AARON “She is the Ministering Sister assigned to us. Look at what she sent.” Elena shoved her phone into my hands. The screen glowed, almost cutting through the dim light of the Vehicle Bay. My eyes caught the first line instantly. It was bold and alarming. “Do not trust the police!” Disbelief tightened my chest. I looked at Elena, my eyebrow rising. “What is she trying to do? Start a panic?” Elena didn’t answer. She ignored me, tapping the screen to play the video. The image wobbled at first. A woman appeared, her breathing quick and uneven. This had to be Miriam. The camera shook as she adjusted it, finally settling on her face. Her ceiling fan and light took up a corner of the frame.She pressed her bottom lip between her teeth, a small sign of fear that made her look fragile and determined at the same time. “I did not want to believe this at first,” she said, voice wavering, “but Bishop Constance confirmed that members of the Seventy have verified the footage. The video was not altered.” The phone felt heavier in my hands. My grip tightened almost without thinking. Elena’s hands rested on my arm, strong and steady, grounding me. Miriam paused, letting the words sink in. The silence hung in the room like smoke. “This is not just an attack,” she said, swallowing hard. “It is clear that the government is trying to erase anyone who does not fit their way of thinking. They want to wipe out those who do not conform to their rules, their beliefs.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept going. “You have seen the video of the family burned alive. What you may not have noticed are the men in the background. Their uniforms and patches. When we zoom in, we can see they belong to the Howard County Sheriff’s Department.” A chill ran up my spine. My eyes refused to leave the screen, desperate to find some flaw, some reason to disbelieve, but there was none. Elena’s hands were still gripping my arm. I could feel the tension radiating through her. The video shifted again, pulling back to the speaker. His voice was muted now, replaced by Miriam’s explanation. “And the man using the name Boggs,” she continued, “is actually Jack Thompson. Deputy Assistant Administrator of National Preparedness for FEMA.” The image froze. The screen split in two. On one side, the speaker stood in front of the burning home. Behind him, a figure plunged into the flames. On the other, the same man months earlier, standing at a podium, wearing a Department of Homeland Security jacket. FEMA printed clearly on the backdrop. “No way,” I whispered. The words felt small, meaningless against the reality before us. The split screen vanished, and Miriam returned to full frame. Her hand lifted to wipe a tear from her cheek. Her voice was steady again, heavy with both urgency and sorrow. “To all brothers and sisters in Northern Alder State,” she said, “we cannot be sure who to trust outside our faith. Our leaders urge you to go to the nearest District Congregation Hall or Stake. Bring your supplies. We will protect each other and endure this persecution together.” Her eyes glistened in the dim light, but she didn’t waver. “If you need help, have questions, or learn anything new, contact me directly.” The video looped, her message repeating. I handed the phone back to Elena. Her lips pressed together tightly, as if trying to hold back the thoughts racing through her mind. “Do you think the deputies from earlier…” Her voice faltered. The question was obvious, and yet terrifying. The same fear was coursing through me. We both knew the answer might already be too late. “Let’s get it packed,” I said. Action was better than hesitation. Elena nodded, moving to open the door. The house shook violently. A deep vibration pulsed through the floor, through the soles of our shoes, and into our bones. Both of us froze, staring at each other, eyes wide. “What was that?” she whispered. The vibration returned, stronger this time. Metal shelves clanged. Boxes shifted. A thin cloud of dust rose from the tracks of the garage door and settled over the Compact Cruiser. “Mommy!” Lucas’s scream came from upstairs.We moved at once. Feet pounded the stairs. Turns were tight and quick. The door to his room flew open. Lucas sat on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, his tablet beside him frozen on cartoon apes and orangutans. Fear etched into his small face. A memory stabbed through me—a crib, a toddler, waking from a nightmare and calling out my name. That small, helpless voice. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus on the now. Elena reached him first, brushing his hair back and wiping tears from his cheeks. “What is wrong, sweetheart?” she asked, voice gentle but firm. Lucas pointed toward the window with trembling fingers. “Something is happening outside.” I moved closer, peering through the glass. Flashes of light lit the night. Each was followed by a low, violent vibration. The pattern was relentless, growing faster with every moment.The source was miles away. My chest tightened as I realized what it was. Not thunder. Not lightning. Artillery. Someone was firing artillery on home soil. Questions collided in my mind. Who was being attacked? Who was defending themselves? Was this related to the people targeting others for their faith, or something even bigger? The flashes continued, tracing a line northeast. Elena’s eyes met mine. The fear there mirrored my own. “We need to finish packing,” I said. There was no hesitation this time. No second-guessing. Everything in the world had narrowed down to this single, urgent need: survival.