Standing around the door were four girls, all except one looking closer to Bea’s age then Maria’s. The one outlier seemed to be looking fondly at the woman just behind me, giving me a good idea of the relationship between the two. With a grunt I pulled myself up and out of the hole in the floor. With a sigh, I stood up and found myself still surrounded, the gazes seeming mixed. A girl with light blue hair and one with pitch black hair looked at me with hesitance. The older black haired woman gave me a friendly look and, finally, there was the white haired girl. Her look wasn’t one of fear, hate, or kindness. It was one of morbid curiosity, that seemed to be seeping right through me.
“Interesting.” The white haired girl walked up close, overlooking as much of me as she could as I stood completely still. What the hell, how many weirdos are there here? She brings her face up close to mine and I feel my brain ready to freeze over. She got closer, closer, and then, she smiled. “You are very interesting, Mr. Angel Slayer.” The girl said, clapping her hands gently. Wait, did she just call me an angel slayer? Sensing my confusion, she stands back. “Bea explained this to you already, right?” She asked. I do my best to recall anything we talked about. Almost getting shot had really defined the moment.
“Uhhh…no.” I said, earning me a slap to the back of the head. “OWW?! YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING ABOUT IT THEN!” Maria grabs Bea and holds her up off the ground like a tantruming child. With a few words, Bea pouts like a child but agrees to be good before being set back down. “So, uhm, can I ask then, what the hell these angels are? Actually, why are they called angels anyways?” My questions were met by a snicker from the white haired girl, before she reached into the backpocket of her tight jean shorts and pulled out a small leather bound pocket notebook. She threw it to me. I opened it up, and on the first page, saw a sketch of that beast from before. “Those are angels. Beasts sent by god to collect people’s souls.”
Memories of what had occurred before flashed through my mind. The blood, the vomit, the pain, the death. Blood, vomit, pain, death. Blood vomit, pain, death. Blood vomit, pain, death. I held in what felt like something rising in my throat. I covered my mouth. The white haired girl took back her notebook, showing no real concern as she patiently waited for me to collect myself. Once I somehow managed to swallow down whatever was coming, I forced myself to focus only on the why of the thing rather than the thing itself. Before I can ask another question though, I already receive my answer from a butthurt looking Bea.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“God ain’t really the god you think of. It’s less a deity and more a guy who has the power to back up having the title, you get it?” I slowly nod. “The reason he’s doing this, or, so he says anyways, is to collect all of humanity’s souls and take them to paradise. That ‘unfortunately’ means wiping everyone out, and there's a barrier between him and this world that he can’t get through. Unfortunately, it would seem he found a hole big enough for whatever angel making farm he has going on.” Bea shakes her head. “We don’t really know how many are out there. Matter of fact, everything we know is what he told the spirits, so bite me. This is his first angel to actually take action, and thank god we managed to hear about its general wearabouts from a passing spirit.”
“Okay…I’m gonna guess a lot more are gonna show up then?” The thought of potentially more of those things…I force myself not to think about it. The look on Bea’s face, however, tells me its already a lot worse than that. “Are…there already a lot more of them?” I ask, as if the answer weren’t already so obvious. She slowly nods her head. A chord of genuine fear strikes through my chest. “Jesus christ…” I do my best to hold it together. “Where are they, out of curiosity?” I ask. Bea looks away, her desire to not answer very clear. I feel my face starting to go pale.
“Uhm, sorry bud. I don’t know if you had a lot of people you cared for in your area, but…the country is pretty much overrun. I highly doubt most of them are still, err, with us.” The white haired girl chimes in with her helpful tidbit. Most of the country is overrun, she says. They’re probably dead, she says. Who’s they anyway? Ha, I don’t give a fuck about anyone. I’m a loner, I’m a total loner! Yeah, and I’m gonna be just fine, no matter what! I’m an angel slayer, right?! Hahahaha, how’s it lookin for me dad?! HAHAHAAHAHA-
“Please message me later…”
My thoughts all halt on that one. That voice. His face immediately comes to the forefront of my mind. He’s…probably dead. The dude who likes you is dead. The one who liked all the books you liked, who talked to you when everyone else thought you were a creepy weirdo, who…who bought you a ginger ale when you were sick. He’s dead. Harley is dead. I feel my head going into my hand, slowly, but not deliberately. Nothing feels like it’s in my control at this point. A slow rise in the rhythm of my breathing begins to cause a numbness to course through.
“Bath…room…” I mumble, and Bea, seeming to not be thinking of hurting me at the moment, points to a door next to a large staircase. I stumble towards it, the sounds of whispering going on behind me. I can’t make out what they’re saying. I don’t want to. If I hear anything else I may…really snap…