"It is a sign from God," Noah said as I crawled out of the aluminum box. "Behold, a Ss'sik'chtokiwij, angel of Jehovah!"

People stared at me, murmured, backed away.

"Do not be afraid," he exclaimed, marching closer to me. "This is the site of holy tabernacle of Jehovah. He knows he cannot harm you in this sacred place!"

I frowned at the crowd, tempted to kill a human just to prove Noah wrong.

I didn't. He only would have modified his theology anyway.

If I left the room, it would reinforce Noah's lie about the room being a sacred place.

If I stayed, he'd still say it's a sacred place because I didn't hurt anyone, or worse, that he had power over me, and use me as an object lesson.

If I attacked anyone, he'd say they were unworthy. If they remained alive, he'd say his alien god spared them.

"This is archangel `Gabriel' The bible was incorrect to describe him as a man."

The others looked at me like Noah spoke the truth. I frowned at them in disgust.

"He appears to have no eyes, because he see with eyes of God. Even now, he see into your soul. He see your sin, your doubt. He tests each one of you, to see if you are worthy of God's holy kingdom."

Women fainted. I believe some churches call that `being felled by the Spirit.'

I scowled at Sunny. Her presence still didn't explain the crowd. I had been unconscious for only a few minutes, my other activities likewise not nearly that time consuming.

I supposed that, if Ssorzechola could reanimate Sunny and possess Noah, she could have taken over someone else. Who she had possessed, I could not say, for despite the small room and crowd, the base was large, the gathering not enough to allow me to pinpoint the mastermind, if he or she even stood in the room. It could be another Ss'sik'chtokiwij, for all I knew.

I snapped a picture of Noah's flock, then climbed back up the wall, into a vent.

Noah told the crowd he'd cast me away in the name of Jehovah.

Once in relative seclusion, away from the `future site of the tabernacle', I texted Dave the pictures and video, told him the meaning of the song, the `prayer', Noah's hidden agenda.

`No sign of the kids?' he texted back.

`Not yet,' I wrote. `And now those people know I'm here.'

Maria frowned at the screen. "There's a man guarding them. He's really strong, and he seems to know when I'm there. He puts his face right up to the vent."

I sighed.

"You think he's the one who brought all those people to the meeting?"

"I don't know. Anything's possible. At any rate, I want to see this for myself."

They kept Rebecca in a private bedroom on a diagonal from the meeting place. I approached its register with care, only sticking part of my head within the area illuminated by the slatted metal rectangle.

Both children lay in one bed, unconscious, hands and wrists tied together with rope. I suspected they'd been drugged. Although comforted by the fact that Ss'sik'chtokiwij generally do not perform brain surgery, I still feared for their lives.

An older man with glasses stood guard over them, a narrow figure with yellow hair cut to resemble a toupee. Like Noah, he wore a black suit, despite being in the middle of nowhere, where nobody cared.

His skin stretched around his cheekbones in such a way that he always appeared to be smiling.

The pale, big eared man faced a wall, having a conversation with apparently nobody. "The children are here. Should I wake them up?"

He paused, as if listening to another person.

"I understand."

`That's Adam Rapchuck,' Maria typed on my camera.

I nodded, deleting the words.

Newt seemed to be catnapping, for her eyelid briefly fluttered open, looking at me for a second before closing again.

Mr. Rapchuck sniffed the air a few times, marched to the vent.

Instinctively, I scooted back, out of view.

"Don't be shy, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," the man called in my language. "Why don't you come out and have a visit?"

I retreated further down the duct.

The man didn't smell right, and behaved strangely. He also shouldn't know our language. For this reason, I didn't think it wise to follow the man's suggestion.

Retreating into a junction of intersecting tunnels, I paused to formulate a plan.

Via text, I informed Dave of the children's whereabouts, and their strange guardian. `I have vowed never to kill a human being, but I also think that this man cannot be reasoned with.'

`I have your coordinates,' he answered. `Let me take care of it.'

I typed `Ok,' and waited.

Roughly ten minutes later, the following message arrived: `This is Landon. Something's wrong. Dad just killed my mom.'

I stared at the screen in shocked silence.

`Where are you now?' I texted, but I got no reply.

I didn't know what the story was. Was this a domestic squabble, or did the worms get control of Mr. Butler? Whatever happened, I would have to deal with it after I rescued Rebecca. Maria was right, I'm only one Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

I was on my own, it seemed. I'd have to rescue those children alone, for I did not know any human allies who could aid me.

My first plan: Enter the living space adjacent to the bedroom they imprisoned Rebecca in. The vent, built the ceiling, would force a sharp drop, and the falling register would ruin any element of surprise. Not the type of thing that you could soundlessly draw back into the vent.

As I pondered this, Dave came marching into the room, dragging his son behind him in a way that looked painful. The boy struggled, trying to escape, but the man was too strong.. I would have to rescue three children now.

The room to the other children's prison slid open, and Rapchuck greeted him.

Instead of speaking, the two made a series of fast clicking sounds at each other, like dolphins or something.

Dave gave Mr. Rapchuck his son, drew a pistol, and stationed himself at the door.

"What do I do?" I hissed to Maria. "He's obviously not himself, but I can't just kill him! He's Landon's father!"

"Do you think they're safe where they are?"

I sighed. "I don't think so."

"Then you must do something."

I could enter via a vent at the floor along the opposite wall, or through an unoccupied adjoining bedroom, though not the one containing the children, of course, because they'd expect that.

The main room, largely vacant, contained nothing I could use for self defense or concealment.

I pried open the grating of a curry smelling room used to store sweaters, parts of all terrain skateboards, candle making kits and baseball equipment.

I landed on the bed, picking up a dirty, slightly dented aluminum baseball bat with the word `Hammer' running down the side.

My entrance caused a stack of canning supplies to topple over. The mason jars and aluminum lids clattered noisily onto the carpet. Some jars shattered.

A little too much noise. The door slid open on its own the moment I came near.

The first thing I saw on the other side of the door: Mr. Butler pointing a gun at my head. "Put down the weapon and come out."

I didn't move. "Did you really kill Becky?"

He didn't answer the question. "I said, put down the weapon and come out!"

"They're holding two children prisoner. I'm trying to save them. I'm only holding a baseball bat. You have a gun. Please don't point that thing at my head!"

It was like I hadn't said anything. "I'm not going to ask you again! Put down the weapon!"

I ran my claws down the bat. "I don't need this to kill you, Mr. Butler. God has given me a number of deadly limbs that can kill you in a split second. I'm holding this bat because I want you alive, to care for your son." The hammer on Dave's gun clicked back. I didn't let that stop me. "If we can negotiate—"

My words meant nothing to him. "I told you to drop the damn bat!" He pulled the trigger.

Fire exploded from the barrel with a deafening bang.

The muzzle had been pointed at my skull, but the shot went wild at the last second, tearing a hole through an aluminum wall instead. Everything now had a persistent ringing sound.

Not a sudden change of heart. Maria had latched onto his leg, giving him a rather painful injury I hoped wasn't fatal.

Seizing my chance, I leapt at Mr. Butler with the Hammer, giving him a vigorous knock against the skull, which, I could only hope, would produce nothing more than a nasty lump on the head and unconsciousness.

I examined him for a moment. He seemed unconscious.

Not wanting to press my luck, I hurried over his prone body, darting out into the living quarters.

Suddenly, a white face in a black suit stepped out in front of me, giving a plastic smile.

As quick as lightning, his pale hands clamped around my throat, and he actually lifted me off the ground as he attempted to choke me.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," he growled in my language. "I told you to leave my prey alone!"

"That prey does not belong to you. It belongs to God!"

Rapchuck slammed my head into the wall.

"I am God!" he roared.