HERETIC

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟔

The night creeps along as everyone finds their own activities. Michael sits at one of his jeeps, among his human soldiers while they warm themselves at the campfires in metal trashcans. Dantanian takes a seat next to him on a fender. Michael rests his arms on his gun laying over his lap.

"Michael." The man looks up to the low, feminine voice. She strides to him from the darker part of the camp of fires and military trucks, her walk slow and telling of fatigue, her body not having wanted to return to sleep. "I will help you."

Standing, Michael's arms flex as he slides the gun around him, nodding with a smile. "Dan," his head lifts to the partner. "Get the jeeps ready."

With the light of morning touching the metal hangers, tents shops, and weapons guarding the city, Michael picks up the small duffle bag of meager items Hera has cared to have, tossing it into the back of the jeep as Dantanian checks gas levels.

Not having changed from her dirty top and tattered jean shorts, Hera lazily moves to her side of the truck. Pulling his knife out, Michael moves to the front of the car and carves into the dirt. Just as he gets ready to slice at his palm, Ezra comes running from the building.

"Wait!" He jumps to Hera's, straitening his nice fitting clothes of black leather jacket and black jeans with holes over the knees. Looking at her and how her eyes roam him, he answers the question in her mind, "there my Sunday clothes," he smiles like a shmuck at her.

"Ezra, you should stay here where it is safe," Hera guides.

Shaking off any hesitation, he replies, "I'm safest with you," he smiles. "Besides, I'm not letting you go alone, Sister."

At that moment, Raphael steps from the old plane hanger with satchel slung over his shoulder. Looking to him, Hera and Ezra entice him to ask, "what?" He moves the strap. "Given your recent need for the serums, I thought it was only sensible for me to bring a couple." Slowly from her cleavage, she pulls out a vile while keeping eyes on him. Snatching it from her hand he snarks, "thou shalt not steal!" Dead panned, she moves for the jeep and climbs in as those coming will find their own spots.

Cutting into his palm, Michael holds out his hand above the symbols. Blood falls to the circle and he moves to the car, getting behind the wheel. Hanging over Hera's shoulder, Ezra peers at the symbols, not recognizing their meaning. "Where are we going?"

Starting the car, Michael spouts, "England."

"England is where Aamon is?" Ezra asks.

"No, but it's where we start," Michael grins, popping the jeep in gear. Revving the engine, he starts for the circle and in a flash of red sparks, the vehicle is gone.

In the same flash of electricity, the jeep sparks into sight on a cobbled street among dark buildings of stone. The rough car makes its way along the road, jostling when hitting a random bump. Mesmerized by what's around him, Ezra gawks at the buildings. The city is rubbled with a dotted few towers of what was left alone.

Making its way on possibly the only bridge left intact, the jeep rumbles over roots and vines as nature has come to claim this world much as the daemons and monsters. Ezra marvels at the distant sight of a tall building with a huge clock at the top, its face missing one of its hands.

They travel through streets of paved roads, dark stoplights slanted in the churned cement sidewalks, an entire block decimated, while on the next something like a lone mailbox stands untouched. Having lived his life mostly in the desert, Ezra is amazed by the modern conveniences humans have, or, once had.