Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 121153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Most of the people erupted into the throes of manic happiness, holding their hands in the air and worshiping my brother and their Lord. Others sat motionless, terrified . . . trapped by the guards.
“No!” I shouted when I realized what was about to happen. I gripped the bars harder. “The syringes . . . they’re not wine . . . they’re poison . . . fuck! He’s going to kill them . . . he’s going to kill them all!”
“No,” Ruth cried beside me, shock coating the word.
“Judah!” I screamed, panic and disgust surging through me. But the music drowned me out.
“Those who are beside a child, you have been given two syringes—one is for you, the other is for them. Like the holy caretakers that we are, that we pride ourselves to be, we will send the innocent souls of the children to God first,” Judah smiled a kind, loving smile. “He will cherish them in His warmth until we arrive soon after.”
“Oh no!” Sister Ruth cried. “The children . . . he’s going to kill the children too.”
Sickness worked its way up my throat. I screamed and I screamed as I saw Judah signal to the crowd to proceed. The women and men who were sitting beside children turned to face them. Scalding tears filled my eyes as the young children looked at the adults with such trust . . . such fucking trust that they would let them do anything.
My hands bled as I pulled on the bars, my skin breaking apart. My shoulders screamed out in protest as I tried to wrench the door off its hinges, but it wouldn’t fucking move. I heard Solomon and Samson roaring in rage beside me, screaming at the elders to stop. Stephen was white-faced with horror. Ruth cried, slumping to her knees when no one heard our calls.
But I couldn’t stop. Even though it was useless, I couldn’t fucking stop. “Judah!” I roared, but my voice was lost under the noise. “JUDAH!” I screamed again and again and again . . .
Then I saw the adults start to push the syringes into the children’s mouths, encouraging them to swallow the fluid down their throats. I froze, stock still, as the adults took their turn.
I fucking saw red. My stomach twisted with bile and vomit. Whatever was in the syringes didn’t kill the children quickly. They began to scream in agony, their tiny bodies writhing on the ground. Froth and blood poured from their mouths as they fought to breathe, scraping at their throats, their hands reaching out desperately for help . . . but nobody was there to save them.
Nobody was fucking there to ease their pain . . .
No one ever cared for the children here in this hell. They were always alone . . . even in fucking death, Judah ensured they were alone and in pain.
The adults’ dose of poison began dragging them under too. One by one they went down, thrashing on the floor in torture.
In the panic, some of the people tried to get up and run, throwing their syringes to the ground. And I watched, helpless, as the guards forced them to back to the ground and pinned them down, pouring the poison into their mouths.
They were murdering them . . . fucking murdering them!
A group of people broke free from Brother Luke’s section, scrambling for the trees. He lifted his gun and sent a spray of bullets into the backs of their heads. Ruth screamed out beside me as the victims crumpled to the floor.
The elders were next; their bodies dropping down to the floor from their human wall as they willingly drank the fluid from the syringes. Screams of torment cut through the music, a cacophony of agonized death cries. Guards rushed around the mass of bodies, ensuring all the doses of poison had been taken.
Like a rolling wave, the thrashing of the children’s bodies began to slow . . . until they grew silent and still. The adults were next, then the elders followed suit. It was like a horror movie. People rushing everywhere, chaos and hysteria blurring the scene.
Then, suddenly, I saw a flash of red hair at the cell door. “Phebe,” I said frantically. “Open the door!”
Phebe held the key in her hand. Her hands trembled with fear, and tears clouded her eyes as she fought to get the key into the lock. My heart was a cannon in my chest as I tried to see through the madness beyond, as I tried to detect Judah through the chaos.
The lock snapped open. I pushed the door open, just as the sound of heavy gunfire came from the far-off trees. “The Hangmen,” I shouted. I charged out of the door and looked over the plain. The guards had turned away from the dying masses and were running, guns held high, at the Hangmen. I saw a few fleeing, running from the fray.