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the cylinders arrived with what he assumed was a certain regularity — once a day? More? Another untouched canister sat inside his cell. He drank the water from the small fountain in his cell, but after four feedings, he wondered how long he ’ d gone without food.
    In lean years in the village, everyone went on rations. Sometimes the children who were ill, who required more calories than the village could provide, passed away as emaciated skeletons. He thought of Josef. Would his son live long enough to endure a lean year again?
    Urgency gripped him. If he had any chance at escape, he would need his strength. So far, Awnia and the children down the row did not seem altered by the drink, and Levi wondered if he dared taste it.
    No, the thought was temptation by the devil. There was no escape. No physical escape. Should he keep himself alive just so the Blattvolk could perform their unholy rituals upon him? He must strive to die pure.
    Standing, he turned away from the temptation of the canister before lowering to his knees at the edge of the bed. He knew he should pray. His only hope lay in God ’ s salvation. But the words would not come to his lips.
    God was punishing him.
    A soft voice behind him brought him out of his reverie. He looked over his shoulder to see the green lady who had tried to talk to him before. Her long, filmy coat did nothing to hide her nakedness underneath, and the jade curve of her breasts seemed to cast a spell on his eyes.
    It took all of his effort to look away.
    “ Tula, ” she said, and pointed to herself.
    She pointed to him and he knew she wanted a name. He didn ’ t want to give any part of himself to these people. He pointed to Awnia and made rocking motions with his arms. “ Where is her baby? ”
    He hadn ’ t lowered his voice, and Awnia looked up. At the sight of Tula, the screaming began again, the outright frantic panic of losing her child.
    Tula turned and spoke to the woman in low, gentle tones. She offered her a lump of something, but Awnia batted it away, words tumbling from her mouth over and over. “ Baby … baby, baby … baby. ” That word seemed universal, for Levi understood.
    Another Blattvolk, a male draped in jewelry, came into the room, and the two green people argued before he swung an arm toward the woman prisoner. A strange device in his hand must ’ ve held a tranquilizer, because Awnia dropped to the floor of her cell.
    The Blattvolk exchanged sharp words, and there was no mistaking the sneer on the man ’ s face. He stalked down the exit hallway, and Tula bent over Awnia ’ s slumped body. After a few moments, she sighed and returned to Levi ’ s cell.
    “ Draw. ” It was the same word she had used before with his notebook, only now she held a flat, rectangular box through the bars.
    Rising to his feet, he approached and accepted the box. A small plastic stick rested in an indentation at the top. Unlike the drawing sheet she ’ d given him before, this machine was like a notebook. How he longed for something to draw with. This thing seemed a perversion of his longing, the sheets wiped so effortlessly clean.
    “ Whas ear name? ”
    Why did she care what his name was? Would talking to her speed his descent into Hell, or slow it down? He had no desire to offer his captors anything. He kept staring at the notebook.
    The Blattvolk who called herself Tula reached between the bars and removed the pencil from the box. A series of squares appeared on the screen, and she touched the tip of the pencil to the first one.
    Levi nearly dropped the device.
    The familiar visage of Sarah ’ s face had appeared, each pencil stroke indelibly burned into his brain from the day he had created the drawing. She appeared to be staring off the screen toward the Blattvolk woman, a minute smile playing at the corner of her lips.
    “ Sarah. ” He whispered before he thought.
    “ Sarah. ” The Blattvolk repeated. Again she touched the pencil to the screen and another of