The Fallen Ones

by Katelyn Campbell

The Fallen Ones

  by Katelyn Campbell

   

  Text copyright © 2014 Katherine E Thorpe

  All Rights Reserved

   

  I’d like to dedicate this book to my family, for loving me. My friends for fueling me and my day job for firing me. – I finally did it!

  Katie

   

   

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

   

   

  Prologue

   

  If you had asked me a week ago who I was, I would’ve told you I am Ilyana Marie Meyers. Today is my eighteenth Birthday. I am the only daughter of Robert Meyers, a Jewish car salesman from New Jersey and Nancy Meyers, an Italian lawyer from Manhattan. I would tell you that I have a smaller version of my Fathers hooked nose, my Mothers tan skin, courtesy of the long Florida summers and a tall frame, the hazel eyes of my Grandmother and dark brown curls that are all my own. I would tell you that I am a B average student, when I sing, it resembles feral cats fighting. My best friend is my German Shepard Sasha. My room is always a mess, I make incredible homemade pasta and my main goal in life is to go to school and get a useless anthropology degree and purposefully get stranded on a tropical island with a tall, dark and handsome stranger that likes to read, write, sleep in and occasionally sunbathe. 

  When I tell you that - you would undoubtedly without even trying; draw your conclusions about the type of person I am.  You would call me an entitled, brat, possibly with a princess complex. The reality is I like people, they just don’t like me. I am fascinated with human nature. I analyze everything and everyone I meet. I just don’t know how to talk to people. I have always liked to live life at a slower pace. My favorite memories growing up were never trips to theme parks or exotic vacations, my favorite memories were fishing with my Dad on lazy Saturdays, listening to crickets on the porch on summer nights when my Mom was home early from work.

  When I was a kid, my mom tried everything to get me to socialize, she put me in ballet – the teacher said I showed a natural poise and skill, unfortunately I hated the classes and practicing. Then in Junior High we tried sports, I was quickly made captain of the girls basketball team until my coach learned that my outstanding athletic skills could never compensate for my horrendous leadership ability. Then High School – I almost don’t even want to mention High School, my Mom had this vision of me as the cheerleader she never was, she made me try out – of course I made the team, but after our first pep rally I learned none of the girls on the team liked me, they said I was full of myself and always accused me of trying to steal their boyfriends - a few of them even made plans to jump me in the parking lot one night after a game. I hid in the girls’ locker room all night until the janitors found me and called my parents, so naturally, I dropped out of cheerleading as well. 

  So if you asked me who I was a week ago, I would have told you my name was Ilyana Marie Meyers, the entitled, loner daughter to a couple of displaced Yankees, with no real goals or potential.

  But this is today and today my name is Oksana Ilyana Malakhova. I was adopted from an orphanage in Ukraine when I was 3 years old. I have no memories of who I really am or who I even was at that time. But I have been told that I was left in the dumpster of a gas station as a newborn, found by the owner and turned over to a tiny orphanage with too many children and not enough food or clothes. I was almost adopted numerous times by my first Birthday, but every time someone came for me they backed out. On my third Birthday a stranger came into the orphanage and told the workers to find any way they can to kill me, they told the workers that I was a bad omen, a danger to the world. They were terrified, one even tried to kill me in my sleep, but a single nurse took pity on me and immediately transferred me to an orphanage in Eastern Russia, a week later I was adopted by the people I call Mom and Dad. It wasn’t until a week ago that I learned the story of who I was - or who I am.

   Today, I would tell you that my parents are dead, my school demolished and the friends I never even came close to having are missing. Today, I would tell you that I may be insane, but the stranger in Ukraine may have been right about me. Today, I would tell you that I am one of, if not the last surviving Nephilim: the child of a human and an angel. Today I am being hunted, the world may be ending and it is possible that I am the one to blame.

  Last week the sky opened up upon us all, fire fell down and something I can only describe as a pack of demons descended on my city, the people who weren’t quick enough to leave, are now dead. There is no electricity, there are no people and I keep being chased by these evil creatures. They are at least 7 feet tall, their skin almost translucent and their eyes are the blackest dark I have ever seen, but as horrible as they sound, they are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. They fight with skill and poise like I never knew was possible and when they chase me, I always know they are going to catch me, but somehow they don’t. I black out when they are chasing me and always find myself somewhere new, with no knowledge of how I got there - surrounded by the bodies of innocent people I don’t remember seeing. I think I am to blame for all of it, for the people, for the death, everything.

  Before my Mom, well, Nancy, died. She gave me a message, she told me to run. She told me to go to Savannah, she told me I would have to walk and move by night and rest by day. She sent me to the basement where I found a backpack full of supplies and a map. She told me not to stop until I get there and to fight, hard.  In the backpack there was a note giving me more instructions. It says I need to go to Port of Savannah in Georgia and there will be a boat docked there, waiting for me with more instructions.

  Before I watched them kill her, she told me I was adopted, she said I was important and special and she didn’t know it would be over so soon. She said I had to stop it no matter what. -  I hoped I was going crazy, but it has been 2 days and now I truly believe that this isn’t just a dream, she’s gone, and I am not even human anymore.