force of the blast knocked them apart. Manitas stumbled down two steps before catching himself. The bullet didn't penetrate, but the force was enough to cause him to release his grip.
This was LT's chance. He hoped this wild guess, this risk, was the correct one. LT turned, taking a few hard steps, running for the door. Manitas was already behind him, reaching out with his long arms. LT dove into the open doorway, landing inside with a thud. Whisky was there to grab him, hoisting him up.
"The door!" Whisky shouted. "We need to close it."
But it was too late. Manitas and his biker gang were already at t he doorway. They began to move forward, to step inside.
"We're screwed," Whisky stated.
"Not quite," LT said, standing up and dusting himself off.
Manitas held out his arms outstretched. He stopped his gang fr om moving forward. Instead, he stood there at the open doorway to the church. He eyed the door carefully, tracing its outline with his eyes, studying it. Then, extending a long finger, Manitas reaches out. Instantly he pulls his arm back, grabbing his hand. Something had shocked him hard enough to hurt. Manitas grunted, then tried again. Sure enough, some sort of invisible wall was stopping him from entering. Manitas looked down to his hand, his fingertips. To his horror, they were smoking, the flesh being eaten away.
"Wow, I was right," LT whispered.
"Say what, homie? What were you right about?" Whisky asked.
LT didn't respond right away. Instead, he stepped toward the open door, despite Whisky's protests. He neared it, placing his hand on the doorknob, facing Manitas. He was only a foot away. He could smell the giant biker. He smelled of death. Something just wasn't right here.
Manitas screamed out, and LT slammed the door, locking it.
"Brother, I think it's time you tell us what's going on, do n't ya think?" Whisky pleaded.
"The church. They can't enter the church," LT replied. "I wasn't sure about it, but it was our only chance. These things, these bikers—they aren't human."
"You can say that again," Whisky said.
"I mean it. The Commander was right. These aren't live beings. They look human, but did you see the way they disappeared? The way they took that corner on their bikes, then vanished the next? Then, they appear out of nowhere," LT explained.
"D id you see how quickly they moved?" Whisky added. "And you shot two of them. I saw the bullet strikes. They must have been wearing vests."
"Negative," LT replied. "They wore no such thing. My bullets did hit, but couldn't penetrate their skin. Whisky, Red, we're fighting a war that is beyond bullets. This war isn't of the flesh, it's of the spirit."
"Brother, now you're talking crazy," Whisky said with a laugh of disbelie f. "You're the sort of guy who believes in logic and reason. Right now, you're making no sense."
"None of this does, don't you see?" LT asked. "Why aren't they barging in here right now?"
"You got me. I figured we were goners for sure. They can't come in, that much is obvious. As to why, I have no clue," Whisky said.
"The church. It's safe ground," said a voice from behind them.
All three men turned, guns drawn. Far across the simple church, se ated in the shadows, were four women. They clutched one another, terrified.
"It's okay," LT said softly. "Lower your guns," he told his men, doing so himself. They reluctantly did so.
LT stepped forward. "What did you say?"
One of the women, the oldest of the group, spoke up. Her voice trembled. It was hardly audible. "The church is safe ground. It's not theirs to enter."
They all jumped at the sudden noise. Manitas was pounding the door as ha rd as he could. If he couldn't enter, he would at least attempt to drive them out.
This nearly worked. The youngest of the four women, a sixteen-year-old girl named Angelina, screamed out. Then, she bolted, headed for the door. She followed no reasoning in her actions. The door was the only way out and she felt trapped inside. She raced past Red