Harbinger Ch. 8

 Of Broken Rules And Shaken Faith

“You’re really quiet, Gabe. What are you thinking about?” Michael asks after almost an hour of driving in silence. Gabe sits in the driver seat with his right hand on the wheel, while he bites the thumb nail on his left hand. He only does this when he’s worried. Michael lets the question hang in the air for a couple of minutes before he presses further. “Come on, man. Talk to me.”

“I had a conversation with Jerry earlier.”

“Yeah, what about?”

“He just asked the questions any other human in his situation would.” He replies after spitting a piece of nail out the open window.

“And what’d you tell him?”

“I answered them to the best of my ability. It’s funny…”

“What is?”

“Just fifty years ago I could have answered them all and be sure of what I told him. Now it’s all changed. I’m starting to feel like I don’t know anything at all.”

“It’s not like that, Gabe and you know it.”

“Oh, it isn’t?” He takes his eyes off the road to stare at his partner for a few beats. “We’ve been down here off and on since, what, the beginning of time? How can you look me in the eye right now and tell me it’s the same? The last forty-eight hours alone should have opened your eyes.

“You just need to have faith.” Michael says in the softest tone he can muster through gritted teeth.

“And you need to be realistic.” He hides his anger with nervous laughter. “I guess there really is such a thing as blind faith. You need to look at the facts. This has gone far past what it all used to be. See, it used to be just a contest of influences between us and them, more or less. Now they’re turning it into a full blown war. Humans have gone from chess pieces to casualties of a fight they have no place in. Jerry’s life is over now just because he walked into the wrong house.”

“It's not as bleak as you're making it out to be.”

“That's because you're assuming that we're all still following the old rules when, really, it's just us. That's why we got caught with our pants down.

They've got Belith running around killing people. Why? Because they're not scared of us anymore. You didn't fight him, I did and he took me down like I was nothing.”

“So that's what this about, isn't it? You lost a fight and you don't know how to cope with it.”

“You're damn right! Belith is only they're second string. How do you think we're gonna do when they bring out the real heavy hitters?”

“It's impossible. They can't come up here.”

“And humans can't see us for what we are either, right?”

“I'm trying real hard to be positive here, Gabriel. So I'd really appreciate it if you'd...” Their hood catching on fire cuts Michael off in mid sentence.

“Beatrice!” Gabe screams as he slams on the breaks and jumps out of the car. He takes off his jacket and proceeds to swat at the flames. “It's gonna be alright, girl. Stay with me.” He puts the flames out in seconds, with only some minor damage. “Oh, man...just look at her.”

“Would you stop worrying about your fucking primer and look at this?” Michael screams in panic as he points to the gas station across the street.

“So, you believe me now don't you?” Gabe says as he joins Michael's side, where two figures stand on the roof of the gas station.

The first is a woman, who is strikingly beautiful if you look at her at the right angle. Otherwise, she's just striking. Her brilliant red hair is flowing in some places, singed patches in others, while scar tissue fills the gaps between the two. Her nose had been melted off, with burns covering the top of her face on the left side. The left eye milky white, the blindness being a result of the trauma she had experienced. Her right harm nothing but burned flesh which ended in a ball of fire engulfing the hand. Her left arm remained unharmed and carries an extravagant golden shield. She once had wings, but now there is nothing but a few bones jutting from her shoulder blades covered sparsely with blackened feathers. The flowing gown she wears covers up any horrors that may lie beneath.

Her companion is a male about a foot and a half shorter than her, putting him just under five. His body horribly emaciated, making the baggy pants he wears hang off of him even more. Nothing covers his torso, revealing crisscross patterns of cuts that cover most of his bare flesh. His eyes have no lids and an endless stream of tears flow from them. The expression on his face is enough to break your heart. Sticking out of his back are two, long reeds. They both just stare at the angels in silence.

“It's the fallen...” Michael can only gasp.

“What do we do now?” Gabe asks, desperate for some kind of plan.

“I...I don't know.”

It's hard to tell how long this silence lasts, but it makes Gabe uncomfortable. “Hey, Alya!” he yells across the street, pretending to ignore the glare Michael is shooting at him. “There's something I've been wondering for a long time.”

Alya's body remains stoic.

“Did it hurt?”

Her eyes sharpen with malice.

“I'm serious, did it hurt? You know, when you fell from heaven?”

Her right arm raises, making her grimace in pain. The ball of fire engulfing her hand grows larger. Once it reaches the size of a basketball she hurls it in their direction, but it's going to come up short.

“She's a terrible shot.” Gabriel chuckles.

“She's not aiming for us, she's going for...” The ball of flame collides with the gas tanks 20 feet from them. The whole station goes up in one massive fire ball, the concussive blast sending Micheal slamming into the rear door on the driver side of their car and Gabe goes sailing through a store front window. Then nothing except for the sound of a few dozen car alarms.

When Michael finally manages to stand and look at the flaming store, there are no sign of their attackers.

“This sucks.” Gabriel says as he climbs out of the store, wiping glass out of his hair.

“You were right, Gabe. Things have gotten bad and we never even saw it coming.”

“Yeah...I don't wanna play anymore.”