A beam of light — the purest white —
gleamed upon them,
entangling their senses with strange strings of euphoria
that sizzled the skin;
through the sickening odour of church dust they rose,
over empty church pews,
Sally McCormack and one of the twins.

Somewhere below a six-gun clattered;
through the silver shimmer
of mirrored disbelief Sally saw the church rats scamper,
and felt a pinprick
in her back where Billy was holding on to her bra strap—
a manicured hand
reached out and lifted them through the trapdoor.