Dr. Arnst glanced back at the two guards flanking him. He nodded and they advanced. One man had a Kalashnikov on his back, the other had a holstered sidearm. Both men were much larger and more muscular than Manny. He glanced around for a weapon, as if anything left around would be useful against two firearms. There was still a Bible in his hands. That probably would’ve been enough for Roland. Manny had no doubt the post-human could kill a dozen men with a book. More if it was hardcover.

“Emmanuel,” the doctor’s voice was low, soft, and as comforting as a lullaby, “I know this is a frightening thing. But you must trust me, you must trust all of us. The Heavenly Kingdom would not spend your life this way if we were not certain your sacrifice would further the will of our Lord. This is why you came here, Emmanuel. I know, if you listen to God, you’ll see what’s right.”

Manny closed his eyes. He listened, not for the voice of God but for the sound of footsteps. After a few second’s pause he heard the guards move toward him again. He gripped hard on the Bible in his hand and he tried not to think too much about what he’d already decided he had to do. The footsteps grew closer until Manny could almost feel the heat coming off the other men’s bodies.

“Very good, Emmanuel,” Dr. Arnst cooed. “God loves you…”

Manny opened his eyes. The guards were right in front of him now, reaching for him. Manny swung the Bible up, underhanded, into the Kalashnikov man’s chin. Then he dove to the right and slammed his head into the other man’s crotch with all the force his five foot, ten inch frame could bring to bear. The man howled. Manny half-fell, caught himself, and dropped into a dead run aimed straight for Isaac. Both the bald-headed needleman and Dr. Arnst stared at him in astonishment. Belatedly, Isaac raised his arms up in defense. The gesture did nothing to stop Manny from plowing into him and knocking him to the ground. He punched the other man in the face, hard, and then scrambled back to his feet to–

He felt the pain of the gunshot before he heard it. Or, rather, he didn’t register the sound of the gunshot as a gunshot until the pain made it clear he’d been shot. And then Manny was on the ground. His world shrunk to the space below his belly button, which now pulsed with spurts of deep red blood. His hands covered the wound, pressing back against it in an instinctive attempt to protect himself.