Lives are changed in the wake of God's departure. Stan and his family must come to terms with their new situation.

Silence reigned. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed.

Someone screamed.

The noise shattered Stan's paralysis. He looked at himself, his dark reddish-gold skin, thin hairless arms and delicate hands and fingers. Long fingernails, painted silver. His hair brushed his neck when he turned his head. Moving caused breasts to shift on his chest. He had breasts. It was too much to take in.

"What happened?" he squealed. His voice was wrong. Higher. A woman's voice. He tried shouting his question again, louder. "What happened? What did Jack do to me?" It didn't help. Same voice. Panicking, he grabbed Rosa, the Rosa sitting next to him, screaming "What did you do? I have to see my family."

Rosa pushed Stan away. "I can see. Jack cured me. Why does everyone look the same? My skin, what happened? I'm Mexican." She sounded like Stan. Everyone sounded like him.

Stan stood and nearly fell. He was thrown by the weight of his breasts shifting, pulling down as he stood up, and by his shoes forcing him to stand on tip toe. He tried to grab the table and hurt his hands. The table was too high, he'd misjudged it.

Chaos surrounded him as a dozen Rosas experienced the same disorientation. He grabbed his breasts. He felt his breasts with his hands, but he also felt his hands with his breasts. Knowing the result in advance, he still grabbed his crotch. The long skirt he wore got in his way, but he could tell he was missing his manhood.

He wanted to collapse in tears, but couldn't. His family needed him. He had to get home. He had to tell Ellen what had happened. He didn't know what she'd do, he didn't know if they could do anything, but she had to know. He could not let his wife think he'd deserted her. Repeating that like a mantra he forced himself to stop panicking.

"Sit back down," commanded Brother Jose from the front of the room. He pounded the table with a gavel to gain everyone's attention. "Guard the exits. No one leaves. These women are temple property by order of God.

He commanded, "Line up and give your names. We will assign you rooms and duties"

"What do you think you're doing, Brother Jose?" called a female priest. She confronted him directly, "These women are guests, not property." She was a small woman, just a few inches over five feet tall, but her blue eyes were blazing as she spoke.

"This is not the time, Sister Paula," responded Jose. "Lord Jack's order was clear." He was angry, flustered, and ready to fight. This clearly wasn't their first disagreement or confrontation. Neither Stan nor any of the other Rosas were interested in watching.

Determined to get back to his family, Stan went for the door. He nearly tripped in his high heeled shoes, so he slid them off his feet. His long skirt restrained his motion. He had to take smaller steps than he wanted, but he thought removing the skirt might be a bad idea. Walking in general felt wrong; his center of balance was off and his hips moved differently. He kept himself from thinking too much about that. One thing at a time.

"Out of my way," he said to one of his many twins as he pushed his way to the door.

"I can't let you leave, ma'am," said a tall young novice standing in the door. Stan tried to push through, but the boy may as well have been an iron gate for all he moved.

Stan was floored. The boy had called him "ma'am." It was wrong. No matter what Jack had done, he was still Stan Overton, not Rosa Ramos. The young novice towered over him. Stan was small, weak. He felt like he'd lost a foot or more, even if he knew Rosa was only 5 or 6 inches shorter than he used to be.

"I have to see my wife. I have to see my kids. Let me out," Stan yelled. His voice rose as he panicked. It got worse the more he heard himself speak. He could feel tears breaking through.

"Let me through, I have to open my shop." "My mother's sick, let me take care of her." "Just let me out." Other voices, all twins of Stan's, cried out.

"FWEET." A piercing whistle came from the front of the table. The woman, Sister Paula, had her fingers in her mouth to make that screech.
Once she had everyone's attention, she announced, "No one leaves. You will stay, and you will do as instructed. You were all infected with a new parasite from Kansas City. We cannot release you yet. So please cooperate.

"Brother Jose," she gestured at him, "will take your names and any other information needed. When he is satisfied, you will be escorted to your chambers." She sounded like a drill sergeant, Stan thought. Great command voice, he hadn't heard that since leaving the war host over 20 years ago.

It was effective. The clones stopped clamoring and pushing for the door. Sister Paula's command presence and the knowledge that they'd been infected by zombies made a huge difference. They were reluctant, but they gathered around Brother Jose. Stan was the fourth person to give his information.

"You were a man, then?" questioned Jose after Stan gave his name.

"Yes," he answered in his new feminine voice. "And I am married and have two children. Will you let them know? I don't want them to worry." He thought for a second, "At least, not that I'm dead or abandoned them." He was uncomfortably close to crying, but managed to keep his voice clear.

Jose nodded, with a sideways glance at Sister Paula. "We'll inform families." He took their names and wrote them down.

Stan was moved to the side. An elderly monk escorted four of them out of the private quarters, down some hallways, and into a small room with a sink, two bunk beds, and four footlockers.

"These are normally pilgrim's cells, so there's not much in the way of amenities." The old man continued, "We'll be posting guards at either end of the hallway. We'll bring food. I guess the priests will let you know more once they've decided anything." He turned back without waiting for a response.

Stan claimed his bed, taking the bottom bunk before the monk left. It was a habit from his time in the war host. Claim your bunk fast.

There was a small mirror over the sink, but Stan realized he could get a better idea what he looked like by looking at the other women. While he knew Rosa, he hadn't ever studied her too closely. He was a married man after all.

He had dark skin, between olive and red, with black hair that fell past his shoulders. He was about 5'4" but had fairly large breasts. He didn't know how to size them, but they were a little larger than Ellen's. He was in good shape, trimmer stomach and wider hips than he'd had before. His legs and arms were hairless and lacked both the scars and the muscles he had built up over the years. Good looking, but no Barbie doll, for which he was thankful.

"All right," he said quietly, making sure not to scream when he heard his new voice, "Who are all of you? I'm Stan Overton."

"Anna Lopez," said one of them. Stan was floored. He knew he shouldn't be, it was a miracle after all. His daughter's playmate, the thin little orphan girl was suddenly a healthy adult woman. His twin, he reminded himself. She sounded just like him. He reminded himself not to be surprised. Again.

"Jeff Chen," said the next.

"Martin Silasson," said the last.

"So three of us were men," said Stan. "I think that was all of us, right?" He'd concentrated on Jack, not on the other people at the table, but he was pretty sure there were only three men there. He thought there'd been a black man, so that was probably Martin, but he was too embarrassed to ask.

The others agreed that there'd been three men there. Anna had been the only child in the room. It seemed likely they'd been placed together deliberately.

"We're the hard cases, I guess. Anna, just in case you don't remember my name, I'm Maria's father. She's friends with my daughter," Stan explained more generally. "Jeff and I were in a bowling league together. I don't think we've met, though, Martin."

"I'm Martin," said the woman Stan thought was Jeff. There was no way to tell each other apart. "I was a soldier at the outpost. Remote tour, family back in Georgia. Thought it'd be a right easy post at a city. More fool I."

"I can't tell you apart," complained Anna. She opened the footlockers. Two were empty, but one had an abandoned notebook and pen. She ripped off some paper. "Nametags. Like the first day of school."

Stan agreed. He avoided looking at the mirror in case he couldn't pick himself out of the crowd. He was already starting to feel like he wasn't a real person, just a copy. That was worse than being turned into a woman. He wanted to run screaming from the others. Anna's idea would at least help.

"Wait a second," Stan exclaimed. "Paper and pen. We can't leave, but we can write. Maybe the guards can deliver our letters. Jeff, what do you think?"

"I'm all for it," he responded. "You go first, then gimme the pen. Either o' you have anyone?"

Martin also wanted to write, one to his unit, one to go home. Anna didn't have anyone. They wrote their letters, using the footlockers as desks. Stan tried to ignore the fact that they all had the same handwriting.

"Excuse me," Stan called to the old man at the end of the hall. "Could we ask a favor? We wrote some letters to our families. Would you see if the priests can deliver them when they tell our families what happened?"

The guard looked down at Stan and Anna. "Sorry, but I can't leave my post." Anna did her best little girl pout; it was still effective in her adult body. "Look, I'll take the letters. When they come by with your food, I can give it to them, and they can bring it to the priests." He shrugged, "Best I can do."

Stan accepted that and handed over the letters. As they returned to their room, some of the women from other rooms came to see what was going on. When they saw Stan and Anna's nametags, they insisted on making their own. Anna was the center of attention, making nametags for everyone. They all started rummaging through the footlockers in the other rooms to see if they had anything else left behind.

There were guards at each end of the hall, young novices or old monks. The guards raised no objections to the meeting in the hall. Six rooms, three on each side, lined the way. His room had four women, three other rooms had three, and two were empty. There was a rest room at each end, a men's room and a ladies'. Stan reflected that he'd be using the ladies' room now. Or not. There were 12 women and no men in the hall. They'd have to use both bathrooms, so he could hold on to an old habit a little longer.

Novices brought lunch; bread with apple butter and a simple salad. To Stan's delight, the guards handed over the packet of letters. Almost everyone had written some letters, Anna was one of the few exceptions. Stan hadn't been able to say everything he wanted, but he felt much better after sending Ellen and the kids a letter.

A few hours later, Brother Jose stormed into the hall and called everyone out of their rooms. He held the packet of letters in his hand.

"No more of this, understand," he shouted. "You are property. You may not leave the temple. You may not communicate with anyone outside these walls. Do not cross us. You will obey."

He did not wait for a response.

"They're not going to deliver our letters?" exclaimed an open mouthed Stan.

"I bet it's worse'n that," responded Jeff. "I don't think they're telling our families anything. Maybe 'at we're dead. That's why they don't want letters, it says we're still alive."

A woman charged the guard in anger. Without seeing her nametag, it was impossible to say who she was. The old man pushed her and she fell backwards to the ground. He warned, "No more of that. I will hurt you if you try to escape."

"Jessa second," said Martin, ignoring the guard and fallen woman, "What was it as he was saying 'bout us being property?"

"No," stated Jeff. "He's saying we're slaves. I am not a slave. Not t'the temple, not to anyone. C'mere," he pulled in the four of them after searching a bit for Anna.

Once they were all back in their room, with the door shut, he whispered, "I was already thinking about this, now I'm sure. I'm getting out of here. Tonight. Don't care what the priests say. I'm not staying here. I don't think they're really organized yet. Tonight's our best chance."

"I don't trust him," Stan said, speaking of Jose. "I don't think he's going to tell Ellen, tell any of our families, what's really going on. I'm with you Jeff." He had not even started coming to terms with becoming a woman, he wasn't about to accept being a slave too.

"Not me," chimed in Martin. "Still a soldier, at least til someone tells me otherwise," he gestured at his body, looking at his long painted fingernails to indicate he wouldn't be one soon enough. "Now don' worry none. Ain't gonna squeal on you or nothing, but count me outta any escape. We ain't bein' held by the enemy. Give 'em time, I say."

Stan thought about it. He thought about how Ares once treated his 'guests.'

"Martin," he said, "I understand, but I think you're wrong. We're not just being held, we're not allowed to communicate. That's a setup. You're army, right? The oath is still to the Constitution, not to the Church. Yeah, we have to follow the Gods, that's the 29th amendment and all, but we all heard Jack, He didn't say anything about making us slaves. I say we go."

"I'm with him," Anna said, pointing at Stan. "I've been around the temple a lot, they fed me and took care of me. I don't like Brother Jose. He's mean."

Stan was certain he could get them out of the temple if they could reach the boiler room. He'd been down there before, and knew a way into the city sewers. Anna knew the temple layout better than any of the others. She could get them from the pilgrim quarters to the boiler room if they could get past the guards. Jeff was a security guard himself, he swore the guards would relax come night. He was sure he could get them out.

They had a plan.

After everyone was asleep, they put their plan into action. Jeff removed the mirror over the sink and used it to watch the guards. As he predicted, they were barely paying any attention. Both guards were at one end of the hall chatting.

"Temple's not a high target for thieves," Jeff explained in a whisper, "People don't want to mess with God. Guards get lazy, they're not used to watching people who might want to get out."

The plan went off without a hitch. They sneaked past the guards, keeping a wary eye out but seeing no one. Anna led them right to the boiler room.

Stan tried to lift the access plate, only to come to a jarring halt when the plate didn't budge. He pulled as hard as he could, and it barely budged. "Blood and balls," he muttered, "can't move it."

One of the others came over to help, and together they moved the plate aside. Stan had to read the nametag to find out it was Jeff who'd helped him. Stan led the way into the crawlspace. He was much smaller than the last time he'd had to navigate it, which helped. Crawling in a skirt, however, was something he could do without.

They reached the sewers and could stand again. Anna complained about the smell, but they were all committed at this point. After a short walk, they exited the sewer near his old favorite, the Hickory Diner.

"They're open 24 hours, and the morning waitress, Lita, is friendly. She'll help us once we explain what's going on," Stan reassured the others. The lights were on, though the lot was largely empty.

They were an odd sight. Identical triplets in identical outfits, wet and stained with dirt and mud. They all had their shoes off, and were climbing out of a sewer pipe at 3 in the morning. Stan pulled off his nametag and went in the door.

"Lita," he called. She came over looking puzzled. "Can I talk to you for a minute."

"Rosa?" she answered. "I heard... Wait, you have twin sisters? What happened?"

"Lita, I need to talk to you. Please."

She sighed, looked at the two college kids eating, and waved the girls over to a corner. "All right, what's going on?"

"I'm not Rosa. I know this'll sound really strange, but I'm Stan. Stan Overton. Jack, he did this to us and left. We need to see our families to tell them what happened. Lita, we need your help."

Lita opened and shut her mouth a few times and backed up a step or two, "What? What do you want from me?"

Stan understood. He'd feel the same. "A change of clothes. Spare uniforms is fine if you've got 'em. Your phone, we'll call for help."

"All right," she said slowly. "Girls keep spares in the lockers in back. Come here, and look see what fits you all. Come back up when you're done."

"Can't believe we made it," said Jeff. "I shoulda worked for the temple, could've shaped 'em up some. Fifteen years and no breakins. They can't say the same. Really overrated."

They went through the outfits in the lockers while Jeff rambled. They could all use the same clothes, since they were all the same size. They were all getting tired of that.

Stan found a pair of pants that was a touch too large for him, but it felt very nice to put on pants again. They had wide hips, and fastened tighter than he was used to, but at least it wasn't a skirt. Watching the others get dressed excited him. He still got turned on watching women undress, which pleased him. But that now meant tightening nipples, and dampness in the groin. Very strange, off setting. He rationalized that he was learning what his body looked like, then laughed at himself. Even he didn't buy that excuse.

When they were ready they looked like poorly dressed messy waitresses. They all had green collared shirts with the Hickory Diner logo on them and grey slacks. Stan slipped his heels back on. They were the only thing that fit perfectly.

"Poop," yelled Anna when she went back to the front.

Two cops were waiting there with Lita. Stan briefly considered running, but there was no point. He could barely walk in heels, let alone run, and if he took them off he'd be running barefoot. Staring daggers at Lita, who at least looked embarrassed, he surrendered to the police.

"You're gonna have to close up for a bit, Lita," said one of the cops. "We have to take you in too. Got word from the temple. Your customers too."

"What? I didn't do anything. I called you," she protested.

"Orders. We gotta go too. Anyone who's seen them." He indicated the girls with a jerk of his thumb.

Jose and Paula met them at the temple. A third priest was with them, radiating impatience.

"You defy the Word of God. You are church property," ranted Brother Jose. "You will, you must, obey. Brother Nestor, the bracelets."

The third priest said "Give me your hand," to Stan. Stan was frightened. Brother Jose's rants and the police standing stoically behind him made him feel weak and vulnerable. He didn't know how much was the situation, and how much was his new body. Brother Nestor took his tiny hand and tied a small iron chain around it. He did the same to the other two.

"Those," said Jose loudly, "are prison bracelets, a gift from Lord Ares. You cannot remove them. While wearing them, you cannot leave temple grounds. You cannot communicate with anyone outside the temple, by voice, writing, or other means. You cannot attack or try to harm anyone.

"Do you understand?"

They nodded glumly. Sister Paula led them back to their rooms while Brother Jose swore the diner occupants to secrecy.

"That was a stupid move," Paula scolded while they walked. "Brother Jose's opinion on God's command is not official. It's not even widely accepted. I don't agree with him for one. Stunts like that one hurt your cause. Those who don't much care will side with Brother Jose just to make the problems go away."

She continued while Stan, Anna, and Jeff blushed, "And it won't work anyway. Those prison manacles are just one miracle we have. We will catch you if you escape. Don't make us.

"You don't care about yourselves? You're willing to take the risk?" Sister Paula's voice was rising, "Fine. What about the others? Do you want to condemn them too? Don't answer. Think. Now get back to your rooms."

She left. Anna started to say something, Stan held up his hand. "Tomorrow. We'll talk about it tomorrow." He was too tired to admit that Sister Paula was right.

For the next week, all of the transformed women were kept in seclusion. They only saw each other and a small selection of the priests. Sister Paula took charge of Stan's room. She was to teach them about their bodies and how to act like women.

They started with a lot of lectures and embarrassing practice sessions to learn about feminine hygiene. Even Anna found it hard to learn about her body so publicly, but it was far worse for the former men. They argued with and yelled at Sister Paula. She was patient with them, and they eventually went along with her since they did need to learn.

At first Stan thought it was humiliating. For instance, they had lessons on going to the bathroom. He hated to admit it, but he did need to learn to wipe every time, and go from front to back. This was his body now, he reminded himself regularly, and he had to learn how to operate it.

Today's lesson was hair care. They'd had the lectures, and were now in a room Sister Paula had set up for them.

Stan was working on Martin, brushing his deep black hair with a brush. Anna was on the next chair over, with Jeff brushing her hair. They had mirrors in front of them so they could see what they were doing to each other.

They all had on different outfits. When they were first transformed, they all had the same clothing on. At first, the temple gave them all novitiate robes to wear. That left them all looking and dressing identically, and it wore them down quickly. Stan felt like he was somehow less than human, a simple automaton. It only lasted three days, ending when Evelyn attacked a priest who called her Anna. Stan never thought he'd be so grateful to be wearing women's clothing.

The temple claimed Rosa's property and donated her clothing to the transformed women. She had a large wardrobe, but it wasn't enough to clothe twelve women normally. The temple supplemented it, beginning with an emergency supply of bras and panties. Stan and Martin started calling it the 'strategic covering reserve' to general laughter.

While the temple expected the women to share Rosa's clothes, they had other ideas. They universally disliked being confused for each other, they all wanted to stand out. Clothing was one way to do so. Stan wore a yellow headband and claimed all of Rosa's yellow clothing. It wasn't much, he thought it entirely reasonable. He was amazed at just how upset he got when Evelyn wore Rosa's yellow blouse. He nearly assaulted her. He would have if Martin hadn't stopped him. It still freaked him out that he was so attached to some pieces of women's clothing.

He was wearing that blouse today with some pale blue slacks and open toed sandals. Sister Paula promised, or threatened, that they'd need to learn to accessorize soon, but the only jewelry he had on was the prison bracelet he couldn't remove. Except for Martin, they all wore one.

Sister Paula knocked on the wall and coughed impatiently. Stan came out of his reverie. She'd instructed them to talk to each other while working on their hair. Until now, Sister Paula hadn't given much thought to the differences between men's and women's behavior. She hoped to ease her group into feminine behavior, and conversation was part of it.

"So, Martin," Stan asked, taking Paula's cue, "bet you're sorry you didn't come along on the big escape now? Still get the same assignments, but without the fancy jewelry." He held up his arm with the iron band around it, looking at Sister Paula to acknowledge the instructions. She wasn't happy about the topic, but nodded back.

Jeff jumped in from the next chair, "Next time let's pick a route at's not quite so dirty. Anna's finally gonna get the last of the dirt outta my head. Maybe a rooftop escape, 'cept Martin's dress might give some folks an eyeful."

Martin chuckled. It sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "It has been one of the few high points of excitement, I'll give you that. Do you really think it's the best idea to plan our next major caper while our minder looks on?" He made a slight head turn towards Sister Paula. "I think I see why your first plan didn't work."

Stan smiled back, and turned Martin back towards the mirror to resume brushing his hair. Sister Paula smiled ruefully, and said, "Very well, ladies, you may have your privacy. I will be in my office. Keep at your exercises and remember to keep talking to each other." Stan didn't much care for being called a lady, but knew Sister Paula was trying to help.

"Have you heard anything from outside?" Stan asked. "Has the base tried to contact you?" He kept brushing Martin's hair.

"No, nothin'," he replied. "I saw a volunteer cleaning the halls the other day. A novice done rushed her away soon as I saw 'er. I think we're all still a state secret."

"I want so much to get a letter to Ellen," Stan complained. "I miss her terribly. Even more than seeing her again, I need her to know I'm all right." He paused a minute in thought, and stopped brushing Martin's hair, "We lost a boy when Divinitrice came through, and she's never been the same. Fragile about loss." Stan could feel tears welling up as he spoke. He put both hands on Martin's shoulders and leaned forward for support.

Martin did not draw away. He understood Stan's need. "I don't know so much about getting word out to my unit," he said, "It's a kinda embarrassing way to ship out. I'd like to find out how they separated me, make sure my wife gets treated right. I'd be pissed if they wrote me off AWOL."

"That'd be like the military, wouldn't it? OK, that's enough with the brushing out. Let's try some braids, shall we?" Stan started separating and braiding Martin's hair.

"It's not just Ellen," continued Stan, "My boy Luke's going to graduate high school soon. He's been getting in trouble lately, fell in with some bad friends. I was having enough trouble getting him to straighten up while I was there. Can't be a role model for him like this, even if I could see him. I worry about him."

"We just have the one kid," said Martin slowly, "and I miss her every day. Lot younger'n your Luke, sure. She'll be five next month. Soldier's life, I always knew I might not get to see her grow up, but this ain't what I figured on. I feel for you. You did say you had two kids though, right?"

"Yeah," he answered fondly, "My little girl is Maria. She's as sweet as can be. She'll turn 9 in the summer. Ellen was so happy when we had a girl. She's as pretty as can be, she'll be a heartbreaker any day now. It's cruel, maybe, but I was looking forward to scaring her boyfriends and seeing her get mad at me."

Martin tried to turn his head to look at Stan, but Stan held him steady to keep braiding his hair, "Tell me about it. Liza's only 4 and I's already practicing my 'just cleanin' my gun' speech."

"OK, I've got the braid, let's see if I can do the next step." Stan twisted the braid, pulling Martin's hair back. He made a it into a circle and pinned it up. "Turn around, let me see," Stan commanded.

"Probably need to get the braid a bit tighter," Stan critiqued his work, "and it looks pretty severe from the front," as he looked at Martin, "but I guess it could work for a formal situation."

Martin looked in the mirror, "I don't know. I see naughty schoolteacher written all over this. Is it wrong to keep thinking that about yourself?"

"Way too deep," answered Stan, "I don't want to think about it. Why don't you do me now, and then we can go show our work to teacher?"

Sister Paula had been listening in the whole time on a receiver. No matter how they did on the hair care, she was very pleased with their progress. They needed more work, but they were making progress. She just had to get them time.

The following week was less pleasant. They had to deal with their first period. All the transformed women had it at the same time. In retrospect it was obvious, but no one thought of it ahead of time.

The other women assured them that their time of the month was fairly mild in Rosa's body, and traded stories of what their old ones were like. Stan, Martin and Jeff found random stomach cramps frightening, and bleeding from their vagina worrying. Necessary though it was, getting tampon lessons from Sister Paula was humiliating.

When it was over, Stan knew he'd changed. If he could remove the prison bracelet, he'd still send a message to his family, but he no longer expected to return to them. He accepted the temple teaching that he was a new person, he just wasn't sure who that was yet.

They'd continued their lessons with Sister Paula while dealing with their first periods. Stan enjoyed the cooking lessons, he'd been a terrible cook before. The makeup lessons, however, brought him face-to-face, as it were, with his change. It further reinforced the temple's teaching that he was a new person.

That morning a novice informed them that the temple was having a lunch and all the transformed women had to attend. The previous day Sister Paula had cancelled all her training sessions. While Stan was thrilled not to have to struggle with makeup again, he and his friends were very bored. The women in the other rooms had also been free. Everyone knew something was up.

Jeff said, "What do you think is going on? Anyone hear anything? Can't be that we all just finished our, well, you know." He gestured downwards. Stan was glad Jeff started the conversation. They were all thinking about it, but it wasn't easy to say anything.

"No, I doubt that's it," said Stan. "Maybe they're going to let us talk to our families?" he said hopefully.

"Probably not, Stan," piped up Anna. She had become the leader of their group. She'd adapted better than the others to her new body, and had proven to be a very keep observer. She was the only one of them that could always recognize the others. That alone made her popular. She was also much better than the others at figuring out what was going on in the temple. "Have you seen how stressed Sister Paula's been all week? I think they finally decided what to do with us."

"Don't like the sound o'that," said Martin. "She's a friendly lady. If she's stressed out about it all, that don't, eh, that doesn't, sound good for us." Sister Paula had been working with Martin on his diction. He was a good soldier and worked hard at it.

"Maybe," said Anna, "but I don't think so. I think she'd be upset if things were going bad. I think it was a tough decision and argument, and that's why she was stressed. Wait until we see her to guess how bad it'll be."

Stan finished dressing. He had on a pale blue sundress with yellow flowers, pumps, a silver necklace and earrings. They had a makeup kit in their room, but they all decided to do without. None of them had gotten very good at it. Stan curled his hair the way he'd always liked on Ellen. He hoped that if he was a model prisoner he could see his family again. He no longer felt like he was cross dressing when wearing a dress, but wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

The mess hall was not as large as God's private room. It had a raised head table and 5 smaller tables on the floor.

Brother Jose and Sister Paula were at the head table with 3 senior priests. Stan sat with his friends and two other transformed women. They all wore nametags, since even they had trouble telling each other apart. To Stan's disappointment, no town members were present.

Remembering Anna's comments, he studied Sister Paula. She was quiet while Brother Jose spoke genially with the other priests. That was a bad sign, he thought. While she seemed quiet, Sister Paula wasn't broken down. He had to hope for the best.

The meal was better than what they got in their quarters. They had an apple walnut salad followed by barbecued chicken with green beans and tomatoes. Brother Jose stood up as they finished.

"Ladies, I have some fine news for you," he announced, looking pleased with himself. His smile was as broad and genuine as a used car salesman's. "There has been much discussion over the last two weeks of your status, as I'm sure you're all well aware." In fact, they weren't well aware, as the temple did everything they could to hide such discussions from them.

"Lord Jack has gifted you to the temple with orders to take care in your final disposition. We are taking our responsibility for you seriously, and are pleased to announce that we have found a place for the first of you." He gestured at the head table when he said 'we.' Stan noticed that Sister Paula and one of the older priests did not look back. Whatever was coming, Stan was sure it was not a unanimous decision.

"Evelyn Schmidt," Brother Jose paused and stared at them, but couldn't read the nametags from where he stood. Eventually he continued, "Evelyn Schmidt will be moving to Enid, Oklahoma. She will be a nurse and nanny for the children of Father Demetiriou, whose wife was tragically lost two weeks ago.
"The rest of you will begin working in the temple while we try to find a position for you," he continued despite an outcry from the table across from Stan. "It will all be work suitable for acolytes, mostly cleaning, cooking, and serving. One day a week you will work in the orchards. The town has been told that you are gifts to the temple from Jack" He looked meaningfully at Sister Paula.

"You will receive your assignments later this evening." After making this announcement, the head table filed out of the room.

A low buzz of conversation started at the tables. "Why was Evelyn so upset?" Stan asked Anna.

"Not sure," she whispered back, "Probably because she'll be working for a priest, she never liked the temples, you know." Stan hadn't known that. He knew Evelyn was the oldest of the transformed, but that was about it.

"They're getting her out of here as fast as possible," said one of the women from the other rooms, Joyce. "It's punishment. Evelyn managed to get word out about what happened to us. Really threw a bee in Brother Jose's bonnet there, she did."

Stan was shocked. "What? Really?" He hadn't known any of the other women had complaints, let alone that there was an active resistance. His own efforts, telling Lita at the Hickory Diner, hadn't come to anything. Evelyn's had. Good for her.

"Really?" Anna jumped in when it was clear Stan couldn't do more than gape. "I hadn't heard about that. How'd she do it?"

Joyce told Anna the story. Stan was interested but a woman's hand touched his arm. It was not the same dark olive that he and the other transformed all had. It was Sister Paula.

"Help me," she said. She gathered Stan, Martin, and Jeff. "Brother Jose doesn't have nearly the support he thinks he does. I'm not going to go through the theology with you now, but I don't think this is what Jack wants."

"Sister," Jeff interrupted, "we want to know what's going on."

"That's fair enough. I'll try to keep you better informed. You need to know that when you're all causing trouble, Brother Jose's simple solutions become more appealing. They are faster, for certain. You three," after a pause, "and Anna too, are more important than you know. We had a rough start," she pointed at the prison bracelets, "but since then you've been fantastic. That's helped a lot. You give people a reason to wait. I need you to keep trying, you have no idea how important you are for all of you."

It all came together for Stan in an instant. He'd just had a period. He'd seen Evelyn, one of his sisters, made into a nanny for opposing the temple. Now he had Sister Paula's plea. He made a decision, and put his other hand on Sister Paula's and gripped it comfortingly. "I will. I promise," she said from the heart.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Overton, but there is nothing more I can do."

Larry Elliot had been practicing law in Shawnee for over 50 years. He was a white-haired old man who was very good at projecting an air of geniality. He was using his well-practiced social skills to keep Ellen Overton from panic.

She had bags under her eyes, her clothing was rumpled. and her cheeks were stained with silent tears. He knew she was suffering, and hated that he had to deliver even more bad news.

"But they have to," she protested. "They have to let me see my husband. Don't they?"

"I'm sorry," said Larry kindly, "but no, they don't. The temple has taken a surprisingly hard line here. They are not letting family members see them. They claim Jack's Gifts as church property, and have a divine pronouncement to back it up. I'm afraid they can do what they want."

"He didn't say they were property," screeched Ellen, a line she'd used many times.

"True, He didn't." Larry was patient but firm. "Everyone is clear on that. The temple interprets His wishes that way, though. Now, we both know that the city is allowed to challenge temple interpretations, but they don't do so often, and they have chosen not to this time. Again, Mrs. Overton, I am sorry about this, but neither you nor I are allowed to make such a challenge."

"Please," she begged, "there must be something we can do. The children need their father. The temple can't keep him from them, can they?"

Larry disliked this part of his job. He had to explain to his client that she couldn't get what she wanted. He couldn't do anything, and the city wouldn't. Without the temple's permission, she had no chance of seeing Stan again. Larry wasn't a harsh man by nature, so he tried to say it kindly.

"Mrs. Overton, this is difficult. The temple claims that when God transformed the Gifts, they became new people. Stan Overton died that day as far as the church is concerned. They don't recognize the new person as your husband or as your children's' father, I'm afraid. I've been in contact with the temple Synod, and they hold this position very firmly."

The lawyer looked kindly on Ellen. She closed her eyes in pain, shuddered slightly.

"Mrs. Overton, have you eaten today?"

"Not yet," she answered quietly. "Just made toast for the kids."

Larry called his secretary and asked her to bring in some tea and cookies. It wasn't much, but he could at least help Ellen a little.

"Now," he continued, "while the Church considers Stan deceased, the city considers the Gifts to be the same people they were. They won't pay out any insurance policies. I can continue to work on getting you survivor benefits, and there is some hope, but..."

Ellen interrupted, "I don't want money, I want my husband back."

"Mrs. Overton," Larry interrupted firmly, "not to put too fine a point on it, but even if you got to see her again," he put an emphasis on the word 'her,' "she would no longer be your husband."

She started crying. Larry felt ashamed of himself. In a master stroke of good timing, his secretary arrived with tea, and he was able to take some time serving and comforting Ellen.

Larry decided to change his tack, "Your son graduates next week, right? That should help your family, no?"

It didn't help much, "He's got nothing without his father. Luke needs his father. He's just going to get a city job without Stan's help. Even Maria's having trouble, she's stopped doing her homework and just watches television. We need Stan back, you have to get him back."

Larry felt sorry for the poor woman. He would see if there was anything he could do to get them a settlement from the city or the church, but for now, he escorted her out of his office and went back to other work. He feared Ellen was losing touch with reality.

On a warm Saturday evening, Luke escaped yet another evening of his mother's ranting by going to the skate park. He met his friends Peter and Danny for a smoke.

"It's just wrong, dammit," stated Luke. "There was a war to get rid of slavery, it's not right for the church to bring it back."

Danny took a long drag on his cigarette, "Yeah, and this got nothing to do with the fact that Daddy's one of 'em."

"Stroke off, dickweed" he countered, "It doesn't change nothing. It's still wrong."

It was strange, Luke thought. He sneaked out of his house to get away from his mother's obsession, but as soon as he started talking to his friends, he went to the same place. He and Maria had been left to their own devices the last few weeks. Whenever Mom was around, she only talked about getting Dad back. More often, she was pleading with lawyers, priests, or officials to try to get him back. He didn't want to go down that track, but couldn't stop himself.

"Hey Luke," said Peter after a punch on the arm to get his attention, "I asked around. It's not like he's really a slave. It's like God told the church to look after them and find them a job or position or something. I mean, we could use that too."

"You think he can say no? People have rights, real rights. Dad didn't commit any crimes, but he can't leave the temple. They take charge of his life, don't let him decide. When people are things, when they're tools, they're slaves."

Luke knew Peter was trying to cheer him up. They'd been friends since they were toddlers and though they understood each other's moods, Peter was shocked by his old friend's passion. He'd never seen Luke get this worked up over anything.

"Dude," piped up Danny, "your Dad ain't a him anymore. She's a chick, right? Maybe they'll find somethin' hot for her to do, eh? Get to see old Dad swingin' on a pole, maybe, if they swing it."

Luke jumped up to take a swing at Danny, who was ready for it. Peter saw it coming and held Luke back. Danny had been needling both of them for the last few weeks. "Hold it Luke, it's what he wants."

Still holding Luke, Pete changed the subject. "Speaking of jobs, you guys got anything lined up after graduation?"

Luke went along with it. He didn't have a chance in a fair fight against Danny, and Danny wouldn't fight fair. "Nope. Diner's not hiring, thought that could work out. Probably just go down for a city job."

"Same," grunted Peter. "Still got a shot at a reclamation crew; go outta the city, claim abandoned stuff. They do more testin' than I'd figured though, and don't think I got great odds. Might do it freelance, maybe. Grab a broken down car and fix it up, got pretty good at that."

"Losers." Danny was straightforward. "Get a job. Settle down," he mimicked in a singsong voice. "Not for this guy. I got an in with the Fiery Scorpions," naming one of the more notorious criminal gangs. "Money and women, men, that's where it's at."

"Shya right," scoffed Luke, still mad about the cracks about his father. "You don't know any Scorpions." The tattoo on his arm was in honor of the Scorpions, but he'd never met an actual gang member. He'd really gotten it to annoy his father and shock his teachers.

"Oh yeah, man, I got connections. They'll be givin' me an initiation test, but then I'm set. Set for life."

Luke and Peter pondered this. Luke knew Danny was both ambitious and amoral. He could make that work for him.

"Danny," he said. Peter and Danny paid attention to Luke's sudden change in demeanor, since he'd been ticked off a moment ago. "Wouldn't the Scorpions be more impressed if you took initiative on your own, planned your own caper?"

"You got somethin' in mind?" sneered Danny.

"Yeah, course I do. It'd take real balls of fire to, say, steal from the temple. We can break in and get the slaves out. Free them from the tyrants of the church."

"Hah," Danny laughed in response, "you're still on that free-your-Daddy kick." He paused. "Still, that would impress them. If you got a plan, yeah, I'm in."

"Whoa," cautioned Peter, "Guys, seriously, you're talking about the temple here. Jack was just here. Sorry Luke, but it's true. God protects it."

"Come on Peter," said Luke, "We've been friends since we were kids. How many times has my Dad helped you out? Picked you up? Remember when he got us after the cops nabbed us for tagging the library? He didn't tell your Mom. Help me out here."

Peter was uncomfortable. Luke didn't often call on his loyalty, and he did owe him. "Fine. I'm in. But outside the temple only - lookout or driver, something like that. I'm not going inside."

"Wuss," from Danny.

"No problem at all," smiled Luke. "We can do this."

It was a long night, but Luke felt better now that he was trying to do something.

Luke finished high school and scarcely cared. Like his mother, he was going through the motions of life, applying at City Hall for any open position and pretending to listen to his mother's rants. Each evening he got together with his friends to plan their assault. That was his life.

The day came.

It was past midnight, the small hours of the morning. Warm and cloudless, the crescent moon left the night dark enough to hide them.

They parked several blocks away from the temple and walked quietly until they were within sight of the temple gates.

"Phone check," Peter whispered. The others nodded. Peter dialed the others. Their phones went off, low but audible. "OK, I have you two on speed dial. I see anyone coming, or lights going on inside, I'll buzz you."

Luke nodded. Quietly, he clasped Peter on the shoulder. He was thankful for his friend. Peter disagreed with the plan, but came along to support him.
A stone wall surrounded the temple, but the gates were open. They were only closed when the town was under siege. Luke and Danny dashed from hiding to the sides of the gate, plastering themselves against the wall. They paused dramatically. Luke poked his head around the gate and pulled it back suddenly. With a hand sign he indicated he didn't see anyone.

The main doors were unlocked, but they might be guarded. So they dashed from tree to tree, carefully staying out of sight of anyone watching from inside. Behind each tree or rock they'd carefully peer around before silently signalling to the other than the coast was clear.

They proceeded in this fashion for several minutes before reaching the kitchen door on the side of the building. They'd found out that this door was left unlocked so the staff could prepare breakfast before the priests woke up. The cooks started arriving around 4, so they had 2 hours.

They passed through the empty kitchen and peeked beyond. The hall was empty. The ease of their caper was bothering Luke. No one had stopped them or challenged them. Their elaborate entrance was wasted with no one even looking for them. If the place was this lightly guarded, they had to have other defenses. He was going to mention this to Danny, but his partner was already heading off. In the wrong direction.

"Hsst," whispered Luke urgently. "This way."

Danny turned back briefly, "Don't think so. Scorps ain't interested in chick-Daddy. 'm after bigger game. Luck." He kept going while Luke stared open mouthed.

Good or bad, he was on his own. He was always on his own.

He went to the temple every week, but only knew the public areas. He was pretty sure that the prisoners were in the Pilgrim's wing. He knew the way and started heading there.

He wondered if Danny's departure was good or bad. Being in different places increased the chances of one of them getting caught. If Danny got caught, the distraction might give Luke some extra breathing room to get his Dad out.

He tried to move quickly but quietly, avoided lit areas, and stopped to peer around corners. Hugging the walls while moving was overkill, he decided. He did see one person up and roaming the halls, but Luke just stood still for a while and that person moved on about his business.

The entrance to the pilgrim's quarters was unguarded. He looked in one room, opening the door slowly. It was empty. Two bunk beds and some lockers, but no people.

The next room was full, four women sleeping in the bunk beds. He had to hope one of them was his father. He looked at the women, but of course he couldn't tell them apart. As far as he could tell, they were all Mrs. Ramos.

He thought back to his father's stories and remembered he made a big deal out of picking the bottom bunk. He said it was important. So, if one of these women was his Dad, he could narrow it down to two. He went over and shook one of the women. "Shhh, please." He whispered while waking her.

"Hey, what's going on?" the woman cried as she woke up. Luke's hand on her mouth shut her up, but she struggled.

"It's me, Luke. Dad? Stan?" He felt the woman struggle briefly and then relax.

"Luke?" she asked quietly once Luke released her. "Luke, wow. It's good to see you again." She was excited but whispering, which made her sound very strange. "I'm Anna. Anna Lopez. Suzanna's in the other bunk," she said, pointing across the room.

"Who? I want to see my father, Stan Overton."

"Keep it down," she whispered back, "You're not supposed to be here. And she's Suzanna now. Here." At a gesture from her, Luke backed off. She woke up the woman in the other bunk.

Luke slapped himself, "Guessed wrong, of course." The woman woke up, Anna shushed her, then pointed to Luke.

Her hand flew to her mouth, "Aaah. Luke." She leapt out of bed, ran and jumped at him, putting her arms around his neck to hug him. She quieted quickly, "Luke," in a whisper, "Thank you. How did you get here? Oh, it is so good to see you. I've missed you so much." The two women in the top bunks woke up, complaining.

The woman, his father, sat down on her bed. She patted the mattress next to her to invite Luke over. Anna quieted the others and told them what was going on. Luke was stunned. He couldn't believe this woman was his father. She acted so different. Luke's father didn't hug, he shook hands. He certainly didn't pat the bed to invite someone over. Still, Luke went and sat next to her.

Suzanna put her hand on his arm, "How is everyone? How is... Ellen?"

The tone was right. He hurt. It was him. "She's not doing good, Dad. It's why I'm here, to get you out so you can take care of her. She can't take it."

Suzanna looked down, sadly, "I was afraid of that, but I'd hoped. I'd really hoped. Oh Luke, I'm so sorry." She paused, looked him in the eye and leaned towards him, "How is Maria? And you?"

"Dad," Luke answered impatiently, "we can talk about this later. We've got to get you out."

"No," she answered slowly. "You can't." She held up her arm, pointed to an iron band. Luke noticed, for the first time, that she was wearing a nightgown, with her hair tied up and her nails painted and filed. "It's a prison bracelet. I couldn't leave the temple if I wanted to.

"I do want to leave, but Luke, I couldn't go unless we could get all of us out. And keep us out. The temple has ways to find us." She looked away shyly. "I doubt I could go home anyway. Do you think Ellen would accept me like this? It sure wouldn't help her. I could do it for you and Maria, maybe, but I'm not sending you two into exile while the temple hunts us. Not like this."

Now it was Luke's turn to look away. There was no denying she was a woman. A woman would not reassure his Mother. He shook his head no.

Luke wanted to talk some more, find out what was going on, when they heard guards yelling, "Thief."

Suzanna turned, "Anna, look outside. Luke, are you alone?"

Luke flushed, "No, I came in with a friend. I thought he was going to help me, but he broke off to rob something. I don't know what."

Anna gave an all clear sign. "OK, Luke," said Suzanna, gripping both his arms, "we have a way out. It's a bit dirty," she grinned, "but you can do it. I want your promise. Don't do this again. You need to take care of your mother and your sister, OK?"

Luke promised, and Suzanna leaned in close, hugged him tight, and kissed him on the cheek.

Luke, his father, and another of Jack's Gifts who Luke was pretty sure was Anna, ran down some hallways into the boiler room. They had to dodge some disorganized and sleepy novices. Before he knew it he was crawling out of the temple through the crawlway, trudging through the sewers, and coming up near the Hickory Diner. He looked back longingly at the temple, thinking he'd never see his father again.

Luke dressed up as much as he could for this meeting. He was wearing a button shirt, his best jeans, and dress shoes. He'd gotten to the Hickory Diner early, so he was waiting at one of the tables on the patio when Sister Paula arrived.

"Luke Overton, I assume," she said while reaching out to shake his hand. Sister Paula wore a business suit with a skirt, the broken circle of the church hanging low like a necklace. Her blue eyes shone.

"Yes. Sister Paula, right?" he asked in response.

"I don't know how I do this," Luke said hesitantly. "I'm appealing for temple mercy, I guess. Do I need to do something special?"

"No." Paula replied, understanding that this was a big step for Luke. "There're no rituals, just explain your situation. I already know what happened with your father. Your mother made several appeals to the temple, but I understand that's not what you wanted to talk about. Feel free to tell me about it if you think it's important, though. It's surely better to repeat things I know than to leave out something I don't.

"But before you start, you need to understand that temple mercy has limits. We can intercede with civil authority, but without God's command, we can't override any laws. The only thing we can really do is get you heard."

"Yeah," said Luke, "well, I hope that'll be enough then. It's not my father, it's my sister."

In the month since he tried to rescue his father, Luke had come to accept that he was gone for good. He hadn't seen Danny since that day, and he and Peter never spoke of it. Despite his best efforts, life went on. It had led him to this diner meeting.

"My mother, that's Ellen Overton, had a heart attack. She's in the hospital. You said you know about my father, Stan. He was one of Jack's Gifts from when Jack visited. My mother asked for temple mercy to get him back and tried to go through the city too, but I guess you knew that already. It was eating her up, she stopped sleeping or eating. Anyway, it all got to her and I guess she couldn't take it anymore."

Luke worked hard to keep his voice level and even. Sister Paula seemed sympathetic, with her hands crossed in her lap as she watched him. He wanted to yell and rail at her, but knew that wouldn't help his case, so he controlled himself.

"I got a city job, but all I could get was a twice a week janitor slot. Not much money, especially with Mom in the hospital."

"I see. Go on." Paula knew he was still building up to the real problem. A little encouragement could help.

"With all that going on, I guess my little sister's gotten a bit out of hand. She, Maria, my sister, she got in trouble. Got caught stealing from the deli and got arrested. Now the judge is saying I can't provide for her, and they're going to take her away until Mom gets better. Doctors don't think she will, so that'll be forever. Please help us."

Paula took a sip of water. "I sympathize with you Mr. Overton. Your family has been through some tough times. What do you think the church can do for you?"

"Well, a few years ago, we kept an orphan girl with us for a few months during the holidays. Anna Lopez, her name was. She's also one of Jack's Gifts now, so you can check with her. She was a church foundling. So, I was thinking you could take Maria as a foundling, then let me keep her, so she'd be outside the city's reach." Luke started hesitantly, but his voice gained strength as he went through his plan.

"That's very clever. It really is, but it wouldn't work. When the Church takes a foundling, we are still subject to the city's jurisdiction. That means we have to place them in homes capable of them. City officials check up on them like they do anyone else.

"Now Mr. Overton. Luke. I've looked at your record. You've been in trouble several times. All juvenile crimes. Now a small time city job. You haven't shown any strong attachment to your family in the past. Why is this so important to you?"

Paula wasn't telling him the whole truth. Most of what she knew about Luke came not from his records, but from listening to Suzanna. It was also why she wanted to help the boy if at all possible.

"I made a promise to my father."

That was not what she expected. "Tell me."

Luke thought for a second. Did she know about the break in, or was she fishing for more information? It didn't really matter. If he was going to keep Maria with him, he knew the story he had to go with. It was even true.

"It was the night before Jack changed my Dad. I was in trouble again. My father got me. He'd just fought a wisp, and he said his biggest worry was that if something happened to him, I wouldn't watch out for our family." Luke looked down. "I don't want him to be right."

"Luke, I can't keep your sister safe or with you. If I intercede and tell child services to let you keep her, they'd refuse. It's even possible they'd consider it improper interference, and they might take it out on you.

"But I might be able to do something. I can probably get them to delay action until the fall, if I ask it as a favor. If you can keep her out of trouble and show you can look after her, you might change their minds."

Luke smiled. Hesitant, but genuine.

"Thank you." He had a goal. He couldn't fail.

Sister Paula thought back to her meeting with Luke a few weeks later while editing the Liturgy of Jack. It had been nearly three months since Jack had left Shawnee, and Luke's family problem was just one of the issues He'd left behind for the church to deal with. The liturgy was exposing growing divisions in the clergy. To her discomfort, Paula had become the leader of one of those factions, with Brother Jose her opposite. The Synod, the representatives of the Gods who had visited Shawnee, were content to allow proxies to conduct the battle. Either Paula or Jose would almost certainly join the Synod in Jack's chair.

Sister Paula had yet another revision of the Pillar of Fire miracle. The facts were not in dispute. A zombie from Kansas City had created a new creature, a Vozhd. The creature infected people, but it wasn't clear why or what the infection would do. Jack traced the vozhd to a gas station and destroyed the creature. He also killed five people who were there at the time. Sister Paula had ensured their names were all recorded in the Liturgy a few edits back.

She wanted the Pillar of Fire story to recognize that He killed some only to save many more, that Jack was acting as a protector of mankind. Brother Jose wished to show that the threat from the monsters was growing, and that we must do whatever is needed to defeat them.

The disputed passage read:

"And with the Source of the Plague located, the Lord Jack did waste no time in ending its threat. Though evil hid behind innocence, He would brook no delay in ending it. He did lift the home of the Source into the sky itself, and called forth from Heaven the fire which laid it to waste.

Neither the living nor the dead was permitted to escape, their earthly bodies consumed in their entirety. Then did he allow the frame to return unto the ground, where it would be interred and sealed against the memory of all."

If only He'd spoken, she thought for the umpteenth time, but He said nothing that night. She once claimed He was mourning the loss of innocent lives. She'd been overruled and forbidden from imputing emotions to God without evidence. Paula was a loyal follower, as was Brother Jose, and accepted the rebuke.

She changed the second sentence to:

"The nature of Evil is to hide behind Innocence, yet more would suffer should He not act." That should work, she thought. Jose could let that through, as it would easily allow him to teach that the growing threats required harsh action. It would also permit her to teach that the God was a protector and the temple must stand in for Him as needed. She had cleaner victories elsewhere in the Liturgy. For the Pillar of Fire, she'd have to take what she could.

Her paperwork done for the day, she moved on to other duties. She supervised some of the transformed. She refused to call them Jack's Gifts. Brother Jose had tried to pin the transformed men on her as a punishment, but it was the group she wanted to work with. They needed help, and she was eager to give it.

Her girls were cleaning the kitchen before the cooks arrived for dinner. She listened before going into the room. The kitchen overlooked the orchards, and they were watching the harvest while they cleaned.

"There she goes again, see," said Suzanna. "That's the third time Molly has just happened to brush up against Ed. She's making a play for him."

"Oh I hope not," replied Melissa. The former men had taken new names. Martin had become Melissa. "Ed's been staring at Lisa every chance he gets. You watch, he'll be going over to help her carry her bushel soon as it's full."

The two continued while scrubbing the counters, gossiping about who was seeing whom, who was jealous, and who looked good. Sister Paula was very pleased with their progress. Just listening in, they sounded like normal women.

"Zombie crap," said the third girl, Julia. She used to be Jeff, and was Sister Paula's holdout. Even more than the sex change, the transformed disliked losing their individuality. They used color and clothing to tell each other apart. Suzanna kept a yellow headband on, while Melissa wore her green scarf. Julia insisted on continuing to use her name tag rather than commit to some feminine clothing.

"Who cares who's going out with who?" Julia asked in frustration. "Let's just get the cleaning done already. I want to go run."

When Julia took up running, Paula had hoped it would lead to her getting to know her body better, and maybe adapting. It didn't work. Julia ran so obsessively Paula was sometimes sorry she'd approved it.

"Don't worry, Julia. We won't take too long. We can even join you if you'll let us. But come on, watching and talking at least gives us something to do," soothed Suzanna.

Paula decided she'd listened long enough. "Good afternoon. How're we all doing today?"

"Sister Paula," replied Suzanna smoothly, "Have you heard from Anna? Did she arrive safely?"

"Yes, she did. We heard a few hours ago. I'm sorry, I should have let the three of you know immediately. She got to the temple in Biloxi last night, and should be able to take her novitiate vows within the week. They were excited to get a novice who had been transformed by God. I think she'll do well there."

Paula was pleased with Anna's decision to join the temple. In the fights to dispose of the transformed, that was far and away her biggest victory.

"I'm sure she'll write to you. I'll let her know you asked about her. Melissa, if you wish to write, I'll be happy to send out any letters for you."

Paula could not remove Julia or Suzanna's prison bracelet unless she got permission from the Synod, so neither would be capable of writing to Anna. All of her efforts to get the prison bands removed had come to naught.

"I'll do that," said Melissa, "and thank you." She knew not to offer to include anything from the other girls. They wouldn't be able to, and would just get angry.

"Suzanna," continued Paula, "I like the highlights in your hair. Very nicely done. Well," she laughed a bit, "I like anything that makes it easier to tell you apart."

An awkward moment of silence fell. Sister Paula recognized her mistake. The girls were mirror images of each other, and did not like being reminded of it. Suzanna finally pushed her hair up slightly with her hand and broke the silence.

"I wish I could take the credit for it. Anna did it before she left. I have to learn to do it myself soon. I'm glad you like it, so do I."
Paula talked with them some more before heading on to her other duties. She was pleased. Jack commanded the temple to do good by them, and she believed that helping them adapt furthered God's will.

The last rumbles of an afternoon thunderstorm were fading when Brother Jose got back to the temple. He was wet, dirty, and tired but pleased with himself for a hard day's work. An unexpected truckload of basic supplies came in the morning with no one to offload it. He organized a quick group of men and had to pitch in himself. It left a lot of administrative work for the afternoon. He suspected it would be a long night, but it was worth it.

The latest copy of the Liturgy of Jack was on his desk. It could wait. Sister Paula was winning too many of their disputes of late. The Liturgy was not reflecting Jack's will. Delay was Brother Jose's ally at the moment, to allow time for the winds to shift.

He was in charge of the temple's relief efforts, so he turned to that instead. Ghosts hit in the north, Billings was requesting support. Brother Jose got to work arranging transportation for food and equipment. A long trip was risky, but he'd developed a strong network of contacts over the years. He made sure to offer to take any orphaned children on the return trip. Ever since Divinitrice's Waltz a decade ago he'd worried about the gap in their population. He admitted to himself that he had a soft spot for children, but he didn't want that to get out.

On his wall was a picture of Mexico City before it fell, a sword mounted beneath the picture. He lived there once, was there during the fall. The sword had seen plenty of use on the long trek north. On the march he'd made the decision to join the priesthood. He'd give his life to aid the fight so others wouldn't have to go through the same struggle he did. He'd learned a lot since joining the church, including the most bitter of knowledge.

Mankind was losing.

In a generation, maybe two, they would no longer be able to hold the cities. The survivors might scatter and hide, but they'd have little chance. They'd die quickly. Fifty years. At most.

Back to work. His efforts would add to the cause. His supplies might let Billings hold out that much longer and stave off disaster another day. Too many, even in the priesthood, did not understand the urgency of their task. In the end, God would have to carry the fight, but they had to give Him the fullest measure of support.

He was thinking of the Liturgy again. No, relief work took priority for the moment. He got his concentration back.

"Excuse me, Brother." One of Jack's Gifts was at the door. "Father Francis asked me to bring you some dinner. Can I leave it here?" She was carrying a tray with bread, cheese, half a chicken, and cider.

"Yes, yes," he answered irritably. "Leave it here."

Jose was going to thank her, but she was not wearing a nametag. She had jeans that ended halfway up the calf, a white shirt with flowers on the sleeve, and a yellow bow in her hair. Then he saw she was wearing a prison band. Since they had let the orphan girl take vows in Mississippi, that made this girl one of the men.

"Who are you? Why don't you have a nametag?"

"I'm Suzanna." She pointed to the bow in her hair. "I wear yellow in my hair to set myself apart. Or, like you just did, you can ask."

Sister Paula was working with that group. She was trying to make them more feminine. Brother Jose thought the girl's answer was too aggressive to be feminine, but that was true of Sister Paula also. "Before you go, do you know what Sister Paula wants to do with you? Do you know she's trying to arrange marriages for you?"

He could see it in her face. She didn't know, and wasn't pleased. "She's not the one who made sure we have no say in the matter," the girl retorted before spinning around to leave. He was on the phone before she was out of the room.

Everything was set up within a day, but he had to wait three more days until he had the letters he needed in hand. He asked to meet with Sister Paula and the Synod, at least those deciding the Gifts' fate.

"I have a request from the New Orleans temple for one of Jack's Gifts. A local dance club, the Fallen Rose I believe, will make a substantial donation to relief efforts for one of them. If you look at the financials of the Montana efforts, that amount would enable us to start the Fortress Billings project. I believe we must give this proposal serious consideration."

"No we don't," countered Sister Paula immediately. "The Rose isn't a dance club, it's a brothel. We cannot send any of the women there. There's no doubt that goes against Jack's will."

"A brothel?" exclaimed Jose with practiced innocence. "The priests from New Orleans are quite insistent it is a dance club. I've got," a quick ruffle through the letters, "Father deCalais' statement, for instance."

"Father deCalais?" murmured Father Francisco. The father, representing Baron Samedhi, was Sister Paula's biggest supporter. He was also one of Father deCalais' students, so neatly neutralized. Jose saw Sister Paula realize this.

"Even so," she replied lamely, "why send a girl to a dance club? We can do much better for them."

"Perhaps so," said Jose with mock thoughtfulness. "Dancing girls don't have a high reputation. I believe," he pulled a letter from the Rose, "they think one of Jack's Gifts would raise the status of the other girls there too. We would be doing good for many this way."

"Hardly," said Paula, recovering. "That's a weak rationalization Brother Jose. We need to care for the women, not use them for our own ends. A hope like that isn't worth considering." Father Francisco nodded approvingly, but the other Synod members waited for Jose's reply.

"Only if there is a potential for better, I'd contend. Sister Paula has been putting heroic efforts into readying some of the Gifts for arranged marriages. A valiant effort, but I see one of the former men has been actively resisting." A glance at his notes, like he didn't know this by heart, "Julia, I believe. Very athletic, but actively masculine. She won't become a good wife. As a dancer she may acquire the femininity Sister Paula cannot give her, and will further support both the survivors in Montana and her fellow club members."

"Julia?" Sister Paula was obviously shocked. "No. She couldn't. She just couldn't. She's not ready."

"Is she ready for marriage? For anything you're doing?"

"Not yet, but she will be."

It was over. The argument would last another hour, but from that moment, it was just haggling over details.

Losing Julia to Brother Jose's machinations was a serious blow to Sister Paula, both personally and professionally. It hurt her when dealing with the last two transformed men. Suzanna and Melissa were not as willing to work with her anymore, they didn't trust her. And, she thought, that was with them still thinking the Fallen Rose really was a dance club. Failure could feed on itself. If they started to neglect their lessons, Brother Jose might be able to make similar arrangements for them. He was already working on profitable positions for some of the natural women. His success would then influence his take on Jack's Liturgy.

To cap off a generally miserable week, Paula arrived at Reason and Elliot Law Offices to speak with Larry Elliot. She had dealt with him over the summer, writing official requests from the church to give Luke more time with his sister Maria. She'd gotten an urgent call to deal with the matter one more time.

"Sister Paula, it's always a pleasure to see you, though I wish it could be under better circumstances one of these times."

"As do I. How's Claire?" They spent a few moments talking about his grandchildren. Larry's southern charm was one of his greatest assets and weapons.

"To the matter at hand. School has started, and the city has gotten complaints about Maria Overton's condition. She lost nearly ten pounds over the summer. She's not healthy and her behavior has deteriorated. At this point, I don't think there's anything the temple could do to keep protective services from taking her. I have already informed Mr. Overton of this. You have been involved throughout, so I wanted you to know."

"I've met with Luke several times over the summer. He would be devastated if he lost his sister. He's lost his father and mother right in a row. I am not sure he could stand another loss. It wouldn't be good for Maria either. Luke has changed from, let's face it, a juvenile delinquent to a solid citizen with a job. I want to help the boy make it Larry, and I need your help."

"I agree with you there," Larry responded. "The boy's doing what he can, finally. Might be he started too late, but he has started. He's getting his act together. I don't expect it'll last if he loses the girl either."

He paused, "Maybe you can tell me why you're so involved with this. Not to be snitty, but neither town nor temple will lose much if we're short a janitor. His father I could see. Good plumbers are in short supply, and he did it on his own. Luke, not so much."

"There's no secret. It's for his father. God changed him and gave him to us to take care of. I think that charge extends to those who were touched by His miracle, and I want to take care of the families where I can. They deserve better than they get from us."

"It's very nice of you, I'm sure," said Larry kindly, "but have you thought that it might be better for Maria to be somewhere more stable? Able to provide for her."

"Yes. I've thought about it, but I don't believe it. She needs her family, as much as she can get of it. Speaking of which, have you heard about Ellen? How is she doing?"

"No change. They've taken her off everything but food and water. She might recover, of course, but it'll have to be on her own. I'm surprised you didn't know that already."

Paula laughed regretfully, "If you think civil-temple relations are poor, you should see what we have to deal with from the hospital. Unless it's a family member in there, we'll get nothing from them. Sometimes I think they'd fight God directly, let alone requests."

"I hadn't realized. I feel sorry for the family. At least you can help the father, Stan."

"She's Suzanna now. I had hoped for more time, but I need to talk to you about her. Legal matters." Sister Paula could feel her palms sweating. She thought up this plan two days ago. Larry would be the first test on whether it might work.

"Hold on there, little lady. I thought I called you here to talk about Luke. Do you have some divine power to influence events?" He laughed lightly.

"Just coincidence. No, I've been planning this for a little while. You know the church's position, that Suzanna is a new person, created by Jack from the stuff that once was Stan, but she is not the same person. I understand that this is not the city's position, right?"

Larry was puzzled. He didn't want to answer without knowing where she was going. Giving up, he answered, "That's right. As far as the law is concerned, she is still Stan Overton, though changed in sex and age. I think I could dig up the paperwork for it if you need it.

"She'd," he paused to make sure Sister Paula noted the change in pronouns, "even still own all her old property and be responsible for old debts except that the church declared her property. That triggered inheritance, so Luke gets the house and what little they had saved up. No death benefits, but he didn't have life insurance anyway."

"All right. Now, church and civil laws are generally pretty close, but they can differ, as in this case. Let's say that the church makes a ruling under their law that leads to consequences under civil law. Would the city accept that?"

"I'm sorry Sister, but I haven't the foggiest notion what you're talking about. I'll try to give you an answer, but you've got to give me a question."

Sister Paula explained. Larry went from shock to dismay to delight. Paula felt much better after hammering out a few details.

It was a bright Saturday in the middle of September. Suzanna was wearing a simple white dress while Melissa stood by her side.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Suzanna complained.

"I'm going to miss you," Melissa answered.

"This is not the way I ever pictured this. If it weren't for Maria , and Luke too I guess, I'd never do this."

Sister Paula knocked. "Suzanna, it's all I could do. Please forgive me."

She took the prison bracelet off Suzanna's wrist.

Suzanna sniffed and turned her head away from Sister Paula.

Wagner's Bridal Chorus filled the air. The doors swung open and Suzanna began her march down the aisle, Melissa right behind her.

At the far end of the aisle, waiting by the altar, was her son, Luke.