"Good evening, everyone.

I know you must be nervous. You must know that I am too. Even though I know exactly what's going to happen. Even though I know everything will be all right. If I, knowing what I know, feel the anxiety of what we're about to do, I can't expect you to deny your natural feelings.

The only thing I can do now, is to remind you once more of the story of our guide and protector, the great Roland Barrett. How his will was so strong, so fixated, that he freed himself of the amber prison. How he refused to be coerced by the lies that society, the police, the government – all agents of the devil – tried to feed him. And what is that lie again? Tell me."

The dark man's gazed turned to a young girl sitting on the floor with her brothers and sisters. She was one of the newer members of their family, but she had absorbed their teachings quickly. Her doe eyes grew larger as the attention of their group fell on her. She opened her mouth, mumbling the words, until finally sound emerged from her throat and she responded, "That what is happening to our world is natural. That science can explain it."

"Precisely! It's important to hold on to the truth…"

As Raymond Berlin continued his speech to the family, Jamila sank back into her own thoughts after answering his question. She was anxious; truth be told, she was terrified. But sitting on the floor with the others, the men and women she'd come to care for like her blood family, gave her a sense of purpose and camaraderie that she'd been searching for for a long time. She would never tell them, but despite her convictions that what she was about to do was right, there were sharp needles of doubt piercing her inside. There was a part of her that wanted to run.

And then, just like that, Raymond's speech was over and his attendants were preparing their "gateway." In their holy book, a gateway was used to take the faithful away from the evils of the world and bring them to paradise. It required giving up their mortal bodies and their material possessions, but the reward was far more precious than anything on earth.

The white-robed attendants poured out Styrofoam cups of some sort of drink, and were now traveling to each row of people, handing them the cups. It was already known that no one was to take a drink until every got their own cup. Jamila could feel her heart roaring in her ears as the attendant for her section made her way up to her row. The attendant handed a cup to their row leader, who passed them down to the very end of their row until everyone had a cup.

Jamila accepted hers with a slightly shaky hand. She looked down into the soft white cup at the dark blue liquid floating inside. She held it subtley to her nose and inhaled. It smelled like berries.

"No pain," an elderly lady named Julia whispered to her. "That's Najarro's promise to us. Sweeter than wine." Jamila looked over at her neighbor, into the blue eyes crinkled with age and the gentle smile gracing the lined face. The girl could tell the old woman was not afraid.

But why should she? Jamila couldn't help but think with a little bitterness. If this is a mistake, what does it matter? She's close to the end anyway.

Berlin spoke once more. "My family, it is time. Remember what our book has taught us. Life in this miserable, crumbling world has been a test. Who has the courage to sacrifice everything they have for the truth? Who has the faith to accept Najarro's plan? As I look out at all of you, so brave, so faithful, I know the answer. Now," he concluded, holding up his cup, "We will drink together, we will sleep, and we will wake up in a place more beautiful than is humanly possible to imagine. My family – I will see you soon."

"See you soon," the members echoed in unison. And they began to drink.

Jamila stared into the cup again. She raised her eyes to the ceiling in prayer. Please, she thought. Please make my family understand why I've done this. Please let me see them again.

Before she could have any second thoughts, she brought the cup to her lips and swallowed the drink. She began to hear coughing and heaving around her. She looked around, watching her neighbors shake and fall around her.

Everything was getting blurry. It was becoming nothing but shapes, then soon it was just colors. Jamila's throat began to close up. She couldn't breathe, and her sweat was dripping into her eyes. She gagged and wheezed, falling forward onto the cold, dirty floor.

Her lungs felt swollen and painful in her chest. Her head felt like it was on fire. The last sensation she had was of the coldness of the floor pressing, almost soothingly, against her flaming face. Then everything was black.

It was nearly two hours later, after all of the family had died from the poisoned cocktail they drank, and after Raymond Berlin had packed up all of the money, jewelry and other valuables that his followers had donated and fled the compound, that Jamila awoke screaming, her whole body tingling in agony.

She gasped and nearly choked, as her lungs struggled to take in the air. She sat up quickly, looking around her in horror.

Everyone was dead. But she was not. She whimpered and held herself close.