Yesterday's Gone: Season One

by Platt, Sean

  “Like what?”

  “There’s a station just outside this main building, seems like a communication shack or something. And then there’s a second cluster of buildings, looks like there’s a farm with a silo, plus a big long building, might’ve been stables.”

  “How many people you figure are in this place?”

  “No idea, never even seen anyone from the other buildings. I seen maybe a dozen people total, but there could be ten times that. Or more.”

  Moe didn’t wait for his B+, just started begging instead. “I’m like you, man, just lucky enough to wind up here a few days earlier. I’ll help you, I want to help you. These people scare the fuck outta me. And I’m the only one in the room who knows the way out of here, at least sort of. There’s a garage by the communication shack. I’m sure there are cars in there. I’ll take you there. If you don’t waste time, you will survive. I want to get out of here and I want to help you.”

  “Long as you’re not one of them, it’s fine with me,” Boricio said. “Every number matters.”

  Yeah, we’ll just see about that you Benedict Arnold mother fucker. Give me a reason to reach down your throat and pull your tongue out and gut you like a pig.

  The newest prisoner stirred.

  “I think our new friend is awake,” Adam said.

  Boricio couldn’t have the new prisoner making noise and drawing anyone to the room; not before he was ready. He placed his hand over the prisoner’s mouth, “Shhh,” he said. “You’ve been kidnapped. But we’re gonna get you outta here.”

  Uneasy recognition blended with the confusion on his face. “Boricio?” asked the prisoner, who looked to be around Adam’s age.

  Boricio paused, got down next to the kid, and clutched his throat. “How the fuck you know my name, kid?”

  “Sorry,” he said, “I’m... I’m not sure what I meant.”

  A controlled rage rumbled inside Boricio. “The fuck you talking about, boy? You said my name clear as fucking Windex. You wanna tell me why, or you want me to tear off your arm and beat you with the soggy end, you Kids-Eat-Free-On-Tuesday fuck? You don’t use my name and not tell me why, unless you want it to be the last thing you do.”

  The prisoner swallowed. “I’m sorry, man. My name’s Charlie Wilkens, and strange as this sounds, I met you in a dream. Last night. I fell asleep and there you were, talking to me, just like you are right now. And then again, you were talking in my head when these people kidnapped me.”

  Boricio stared down at Charlie, curiosity creeping through him. “Oh yeah, what did I say?”

  Charlie gulped again. “You said that your father was a fucking cunt and that nobody fucks with Boricio. You also said that the only thing to do when you find a pussy is to fuck it.”

  Icy shock wrapped around Boricio. The words were his alright. He vaguely remembered dreaming something along those lines, too, but the specifics were as lost as everything else in his recent memories.

  Well that’s about 14 inches of fuck me silly. Looks like Benedict Arnold might be onto something with this Waco mother fucker and the dream machine.

  “No crazy talk,” Boricio said, relaxing his grip on the kid’s throat. “I don’t have time for bullshit, or to figure out where we met before. Start with how you ended up here in the first place.”

  “I was with my stepdad, Bob. He also survived, which is unfortunate since he’s such an asshole. We came across another survivor, a girl a little older than me. Once Bob decided not to crush her head with a crowbar, he went ahead and fucked her in the pool. Stole her away from me. So fuck him like the rest of the world.” Charlie drew a quick breath, then added, “And fuck you, too.”

  The defiance on what was exposed of the kid’s face was enough to make Boricio smile. It was obvious he never would’ve said what he had if given a second to think. And he sure as shit wouldn’t have done it if the blindfold wasn’t blocking the view of ole Boricio. Even now, the kid looked like he wished he could swallow his tongue, but he was still, unwilling to show fear. Even if his quivering chin betrayed him ever so. Still, Boricio had to give him credit for guts.

  The room was silent. Manny, Jack, and Adam stayed quiet through the exchange with Moe, then the entire room had given him and Charlie the floor. Everyone was right where Boricio wanted — so terrified they could barely breathe, and ready to worship him as their new lord and savior if given the chance.

  “So who’s up for busting out of here?” he asked.

  Smiles and nods circled the room. Boricio reached into his boot and peeled back the sole, and retrieved his emergency razor blade, then moved in a line, freeing each of the prisoners from their restraints and blindfolds. When he got to Moe, he leaned in, blade to Moe’s face, and said, “You give me one reason and I’ll kill you till you’re a second from dying, then stop so these Kool-Aid drinking mother fuckers can decide when you get your last two breaths, you dig?”

  Moe nodded. Boricio turned to the room, slipped the razor back in its plastic case and slid it into his pocket.

  “You’re all untied. That means you’re all invited to be valuable members of Team Boricio. Now if you’re not on Team Boricio, then that means you’re on Team Fucker. And let me assure you, every single person on Team Fucker is gonna die. So,” Boricio gave the group his biggest grin, “who wants to be on Team Boricio?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “No one does a thing without my say and only when I give it. I don’t know who these people are or why they want us here, but I can assure you, any fucker who walks through that door will be crawling out with a red smear behind them, if they’re lucky enough to crawl at all.”

  Charlie laughed.

  Boricio smiled. Kid had potential.

  * * * *

  EDWARD KEENAN

  October 16, 2011

  Early evening

  Cape Hope, North Carolina

  “What are we gonna do?” Teagan asked, as the helicopter grew from hum to thunder as it drew closer. “Where can we hide?”

  “We can hide in here.” Ed said. “But if they’ve got F.L.I.R., they’d still pick up the heat signature on the SUV’s engine, exhaust, and brakes. If they’ve got ground troops, they’d come looking house to house.”

  “Are they looking for us?”

  “Don’t know,” Ed said, “Maybe they’re looking for survivors. Maybe they’re here to help.”

  “You think?”

  The pregnant teen stared at him, wanting to believe things might be okay. Ed didn’t want to shatter her hopes.

  He knew she was thinking of the dream where the men in helicopters came to take her baby. The more he considered it, the less credence he gave the supernatural nature of her dream. It was a first-time mother’s fears of losing her child, that’s all. Amplified in a young girl who found herself suddenly without parents, or anyone else to care for her.

  Still, that quiet voice in the back of Ed’s mind was there. Finely-tuned intuition: It isn’t just a dream; listen to the girl. His intuition had always called bullshit on anything superstitious or psychic. But for some reason, its ears were perked now. Either she was sharper than he thought or he was growing dull.

  “I dunno,” Ed said. “I suggest we play it by ear. See what happens, prepare for the worst.”

  “The worst? What’s that?”

  “That they’ve come to harm us.”

  He ran to the car, grabbed the Remington 30-06 rifles and shells he’d taken from the men at the gas station, and came back inside to prepare. He wished he’d had the foresight to break into a gun shop and load up on more weapons. But he hadn’t exactly expected to go toe-to-toe with helicopters.

  That’s when he realized: the men in chopper were looking for him, not the girl. Why didn’t I think of that before? Sure, he was probably presumed dead, and searches would be limited to the crash site and surrounding area unless evidence suggested he’d survived, but maybe someone had seen him and reported him to whatever authorities were still around. The rest of the
world might be gone, but agents were roaches. Some survivors were a near certainty.

  And now they are coming.

  He couldn’t take any chances. The men in the choppers might be there to help, but agents would say anything, show any face, to disarm you.

  He’d have to act quickly, without question; fire the first chance he got. Like at the convenience store. And he’d have to prepare Teagan for what was going to happen.

  “I need you to trust me on this,” he said, meeting her frightened eyes. “If these guys are bad, or if I even think they’re bad, I’m going to shoot, no questions. Understand?”

  Teagan nodded.

  Thunder grew louder.

  Ed went to the window, peered through the curtain, and saw the chopper hovering above the trailer park, light sweeping the grounds. The chopper appeared to be a Uh-60 Blackhawk, which meant it wasn’t likely scouring for people to save. There was room for maybe 11 troops in addition to two pilots and two crew chiefs, so even if they were flying with less troops, they couldn’t be expecting to pick up too many people. Meaning they’d either specifically come for them, or to kill them. Of course, the chopper could be reporting to base or be flying in advance of a transport chopper, but Ed couldn’t take the chance.

  It’s go time.

  “Stay inside. Get whatever you need and get it now. Be ready to go in two minutes.”

  Ed stepped outside as the helicopter descended, raised his rifle and aimed at the cockpit. The pilots saw the threat, spun the chopper sideways, and a soldier stood at the machine gun, taking aim at Ed.

  Ed had one shot before he’d be torn to shreds. While the top rotor made an easier target, it would likely require a few shots. A rear blade hit could bring the bird down quicker, but the shot was next to impossible. He steadied his aim on the rear propeller, held his breath, and took the shot. He managed two shots, both hitting the rear blade, causing the copter to spin violently out of control, nose pointed toward the tree tops as the pilot tried to wrestle the copter to a safe landing.

  Ed loaded more shells into the rifle, then followed the chopper’s descent to the beach as it crashed into the water. The top propeller, along with the tail of the chopper, split from the body like butter under blade and sent waves of debris flying toward the sand.

  Ed waited for any sign of survivors, rifle ready. Two men emerged from the wreckage, dazed. Ed shot them both, one in the head and the other in the chest. Their bodies went limp then fell to the tide.

  He waited two minutes worth of nothing, as most of the chopper remained underwater.

  He ran back to Teagan’s house, yelling, “Let’s go!”

  Teagan was outside with two bags in four seconds, tossing them into the back of the SUV, as Ed pulled from the driveway and raced down the street.

  “What happened?”

  “They’re gone.”

  Teagan’s face was still. He could tell she was trying to work out whether to thank him or scold him for another round of murders. Guilt had a way of silencing criticism, so Teagan said nothing.

  **

  “Are we driving straight to Georgia?” Teagan said as the last of the sun dipped behind the horizon and the world fell into darkness again.

  “Yeah, sooner we get to Georgia, the sooner we’ll know if Jade is okay.”

  Teagan rubbed her belly, then looked up at Ed and said, “Thank you for saving us back there... and at the gas station. You were right.”

  Ed nodded, uncomfortable getting accolades for being a good killer.

  “Do you think we’ll find anyone else? I mean, people who aren’t trying to hurt us?”

  “I’m sure there’s good guys left,” Ed lied, “If we’re careful, maybe we’ll find a few.”

  “What if we don’t?” She asked, tears in her eyes. “What if everyone else is gone? How are we supposed to live?” Then, a hiccup from hysteria: “How am I supposed to raise a child? How am I even supposed to have a child with no doctors, or nurses, or hospitals?”

  “We don’t know if everyone is gone,” Ed said in his calmest voice. “For all we know, this is localized to a few states.”

  “But what is it? What happened? Where did all the people go?”

  “I dunno,” Ed said, “I’ve been trying to figure that out since I realized they were gone. And every time I think I have an idea which might seem plausible, I turn down the path to see where it goes and slam into a dead end.”

  “Maybe God called everyone home?” she said.

  Ed laughed.

  “What?” she asked, offended.

  “You really believe that?”

  “Why not? It would explain why my parents went and I didn’t,” she said putting a hand on her unborn baby. “Maybe this is God’s punishment for my sins.”

  Ed laughed harder, but stopped when he saw her pained look, ready for a fresh batch of tears.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” he said, “It’s just that with all the evil shit going on in the world on a day-to-day basis, an unwed mother is the least of God’s concerns, assuming there is a God. If you were denied entry into Heaven because you’re pregnant, the streets wouldn’t be empty now. They’d be so full to the brim with sinners, you wouldn’t be able to move six inches without bumping into another one. Believe me.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue, but didn’t. Just stared out the window, like any other teenager who thinks the world, and God’s judgment, revolved around her.

  “Maybe we’re not on Earth,” she said after a few minutes of thought. “Maybe the reason there’s not a ton of people around is because we’re in purgatory. Not bad people, necessarily, but not good enough to get into heaven.”

  “I doubt it,” Ed said, “I can’t imagine a jury of angels debating whether or not I was a good person. If God had anything to do with this, I’d be in hell right now, trust me. And while we’re in the Deep South, and some might argue otherwise, this is hardly hell.”

  Teagan laughed.

  Ed was relieved when she closed her eyes. He didn’t really want to explore their situation more than he’d already done a hundred times in his mind. He had no idea where everyone went. But there had to be a scientific explanation. Something that made sense. The problem with science was that it left so many things in the air. Despite millennia of theology and centuries of science, the world had expired before finding answers to life’s biggest questions.

  Maybe what happened wouldn’t come with a pat answer. Maybe they’d just have to learn and adapt on the fly, like humans had always done.

  Evolve or die.

  * *

  11:20 p.m.

  Winding, Georgia

  Jade lived in an apartment building that catered mostly to college students and young people in the town’s thriving service industry. What it lacked in architectural style (a giant dorm-style five-story building), it made up for by being well-maintained and on the nicer side of town. Hers was one of four identical buildings surrounding a large parking lot, packed with cars, most of which had student parking decals and stickers of trendy bands slapped across their rear windows.

  From outside, Ed didn’t see any lights in the windows or sense anyone inside, deflating the small hope he’d reluctantly allowed to swell in his heart.

  Teagan woke from her nap in the passenger seat, and said, “We’re here?”

  “Yeah,” Ed parked the SUV behind a row of cars closest to Building B. “Looks deserted.”

  Ed grabbed his pistol, shoved it in his waistband, then opened the door. He grabbed a duffel bag from the back seat, filled with flashlights, food, and tools, including a crow bar, then headed toward the building’s entrance. Teagan followed.

  On the front double glass doors, was a sheet of white paper taped to the inside, facing out. On it, large letters written in royal blue marker.

  “Survivors - Meet Us In Room 410.”

  The handwriting looked like a woman’s, though Ed couldn’t be sure it was Jade’s. A long time had passed since he’d seen her writi
ng, 10 years, at least.

  Ed handed a flashlight to Teagan, then took one for himself and pushed through the doors. The hallway was dark except for a small red EXIT sign at the other end. He shined his light down the hall and his heart nearly stopped.

  Every door was open as if someone had gone into each of the rooms searching for something. Looters?

  “Wait here,” he whispered to Teagan, advancing down the hall with his gun drawn and flashlight scanning the darkness.

  He held the gun and light as though a single instrument, one to banish the dark and the other to blast it to hell.

  The rooms weren’t looted, or in any way destroyed. Perhaps just the product of someone looking for others. Maybe Jade had opened the doors and was now in Room 410, he allowed himself to hope, though his cold inner cynic warned him not to let his expectations carry him away. He searched four rooms before surrendering to his instincts, and the evidence at hand — no others were on this floor.

  He found the stairwell at the end of the hall, beneath the EXIT sign, and called for Teagan to follow.

  The second floor was the same as the first, open doors, including Jade’s at 205.

  He entered her apartment, gun down. Her walls were dark red with giant prints of foreign movies. A black sectional with a pillow and blanket was rumpled in the rough shape of a comma. He wondered if that’s where Jade had fallen to sleep, watching TV before she vanished.

  “Which room is hers?” Teagan asked, looking at two doors, both open.

  “I dunno. I’ve never been here.”

  “Oh,” Teagan said.

  Ed went into the smaller of the two rooms. Slightly messy, lots of pillows on the unmade bed, and ... the blue unicorn they’d given her when she was a kid. He picked it up and brought it to his nose. He expected to smell her, flash back on some memories of them together, hugging her maybe. But the unicorn brought no memories. And it smelled different, not like her; unfamiliar perfume.