M.J. led us briskly through the maze of gray corridors as if he knew them by heart. He lightly brushed his fingertips along the fossilized walls like a kid running his hand along a chain link fence.
He might have been dead, but his footsteps were just as nimble as when he'd been alive. Watching him glide through the halls of that sinister place, feet occasionally flickering with the flourish of a dance step, was like watching him roam through a music video.
He looked better than he had in a long time, I thought. Heaven seemed to have been good to him.
Then why was he part of a revolution to overthrow it? Why had he joined the Heaven Liberation Front?
"It's showtime." M.J. stopped at a black door, a featureless surface made of the same smooth material as the dome of Heavenless. "W
