The heroes, once captured, were taken into the air in Chinook helicopters, and given the opportunity to forsake the god, which none of them did. as they fell to earth, the god gave the heroes the power of limited flight, which would have safely brought them to the earth, but the devil opened chasms which swallowed the falling heroes, and crushed the air from their bodies, and buried them alive, and scrambled their genetic makeup with irradiated material so that the heavenly tracking device could not find them.

There was a sluice-drain in the floor. My shirt was caught in it, and I was thus held from the tube leading downward. This was a dream based in part on my memories of playing in storm drains as a child. When you come to visit, Iíll show you. Hold your hand in front of you and make a circle, your index finger pressing into the space between it and your thumb, tucked over that fold of skin. Thatís how big the light from the ends was from the center. I didnít have any sensation in my body. The sluice had caught some of the hair on my arms and I was being too wimpy to pull it from my arm. There were gate-ends pressing into my stomach, just beneath my ribcage, red marks turning to purple. My mom had promised sheíd make shakes to go with out lunch that afternoon and I was late. I couldnít turn my head far enough to see if there was any light up above me. My mouth tasted like brown water. I was excited because earlier that week we had bought school supplies for the coming year and I had a supply fetish; I spent that night organizing the placement of pens and pencils in the plastic case which went inside my folder, writing my name and grade in all my spirals. I couldnít get my shirt free. The drain-sluice, I realized, was a stairway without any backing material. I had always feared that. I would slip and fall and I would be killed, or worse. My shoes were untied and I felt them at the ends of my toes, come loose from my ankles, pointing my feet as far upwards as possible. A year before, playing tag, I had run into a barbed-wire fence in a cornfield, but that felt like nothing. This stairway was chewing on my body, eating me alive. I canít hold on. Thereís sweat and brown water on my hands and I am weak and I am slow. I canít hold on.

the exit is hidden within the exit