I could do nothing. If I said anything useful, Noah would kill Timmy. Although desperate to leave, I wanted to see if Mr. Butler and his family had enough sense to decide the truth for themselves.

I slipped into the kitchen, whispering to Maria, "Go find Timmy. He has her hostage somewhere."

Maria nodded, hissing for Ruth and Aquila to follow.

Noah showed Mr. Butler more pictures of Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "You see, the large angels lay their eggs in body of sinner."

Landon just stood staring at the phone with his mouth hanging open.

Mr. Butler pointed. "I've seen those too. They were with the other one."

Becky stirred on the floor.

The moment she saw me, she cried, "Jesus!"

I raised my claws, indicating I wasn't a threat.

She got to her feet, looking around for the knife.

"It's in the drawer."

Becky went for the gun, aiming at me.

When she noticed Noah, she froze, staring at him. "Honey, who is that?"

"Baby, the man's asking about that creature." Her husband pointed to me.

Becky frowned, suspicious. "What about it?"

"He's saying it's an angel, or a demon or something."

The woman laughed. "Dave. It eats dog food. I've seen androids chain him to the wall."

She kept staring at the strangers. "Honey, who are these people?"

Dave shook his head. "It's nobody. He was just leaving."

Unfortunately, by his facial expression, I could tell Landon had been convinced by Noah's lies, almost sorry to hear his father kicking the man out.

Dave stood up, opening the door with a remote. "I'm sorry. Still not interested."

"It is okay." Noah winked at Landon, then offered Dave his hand. "Scripture teaches, many are called, few are chosen."

Out of mere courtesy, Dave returned the handshake.

The moment their hands made contact, he cried out in pain. "What the fuck did you do to my hand!"

"Honey," Becky scolded. "Language. Your son is listening."

"Baby," Dave said through gritted teeth. "I'm in a lot of pain, so you best stay out of this."

Noah gave a mild smile, as if he had done something as ordinary as baptism. "Since you refuse to join the chosen, I have marked you as one eternally condemned. I can only hope that God will call your son before it is too late. God's peace to you, while you can still enjoy it."

"I'm going to mark your Chinese ass with my piece if you don't tell me what the fuck you did to my hand!"

Noah ignored him, chuckling softly. "Mr. Rockett! We are going? Please bring the child along. She is necessary for our plan."

Dave glared at me, as if hoping I'd do something, but I just shook my head.

Tyrone stepped out of the bedroom with the struggling girl in his clutches. One of his hands had been bandaged. "She's a feisty one, but I still got her!"

"Let her go!"

Becky aimed the gun at Mr. Rockett.

Noah only seemed mildly amused. "I would not do that if I were you. I believe you are aware this girl has a brother?"

Landon looked uneasy. Difficult to say whether he sided with his parents, or Noah.

With trembling hands, Becky lowered the weapon. "If there is a God, and I certainly hope there is, I hope he throws you into hell first."

Noah smirked. "That is impossible. Hell does not exist. When judgment come, God's holy angels merely consumes the bodies and spirits of the wicked sinner such as yourself. Good day?"

"I hope by everything holy that you're wrong. Because I want to be there when they throw your grinning ass in a lake of fire."

This challenge proved too much for Tyrone to pass up. Even while struggling to hold Rebecca in place. "Isaiah 61:4 says they shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations, they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastation of many generations. Do you really think that God is going to be doing all of this building in hell?"

"Yes. And I hope he grinds your fat ass into the dirt while building it, too!"

It seemed she had struck a nerve. At least, about the issue of weight. "You're not so small yourself, Ms. Butler." He took off one of his shoes. "I shake the dust off my feet in this place, and pronounce a curse from Jehovah upon this habitation of sin and wickedness!"

As he pronounced curses in this antiquated fashion, Newt slipped out of his clutches, bolting into the hallway.

Noah smiled. "Let her go. God's holy angels will find her and bring her to me."

He turned to face Becky and her husband. "As for you, scripture teaches you to choose life, but you, unfortunately, have chosen otherwise."

Tyrone put his shoe back on with an indignant harrumph.

Noah waved to Landon. "It is too late for your parents, but there is still time for you. Come with us."

The boy twisted his lip, as if seriously considering the offer.

Dave stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Don't do it. He's some kind of Jim Jones. You don't want to be in with that crowd."

"Who's Jim Jones?"

He frowned. "He's a bad man. A nut."

"Landon, your parents are already condemned!" Noah urged. "You must be a man and make your own decision, before you are condemned as well! Seek me at our meeting place, the site of our Lord's tabernacle. Pray the Lord Jehovah guides you there before the time of judgment."

The two marched stiffly out the exit.

When the door closed, Dave marched up to me, clenching his fists. "I don't care if you're an angel or an E.T. All I want to know is one thing: Why the hell didn't you lift a finger to help me? Or anyone for that matter? You say you're a Christian, but I'm not seeing it."

I shook my head. "He threatened to kill Timmy."

Dave stared at me for a moment, then clutched his hand, wincing in pain. "Can you at least tell me what the fuck he did to my hand?"

"Ssorzechola is my aunt. She put something in Noah. A kind of worm. That's all I know."

He frowned at his hand, which now bore a scar in the shape of some occult symbol. "What does it do?"

"I don't know. I didn't even know I had an aunt until a few hours ago." I stared at the floor dejectedly. "Ssorzechola has a scheme to make all colonists feed themselves to her, and she's going to use Noah to do it."

"Yeah? If I hadn't met you, I wouldn't have found the man so convincing."

"I'm really sorry about that. Perhaps this is why humans rarely see angels or aliens. Much can be misinterpreted." I breathed a heavy sigh. "From now on, I must hide from the sight of humans. I cannot afford to let Noah make me into his tool again."

The Becky that treated me as an equal resurfaced for a moment. "First things first...How do we get those children back?"

Maria having listened in to our conversation, now took that opportunity to crawl out of the vent to speak to us. "I know where they are. The problem is getting them out of there..."

Timmy had been imprisoned in a living module on the opposite side of the base. Ssorzechola could have used Noah's `house church' for her operations, but I think she wanted to keep people in the dark about her intentions.

It also provided strategic advantage, as it just so happened to be only a few modules away from a large mess hall, essentially a feeding trough for Ssorzechola's human livestock.

The moment Maria mentioned the unit number and location, Dave took the gun from his wife, shoving it into a jumpsuit pocket.

I held up a warning claw. "Wait. That will do you no good if he has a hostage."

"Dammit," the man growled.

Becky paced back and forth in the kitchen. "We have to do something."

"Who's Jim Jones?" Landon asked.

Becky sighed. "Sweetie, he was a bad man who ran a cult a long time ago. He told people to kill themselves and they did just what he said."

"I thought we got rid of the crazies with the psych eval and aptitude tests before we got here," Dave groaned.

Becky crossed the linoleum again. "What do we do? If we try anything, he has a hostage, maybe two."

Dave eyed me with an expression of resigned disgust. "I really, really don't like this, but I think I've got something."

He handed me the camera device.

Since I had never owned a camera before, I had to be instructed as to its use, the image finder, the picture and video toggle buttons, and most importantly, how to deactivate the flash.

The camera could transmit photographs electronically. Somehow, I would have to infiltrate Noah's location, take pictures, and perform a thing called `texting' to provide updates and communication silently.

I couldn't figure out how to `dim' the screen. I sincerely hoped that a little glowing square behind a register would not draw that much attention.

I also wore a tracker bracelet for them, one which could be removed if someone else decided to track me.

Maria knew the paths that led to Newt's scent trail. No problem there.

The forward part of the base consisted of two trailer compounds, divided by a road for supply trucks. Overhead `bridges' joined the two compounds together, to allow for vehicles.

We crawled through ducts on the left side of one such bridge, glancing down through slatted panels at strangers strolling across the bridge carpeting, chattering amongst themselves like nothing was the matter.

Nothing but a long straight shot through this passage, the branches not connecting to anything but air conditioner units and an identical passage on the right side.

A few feet down from the bridge's midpoint, we passed a section of wall where time and weather had rusted a softball sized hole in the metal. Below lay the supply road, a neon bar sign glowing next to a door on the east complex.

A pair of children ran along the muddy path, laughing and screaming, while a man dragged a large wheeled dolly loaded with cargo crates into a waiting vehicle.

Once on the other side of the bridge, we descended to the lower floor, stopping by a vent that smelled most strongly of the captives.

Yes, plural. Newt had been captured again.

Although the `tabernacle' hadn't been built yet, Noah had gathered a surprising amount of interested people in a short amount of time. It seemed he had help.

I took pictures of people gathered within the unit. As in any religious organization, they came from `all walks of life', no apparent connection to each other but the organization.

At first, I felt dismayed, thinking humans more stupid than I originally thought, but then I heard snippets of their conversations: Someone had posted fliers all over the base saying the Lord was giving the processing station back to them, all they needed to do is join the Ssorzechola Elect.

A small band played in one corner of the room: A white man with an acoustic guitar, a Chinese woman at an electronic keyboard, a young brunette vocalist. They sang the following `hymn' with soulful fervor:

"We are Jehovah's children,

No evil shall befall us

Lord Ssorzechola watches from above,

No evil will enthrall us..."

And then it continued in Ss'sik'chtokiwij:

"I am Ssorzechola's prey,

You cannot kill or eat me

I belong to Ssorzechola,

If you want to have me,

You have to ask permission.

Ssorzechola is my owner.

Ask Ssorzechola

Ask Ssorzechola

Ask Ssorzechola for permission."

Believe it or not, that rhymes in my language.

Obviously, the organization did not use the above translation. On a board on the back wall, they had this bad interpretation:

"Holy Ssorzechola,

Protect us with your almighty hands,

Deliver us from every evil,

Ssorzechola Jehovah

Ssorzechola Jehovah

Ssorzechola Jehovah, bring us your promised land."

No one questioned the inconsistency in the length or word usage because it was a foreign language. It rhymed, translational errors being common in foreign languages. Plus, many were not quite sold on the idea of Ssorzechola worship yet.

The band kept singing this song, over and over, teaching people how to sing it. The brunettebrought out a tambourine, adding to the noise.

I continued to puzzle about the identity of Noah's secret help until a woman with curly black hair and glasses came milling about in the crowd.

Not sure how it had been accomplished, but Sunny Mun had somehow been freed from her cocoon, and unburdened of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij egg, judging by her cheerfully energetic demeanor. If something had recently burst from her chest, you couldn't tell. I took a picture of her.

The noise level in the room increased, the people near the entrance of the room shouting various questions about the atmospheric processor, God, and aliens.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Noah and Tyrone marched in, waving to people and shaking hands. Lukewarm reception, but he had their attention.

No sign of Rebecca or Timmy anywhere.

Noah climbed up on a stack of shipping crates that served as sort of a stage, using a portable sound system with a microphone to amplify his voice.

I pressed the record button the moment he opened his mouth.

"Our base, unfortunately, has problem. Men have entered processing station, and no survivors." He made a sweeping motion with his hand.

A couple hecklers asked where he learned to speak English, but the others became captivated, silently awaiting his next words.

"I am here telling you, you should not have fear. Processing station is footstool! Of Throne of God. The unworthy, they cannot enter. That is why many have died. I am saying to you, you must change, or you will likewise perish."

Murmuring traveled through the crowd, the hecklers still telling him to learn English.

Sunny switched on a projection screen, showing everyone an image of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

Nobody I recognized. Perhaps it was the one who killed Rebecca's dad, I don't know.

People gasped. The room became silent for a moment.

Tyrone took the microphone. "This is a picture of a holy angel from Jehovah. The Lord sent him to judge humankind, starting at this base."

"Yes," Noah agreed. "If you are among the wicked unchosen, you will die like the others. But I tell you, if you follow me, and walk by faith, you will enter their habitations and not be harmed. This I will show you, and still more greater things than these."

"We're going to need more than a few prayers and wishful thinking to get through that processing station!" shouted a bearded man near the front of the crowd.

Noah chuckled.

Tyrone pointed an accusing finger. "An unspiritual man attempting to comprehend what is spiritually discerned. Therefore, you don't know what you're talking about."

"I tell you, prayers do have efficacy, for if a prayer is spoken in the tongue of these angels..." Noah pointed to the image of the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "The angel will not harm you. Listen to my words carefully, write them down, and learn to pronounce them perfectly. They are commands from on high to the spirits of this land: `Stigmazas sudnohis shoatzes sqituros saewbos sogtazzi. It mean, `I am Ssorzechola's chosen, and the evil one cannot harm me.'"

In actuality, it meant, "I belong to Ssorzechola, and you need to ask her before you will be allowed to consume any part of me," but I think that would have been a tough sell.

More murmuring. A few people compared him to something called `The Moonies.'

Tyrone scowled at the audience. "I see you have doubts, and question the power of these words. Pray to the Lord to help your unbelief!"

Noah changed the image to a map of the processing station. "As first of God's chosen, I shall lead the way, to show you that my words are true. I do not show you this to prove anything to you, but to glorify the name of Ssorzechola, whom all in the universe kneel before in worship."

"Where is this...Ssorzechola you keep talking about?" asked a red haired woman.

"Ssorzechola is coming. You are not yet worthy to behold her presence. But very soon, some of you shall see her face to face. Beware that day, for you will also face judgment. You must be ready!"

The projected image changed to a picture of Grandmother. "This is not Ssorzechola, but it is greatest angel in her army. I shall go and speak before her. Before I go, I shall choose eight from among your number. You shall travel with me into depths of processing station and not be harmed, for the chosen shall walk by faith."

So he intended to lead an expedition into Grandma's house. I shuddered to think how this would end.

Unfortunately, the solder on my section of the air duct was not load bearing.

All of a sudden, the aluminum box fell to the floor with a thundering crash, with me inside.

The crowd turned to look at me.

"Oh shit," I cried in dismay.