Weeping Angel


Key Eleven: Fleeing:

The journey began at sundown. Grace opened the trip with her role as the guide. She led them out the fire exit of that abandoned hotel and into the back alley way.

"We have to push past the scent," she whispered, "If you stay longer in it, you will faint." They formed pair as she instructed them early that morning.

"Don't look back," Grace advised them, "Don't look back no matter what." Ophelia's grip tightened around Allen's deformed hand.

"As soon as we find the dirt bridge," Grace whispered, "We have to run and not stop for any reason."

"How do we find this bridge?" Allen asked.

"It should be right… here!" the guide said as she scanned the broken glass covered ground in front of them. At first, the team didn't get what she was talking about.

"Where?" Harry asked.

"There," Grace said as she pointed forward under the dim moonlight. The blackened dirt stood out from all of the broken glass.

"But it's covered in glass," Ophelia complained.

"That's why you have to run and never look back!" Grace said, "You have to do that right… now!" She took dashing through the broken glass past with Kit in tow. Allen shrugged as he ran after her while squeezing Ophelia's hand. Harry and Tyrone were the last pair to make it across. The team didn't stop running even when they cross thick grey smog. Kit paused when they all stopped for a rest.

"Hey, do you hear that?" he asked. Everyone looked up at the sky for a listen. A low moans filled the night sky. Most of the team's stomachs began to turn.

"It's happening again," Ophelia whispered in fear.

"What do you mean?" Allen asked, "What's going on?" The others around him sank down to their knees, succumbing to their mental pains.

"My head's about to split open!" Tyrone shouted.

"Come on, guys!" Allen cried, "You have to fight it! We need to keep going! You can't let these pains take you!" His voice was miles away from them. In a desperate attempt to look around for a way to snap his crew out of their pain, Allen noticed something lit a spark in his memory.

Wait a second, he thought, I think I have been here before.

The small fragment of an image began to play itself in his head as he looked up at the blackened sky above.

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