So why does Job hold onto it with tooth and nail? Why would he risk his own life for
this?

What indeed.

He turned off the lamp beside his bed and covered himself with the heavy blanket. He
lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, his ears picking up the soft patter of the rain
and the breathing of Ezra who lay by the front door. The door of his room was closed, but
he could hear the way Ezra’s tail touched the door lightly, making a soft grating
sound amplified to loud volume by the silence of the night. He turned on his side, his
bare shoulder rubbing against the warm fabric. His bandaged chest hurt with the pressure
from his position, but he couldn’t feel it because he didn’t think of it. His
mind was on the fact that he couldn’t sleep and would not be able to at all. His eyes
flickered over to the window, where the faint moonlight crept and silent lightning
filtered in. He stood up quietly, aware Ezra could hear his every step, and walked over to
the window. He pushed back the heavy curtain and looked out.

The window looked out to the courtyard of the Complex, showing the area of the parking
lot, the streets around it, and the Amphitheater across the street. The street lights were
on, but the light they threw on the black pavement was dim. There were fireflies flying
around that shone more light, and Job watched them fly out across the window, quiet and
innocent, oblivious to the shit he was going through. The sky was beautiful, a deep purple
that threatened a storm harder. The rain fell but disappeared into the air itself. The
gray of the world sucked it up and it never even got to touch the ground, never fed the
grass. There were dark clouds floating around, but none covered the beautifully round and
bright moon. It was shining forcefully, making everything glow with a creamy light.
Everything looked drowned in milk, and Job suddenly realized he had never seen the night.
He had never cared for Nature, had never seen a sunset or dawn, much less how beautiful
the night was before, during, and after a storm.

I miss so much. . .

He let the curtains go and they dropped back into place. Those two pieces of cloth
separated him and the world outside, and he thought of what else was in his way, what
thing was there that he could not touch, could not see, but would never go away.

Ignorance. . .

He walked around his room slowly, his pupils dilating so he could see better in the
dark. He saw the dresser and the closet, the chair and the desk, the bedside table next to
the bed. He saw the armchair in the corner and the bookshelf above his bed. He saw the
bench at the foot of his bed where he often threw his cloak and uniform. His shoes were
strewn on the floor by the door, and one glove was next to them and the other by the lamp
on the bedside table.

No one would venture to accuse him of being a proselyte. This was the chamber of a
normal cleric who had been faithful to The System for all his life. Job ran his hand along
the wall opposite to his bed. The armchair was in the corner of that wall, and there was a
small table at the other end holding a potted plant. Job tapped his fingers around the
middle of the wall, gently at first, then harder. There was no sound for a moment as he
checked, tapping the wall with his knuckles. Then there was a sound by the door, and Job
turned to see Ezra push open the door.

He let out a sigh of relief and grabbed Ezra behind the ears, rubbing him and holding
him close to his legs. " You scared me."

Ezra whined and then sat on his hinds beside Job. Job glanced at the knowing eyes of
the dog and resumed rapping on the wall. The wall echoed back his dull thuds, and then as
suddenly, echoed hollow ones. Job kept tapping, listening to the echoes, until the echo
was very hollow and loud. He started piercing his nails around the area, peeling the wall
back. A thin film covering, painted white to match the wall, peeled off slowly. He had to
pull hard to get it halfway down.

He was staring into a hole in the wall, rimmed with an outline of hard cement that
prevented it from falling into itself. It was more of a tunnel, with a short tube of metal
that lead into the wall. Beneath this one, hidden by the part of covering Job hadn’t
pulled off, was a second tunnel, the same size and shape as the one above it. But the one
on the bottom wasn’t the one that mattered; this one did.

Job rubbed his hands together and breathed hard into his palm. Then he grasped the rim
of the tunnel and pulled himself up and into the hole. He lay his tummy flat in the tube
and grabbed the end of the tunnel to pull himself into the room behind his wall. He pulled
hard and then slid himself head first into the room, doing half a somersault and landing
on his back. He winced as a sharp pain ran through his chest, but squeezed his eyes until
it went away. Then he breathed hard and sat up.

The room he had built himself. It was very narrow and small, half the size of his
bedroom. But size mattered not to him. In the back of the room was a small shrine,
decorated with candles, pictures, portraits, and incense. Rosaries hung from the wall
along pendants with the image of Jesus on the cross.

Job walked slowly into the room, looking at everything. His eyes fell on the lamp
sitting on a stool and he went over to it. He lit up a match from the matchbox next to it,
flicking the match against the side of the box. The match lit, and he lowered it into the
lamp. The lamp lit and threw instant shadows on the wall. His own stretched far over the
width of the wall, and he stared at it. Only God could give shadows the power to show who
you really were.

Job walked to the wall and stared up at the rosaries. There were many different ones of
different colors, but they all bore the image of Jesus on the cross. Job looked at the
images and thought of the bravery and faith the man had to have had.

Who could give himself to a group of people when he knew it was wrong? Who could do
this for a group of people who wouldn’t appreciate the sacrifice he made? Who could
hang painfully and watch the way people mocked them, how they tortured them mentally in
their last minutes on earth?

Dear woman, here is your son. . .

Job pulled back his hand quickly from the rosary he had been going to touch, as if it
had bit him. He looked around, the voice echoing harshly in his ears. He closed his eyes
tight. " No," he whispered. " Stop."

You are my Son; today I have become your Father. . .

Job tightened his eyes, knowing there was no one with him. But he couldn’t help
but feel the air around him hug his body, squeezing his sides together. His lungs seemed
about to collapse, and he breathed hard. But the arms were holding tight and he was being
crushed. He cried and doubled over -

I heard and my heart pounded, my lips quivered at the sound; -

His knees hit the floor hard, and he covered his ears -

decay crept into my bones, and my legs trembled. . .

There was a harsh sound screaming into his ears, hurting his ear drum, but he
couldn’t keep it out no matter how hard he pressed his palm against his ears. It was
coming from his very body and he couldn’t keep it out, couldn’t breath
while it was in him. It tightened its grip on him and he couldn’t move -

Today ,if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts. . .

Job screamed loud, and the air rushed into his mouth, choking him. It filled his throat
and blocked it, and he gasped for air, grabbing at his neck. But the force grabbed his
arms and pinned them to his side.

Because the LORD loves his people, he has made you their king -

Job was knocked on his side and he fell on the floor, his chest hot with pain.
Something ripped at the tender flesh of his wound, pulling, scratching at the skin,
merciless to the horror he felt at his flesh being torn from him. He couldn’t open
his eyes, couldn’t hear the loud barks of Ezra, who whined at the screams Job was
making. The dog scratched at the rim of the hole from the outside, but he had been ordered
to never enter the room. He obeyed, but not willingly.

My lips- has made you their king-

And then, he felt as if his very soul were being pulled from him. He arched his back
and he was pulled forward, his chest rising, lifting him from the floor. He cried out and
then fell on the floor. The air stopped screaming, and the pain and heat faded slowly from
his wound. He could hear now, could open his eyes. He could hear the loud yelps of Ezra,
could see the gray behind the curtains beginning to lighten. He was panting and gasping,
and felt as if he had been under extreme conditions.

Job fell back, stretched out on the floor, arms raised above him. He closed his eyes
slowly, tired. The candles rosaries moved with the wind, clinking against each other,
making soft tinkly sounds.

There was silence and then the very air was still, and he felt it calm around his body.

Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.

Job opened his eyes quickly and looked around. The candles flickered and then he was in
total darkness, the small room crushing in on him. He felt a tingle in his chest and
rubbed it, and too late realized he was touching his wound. But he felt nothing. He lifted
a small corner of the bandage and peeked under. He could see nothing, but he reached his
finger in slowly, then touched the skin. He feigned a wince, but he felt nothing. It was
as if he had been cured.

And then he sat up in realization.

The air around him seemed to whisper what he had in his mind.

The room was bare and the only thing there was were two chairs opposite each other, and
a small table that was as short as it was wide. The walls were a dirty brown and the
lighting was bad. Jude followed Elohim into the room, looking cautiously around himself to
make sure this wasn’t a game.

What Elohim had related to him in the past twenty-four hours was nothing compared to
what he thought he had acquired from stolen documents. Too late, he realized Elohim
wasn’t as stupid as he gave him credit to be, and actually was more knowledgeable on
the subject of one Job Savone.

And about me, too.

The things Elohim had on Job were as infinite as what he knew about Jude. There was not
a single thing he had not mentioned which Jude had not read recently in a record document.
But he knew more than what was on paper. There were some things Jude was positive were
only in Elohim’s mind. They could not possibly on paper because they compromised and
brought into question years of System teaching and brainwash on the part of clerics.

One of those dangerous things had been about his parents. Jude hated to think of them
as that kind of relation, but Elohim insisted the closer you had your enemies, wether dead
or alive, the better. He also spoke of Job as " your blood." Jude’s eyes
had widened when he heard of what Elohim knew about his parents. He thought he had been
given thousands of presents when Elohim had spoken to him about Job, but what Elohim knew
about Fonze and Rebekah was far sweeter.

" This is where they were held?" He ran his hand along the crumbling wall,
pulling off dried paint and rust. They were in a cellar deep in the dungeons of the
Imposition Building, where the cells, jails, and punishments were held. Criminals were
sentenced and died in the Imposition.

And the very floor where he was standing, his parents had stepped on before. Jude
looked around and walked circles around the chairs. " What were they held here
for?"

" Questioning." Elohim picked at his nails and admired them, not really
seeming as enthusiastic as he had been when talking about Job.

" And what did they say?"

" Nothing."

Jude raised his eyebrows. " What? Nothing?"

" Nothing at all." Elohim didn’t seem to be bothered by that fact. He
didn’t look at Jude, and seemed to think his shoes were more interesting than what he
was relating.

" Well how do you know all they did for The Movement?"

" We don’t."

" Wha-?"

" We made it up." Elohim now looked at Jude. " We never had proof
because they were the best clerics ever. He was a master at disguises and covering
his tracks. She had a knack for keeping mum and buying silence. There was nothing that
could get information out of them. They said nothing and we couldn’t trap them with
anything because we weren’t sure exactly what they had done for The Movement.
They took their secrets to their graves." Here, Elohim looked deep into Jude’s
eyes. " But that is one mistake we will not commit with your brother. Job is going to
be kept under our control throughout this whole ordeal, and there will be nothing that
won’t be known or used against him. And that is something I have stressed on you to
make sure we can do."

Jude leaned back on the wall, one leg raised and set on one of the chairs. He looked
cooly at Elohim. " I know what I have to do. And I bet I’ve been doing it a
little more discrete than you have."

" It’s not my fault that I’ve had the problem of having the eyes of the
whole secular community on me. But you," and he pointed at him, " you have
nothing that can get in your way."

Jude stayed quiet a minute, pinching his bottom lip and squeezing his chin. Then he
raised his eyes and said in a tease, " What about your little spy Christian?"

Elohim seemed taken back by what Jude said. Then he faked a smile and said, almost
annoyed, " Well, well, aren’t we the little detective?"

" We may have the same goal in mind, but we both have different endings planned.
I’m not hiding from you that I want Job all to myself when I help get him caught and
thrown in jail. I also know you won’t back off on your hold on him either. So I
suggest you think a little better about what you want and who you’re getting it
with."

Elohim laughed nervously. " Jude, Jude . Let’s not get rash about anything.
We have our own goals, and I admit we want the same prize. But whoever does the most work,
gets it fair and square. No?"

Job sat on the floor of his living room. He had been there since early in the morning
and had not gotten up for anything. Ezra had sat with him for a while but had gotten bored
and was now asleep in by the door. He stared at the wall, eyes glazed over as if he were
in a trance. He had ripped off the bandage and all that was there where the scar had been
was a thin line of broken flesh. It was lighter in color than his normal skin and it was
also raised. But he had touched it and it hadn’t hurt.

He was cured. He had not been forsaken.

The scar was long, but it wasn’t tender anymore. And it had all happened because
of the presence last night.

He stared at the wall with unblinking eyes and breathed slowly. He hadn’t moved,
and he didn’t want to. Thousands of questions went through his mind, crashing with
each other. There was a storm in his mind and he couldn’t think straight about
anything.

The sun was rising in the gray sky now, dark with the last presence of the storm from
before. There were footsteps in the hall outside and this made Job sit up and move. He got
up and walked over to where Ezra was getting up. The dog got up and sat on his haunches,
tail straight. He watched Job closely, noticed the way his shoulders stiffened at odd
moments. He saw the way Job’s lips pursed, and the way he balled his fists at times.
Ezra’s ears jerked, noticing Job’s nervousness.

Job looked through the peephole in the door. There was no one in the hall. He checked
his watch: it was 11:53 in the morning. He wasn’t due in for work, but after the
thing with Joseph, he wanted to go back and make sure Christian wasn’t suspicious. He
walked back quickly into his room and grabbed his uniform. He stepped into his pants and
pulled on his undershirt. Then he put on the coat, buttoning the throat with the pin of
honor Prestige Clerics wore. He pinned his cloak on his shoulders, pulled on his gloves,
and finally put on his shoes, walking into the hall. Ezra saw he was dressed, and stood up
quickly, tongue panting.

" Wait, I forgot. We have to eat." Job looked around and then walked into the
kitchen. He looked around and then opened the refrigerator. He grabbed one of the many
cans of dog food that filled the top three rows of the fridge. He opened the can and
placed the bowl on the floor. Then for himself, he grabbed a banana and gulfed it down,
watching Ezra finish off his meal.

This done, they walked out of the flat, Job taking a long last look at his place.

Christian waited by the doorway. He watched Job park his squad and then make his way
into the building. He saw the way Ezra walked too close to him, looking at everything that
came into his space. This was unusual for even a Prestige Cleric canine.

And I know why.

Christian slipped back into the recess where he had been standing and then walked
quickly down the hall of the lobby. His shoes treaded loudly on the marble floor, his
image distorted on the glass walls. He balled his fists and punched the button on the
panel. The elevator opened and he stepped in. He turned to face the doors and saw Job and
Ezra walk into the view. They say him, and Job stopped dead in his tracks. Their eyes
locked for a moment, but then Job forced a smile and waved. Christian returned the smile,
the doors closing them off.

He walked out into the hall of a top floor. There was no one around, and he double
checked to make sure. Then he walked down the hall, slipping out a translucent card from
his coat pocket. He again looked both ways down the hall and stopped in front of an
unmarked door, without numbers or labels of whose it was. He was one of the few men who
knew what was in it, and who had reason to fear it. He swiped the card on the slot by the
door. A green light swiped over him and a voice demanded, " Pupil."

He crouched low enough to be able to put his eyeball to the round hole designed for it.
A red light did a retina scan and then the voice said, " Name."

He cleared his voice before saying clearly, " Christian Combs."

There was a whirr in the wall and then the door opened slightly. He knew his movements
had been logged by the voice and visual recorders installed behind the wall beside the
door. He paused before stepping into the dark room.

Job stood rooted at the spot where he had last seen Christian. He stared at the shiny
walls of the elevator and then quickly raised his eyes to the panel above it. He watched
the numbers stop at thirteen, and he felt an immediate lump rise in his throat. He was now
in action, crossing the space. He jammed his fist on the down button and watched the
numbers decrease. Finally, the doors opened and he stepped in.

" He’s in the Attic Room," he whispered, looking down at Ezra.

The dog at his heels growled. The doors closed.