that claims God as their ultimate answer to everything. You make no secret of the fact that you're glad the FRA happened."

Kit nodded. "There's only one way to become a JW; and that's to get baptized as a full member. You don't get to coast in if you're born to JW parents. Most of us come from outside. I've spoken to people who came from other faiths. They came to us because they wanted to know God, and they couldn't stomach the hypocrisy and blatant lies of the churches they were born into. We have no illusions about the evils done in the name of God."

"And yet, you won't sign." Jones sighed. "Does your own life mean so little to you?"

"It means more than you can possibly imagine." Kit nodded earnestly, yawning again. "Believe me, I'm counting the days."

~~/*\~~

"Everyone here is counting the days." Biggs commented. "All the stories you guys tell that compare this to the Second World War? Imagine what that would have been like if the brothers in those Camps had known the exact day the war would end?"

"To say nothing of who would win?" Benedict smiled at Biggs. "Everyone I've ever met has at least one 'before' and 'after' moment in their lives. For most people, it's a terrible day. The lucky ones? It's a good day. My grandfather said for him life was always either 'before' or 'after' the war. Most people who are old enough to remember, the world was different 'before' 9/11."

There was no hope of privacy in their cage. Everyone could hear it, even if they were making an effort at discretion, to grant each other a measure of privacy.

"One day; and likely any day now, we'll be able to define our lives as 'before' and 'after' this entire world." Benedict said simply. "Something even the Brothers in Gulags and Concentration Camps couldn't say. When the war ended; they would have to start again. Find new homes, new jobs… But they'd still have to face the damage done, find doctors; live through economic depressions. When our trial is finished, we'll be in Paradise."

Christopher raised a hand. "More than that." He added. "When it's over, there'll never be another war. For that matter, there'll never be another prison. There'll never be another dictator, or another anything that means people like us will have to go through this again. We are, quite literally, the last group of people to endure persecution."

~~/*\~~

"...has confirmed that a state of total lawlessness now exists in the Downtown area; as the military abandon their posts. Other cities in the state are reporting similar issues; as mass walkouts are severely decimating all deployed police and national guard units. Authorities are asking residents of affected areas to remain in their homes for the duration; until order can be restored. Affected areas are hard to localize, as public works like electricity and power are also being affected by the walkouts. Hospitals and emergency services are already feeling the strain; and are warning that ambulances and emergency vehicles will not be able to reach dark zones..."

~~/*\~~

"The one tray hasn't run out yet." Elizabeth commented. "I know people are getting a bite here and there, but it hasn't run out."

"It will." Biggs said with certainty. "One Tray for this many people? It's a sign of goodness that everyone is willing to go hungry for each other, but that only lasts so long."

"It's illegal to deny food and water." Christopher said. "I can talk to the-"

"To who? The guards?" Biggs countered. "The same guardians of law and order that saw nothing at all when you and I were getting teeth broken?"

"Somewhere out there, my aunt is screaming 'I told you so' at the top of her lungs." Elizabeth scoffed. "What do we do?"

"Ration it out. A few of our people are on strict diets, so do what you can to keep everyone going." Benedict patted his stomach. "I can still miss a few meals just to get to the right side of healthy, so don't worry about me."

Everyone in earshot chuckled; and Biggs shook his head.

Christopher noticed. "Something wrong?"

"You mean aside from everything?" Biggs guessed. "The world is ending, and it's even money if we all starve by the end of the week. But the Witnesses are treating it like a convention."

Benedict chuckled. "It is a convention. Look around, there's almost enough people in here for a full circuit; and that's not even counting the holding camps and other prisons." He smiled. "What's a convention, anyway? When under ban, we've met in fields, forests; private homes. A convention is nothing but a group of people with a shared hope, meeting together and leaving the worries of the world behind. In here, we don't have to worry about our jobs, or paying our bills… Hundreds of brothers, taking turns telling each other why our faith matters to us, sharing beliefs and encouragement. It's not the best venue we've had, but it's still a place away from the world."

"I agree with all that, but…" Biggs tried to say it. "Why is everyone smiling?"

"Because it's over." Elizabeth said simply. "You only just made it, but all of us have been waiting for this. Some of us, all our lives. And it's been hard, homesick for a world we haven't seen yet. Most of us have gone through the whole thing with the fear that we wouldn't be ready for this day." She couldn't help the smile. "And now it's here, and we're on the right side of it. Every study, every meeting, every prayer. It was all preparation for this… And we made the right choice. We're just playing it out now."

Biggs bit his lip. "I guess that makes sense."

"Think of everything you hate about this world." Benedict said. "And now imagine that in a week, maybe two, it simply won't be there anymore. We've all been waiting for that, and now it's really happening."

"Biggs is right though. There's one thing missing." Christopher commented. "Biggs, how can I get a marking pen?"

"It should be doable. They tend to discourage anything sharp, but non-violent offenders get to keep notebooks and such." Biggs nodded. "Why?"

And within the hour, every doorway and entrance to the cellblock had a notation written on the walls above; painted on all the doorways. 'Stone Prison Congregation of Jehovah's Witnesses'.

~~/*\~~

"...with our breaking story: The Bailout was rejected by the government. For more on this, our Financial editor."

"I'm at the floor of the Stock Exchange, and it is dead silent. Normally, this place is a madhouse with all the high-stakes trading going on. Today, the market is closed, and may never reopen. The Second Great Financial Crash was expected to be met with a bailout, as it was last time. But with all the world's major governments having similar problems, the government can't agree on terms."

"What's the next step?"

"Well… there isn't one. Nobody can agree on a deal. And until a deal is made to raise the limit on the national 'credit card', the economy is dead."

"But… they have to. I mean, there's no other option. There could be a million homeless people in this country by the end of the week-"

"Projections say four million, but both parties agree that until the other side compromises, they won't meet to discuss a plan."

~~/*\~~

"Can I have your attention, please?"

Biggs felt a chill at the familiar voice. The Warden came into the Commons; flanked by guards. "I have been instructed to make an announcement to Illegals of your denomination."

Benedict rose, giving it his full attention. Biggs noticed the look on his face; like he'd been expecting this.

"Your leadership is gone." The Warden spoke loudly enough that his voice carried to everyone. "They're all gone. Our investigators say that they've absconded with millions of dollars; stolen from your donations." The Warden paused to let that sink in. "With this in mind; it is our hope that your group will change your minds. As you're among our non-violent offenders; you have an option to leave now. Sign the Renouncement, and you will be free to go."

"So, the same offer we've had this whole time?" Biggs commented under his breath.

Benedict moved closer. "What does that mean? They're 'Gone'?" He demanded of the Warden.

"It means they've left you here to rot, Prisoner. That's who you followed all the way to jail." The Warden told him thickly. "Sign the Renouncement; and you've escaped this cult. You stay, and the only ones who escape are the old men who've ripped you off their whole lives."

"Gone." Benedict repeated. "Does that mean you can't find them, or does it mean you had them in your cells; and now they've vanished?"

The Warden's face changed. He hadn't expected the question, but it was one he wanted an answer to as well. He turned away from Benedict without answering, storming out.

Benedict turned back to his people with a smile. "It's almost over."

~~/*\~~

"Does it bother you that Your Guy is promising to be the greatest mass killer in history?" Jones asked.

Kit jerked upright. She'd been half asleep, praying until her brain stopped working. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, as I understand it; your beliefs say that anyone who's not a Believer is doomed. There are only a few million of you. You don't agree with the majority, that's fine. Because you're not wrong: Historically, the majority opinion hasn't always been accurate. But if you're right, the body-count is going to be immense."

"Above my pay grade." She groaned, licking her dry lips. "May I have some water, please?"

"I'm just saying your people talk about peace and love for all, but your ideal world is one where everyone else is dead."

"You find a single weapon in any of our homes? Was I carrying one when I turned myself in?" She countered. "We never said we were the only ones to be saved. God makes that judgement. The Bible doesn't give us a number. Who He has on the list I honestly can't tell you. I'm sure at least a few names will be a surprise."

"And everyone else is wiped out; and it doesn't seem to bother you; is my point."

"Well, first of all; between civil problems and climate problems, it's not like the human race had a long life ahead of it." She tried to think clearly. "When the ship sinks, you don't blame the people on the lifeboats. Secondly, it's not just what's being destroyed; it's what's being saved. Scripture says that God knows when a sparrow dies; and we've wiped out more than half of all living things on this planet in the last hundred years alone. Third, we do care. That’s why we spent so much of our time knocking on doors, begging people to listen. And fourth, it's a religion, Jones. Not only is He allowed to decide for the world, He has to; now or never. God is allowed to have the last word."

"God." He snorted. "Right. Let's talk for a moment about God." Jones was finally showing some real emotion. The scorn was growing. "God likes to judge, but He doesn't like to help. God sees all and knows all; so when someone flies a plane into a building, He does nothing. When some kid walks into his school, locked and loaded, He does nothing. Worship that?"

"Why is there suffering?" She actually laughed. "If you're in here to break me, don't start with the first question we get answered." She cut him off before he could speak. "I'm serious! The first time a JW talked to me, I spat the same question at them. First question, first study, they answered me straight out of scripture. Ten minutes, and I had an answer to the age old question. One that made sense. Heaven isn't running the world. This time next year that'll be different. Jehovah will be in charge of the Earth for the first time since Eden. I look forward to seeing what it looks like. For sure, it'll be better than this."

"How convenient for you. The world is run by evil, so don't even try to do anything until that changes."

"I am doing something. I'm letting God know which side I've picked." Kit shot back. "Are you seeing what's going on outside? God has watched all of the horror stories Earth has ever told; including the ones done in His name. I haven't seen a TV since you threw me in here, but last I heard: This is the counterattack. He's starting with all the people who gave Him the credit for the Crusades, the Terror, the child abuse…"

"You don't have to list the charges to me. They're the reason you're here right now." Jones cut her off. "And for the record, we aren't declaring war on God. What people believe is their business. We can't stop people praying on their own."

Kit's head tilted. "What do you pray, I wonder?"

Jones rose from his seat and stretched. "Right now, I pray that this works out."

"What do you mean?"

"Thousands and thousands of Witnesses in this Country, all turning themselves in at the same time? The System is a little overloaded. That kept you safe, until now. They've finally set the policy for you."

"Gulag or gas chamber?" Kit drawled with dark humor.

Jones didn't laugh. "Y'know, none of the other Illegals give us this trouble. Most of them are happy to get outta here and have their faith be a private thing."

"Also not new. Jesus told his people to 'go and make disciples'. Ours is the only religion that took that seriously in modern times. If we didn't preach, we'd be ignoring a direct instruction from our Lord."

"About a billion other members of Christendom didn't have that problem."

"And where are they now?"

"Living their lives, free to come and go?" Jones shot back. "Every Church had its Zealots, but even the Clergy could tell it was time for them to go and get a real job. You're the only ones that would rather stay inside en masse."

"Makes me wonder what's going on outside." Kit commented. "Haven't seen the news in a while. And for the record, all of our Elders have a 'real job'. They never got paid cash for being a Witness. Neither have I. It's all volunteer. So is the Preaching."

"Granted." Jones told her. "But your 'status' as being 'salvageable' is fast coming to an end. This… This is your last chance."

Her eyes focused on him, suddenly wide awake. "You're saying we're at the end of this now." She breathed. "You're saying this is the end."

"That's what I'm saying."

And then it happened. Kit looked at him with a look of abject pity. "Then this is goodbye."

~~/*\~~

"This is goodbye."

Biggs turned to the door, and found Garrett was there. The general prison population wasn't allowed in the Illegals Sector, but they could still talk through the port in the door. "Are you allowed to talk to us?"

"Doesn't matter anymore." Garrett shook his head. He looked almost a hundred years older. "They're giving you guys the whole place."

"What?" Biggs went to the doorway. He wasn't allowed to leave, but as he looked around outside as best he could, less than a third of the usual complement of guards were visible. "Where is everyone?"

"They're moving us." Garrett said without a smile. "Everyone except your guys. They expected a much smaller number of people holding out. There are millions of JW's in the world, and…" Garrett looked awkward. "You remember when I read that book 'The Great Escape'? About the POW Camp during WW2? We both made the joke that we couldn't believe it was in a prison library?"

"I remember."

"Well, the end of that book, when the Escape failed; the guards took more than half of the prisoners involved out into the country and shot them all. It was illegal, so they did it where nobody was looking. Called it 'killed while trying to escape'." Garrett looked down. "Your brothers will have the whole prison to yourselves soon enough. There's almost no guards left. Most of them ran for it days ago."

"Ran for it? Why?" Biggs stared at him. "They don't let us see the news…"

"I know." Garrett said quietly. "Sign the Renouncement, Biggs. Please? You can come with us if you do. They'll pull over and let you out. They'll wish you a nice day and everything. The Law says they have to let you go if you sign…"

Biggs felt tears gathering. "Garrett, you know I can't."

~~/*\~~

"Reports from the UN are sketchy, but it looks like fighting has broken out in almost every major city. With lines of communication and trade completely shut down; most commanders and local leaders have no contact with superior officers and authority figures. We've been advised that in such circumstances; local commanders have discretionary powers over their men. At this point, they're in command. I cannot get in touch with any affiliates or field reporters; or even confirm they're alive."

"There are reports that state governors have ordered the closure of all borders, and that National Guard units are to enforce this ruling. In a practical sense, most western governments have ceased to exist; with resources maxed out and civil unrest destroying the infrastructure. We have no reports at all from international sources. Even the internet is offline. To be honest, we don't know if we're still transmitting. And even if we are, it's unlikely that there's many people left in front of their television. I can see at least two militia's fighting each other in the six blocks around our newsroom.

"That problem is international. Once again, these reports are unconfirmed, but it seems that the militaries of several different countries, engaged in joint efforts to attack sites deemed 'Illegals' by the FRA have been sustaining massive losses from Friendly Fire. One source in the Pentagon was quoted as saying: 'They were all on different sides for the last hundred years, and have no fear of consequences anymore. Soldiers need to eat too. It's every man with a gun for himself.'

"Last reports from Europe spoke of nuclear… ohgod, it's just… I KNOW I'M STILL ON THE AIR! ...how did this… how did it come to this so fast?!"

~~/*\~~

"Can't figure it out, can you?" Kit yawned. "I've seen movies. If this was the 1600's, you would have bricked up the door by now, like Count of Monte Cristo."

"It may yet come to that." Jones snorted.

"Right, so you can't figure out what we're waiting for. My brother told me that only two things keep you sane in Prison: Dreaming of getting out, and dreaming of revenge. I have nobody to take revenge on; and you've told me there's no chance of parole."

"I know exactly what you're waiting for. I got those pamphlets too. You're waiting for God to notice us again and do something biblical. That doesn't seem like a pipe dream to you?"

"Maybe it would have a year ago, but as I said; you're only making me more sure at this point." Kit yawned. "Maybe it is all a dream. But it's the only one that hasn't let me down yet. Like I said, the FRA was part of the dream coming true."

"A dream of Paradise." Jones shook his head. "A fairy tale."

"Can you offer me better?"

"I can offer reality."

"I'd rather have something far better than this world at its most 'real', thank you." Kit couldn't stop yawning. "And that's what's coming. A fair shot. Equality among the races. Food and safety and eternal life for everyone." She actually dozed off for a moment, mid-sentence. "Like that." She was fading, giving answers by rote; but she was so exhausted her head swam, and so thirsty the words hurt her throat when she spoke them. Little by little, she had been losing this fight for a while.

"Does it matter to you that every step towards equality and freedom for all was done over the objection of most religious groups?" Jones commented. "Segregation and Slavery were legal. For most of the modern era, a gay man had a better chance of getting lynched than getting a job. Women in the Victorian age had to either land a husband or sell their bodies to survive, because the idea of them getting an education and supporting themselves was laughable. The further we got from 'the traditional values' of the churches, the better life got for everyone."

"It's not the same thing." Kit scorned. "There's nothing in Christian Scripture that condones segregation, or lynchings, or denying women work."

"And yet, who do you think fought all those reforms? A hundred years ago, a black man was part of the furniture. Now they're among billionaires and world leaders… And God had nothing to do with that. Common sense saw evil being done, and they rose up to fight it. And it was hard. And it's not over yet. But the Beast's back was broken." He leaned in closer to her. "So you tell me, what's more likely: That a talking snake tricked a naked lady into eating an apple; and The Almighty God decided to hold a six thousand year grudge on the tiny little nothings that live on a speck of rock in the cosmos? Or that a bunch of greedy, abusive people made up an ultimate authority to give themselves power; and common sense finally got fed up with being insulted by old men in costumes and just… made it stop?"

Kit was seeing three of him, exhausted. Jehovah God, keep me focused, please…

"I mean it, Kit: What's more likely? That an all-powerful, omnipresent person ordered us to love Him for eternity, under threat of eternal torture? Or that we needed something to fill in the blanks, the same way the Ancients did when they prayed to the Sun, or the Tides, or the Stars they didn't really see properly?"

Kit winced. "You know that people of my faith don't accept hellfire. Or some 'cosmic plan' that justifies cancer and earthquakes and all that. I mean, you have to know this. We've been at this for days. Don't lump us in with people who try to see 'God's Loving Design' in a tornado. That's not us."

"You are the only ones left who care to see the difference." Jones said seriously. "Everyone who did try to explain hellfire as a sign of Divine Love? All of them have signed. All the people who looked the other way when holy men abused children and embezzled money from the pockets of starving people? They're all on trial for their sins. 'Your people' are a handful of sand against a tidal wave. The last gasp of a time that nobody will tolerate any longer. Like segregation, homophobia, institutionalised sexism, and every other way to discriminate and hate each other for no real purpose… Religion is the last division that turns brother against brother, and father against son. And you're the last little bit of it to be snuffed out."

Kit said nothing.

"People today look at pictures of mobs protesting black students going into a white school, screaming abuse at a six year old girl. One generation later, and people today find that sort of 'hate' repellent. Twenty years from now, we'll look at religion the same way we look at the Holocaust: A force of hate that was exposed for what it was, and driven into the sea."

He was so… certain. Immovable. Undeniable. And just for a second, in spite of everything… Tired beyond anything she'd felt before; and losing the last of her will to keep going; Kit was exhausted enough to want that certainty for herself. "I want to see my brother." She sniffed, voice breaking.

"Your brother… is no longer your concern." Jones said. "None of them are."

Kit froze. "Are you… Are you saying…"

Jones was unreadable, his voice low. "When I first came in this cell, I was trying to convince my superiors that we could 'deprogram' your people enough to get you to sign the Renouncement, and go back to your lives; if we could just get you away from each other. Apparently, I was wrong. The determination has been made that it's not worth the effort. Given that the… other method, was good enough for all the Illegals who wouldn't sign. You're not that big a crowd."

There was a knock at the cell door. It was Rankin. "Can I talk to you?"

Jones rose and went to the door. He didn't even look back at her. The door slammed between them, and somehow, it sounded louder and more… final.

Kit had never felt more exhausted or alone. Please, Jehovah God… Answer me! Say something! He's lying. He's gotta be lying. You'd never let it happen. Not here. Not now. Not like this. There was someone in the Bible who fell for this. After a huge hero moment; he thought he was alone in the world… I can't remember. Please, I'm so tired…

~~/*\~~

The situation was getting more desperate. The lights were flickering out and the Prison was quiet. Biggs didn't realize how unsettling a Prison could be when empty. But it was crowded where they were, people packed in densely. They sat wherever they could, on the stairs, perched on the tables, benches…

And yet, the feeling was so calm. Everyone was smiling, laughing and telling stories.

Everyone except Biggs. Biggs stayed against the wall, eyes always moving. He was less comfortable with crowds than everyone else put together. The room felt like a cattle pen to him.

Eleanor was in a similar state, when the door opened, and a small boy was pushed in. "Jace!" Eleanor nearly shrieked, running to her son; pushing through the crowd.

There was a warm round of applause as the other seized children followed him in, quickly making their way to their parents. Biggs looked, and found Colgan at the door. He pushed his way there to speak to him. "You're pulling out, aren't you?"

Colgan nodded. "Yup. The kids… It's amazing. Not one Witness child was placed into another home. It just didn't work out. Every other group that refused to cooperate, the System took their kids and put them somewhere. Your kids never left this Prison."

Biggs sent a look to Benedict, feeling reality shift around him. "Well… not as surprising as you think."

Colgan closed the door, spoke through the bars. "I have to lock this again. I can't give you run of the whole Prison, even if…" He looked sick. "I didn't take this job because I like beating on people, Biggs. Let alone women and children."

"I know." Biggs said quietly.

Colgan stared at him. "They hate you so much. Why?"

Biggs just smiled sadly. "Where's Kit?"

Colgan stared at him for a long moment, and then turned to go. They would never see each other again.

~~/*\~~

"... This morning an Executive Order was given granting general amnesty for all deeds of ownership, all contractual obligations, and all insurance claims in the greater Metro Area. All Banking, Industrial and Corporate Contracts have been declared null and void. In addition, all public works funded by taxpayer money have been declared shut down; as the Government cannot meet their commitments until the current state of emergency has ended.

"This will include prisons and law enforcement. We're receiving unconfirmed reports that most of the Prisons have been evacuated of prisoners, and that most of the Prisoner Transfers have ended in escape or summary execution. As yet, we have no word on how many prisoners are loose; and the final statement from Federal Authorities has stated that if you live within an area that included a penitentiary, the safest thing to do is remain in your home until…. (Sigh) until the 'current crisis' has ended.

"Questions were asked as to how this would affect the last phase of the Final Revelation Act, but there were no specifics given, save an assurance that the 'Illegals' wouldn't be allowed to take advantage of the situation."

~~/*\~~

Christopher came over to the wall, and Biggs noticed the others seeing the two of them, all finding something interesting to do elsewhere. Without a word being spoken, the rest of the Congregation gave them a chance to chat 'privately'. "You seem to be more worried than anything else, Biggs."

"Well, it's only the end of the world." Biggs drawled.

"Granted, but you're thinking something you're not saying." Christopher commented. "As a former cop, I think I know what it is."

Biggs nodded, realizing he and Christopher had a similar perspective on what was going on. "They've taken the other Prisoners away. There's no such thing as a prison with spare room; and they haven't let us out of the Common Area here. If they were giving us the Prison as a gulag, they'd have us in the cellblock. But there's been nobody in or out. They're keeping us all in one place."

Christopher nodded. "I left the force when I got the Truth. But I know what it means when cops all look the other way."

"They're not letting us out of here." Biggs nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if they just decide to blow the whole Prison apart." He tilted his chin at the others. "Do we tell them?"

"The Bible's timeline says this whole mess ends when they make the attack on us. That's going to come at some point… I'm guessing that's the Phase Four they wouldn't talk about on television."

Biggs nodded. "Mm." He was silent for a long moment. Christopher was clearly waiting for more. "Everyone here has a 'first day in Paradise' list." Biggs admitted. "I don't have one. I've been a Believer for a few months. I've spent more time in jail as a Witness than I have outside. I can't picture a Paradise Earth. I can barely picture present day Earth."

Christopher chuckled. "But you're here. We're not blind to what it was asking of you; when we were all told to surrender ourselves." He gestured around. "The Bible calls it 'walking by faith'. But believe me; God never walks anyone off a cliff. About a third of the Bible was written from a prison cell. The chains on Paul's wrists, the stocks he was locked in; even the locked doors. Prison gates fell off their hinges when Jehovah willed it. It's still the same God that set Paul free, the same God that told the prophets how to describe this whole time of Trial. He's been waiting for this longer than we have. He's not going to change His mind at the last second."

"I read that part about Paul and Silas a thousand times, back before they took my Bible." Biggs said softly. "Hard to imagine a miracle happening, but it's a favorite verse among prisoners. It's wild to think that it might actually happen to me. Lots of prisoners turn to religion after so long inside; but the idea that I might actually see it fulfilled..."

"I'm sure." Christopher agreed with a smile. "But there's something even better: You won't have to try imagining Paradise for long. You'll get to be there and see it for yourself. We all will." He smothered a smile. "And to tell you the truth, whatever we imagine? It probably won't be anything compared to the real thing."

"I hope so." Biggs nodded. "But we've got to get to the end of this first."

~~/*\~~

"It's over now." Rankin said quietly. "I've gotten word from the Government. They say we're to dismiss the staff and pull back all ops. The economic collapse means they just can't afford operations costs. They've abandoned this part of the country."

Jones took the printout. "Holy hell. They're actually disbanding the police?"

"Not just them. Police, postal service, hospitals; even the libraries. All public works. My people have all been dismissed." Rankin said, beaten; slouched in his chair. "Most of them took guns and food with them. I'm told the prison buses getting the Non-Witnesses out of here were attacked on the freeway; and most of them are loose. I don't have a police force to round them up."

"Or food enough to feed the only Prisoners we have left." Jones commented.

Rankin rose from his seat, and pulled his service gun out of his desk drawer; along with a bottle of scotch. "I have to go home. My wife was on the phone three times an hour until the phone lines cut out. Your driver took off too, and took your car with him. I can take you as far as the city."

"I'll…" Jones growled, low in his throat. "I'll be along. I have unfinished business."

"You're still trying to break her. Why? What's to gain?" Rankin asked. "You started this to prove to your superiors that they'd sign, given enough time to think… Can you even reach any of them anymore?"

"No." Jones admitted. "But I'm close, and… I have to do this." He looked at Rankin. "I think that's all that's left, really. People just doing what they've always done. Maybe it's a waste of time, but this is where I stood when it mattered. Maybe it only matters to us now because we're still here to do it."

Rankin threw back his drink. "I know a few guys on the force who had cases they couldn't let go of. Grudges that came with a casefile attached. Funny, but right now, I can't remember why I cared so much." He looked out his office window, down at the commons, where the Witnesses were. "They do. They still care so much. If we opened the doors right now, would they even want to go?"

"If they were smart, they would." Jones said flatly. "You said, back when this started; that sooner or later they'd have to suspend due process. That's happened."

"So I hear. Every cop I know has a list of guys who were guilty as sin, and got a walk. With due process suspended, they're able to shoot first. Some of them have been waiting for this for a long time." Rankin poured himself another. "What's our move here?"

"Long story short, let's just say that we've only got a few hours to get well away from the Prison."

Rankin paused. "Make the story longer."

Jones sniffed. "A few years ago, the Powers That Be gamed out a scenario. Ever since 9/11 we've known that the infrastructure isn't ready for sustained threats. So they came up with contingency plans, just in case… well, in case things ever got so bad we couldn't come back from it. The question became: How to give the future its best shot? Part of that was to eliminate the dangerous weapons, equipment, and people. People who might take advantage of the chaos. If we can't keep the world spinning, the least we can do is make it a little less… Post-Apocalyptic. It's not like anyone's going to court-martial a chopper pilot anymore, no matter what he blows up."

"And the 'Illegals' are on that list?" Rankin guessed. "Y'know, I read up on some of the Fringe groups. I figured I'd have a few in my prison at some point. The people with Cult Followers and such? The JW's don't fit the profile."

Jones picked up the prison keys. "I'll be half an hour. Then we go."

~~/*\~~

"Are we on? ...I'm sorry. To our viewers… I'm vamping, right now. The research staff have all fled their posts. We don't have anyone on the phones, beyond the two or three people who don't have anywhere to go. A lot of our people have tried to return home to their families; but reports of fires burning unchecked have… There's an old Journalism joke that if the world was coming to an end, all a good reporter would care about is where to put the camera. I think… I think I may just be the lucky journalist who gets to make that call; since my producers have also left. For anyone who may be seeing this; I believe this may be the twilight of human civilization. We've known that humanity was on a collision course with itself for a long time. I have no idea how we went from world unity to this so fast… God, it was so fast...

"There's nothing on the prompter, so this is just me now. You should know that before we lost contact with everyone, we were given the stats on what's being destroyed and looted; and the truth is we've been asked to keep it a secret in an effort to head off… well, exactly what's happening. If you're looking for hope right now, the best we can hope for is to start again fresh. Human beings have capacity they never knew. Whatever's left when the dust settles will have to start over.

"We've been trying to get some word from an official source regarding… well, everything. But as yet, we can't even get in touch with our affiliate stations. There have been reports that rioters have marched on several High Level Government Buildings around the world, though what the protestors hope to achieve is unclear, as lethal force has been used to… I'm sorry, I can't do this. Lucy, if you're still able to see this, get the kids together. We have to get out of the city before-"

(THIS IS THE EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM! PLEASE REMAIN CALM!)

~~/*\~~

Benedict came over to Biggs. "What are you thinking?"

Biggs pointed out the viewing window, lined with wire. The locked door was the edge of their world. "He's still here. The man in the dark suit. He was there when we turned ourselves in. He's still going to Kit's cell. The other guards, the other prisoners, even the Janitors have all made a break for it. Why is he still keeping her in there?!"

Benedict said nothing for a long time. "She's no more in danger than we are, Brother."

"Yeah, but she's…" Biggs trailed off. "When Rankin came for Elizabeth, we knew what could happen the second he got her alone. We surrounded her instantly. They've had my sister since Day One."

Benedict bowed his head. "Pray with me?"

Biggs nodded.

"Father Jehovah, we know you must be hearing many prayers of supplication right now." Benedict said softly. Biggs didn't close his eyes, and saw others bowing their heads, following along. People he'd barely met, praying for his sister. "But our sister is apart from us; and we can only guess at why. We know she's not alone right now, but if she's feeling lonely, we ask that you be with her now more than ever; and with us as well. What comes next will make all this worth the wait; and we're grateful that even our endurance comes with your help." Benedict lifted his eyes to Biggs. "Go on."

"Jehovah God…" Biggs took up the prayer. "If there's something you need me to do, please tell me what it is. I know that I can't save her; but if there's something she needs; something we can provide… Please make that clear. Otherwise, all we can do is keep asking."

"In the name of your son, who is soon to take charge of this little world of ours, we ask for your help, and put ourselves in your keeping." Benedict lifted his head. "Amen."

"Y'know something?" Biggs said suddenly, with no idea where the thought, or the impulse to speak actually came from. He would later think it was very out of character for him. "I've never actually sung one of your songs. I’ve been hearing you sing them in here, but my first time in your Hall was the day they started the FRA. None of my studies with Kit involved the songbook. I just don't know the words."

Benedict chuckled. "Well, we'd better teach you some."

~~/*\~~

Everything is so hard here. Kit thought miserably. The walls, the floor, the ceiling… Even the bed is like a rock. Hard, and rough and painful. It's all so hard now…

Jones was at his usual spot beside the door. She hadn't even heard him come in. Maybe he'd always been there. Maybe he was just a fact of her universe now...

"I want my brother." She croaked out. This time, there was a sob in her voice. She hadn't had more than a cup of water in days. She was starting to believe that Jones didn't have any left to offer her.

"I can no longer give you that." Jones said evenly. "There's nothing left to fight for, Kit. There's nothing left to win. Not for either of us."

Kit squeezed her eyes shut. Her imagination was in overdrive, trying to figure that out. Is Biggs dead? Am I the only one left? Is Jones trying to save me, right now?

"Sign the Renouncement. Please." Jones said, and his tone was so resigned. After weeks of being certain as the tide, he was suddenly out of words.

Kit said nothing.

"Do you understand that this is your very last chance?" Jones said quietly, the gun in his hand apparent. "Your God is not going to rescue you. He hasn't saved anyone. Billions of people have signed. Those that haven't are either downstairs, or went down shooting. God didn't get involved for any of them."

Kit turned her head. Jones hadn't seen the words. Kit had managed to keep them covered with the poster, but she'd read them often enough to have them constantly playing in her head. But that had been a lifetime ago, and she'd gotten almost no food, and she was just so… so tired.

"It's over, kid." Jones said softly. "It's over now. There's nothing to fight for anymore. Sign, and I can take you out of here, put you in a real bed, in a real house, tend to your ills; you can be comfortable and safe and warm. Plenty of food and water, plenty of rest. Or you can stay here, go mad from hunger and thirst, and turn to ashes in a dark, locked room. It's not a trick question."

And just for a second, it got through to her. Kit was exhausted, hungry, so thirsty she didn't think she'd be able to swallow a drink of water if he offered. She'd been saying 'no' for so long the word was turning to gibberish in her head. All the thoughts of 'proven true' and 'not alone' were hidden behind a cloud of exhaustion; and the words coming from Jones seemed so certain…

And then she heard them singing.

"In these days, dark and lawless days,

Shines a light we can see.

Like the dawn of another day

That will soon come to be."

And just for a second, out of all of them, Kit was certain she could hear her brother's voice.

Tears in her eyes, Kit slowly dragged herself upright, leaning back against the wall, reminding herself of her brother. And Elizabeth. And Benedict. And a dozen others. All of them. She felt like she could hear each of their voices; singing straight to her.

"Shining through the darkness,

Ours is a message so bright.

It offers hope and light

Sparkling like the daylight,

Bringing tomorrow in sight

So ends the night."

She felt along behind her back for the scratch marks beside the bunk. Biggs put those words there. It was for himself, but they were ready for you, Kit. She told herself. Biggs was right here where you're sitting, carving those words you taught him, right there in the stone; waiting for you to find them.

Jones saw the shift in her; and knew what it meant. Resigned, he spoke, once and for all. "Sign the Renouncement. This is your very last chance."

"No." She said to him, certain.

And it came to her then, like a warm blanket wrapped around her heart. She felt her face shift to an expression of total peace. Like she'd climbed a mountain and there was nothing left but to enjoy the view.

Jones stared into her for a long moment, and nodded, heading out. As the door slammed back into place behind him, Kit knew she would never see him again.

Kit sang the last words to herself along with them. "So ends the night..."

~~/*\~~

Still beside the door, Biggs saw the man in the black suit leave Kit's cell. He didn't even look in the direction of their room. It was the only sign of life from outside the space they had lived in for over a day.

Biggs worked the door. The handle turned, but the door wouldn't budge. He looked through the scratched glass window, and saw nobody. All the cells were open. He peered down the other side of the door through the narrow view, and saw the chain. "The door isn't just locked. It's chained." He peered outside into the rest of the complex. "Only one door still closed." He observed.

Benedict realized it at the same moment he did. "Kit!"

Biggs started pulling at the door again. "We have to get her in here."

"Why the rush?"

"Look around, boss. Other than that guy, we haven't seen a guard in almost two days. He didn’t take a tray in. You think they left her that much food and water? We've been abandoned here."

The two of them wrestled with the door for a moment, but they knew it wouldn't budge. Biggs kicked it with a frustrated growl and spun away.

"Biggs, this isn’t going to last, no matter where she is." Benedict observed.

"Well, maybe it makes me a terrible Witness to say so, but I can picture persecution far more than Paradise. I've been on this side of a locked prison door for most of my life at this point, and I can't picture it just-"

The sound of chains rattling came from the far side of the door.

"-opening." Biggs spun, surprised. He tried the door. It opened easily. The chains were on the floor outside. Each link had been severed; fallen individually. He looked upwards. "What? You were waiting for me to say it?"

Benedict grinned. "Admit it, Brother. God having a sense of humor would explain so much."

Biggs didn't waste another moment, rushing out into the hallway. He took the stairs to the next level three at a time until he reached the door to his old cell; and the door swung open on its own as he got there. "Kit!"

She was shaking from dehydration, eyes unfocused, curled into herself. "Biggs?" She whispered, like she wasn't sure if she was really there. "I thought I heard you singing, but I think I dreamed it."

Biggs scooped his sister up. "Come on. Let's go to the others."

"...thirsty."

"We can fix that too."

She squeezed his hand. "So." She croaked. "What do you wanna do tomorrow?"

~~/*\~~

"...I-I-I think… I think this is real. I think it's really happening. ...Oh God. Are we still on the air?!"

"Forget the #%*#& cameras! Even if there's still a working TV for a thousand miles, you think they can't just go outside and… Oh lord, is this really happening?!"

"...its real. It's really true. It's really happening! Gawd! It's… It's too late! (sob) Oh, please, GOD! Please God, I had no idea..."

~~/*\~~

Everyone had gathered around Kit as Biggs carried her in. Within seconds, someone had brought water, they'd made a space for her at the cots; and almost a dozen of the sisters were gathered around her, fussing.

Kit gulped down a whole bottle of water, and slept.

Biggs didn't take his eyes off her for a long time, when he suddenly noticed Benedict there, smiling at him with the food tray in his hand. "Problem?"

Benedict held the tray out, and lifted the folded sheet that had covered it.

Biggs looked, brain short circuiting. "It's still nearly full."

"Yup. Kept us alive for days, and it barely looks touched."

"Well, if you're saying it's a miracle; I hope you're right; because the alternative is we starve. They locked us all in here and walked away." Biggs said quietly to Benedict. "We haven't heard an engine or an airplane in days." He stared at Kit, almost haunted. "Why is she smiling?"

"Same reason you are." Benedict said kindly.

Biggs put a hand to his face. Sure enough, his face was perfectly relaxed; even happy. "I don't understand."

"I do." Christopher said, touching the still swollen bruises. "It's happening to us all now. For me, it was facing the abuse. For you, it was having your former faction turn on you, for Kit; it was a prolonged solo challenge. We're all of us being tested; being pressured. We almost never get to pick what that test is, but it's always personal. What affects one may not worry another. You're smiling because you came through it. The time of Trial and Testing is over; my brother."

Biggs blinked. "Over?"

Benedict nodded, and recited scripture. "A man named Stephen was the first Christian martyr. When he made his stand; his enemies were ready to kill him dead. Scripture says 'they saw that his face was like an angel's face'." He smiled. "Because he had passed the test. Every single point in our lives has been building to this day. We're living in a time of prophecy fulfilled. I don't know what's happening outside, but in here we haven't lost a single person who obeyed instructions. We've been sharing the food and water from days ago; and you know what? It hasn't run out. Not once. One tray of food and water has somehow sustained hundreds of people for days. We've been living here, surrounded by our worst fears; and we're all smiling, singing and giving thanks. We passed the test."

Biggs felt his eyes prickle. "It's true. This is really happening." He breathed. "It's really happening, and I'm here."

"Here. Now and forever." Benedict nodded. "This Age of Miracles will never end. The things we'll see in times to come…"

"No more locked doors or barred windows." Biggs mused.

"No more isolation or fear." Kit whispered, eyes still closed.

"No more hunger or abuse." Elizabeth put in, and Biggs realized everyone in the space was listening.

"No more lies." Christopher whispered. "Justice with compassion. Truth instead of half-truths."

Benedict smiled warmly, with the Angelic smile on his face too. "I woke up this morning, and I couldn't remember what my old apartment looked like. I had become used to this. It took only a few weeks. If they've given up on us, then we're at the end of this road. Another month after it ends, I won't remember this Prison. A few months after that, I won't remember anywhere else."

"It may take a little longer for me." Biggs said quietly.

"I'm sure it will. Everyone will come out of this world with scars of some kind. Some will run deeper and darker than others. But even problems that take a lifetime to deal with will fade, for the simple reason that we have no idea what a 'lifetime' really is." Benedict almost laughed at his own comment. "We've all been trained as JW's. Not just to preach, but to 'put on a new personality'. We've been training our people how to see beyond skin color, or trust powers other than money and politics; and how to give comfort and unconditional love to people that have been hurt deeply by the world."

There was a rumble of agreement.

"Ten minutes into Paradise, any newborn child won't be aware of half the things we've dreaded for our entire lives." Benedict finished. "Ours is the last group that have to deal with this kind of suffering. And after a year, a century, of living in a place where there isn't even a reminder of what hurt us; will this world even come to mind?"

As if to answer the question… the sky outside suddenly went dark. It was already night, and yet the darkness outside suddenly grew a whole lot deeper. From inside, there was little artificial light. The guards had all fled, and they were locked in, alone, with most of the lights left off. And yet outside the sky had gone dark. No moon and stars.

There was a loud silence; over which Biggs could hear the sound of helicopters. Lots of them, getting closer. From inside it was hard to see it happen, but they all knew, wholeheartedly. This was it.

Without a word exchanged, everyone rose to their feet.

Benedict said it anyway. "But as these things start to occur, stand up straight and lift up your heads, because your deliverance is getting near."

***

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