Flight

Chapter Four: the Seven Fallen

Okay. So, Israfel told me Molloch is a Greater Demon-- one of the Fallen Seven. So, who are the Fallen Seven? The evil equivalent of the Seven Archangels?

I lay on the ground, feeling extremely vulnerable out in the middle of nowhere, and stare up at the sky.

Ten months ago angels started dropping like rain. They were pretty much everywhere. Anywhere they weren't, demons were. It was chaos. 

Colton, Mom, and I escaped in our SUV. We lost contact with Dad in a month. Colton and I lost contact with Mom in three.

My cellphone was dead. People abandoned their jobs. Everyone lost something.

There were orphans everywhere. Colton and I were just like everybody else, and that meant our problems didn't matter. Our parents missing didn't matter.

I shake my head and sit up, looking around at the various other people laying on the ground.

The dangerous woman and man from earlier are still patroling. Colton is on one side of me, holding my arm out of habit. Israfel is on the other, laying straight as a board, eyes closed.

I poke his arm, and his eyes snap open. He gaze sweeps across camp, then he relaxes, and his attention focuses entirely on me.

"Are you alright?" he asks me.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... what do you mean, I told you not to say your real name?"

He blinks. "You prayed. And I heard you."

I look back at the sky and frown. Then something hits my mind and I whip my head back to stare at him. "Everytime I prayed you--"

His eyes are closed again.

"Isaac?" I ask.

He grins.

"You heard me?"

Eyes still shut, he nods.

One corner of my mouth edges up. "Dude."

"Colton."

He yawns and pulls away.

"Colton." I say again, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it. I have no mercy. "Wake up."

"Whyyyy?" he moans sadly.

"The sky's awake." I tell him.

"So?" he asks. 

"So we're awake. Get up, lazy butt." I say, whacking him on the head this time.

"You are cruel." He says flatly.

I laugh evilly. "You love it."

"You wish." He tells me, sitting up. His hair is sticking up everywhere, and his face is scrunched in discomfort. "Ugh." He says.

I grin and grab his hand, pulling him to his feet. "C'mon, dude. We're moving out."

That gets him moving. "We're leaving?" he looks scared and disappointment.

I laugh it off, but I still feel a jab of pain. "You hate being with me that much? Geez, boy. You break my heart."

He frowns, and I roll my eyes.

"The group is moving out. Now get up, butthead."

"Stop talking about my butt."

I snicker and sling his backpack over my shoulder, shoving him forward towards the group. They're watching us with looks of amusement.

He groans in protest and hunches his shoulders. Suffice to say he is not a morning person.

I breathe in the cool morning air and smile as the group starts moving. It is nice not having to be freaked out about watching my back all the time. It's nice to just... feel the sun.