Genesis 2.0 (Monster Apocalypse Survival) Sci-Fi/DarkFan/Horror

~3~ Revised

I hunker down and keep as quiet as possible, hoping my mugger will elaborate on why he's in trouble for losing me. I'm a nobody. Just another nameless, faceless survivor, in a world gone to hell. Who cares what happens to me? All my family is gone: my mom, dad and two sisters all died within a year of the End. I still can't explain why I survived the car wreck that killed them.

Imagine the irony of that situation: my whole family survived a Zombie apocalypse only to die in a car crash because my dad fell asleep while driving. We'd been heading west from our hometown of Shreveport, Louisiana, on Interstate 20, when dad dozed off and our compact flipped five times.

I still feel the ache in my bones. I'd survived without so much as a scratch, just the occasional pain in my joints. I've never been able to explain why I'd lived, especially since I was the only one who'd refused to wear a seatbelt.

Life is so effing wrong.

"What news have you?" a deep, raspy voice demands in the next stall, shaking me from my trip down memory lane.

"She's around here somewhere, I swear," Mugger answers and I immediately identify the trembling fear in his voice. Whoever this newcomer is, Mugger's definitely afraid of him.

"You lost her?" the voice questions and I catch the slightest wisp of a hiss. "Whatever shall I do with you Evan?" And again, his "s" is pronounced with a long hiss.

"Master, I swear to you, I will find her," Evan - now I know his name - answers nervously. "I've been tracking her since she left Arkadelphia, I'll pick up her trail again."

"You better hope so," the voice warns. And suddenly silence fills the air, which now seems brighter and easier to breathe. I haven't noticed it until now, but for the past few moments, I've felt as though I breathed soup, the air had grown so thick and heavy. Of course, being from Louisiana, I'm used to high humidity levels, but this wasn't moisture heavy, it's something else.

Something dark.

Berating myself for being such a melodramatic ninny, I wait until I hear Evan stalk off, his feet stomping across the blacktop parking lot before emerging from my hiding spot. I keep to the shadows and wait until he's far enough away that he can't see me move.

"I have got to get out of here," I mumble.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance," a voice offers from behind me and I whirl with both fists clenched before me. But when I see what stands before me, every muscle in my body goes limp and I all but sink to my knees.

Staring up at the creature who's appeared out of nowhere, I seriously question both my sanity and my eyesight. First the End came courtesy of the walking undead, and now a magnificent being with massive, unfurled wings stands before me, his entire body bathed in soft halo of light.

"Are you...?" my voice trails off. I can't bring myself to ask. "What are you?" I finally manage.

"Just think of me as your guardian angel," the most beautiful man I've ever seen purrs, and then bows, extending his hand toward me. "I've been looking for you for a long time, Andrea Collins," he announces and pulls me to my feet when I place my trembling hand in his.

It isn't until my skin touches his that I realize I've completely lowered my guard. His aura envelopes me like a warm blanket, and I feel safer, and more at peace than I ever remember. Not even as a little girl, when my mom rocked me to sleep, have I ever felt safer. Every instinct I possess urges me to snuggle against his tall, lean body, which I realize is nude from the waist up.

Jerking away from him, severing contact, I take in the artwork adorning his otherwise, flawless skin.

His bare chest is covered in thick, black tribal tattoos. Large swirling lines that dips and curve in no apparent pattern; they're inked all over the flat, muscular planes of his stomach and defined pectorals. When I finally look up into his eyes, I immediately feel the burn in my cheeks. I've been oogling him and he's caught me. A tiny quirk of his full, kissable lips tella me that he's definitely caught me.

Well, so much for first impressions.

"Do you wish to observe the demons further?" he asks while I just stare at him like an idiot.

"The what?" my voice squeaks and I close my mouth, swallowing hard to clear the heavy ball in my throat. He didn't just say what I think he has - did he? "Did you say 'demons'?" I ask slowly.

The gorgeous angel merely nods once, and again, holds his hand out for mine. Well, this experience is just weird. I glance at the mugger, and his minion, as they disappear around behind the warehouse-sized building, and then back at the mystical creature before me.

I'm looking at an angel, does it really take that much of a leap to believe in demons as well? No, not really. Hell, I've been running from zombies for three years; it makes sense that every other imaginary being exists. Right?

Berating myself for being so addled, I slip my hand back into his without another thought. Every positive emotion I've ever experienced radiates from his presence. How can I go wrong by trusting an angel?

I hope those aren't my last thoughts; that would really suck.

"I mean you no harm," he murmurs as I step into his open embrace. "I'm here to protect you." Then he wraps both muscled arms around my waist, and without warning, propels us into the air with a gentle, yet powerful, whip of his ebony wings.

"I thought angels had white wings," I mumble against the velvety skin of his chest. I swear I feel a slight shiver run though the parts of him that touches me, but maybe I've imagined that. A being as inhumanly perfect as he, wouldn't be caught dead looking at an ordinary girl like me. And why am I even thinking like this?

"Not all of us," he explains, and it's like his voice whispers directly into my ear. I feel his chest rumble under my cheek, and know he spoke the words out loud, but I also feel them flit through my mind. Is he telepathic?

"Yes," he answers, again, both out loud and telepathically. "And yes, I can read your thoughts," he adds before I ask.

"Well, that's embarrassing," I assert, and try imaging a solitary beach, waves crashing softly against satin sand. I do everything I can not to think about anything that would betray the lustful thoughts bouncing through the walls of my brain.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask after a few moments of silence, which I use observing the ground, several feet below us. He doesn't fly at an incredibly fast pace, and yet it seems like we've covered a great distance in mere moments. Watching the trees, and barren landscape flow by eventually nauseates me, so I turn my face back into his chest, and focus on merely breathing.

"To safety," he answers, but offers no more. Instead of getting angry at his refusal to give me more details, I close my eyes and try not to barf all over the perfect angel.

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