Matthew was startled awake by a loud static-ridden alarm that blew through the radio. He shot up from his bunk bed and immediately slammed his head on the ceiling, he was stunned for a moment till the panic set back in, stars dancing in his vision. He grimaced in pain and inhaled sharply through his teeth.

"What's going on?" he yelled over the pounding in his head, his hand rubbing the slowly growing lump on his forehead. He noticed the people around them did not seem afraid, only the newcomers. However, they quickly left, leaving the newcomers behind, confused and panic stricken. They all scrambled out of bed, some shoving their heaving chests into their shirts, their sweaty skin sticking to the fabric. Any questions were drowned out by the alarm, all they could do was follow the others like lamb to the slaughter. Matthew's eyes darted around the dark room, frantically trying to find Alfred. He couldn't see him. His heart dropped, he flung his legs over the edge of the bed before a face emerged from the darkness. Matthew shrieked, nearly falling off the bed. It was Alfred. His heart was pounding along with his head, his hand desperately clinging to his chest and the frame of the bunk.

"Alfred! What's happening?" he shouted, his voice distorted by the alarm. He tried to brush the hair away from his eyes with little success, everything was sticking to the sweat.

"GATHER IN THE PAVILLION, GATHER IN THE PAVILL-" the loud announcement was blasted through the radio before it was cut off by the alarm again. Matthew's breath quickened in hyperventilation, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. His bare feet hit the floor and they ran out of their hut, leaving their shoes behind.

Matthew saw trails of lanterns through the darkness as people crawled out of their housing units and gathered like moths to the light of the main pavilion. The alarm was deafening, ricocheting around his skull, paced with his rapidly beating heart. They tripped over the debris on the floor, dead roots, wood planks, and stones in the musty darkness. Much like little boys, Alfred led the way, their hands gripped tightly onto each other.

Alfred always was very protective and the leader of the two, but they'd follow each other everywhere since birth. Matthew always found protection with Alfred, he knew he could always find his brother's hand in the dark. Matthew was often overlooked by most people in their life, but he always knew that Alfred saw him.

Matthew's hair stuck to his clammy forehead, beads of sweat forming and hanging onto the strands.

"GATHER IN THE PAVILLION, GATHER IN THE PAVILLION- WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!" the voice screached and Matthew's heart fell again, his blood turning cold. They were under attack? By who? Why? All these questions rushed through his head. This was it, the government found them and were going to rip up their young community from the root. This was the moment that Jim Jones prepared them for what was coming. The nuclear war has finally started, this was the end of the world as he knew it. He prayed, his voice coming out in a winded whisper,

"God, please protect us and this utopia we are building," his voice completely drowned out by the sirens.

Finally, they saw the glow of the pavilion and the crowd like wriggling maggots in the dark. He could scarcely hear the microphone over the siren and he squeezed Alfred's hand, trudging on faster until they reached the edge of the pulsating crowd, flooding into the pavilion. Over people's heads, Matthew was able to see Jim on the stage in front of the podium. The lights above them glowed a muddied yellow, flickering every so often, straining their eyes while they tried to focus on Jim. Flies danced around their sweaty faces, but they were ignored or swatted to the side.

Jim Jones motioned for everyone to take their seats, nervous whispers coming like waves throughout the pavilion. Matt still held on firm to Alfred's hand as they found their seats, silent as they listened to Jim Jones speak.

"This is the night we've been waiting for. Nuclear war is upon us! Russia has launched its molecular weapons towards the U.S. We will be plunged into nuclear winter and a never ending war." He spoke matter of fact. An audible gasps came from the crowd, families holding tight onto their children.

"Brothers and sisters, we will not survive."

Someone in the crowd began to cry, Matthew wasn't far behind.

"But do not cry! Why are you crying? Listen to my words. Tonight, we can walk hand in hand to the heavenly father, we will never feel pain, we will no longer walk in darkness. Brothers, sisters… we will never know fear again" He said, voice of silk and hope. Matthew choked back a sob, how could they be safe from nuclear war? But he believed God and Jim would keep them safe and he was ready to lay down his life for that, even while it is scary.

"I want you to be like I am. I want you to become what I am. I want you to enjoy the fearlessness that I have, the courage that I have, the compassion that I have, the love that I have, the all encompassing mercy that I have. I want you to be what I am and something greater!" He boomed, the panic stricken crowd hanging off his every word like their lives depended on it. To Matthew, they were all in danger. Any moment could be their last before they are hit with the nuclear waves. He grabbed Alfred's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Be fearless, for God will open up his arms for his people, we must be prepared," Jones continued.

"Juice is being handed to each of you and then together we will take God's blood into us and join him on our own accord."

Matthew let out a choked sob, watching as the masses passed around little shot cups with a strange purple juice sloshing around. Was this it? Were they all going to take this juice, was it really poison? This was Jones' plan, for the congregation to walk hand in hand to the heavenly gates. He looked at Alfred, who was so pale he could have been a ghost.

Matthew watched with his breath coming in gasps as the front of the crowd got the first serving. They hushed their tired and crying children, their cups in a spare hand. He spotted a mother that had tears streaming down her face as she watched her child struggle away from her. This prompted Matthew to think of the terrifying reality that they would have to force feed these children poisoned Flavor-aid. While he was not a parent, he couldn't imagine ending your own child's life, moments before ending their own.

His head turned sharply to look Alfred in the eyes. He was as pale as he was, their hands having a white knuckled grip onto the other.

"Hey, we will see eachother again," Alfred mouthed, but by the look on his face, he knew that he really believed that but was terrified.

Seconds later, the juice came around to them and they took it with trembling hands, almost spilling the liquid, tears streaming down their faces. This was their choice, die peacefully with those you love around you or die to nuclear warfare.

Babies were screaming and struggling in their parent's lap, their cries piercing, almost like they knew they were in danger. Jones held up his own cup, his face deranged and almost joyful.

"Now together, we will see each other again, we will prevail!" He shouted, his cup to the sky.

Everything ran through Matthew's head, his childhood with Alfred flashed before his eyes. Their parents, he never got to tell them goodbye. All his regrets were screaming in his brain, everything in him told him to stop. But he raised the cup to his lips, his tears splashing in and mixing with the kool-aid. It tingled his lips as he allowed it to flow in, in unison with Alfred, their hands getting clammy but they held on. What other choice did they have? He didn't know what to expect, what did it feel like to die? What was it like to die to poison no less? He wished it was painless, he wished no one would struggle moving onto the next world. For a second he doubted they would all go to heaven or if heaven was going to be real or not. Parents who had to hold their children down while the administered the poison, now were taking their own dose, their hands shaking. Matthew's eyes darted to a man who seemed to beam with pride, happy to die for Jim Jones and his prophecies. It unsettled Matthew, how happy the man seemed, and how he looked like he was about to reach Nirvana.

Seconds felt like years, people were holding each other in wait. They didn't know how long it would take for poison to kick in so they held each other and sobbed. Matthew began to hyperventilate, desperate to get as much air as he could and while he could. He could feel his feet go numb.

"Be careful Mattie, and take care of your brother," He heard his mother's voice, seeing her lying in bed.

"But he's older than me and he's the 'hero'," He remembers his young self saying. His mom chuckled, he could feel the love in her eyes. It was warm.

"You'll protect each other," She said calmly, her voice slightly strained. She reached out her hand, placing it on his own. He wondered if Alfred could hear her too.

"My children," Jones spoke up, his smile ear to ear. Matthew fell back into reality, gasping and reeling. His mother was gone.

"We will live to see another day!" He yelled, throwing his empty cup to the side and everyone stared in silence and shock, sobs replaced by confusion.

"All of you have proved your devotion to God. To me. The nuclear war is still impending but not tonight. Feel great joy that you can live another day to serve the profit of God," He finished, the crowd stared in silence.

"It is merely juice, no harm will be done. Have no fear my children, we will be ready when the time comes."

Matthew was horrified, wanting to cry with joy but was too stunned to speak. On one hand, they were safe from nuclear war. He wanted to be ready to die for his cause but the human inside him begged for his life, but his life was out of his hands but instead, in the hands of Jim Jones.

And on the other hand, he felt played. Just to prove a point, he convinced hundreds of people that they were about to die. He was angry that his emotions were played with that easily, made him think heavily on how dependent they were on Jim. He played them like puppets and he was conflicted. This is the man he chose to follow for his values, enough to believe he is the voice of God. In Matthew's mind, there are plenty of times in the Bible that God tested his subjects, he remembers specifically the book of Job. God made a bet with the devil that if he took away everything the man had, family and all, he would still follow God. As a good Christian, you're supposed to follow Him and his vision of his life. Or when God told a father to kill his son. Was Matthew ready to go that far? Was he ready to be Isaac, sacrificed by his father, Abraham? They were all his children and God must be doing this for a reason, to lead his people to the promised land. Jim Jones was the leader of the flock. He thought he was at the beginning, but all frazzled and turned around he began to think harder about him and Alfred's choices to drop everything to be here. They had nothing back home to go to, they sold everything they owned to come out to Guyana. They had no family left, this was all they had and Matthew began to have second thoughts, but he was too far deep and Alfred seemed to be eating up every word next to him.

He began to panic further, his breath coming quick but he felt like his lungs weren't getting enough air. He desperately pleaded with himself to calm down, this is where he needed to be to make it into heaven. Death is not bad, it's just a transition to an eternal life. He should be grateful.

Everything Jim was saying at that point fell upon Matthew's deaf ears, his thoughts were like a tornado, destroying everything in their wake. Alfred sensed his brother's anxiety and looked at him with worry soaked eyes and squeezed Matthew's hand.

"He wouldn't do that to us," Alfred reassured. Matthew wanted to believe that.

Tickling his ear, a fly was attempting to land on him and had been for the past minute or so. He swatted its buzzing away, only to be replaced by another fly or the same persistent one. Guyana must have a lot of flies, Matthew noticed. It was almost a blessing that the flies kept interrupting his rampant thoughts. They just kept buzzing, getting louder and louder, it drowned out everything.

"This is our special crisis warning, my friends. We will refer to them as White Nights. We will be ready when the inevitable war comes for us. They will try and tempt us with our families. We are your family now, in this place we lift eachother up, we will not be tempted by our tainted past, we will not be swayed from our goal. While we are still on this Earth, we have a goal to live as one and prosper on these sacred lands."

That's what Matthew heard, his focus snapping back to tunnel vision on Jim Jones. He was convinced he was hallucinating at this point, he saw at least 10 different flies swarming Jones up on the stage, him swatting away as he was speaking. His throat was tight, he was afraid and everything in him told him to run. To take Alfred and leave. Zoning out again, Matthew came back to consciousness as everyone was walking back to the huts. Everyone was silent, the sound of their footsteps trudging through the late night mud and soft wood sounds as they walked across the wooden planks, used for bridges over the harder ground. Fly buzzing and their steps filled his ears. Everyone was holding hands as they walked back, they were scared shitless but didn't dare speak a word.

He was shoulder to shoulder with Alfred as they arrived at their hut, everyone climbing into their bunks as the frames groaned and squeaked under the weight. He wished he could read minds, was everyone shaken up as he was by the whole situation. And the fact that this was going to be a regular occurrence, filled his chest with dread. He had to be ready to die every single day? How would he be able to adjust to that life? He tucked himself in with his thin blanket, his sweaty skin itching against the rough fabric of the blanket. It was about eighty-five degrees and he didn't need the blanket, but he needed the security.

What have they gotten themselves into?