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extinguished. But he could hear the old man walking away from his pew and muttering quietly. Amos’ voice didn’t sound so crazy now. A shrinking sliver of moonlight through the space between the chapel doors told Sammy that Amos had just left. Hearing the old man brought back the events of the rest of the evening, and a strong sense of danger settled on Sammy.
    The door closed with a gentle thud. The remaining candle flames flickered from the movement and the shadows on the walls jumped. Then the chapel was deathly still. Feet’s steady breathing was the only sound. It was deeper now than when Sammy had fallen asleep. Through the lobby doors, Sammy heard the sound of heavy boots coming up the stairs.
    Sammy’s eyes widened as he remembered that Amos had hobbled out of the room wearing old shoes. Amos’ hobbling sounded nothing like the heavy footsteps coming now. A loud electronic hum echoed through the sanctuary as the lobby doors flew open.
    “ Wake up,” he hissed at his friend. “Wake up.” But Feet still slumbered.
    Sammy ducked under Feet’s pew just as the doors slammed into the stone wall. His eyes squeezed shut as he waited for Feet to wake up and make some kind of noise, but Feet still slept. He knew he had to choose: run or wake Feet?
    As he tried to decide, he recalled a memory from eight years ago: He had been shopping at the mall with his mother for school clothes. There had been a bomb threat, and people all around him were saying the word “leet.” He and his mom went into the parking lot and saw several large armored vans parked outside. The same electronic hums were at the mall that day. Sammy craned his head around to find the source, but his mom pulled him quickly to the car. It was one of the only times in his life he had seen her genuinely afraid. Later that night, his dad had tried to explain what had been going on . . . and what “leet” meant.
    There was no mistaking the humming sound. Elite were in the cathedral.
    Sammy felt real terror now. What had he done to bring on himself the wrath of the Elite? Even falling from the ceiling in a grocery store did not compare to the fright he felt now. The fear felt like icicles grinding into his heart and brain. He wanted to wake up Feet. The Elite were here for them . He knew it. Sammy made a decision. If Feet woke now, neither of them had a chance.
    He slipped back under the pews and crawled frantically toward the front of the chapel. The shockers weighed heavy in his pockets, and he struggled to keep his breathing quiet. At the front of the chapel was a large stage with a pulpit and seating for clergy and a choir.
    Five small stairs connected the floor of the chapel and stage. Sammy paused at the foot of them, keeping his body as low as possible and hoping that somewhere on the stage he could get out of the chapel undetected. Cautiously, he put some of his weight on the first stair.
    Please don’t let it creak , he begged an unseen power as he started forward. Please don’t let it creak. Please . . .
    They did not creak. The slow, heavy footsteps stopped near where Feet slept. Low voices muttered.
    “ It’s not him,” he heard one say, a voice mean and guttural. “Candles are messing up my night vision.”
    “ So blow em out.”
    Another hum and Sammy felt the air all around him move like he was in a wind tunnel. Then the chapel went completely black.
    He could not see more than a half meter ahead of him. He crept around the stage, his stomach nearly dragging on the carpet, straining his eyes for some exit. He could just make out the outline of chairs and an altar now. Off to the side of the stage, Sammy saw a door.
    He headed toward it, but halfway there, he stopped. It would be impossible for him to open anything without giving himself away. If the Elite were using night vision, any movement he made in their line of sight would be detected. He crawled around to the other side of the stage, growing more desperate as the sounds drew