Prisoner #63 woke to the bugle being sounded across the camp. She dressed quickly and lined up with the other girls outside the cabin. The official walked up and down the row.
“Number 69,” said the stern cold voice. "Tuck in your shirt. Sixty-eight quit yawning. Let’s see…67, fine, 66 brush your hair, 65 wake up, 64, don’t slouch, Now 63, are we going to speak up today?” The girl stared ahead and said nothing. “Fine,” said the official. “So long as there’s no trouble from you. Sixty-two, stop rolling your eyes, Sixty-one, knock it off with the faces, Sixty, you’re fine. Since we’re all here, march.”
The ten of them marched off to the mess hall. They took their cabbage soup and sat on the bench, all in a row, and ate. Number sixty-three quietly sipped the thin liquid with the others. Afterwards, they were sent to the factory assembly line. Here they worked for the morning and talked among themselves.
“When did this all begin anyway?” asked #67.
“I can remember when everyone was allowed to do what they wanted,”
said #69. “There was something called freedom of religion.”
“Buddhism isn’t really a religion,” said #68. “Why did
I end up in here?”
“It isn’t approved by the Supreme Dictator,” said #69.
“If you believe anything other than nothing, you can be sent here.”
“I just didn’t want to be an atheist,” #67 whined. “I don’t
really have another religion.”
“I shouldn’t have let it be known that I was Mormon,” said #69.
“I know what almost everybody is here,” said #67 looking down
the row. “We have a Jew, two Mormons, two Buddhists, several Muslims,
and a person who doesn’t know.”
“Namely you,” said #68, “What’s #63?”
“Isn’t she the one who doesn’t talk?” asked #69. “I’d give
anything to know how she wound up in here.”
“I dunno,” said #67. “She’s the only one I don’t know about.
I just hope she isn’t…you know…Christian.”
All three nervously looked over at their comrade. In this
society, being Christian was a capital offense.
“At least they don’t consider me a Christian,” said #69.
“I can’t wait until Friday.”
“Less talk and more work,” snapped a guard.
The girls were quiet and started daydreaming of Friday, the end of the six month period. All prisoners were allowed to appear before the head council and denounce their beliefs and commit to atheism. “I hate to do it,” thought #67. “But I’ve got to. There’s no other way. I’d be here the rest of my life.”
Friday came quickly and the ten were brought up. “Number 60,” said the councilman. Sixty, a Muslim, came forward. “Are you ready to accept the ways of this world?” the girl was asked. She looked down and said, “Yes.”
“Do you denounce the way’s of Islam?”
“Yes.”
“Very good. You are hereby free to go. Your name shall
be restored unto you…Maliah Broddox.”
Maliah, relieved, was congratulated and allowed to contact family and friends so she could return home.
“Number 61,” said the head counsel and the next girl was asked the same question. The redhead denounced Mormonism, accepted the ways of atheism, and was set free. Sixty-two denounced Judaism and was released in the same way.
“Number 63,” the head counsel announced. Everyone watched
as the girl stepped forward, staring straight ahead. “Are you willing
to accept the ways of this world?”
No response.
“Do you denounce your own beliefs?”
No response.
“Take her away.”
Nine girls were released from the cabin that day. Sixty-three
sat on her bunk and watched them pack. “Why don’t you just nod?”
asked Tabitha, #67. “Why can’t you accept their ways? What
is more important than your own freedom?” The prisoner smiled and
took something out of her mouth.
“Yuck,” said Katie, formerly #68. “What’s that?”
“It’s a shoestring,” said Bridget, #65.
Sixty-three, the only one without her own name, unwound the string
and revealed the pendant at the end of it. It was a small wire, bent
into the shape of a cross.
Once the other prisoners were released, those left joined those who just came in. Once every six months, arrests are made. Anyone caught praying, worshipping, or practicing any sort of belief, was taken to the camps. “We have a lot less than we did before,” a guard commented. “People are beginning to accept the new ways. Things are improving.”
There were new people in the cabin now. All nine were given numbers and told to stand in line in front of the cabin.
“You all have numbers now,” said the official. “You are not to use your own names or tell each other what they are. If you do not follow the ways of this world, you shall have no identity.” The stern faced woman gave the same speech that #63 had heard three times before. After it was done, they were allowed to go inside and unpack the belongings that hadn’t been confiscated by the guards. “No #63,” said the official as the girl turned to follow the others. “You stay here.”
“You do realize,” she said, “That this is your fourth term.”
No response.
“If you aren’t released,” she said. “You know the consequences.”
No response.
The official sighed. Sixty-three was always a favorite of hers. She was the only one who never talked back.
A few days later, #63 got in trouble. At the mess hall, #64 decided that she would try to get the strange girl to talk.
“Come on,” she said. “Everyone can talk.”
No response.
“I know,” said #62. “Make her swear. That always
works.”
They tried everything. One girl spilled #63’s soup, leaving her
hungry until supper. Another deliberately stepped on her feet.
Soon, the entire cabin was at it. Pinching, hitting, tripping, but
#63 kept her mouth shut. The officials saw it all but said nothing.
“Maybe it’ll work,” they thought. Everyone knew that it was her fourth
term. “I don’t want her to suffer the consequences,” the official
in charge of the 60’s thought to herself. “Maybe now she’ll change
her mind.
At supper that night, #64 tripped #63 so she fell full length on the floor. In doing so, she upset a table and caused twenty bowls of hot soup to fly through the air and land on the girl on the floor. Several guards came in and saw the scene. From behind them entered Mme. Grochov, the head of the camp.
“Who is responsible for this?” she demanded. The nine girls pointed at #63 on the floor, covered in soup. Following their lead, other girls from different cabins also pointed to the figure on the ground. Mme. Grochov looked at #63, recognized her, and said, “Three days confinement. The rest of you shall spend your supper cleaning this up.” The girls sulked at having no food and started cleaning as #63 was taken away and placed in a small black box.
The box had one window with three bars on it. There were twenty of them at various places throughout the camp. This one was next to the mess hall. Sixty-three was thrown in the corner. “This is no way to begin your fourth term,” said Mme. Grochov. “You’d best think about what you’ve done and how to make it up to the others.” With that, the door was closed.
Number sixty-three started to ponder this situation. On one hand, she was away from the pinching, kicking, and abuse she had endured all day. On the other hand, the other girls would be just as cruel as ever when she returned. “Never mind that,” she thought. “Don’t worry about what happens tomorrow. Let tomorrow worry about itself. Each day has problems of it’s own.” The girl curled up and did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She started thinking.
A long time ago, there was a group of us. We were free to do what
we wanted. But then one day, the edict was made that religion was
illegal. We all had to hide.
Angela…she and Brittany left for somewhere. I never saw them
again. Julie…If only I knew what happened to Julie, or Ranada, or
Glenda for that matter. Angela, Brittany, Julie, Ranada, Glenda…Beth…I
saw Beth taken away. She called out for Patrick. Patrick, he
tried to save his sister. He was taken with the other guys.
Keith, his little brother. I think he got away. I hope he did.
Jack, little Jack, I saw them grab him. He was kicking and screaming
Didn’t want to be taken. Susan was the only one fighting more than
Jack. Like brother like sister I guess. Patrick, Keith, Jack,
Susan…Paul. Oh Paul, I pray you’re all right. You fought for
Jack and Susan. Why did they have to get you?
Number sixty-three took the cross out of her dry mouth. “Dear Lord,” she prayed, “Let them be safe. Protect them all.” The girl was in prayer for a long time. “Your will be done,” she prayed. “In Lord and Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Three days later, #63 was released from confinement. Much to her surprise, the other girls left her alone. “Sorry we picked on you,” said #62. “We won’t do it again.” The other nodded in agreement. When the smiling official left the room, they told her the truth.
“We’re only gonna be nice when they’re watching,” said #64. “But once they’re gone…” All nine started pushing the poor girl around the room.
This abuse lasted for a long time after that and #63 never said a word. Then one day, #64 woke up early. She noticed the girl on the top bunk wasn’t asleep. “What’s this?” she thought peeking up at her abused roommate. Her hands were folded and her eyes were closed. Her lips were forming words and tears were falling from her eyes. The girl on the bottom bunk noticed that from the clasped hands there was a thick shoestring.
The official came in that morning to find the girls treating #63 more cruelly than ever. “Stop it!” yelled the woman. “What is the meaning of this?” All nine were quiet as #64 grabbed the necklace, which was around the girl’s neck. “A Christian,” she snarled. “A #%$^ing Christian.” The official realized that it was true. “Say nothing of this,” she said. “I’ll handle this.”
She grabbed #63’s wrist and took her to Mme. Grochov. “Well,” said the head of the camp. “We have a Christian on our hands. I never did trust this one. She’s been in here for too long. Twenty days confinement, until we can get a firing squad.”
Once again, the poor girl was thrown into a black box. This one was on the other side of the camp, closest to the wall. Once again, she submitted to prayer thinking, “Not my will, but yours be done.” She sat back and looked at the small barred window. It was very quiet, and she sat back to listen. Slowly, she began to hear something.
Let the righteous proclaim
Jesus is here
So we welcome you now
Draw us near
She paused and listened intently, trying to figure out who was singing it. Whoever it was, it was a male voice, and he was a bass.
By your spirit within
We come to enter in
To glorify and bless your worthy name.
It didn’t matter. She began to sing the echo to the other voice from beyond.
We enter in…(we enter in)
Glory to your name
We cry out loud…(we cry out loud)
Worthy is the Lamb
We lift our voice…(we lift our voice)
Praise and Majesty
For these belong to you O Lord
Throughout Eternity
Hearing this inspiration lifted the girl’s spirits, but she was curious as to where the voice came from. Was it another prisoner? An angel? Or perhaps God himself?
It wasn’t long before a firing squad was found. Number 63 was held before ten young men with rifles. “Fortunately for us,” said Mme. Grochov. “There is to be an execution tomorrow at the male’s prison. Now we can have yours rather early. However, you are to be given one last chance. Will you or will you not denounce your religion of, ugh, Christianity?” The girl looked the woman sternly in the face and talked for the first time in two years. “I will never denounce my Lord Jesus Christ.” With that, the woman gave the signal and ten rifles went off.
A body was thrown in the trench between the two camps. It was filled with the remains of males and females from each side. They rotted beneath the cloudy sky. Then, a ray of sunshine made its way through the overcast and rested on a necklace. A pendant, in the shape of a cross, shone as bright as silver. Embedded in the metal of the cross, were ten, lead bullets.
The girl awoke, looked at the cloudy sky, and knew she wasn’t in heaven. The smell was too strong. She managed to sit up and noticed a pain in her chest. She looked down and noticed her necklace had borne into her skin. A small but painful tug got it out and she stopped the bleeding with her shirt. As she did this, she noticed the bullets and immediately thanked God for sparing her life.
After cleaning her small wound, the girl climbed out of the trench and realized that she was on the side with the male’s prison camp. “Another execution,” she thought. “They said there was another one at the male’s camp!” She made her way quietly to the doorway and hid behind a great bush. Two guards were talking with the firing squad and their commander.
“We have no need of you,” said one guard. “We managed to get the guillotine repaired.” “Quite all right,” said the leader of the squad. “We got an execution in this morning next door.” The doors closed and the firing squad went to a group of tents near the wall. A familiar girl stood there and talked with one of the men.
“But why?” asked the girl. “Why did you have to kill her?”
“It was ordered,” said the man. “But…”
“But what?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t look dead.”
“What?”
“I’ve seen many killed before, and many dead. I don’t think she
was dead. It looked more like she was fainting when she fell.”
“Oh I hope so,” said the girl. “Are you sure it was #63?”
“Yes,” said the man. “The number was above her head, along with
her name.”
“I knew her when I was there. What was her name?”
The man paused before saying, “Mary.”
Mary smiled. It was Tabitha who was talking with the man.
She always liked #67. Maybe they would learn something. Maybe
they were the reason Mary was still alive. Tabitha continued talking
with the man.
“We are required to see the execution tomorrow,” the man said to her.
“But why?”
“Beats me. I just follow orders.”
“I’ll stay with you Tim. I don’t want to be separated again.”
Tim and Tabitha hugged tightly. “Lovers no doubt,” thought Mary. “I remember her talking about a boyfriend.” She was nervous though. She was alive and someone else was sentenced to die. God had kept her alive for a reason.
The next morning, Mary snuck into the prison with the firing squad. She wandered about in the shadows, looking for a sign from God, and bumped into the guillotine itself. It had a blade up high on a wooden track, held up by a rope. The blade was attached to a wooden handle, which would slide down the track when the rope was cut. Mary looked into the track. It was extremely thin, too small for even a finger to fit into. An idea popped into her mind as she looked down at her cross. She pulled the string over her head and said, “God used you to save my life. Let’s see if he’ll use you again.” She jammed the small metal pendant into the track.
At noon, a crowd assembled in front of the guillotine. Mary kept to the back, enveloping her face in a cloak she had found. She stood beside Tabitha and Timothy, but dared not look at them. As the prisoner was brought out, her heart sank. He was stripped down to shorts and was badly beaten. He was fairly well built and very muscular, and if he had struggled, it would have taken several guards to hold him down. But he didn’t fight. He just allowed himself to be taken. Tabitha turned when she heard the stranger beside her say, “Not Paul! Anyone but Paul! Oh Lord please save him.” Tabitha saw the person weep as the prisoner put his own head on the block. There was a hush when the drumroll sounded, a silence when the rope was cut and a gasp…when the blade stopped just above Paul’s head.
The crowd stood in utter amazement at the prisoner opened his eyes and realized he wasn’t home yet. They gasped again when a strange figure jumped to the stage. “What you have seen,” said the figure wrapped in a cloak, “Was an act of God. Only he has the power to choose who lives and dies, not men.” She bent down and helped Paul to his feet. No one protested. They were all too dumbfounded. Paul stood and looked into Mary’s face and gasped as she threw back her hood.
“As many of you know,” Mary shouted to the now noisy crowd. “I
was to be executed yesterday. The ten of you over there shot me yourselves
with the rifles you are now holding.”
She reached into the guillotine and pulled out the necklace.
The blade fell violently onto the block.
“Look!” Mary shouted. “There are exactly ten bullets embedded
in this cross! The cross has saved my life! It can save yours!”
With this she turned to Paul, who embraced his old friend.
“She’s right,” Paul told the crowd. “Christ died on the cross
for all people so that we wouldn’t have to die. You too can be saved.
Follow Christ and he will save you from your sin and forgive you of your
wrongdoing.”
“We forgive you too,” Mary said. “Just as Christ has forgiven
us.”
Many of the crowd cursed them, but many were in tears as the doors stormed open and Mme. Grochov and Dr. Darwin, the head of the male camp, entered with more security. Paul grabbed Mary’s hand and they ran.
There is no back door to a prison camp, so Paul led Mary to his cell.
It was high in a tower and had a small window with bars on it.
“You’re thin enough to fit through,” Paul said. “There’s a ledge
on the other side.”
“What about you?” Mary asked.
“Trust me,” Paul told her. “Now go.”
Mary slid through the bars and stood on the narrow ledge. She
heard the guards enter the room.
“They’re not in here,” said one. “Keep looking.”
Mary stood there for what seemed like and eternity. She could
see over the wall of the camp on the other side. “There’s the black
box,” she thought. “That must have been the one I was in. Maybe
it was Paul who was singing.” A scraping noise made her look up.
A basket was slowly descending towards her.
Paul reached out to Mary and pulled her into the basket with one arm.
With his other hand, he was holding the rope, which was draped around a
pillar on top of the wall and tied to the basket on the other end.
Paul slowly edged the basket down the side.
“But how?” Mary asked.
“Laundry room,” said Paul. “Remember how Paul and Silas lowered
themselves out of a city in a basket? That’s where I got the idea.”
“But they had friends lowering them,” Mary said.
“We have friends too,” Paul told her. “Some weird guy and a chick
gave me the rope. Said it was from the guillotine. They wished
us luck.”
“There’s no such thing as luck,” Mary said. “Everything happens
for a reason.”
Paul laughed, “I told them that. They said they would pray for
us too. I arranged to meet with them tonight at an underground church
I know of.”
“What were their names?” Mary asked.
“Timothy,” said Paul. “Timothy and Tabitha.”
In the underground church, many were baptized that night. Many
more were saved later when news spread of the miraculous events that foiled
two executions. The government searched earnestly for the threatening
Christians, but none were found, for when Mme. Grochov and Dr. Darwin found
the underground church, and were prepared to burn it, it was empty.
There were only empty shells of clothing, not just there, but everywhere
a Christian had been. The end had begun.
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