Cleanup Squad

"Who?"

Bai Zhu's voice echoed through the worship hall.

No one answered.

He stood on a crossbeam, where a narrow shaft of light filtered through a hole in the roof and fell between the pews below, illuminating several rows of wooden benches.

That was absurd in Meteor City.

Forget a church—even a single intact plank left outside for more than three minutes might get pried loose and stolen for firewood.

Bai Zhu slowly crouched down and ran his fingers over the beam.

Old wood.

Dry.

No smell of rot.

"Who's paying the maintenance fees for this place?"

He muttered under his breath.

The laughter rang out again.

This time, it was closer.

It sounded like a child had run beneath his feet, light footsteps pattering along as the child laughed so hard they could barely catch their breath.

Bai Zhu looked down.

The space below was empty.

He paused for two seconds, then jumped down from the beam and landed beside the last row of pews.

His boots touched the tiled floor with barely a sound.

He swept his gaze around.

The worship hall looked even more complete from below.

The stained-glass windows on either side were unbroken. They depicted kneeling people, a woman reaching out her hand, a child being embraced, and a group praying beneath the light.

Reliefs covered the walls, one after another.

Some showed people suffering.

Some showed women nursing children.

Some showed people kneeling beside bonfires in prayer.

Some showed people handing the children in their arms to robed figures.

The altar directly ahead was clean—so clean it was almost glaring.

At its center stood a half-nude statue of the Virgin Mary, holding an infant as she looked down at the child in her arms.

Bai Zhu watched it for a moment, then lowered his