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EVEN AFTER ALL THIS TIME, there were still some images that Molly Cromwell stumbled upon that were still so utterly harrowing it made bile rise in her throat. Eighteen months were long enough to destroy whatever remained after the blast, but the unlucky few that managed to still survive suffered greatly for it.
Many who saw her thought her to be a mirage - a mere hallucination brought about by the pain of their cancerous sores. Others believed she were a saving angel, while some thought she was the Angel of Death. Nevertheless, Molly was enough to capture attention no matter where she went. Her skin still maintained it's healthy sheen, not a tumor or sore in sight. The horse she rode through the streets of the wasteland that once called itself America was pristine white in colour, not at all charred or affected by the toxic air itself and its rider was submerged in.
Molly had travelled far since the apocalypse had came, occasionally staying with different groups to assist as much as she could before leaving to help the next poor soul. 'Helping' a survivor meant anything and everything from providing them with food, easing their pain or even helping them pass on to the other side of it were a wish of theirs. The sole driving factor that kept her going throughout this new layer of Hell was the knowledge that it would end, and that someday everything would go back to the way it was. Even if she wouldn't be able to see it herself.
Molly's connection with her Father had never been stronger, as she prayed day in and out that when the time came for the final showdown between good and evil she would be strong. That she would prevail over the Antichrist and save everyone - those she loved personally and those she didn't. That connection kept her strong in more ways than physically, as her mind that would have surely snapped upon seeing as many horrors as she had somehow stayed sane. Molly couldn't afford to break down, not when she could be doing as much as she could to ease the pain of the world.
She never did see Michael again after the last time - but that small tether that was permanently attaching them by the hip forever prevailed, reminding her that he was still alive and well. She often wondered if he felt it too, if he wondered why she never came to find him again. Molly often feared that he would attempt to search for her and ruin her plan altogether, but if he had tried he had yet to find her. It wouldn't be long before they'd meet eyes again, she could feel it. With each passing day, Mallory's powers would grow - Molly could sense it from miles away. It was why she was riding closer to her location, aware that she would need to be there when Mallory finally did awaken.
She could only hope Michael would be nearby when that happened, but something deep inside of her knew it would. She knew he was visiting each of the safe houses to scout for people to bring to a 'better place', which she imagined was code for an army of people he was growing to build the New World.
The air was cooler than usual that day, the full force of Nuclear Winter nipping at her cheeks as she rode Raphael, the name she had appropriately gifted her horse after the angel of healing himself, down a desolate road in Nevada. Her long hair, which she had cut short to her shoulders to easily maintain during these perilous times, flicked with the cold wind.
