The terrorists began to separate their hostages into groups. The leader, Tim, still masked, was shouting directions to his crew.

“Nick, Joe,” (They had decided beforehand on simple one-syllable names) Tim said. “Sweep the building. Make sure we have no late arrivers.”

“Luke, take that corpse to the pastor’s study.”

“Clint, Sam, I need you to shepherd this flock.”

Everyone was face down on the ground, their possessions scattered before them. “Okay, this is how it’s gonna go down!” Clint shouted. “Some of you are going to live.”

“And some of you are going to die!” Sam interrupted, impatiently.

“It’s simple. If you’re willing to deny your faith, stand up. If not, remain on the ground. Your choice.”

Myrtle Jones peaked up, quickly, “Well, it’s no surprise that tramp Delores Fletcher stood up.” Myrtle turned to her right only to find to her great dismay that her gossip mate Sandra Meeks had also stood up. “Sandra!?” she shrieked.

“I had to,” Sandra said, head held down.

“Heads on the ground!” Sam shouted.