I heard shouts and the stamp of running feet as the soldiers poured into the church, but somehow, they didn’t see us. Or if they did, for some reason they didn’t shoot. Rafael and I piled through the doorway after the priest and pounded down the stairs, around a corner, along a hallway past a number of smaller rooms and eventually into what looked like a dead end—a room walled with bookshelves whose floor was heaped with charred Bibles and hymnals.