Yesterday's Gone: Seasons 1-6 Complete Saga

by Sean Platt

  Outside the elevator, she heard banging on the door.

  Guardsmen shouted. “Let us in!”

  Emily didn’t answer.

  She had to focus on steering the ship, and keeping the aliens from seizing control.

  Marina’s voice outside: “Let us in.”

  Emily continued to ignore the demands.

  Gunfire erupted, slugs plinking into the metal door, leaving dents. Soon, the doors would disintegrate.

  Emily tried to will the elevator up, but it was stuck in place.

  Something slammed into the black fleshy wall in front of her. The first of the bullets to break through.

  Seventy-Seven

  Mary Olson

  One moment, Mary was on the ground, feeling the world around her fading away — helpless, again, to save her daughter.

  Just as The Darkness had swelled and she was certain there was nothing left, a warm, golden light appeared all around her.

  She looked up to see Boricio standing naked above her, his body burning brightly as if he were a walking embodiment of the sun.

  He looked down at her, spread his hand.

  Tendrils of light danced at his fingertips then circled downward toward her.

  She felt The Light enter her body.

  Not just The Light but a soul attached to The Light — the girl, Callie.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Callie said.

  Boricio leaned over and broke her shackles.

  Mary sat and felt her body healing. She watched as Light poured from Boricio’s other hand into Paola, healing her daughter as well.

  Boricio walked over to Paul and healed him, too. Then he sent sparks of Light into the pods, waking Brent, Teagan, and the kids, frying the jelly that held them in place.

  They slipped out and fell to the ground, naked, covered in the pod’s jelly, and shook up, but otherwise fine.

  Seventy-Eight

  Boricio Wolfe

  Boricio stared at them, a motley fucking crew if ever there’d been one, but this was what was left of Team Boricio. But that was okay because he could feel the souls of Keenan, Will, Luca, Charlie, and Callie working with and through them. If that wasn’t an all-star lineup, fuck if he knew what was.

  But first, Boricio needed to figure out what to do as they sat in the cell with Desmond on the run, probably calling for backup like a bitch.

  Brent, Teagan, and the kids huddled together. Mary and Paola, too.

  Paul was standing there, confused. Boricio could feel The Light working its way through him, bringing him up to speed, healing him.

  “What now?” Mary said. “We’ve got to get Desmond. But we also need to get these people to safety.”

  He didn’t answer her question, suddenly overwhelmed by images flashing through his mind. It was as if The Light had turned on a hundred live feeds at once, showing things on the ship, on The Island, on the mainland, a god’s view of everything, through the eyes of many that The Light had spread into.

  And there were many more eyes than Boricio would’ve imagined.

  Oh, this is good.

  But what was the point of these fucking images? How the hell was he supposed to make sense of them or know what the hell to do? What good was seeing everything if you couldn’t make sense of it?

  Focus, Luca said inside his head.

  And then Boricio saw what had to be done. He knew his job. And what the others needed to do.

  Then he looked at Paul. “Can you get clothes for us?”

  “Yeah,” Paul said.

  “Good, we’ve got work to do.”

  He met Mary’s eyes. “I’m so fucking glad to see you again.”

  Boricio kissed her, hard on the mouth.

  Paola said, “Whoa, what the F?”

  “Long story,” Mary said, laughing.

  Paola stared then laughed.

  “Sorry to break this happy reunion, but there’s shit to do before we get off this ship.”

  Boricio cleared his throat. “All right, gang. This is it. I know we’ve been through a shit ton of fuckery, but we’ve got more to shovel before we’re back home and happy. The good news is we’ve got friends. You all might not be able to see them, but I can feel them inside us, right now, and they’re gonna help us bury these alien fucks. You all with me?”

  A pitiful response, a few halfhearted yeahs, particularly from the scared ones, Brent, Teagan and the kids, all still huddled together thanking God they weren’t dead.

  “Come on, I wanna see those fists in the air and hear a ‘Fuck yeah!’ On three, Team Boricio, I wanna hear a fuck yeah. One. Two. Three.”

  The little girl, Becca, raised a fist and shouted “Fuck yeah!”

  The room erupted in laughter.

  Paul came back with a bunch of cult wear. All-white outfits and no shoes, but at least they wouldn’t be running around the ship dressed for an orgy.

  “Good, everyone put on the Kool-Aid Collection, then line up so I can tell you each what you’ll need to do. You wanna live, you’ll listen to me. Because I’ve been handed these directions by The Light itself, amen, hallelujah.”

  Mary was first in line. “What do you need me to do?”

  Seventy-Nine

  Mary Olson

  Boricio delivered team assignments, short and to the point, kind of like Ed used to be. Mary was certain that Ed was now operating through Boricio, so instead of getting colorful job descriptions such as keep fucking them till their assholes fall out, she got a simply worded mission: kill Desmond.

  But Mary was no longer with Callie alone.

  She could feel Luca inside her, urging her forward.

  A part of her wanted to stay behind to make sure Paola was safe, but Boricio said he needed her for a “very special” mission.

  Mary raced out of the chamber, down the halls, following the trail of Darkness like a wolf chasing prey. She could feel Desmond running, scared, calling out for The Darkness to join him.

  Guardsmen came at her, guns aimed, firing, but Mary was too quick, evading their shots, ducking, dodging, and weaving with a speed and fluidity she’d never thought possible.

  As she closed the distance between herself and them, The Light transformed her hands into large glowing yellow claws of brightness. She sliced through their armor and dropped them in seconds.

  She continued on, the scent stronger. The hunger to end him, to end The Darkness, made her stronger, faster. As she navigated more halls and enemies, Mary felt countless volts of electricity coursing through her.

  Nothing could stop her.

  She came to a dead-end hallway.

  Except it wasn’t a complete dead end.

  There was a hole in the ground, a long chute leading deeper into the ship’s bowels. Mary sensed his scent all over it.

  This is where he went, where he was hiding.

  She didn’t think twice before jumping.

  Eighty

  Emily Roberts

  Chunks of the door were vanishing fast, shrapnel whizzing by her, tearing at the backs of Emily’s arms and hitting her in the back of her head.

  She ignored the sharp metal stings.

  She dared not turn around.

  She felt that the ship was now over the spot of earth The Light wanted it to be.

  Now to land it.

  The elevator doors shattered behind her.

  No, not yet!

  Emily turned to see Marina storming in, shotgun raised, aimed right at her.

  She’d been saved once by The Light, but Emily knew, somehow, that it didn’t make her indestructible.

  She pushed into Marina’s mind, a sharp blast of pain that momentarily startled the woman.

  And in that moment, Emily turned her attention back to landing the ship. Instead of lowering it slowly, she let it drop.

  As the ship plummeted, Marina dropped the shotgun and tumbled forward, straight into Emily, sending her back into the wall’s soft flesh.

  Marina grabbed Emily by the hair, pulled her forward, t
hen slammed her head into the wall.

  Emily cried out, kicking, but doing no damage.

  The ship crashed to the ground, a thunderous boom reverberating through the ship.

  Lights stuttered, power disrupted.

  Marina reached up with both hands around Emily’s throat, strangling her.

  Emily tried to push the woman away, but she was too strong.

  “Please,” Emily cried, staring into the infected woman’s eyes. “Stop.”

  Something shifted in Marina’s eyes. Her fingers released their grip on Emily’s throat.

  She looked at Emily and through a cracked voice, said, “I’m sorry.”

  Emily stared, confused. Had she somehow broken the alien’s control over Marina?

  A gunshot exploded.

  Hot blood erupted all over Emily as Marina’s body slumped dead on top of her.

  Emily screamed then saw the gunshot’s source standing over her.

  “Daddy!” she shoved Marina aside and jumped into his embrace.

  He hugged her tight, “Oh, God, I thought I lost you.”

  Emily looked down at Marina watching as a black shape poured from her mouth.

  Emily’s father pushed her aside, into the arms of Brent, standing with Teagan and the kids. He stretched his hand out toward the dark alien shape as it rose.

  Suddenly, his hand was surrounded by a bright-white glow. A blast of light shot out, into The Darkness, disintegrating it.

  “Whoa!” Emily said, staring at her father. “How did you do that?”

  “No time to explain. We need to get out of here.”

  “Where are the others?” Emily asked.

  “They’ll meet us. Come on!”

  They ran. To where, Emily didn’t know, but at least she was with her father, knowing he’d protect her.

  Eighty-One

  Boricio Wolfe

  Bullets rained on the control room glass in a torrent as Paola shoved her hands deep into the control panel’s black flesh, keeping the ship’s cargo bay doors closed. They couldn’t let anything off the ship. Yet.

  As she continued to hold the cargo doors closed, more Guardsmen lined up, firing more weapons.

  Tiny cracks spread across the glass. It was holding up remarkably well, but Boricio wasn’t sure how much time they had left. It could give way any moment. Then the Guardsmen would bring them both down, open the cargo bay doors, and make their hope disappear.

  Boricio held the control room door as best he could. He watched through the glass as chaos unfolded in the cargo bay — Guardsmen and giant ugly centipede-moth-like aliens racing toward the shuttles, trying to escape as the ship tilted and rocked, lowering to The Island.

  Several Guardsmen hammered at the door with fists, weapons, and large sledgehammers, trying to break it down.

  Boricio glared at the enemies, laughing. “Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin!”

  He flashed back to the belfry door, remembering his forced surrender, and how Ed lost his life as the door gave in and Boricio escaped onto the church roof.

  Sorry about that, Boricio thought to Ed, also in his mind.

  Forget about that. Focus on this! Ed snapped.

  “Yes, sir!” Boricio cracked.

  Paola turned, “What?”

  “Nothing. How’s it going?”

  “I can feel someone trying to override the controls, but I’m holding it down.”

  “Good. Just hang in there. I’m calling for backup.”

  Boricio reached out in his mind, calling for help. Connecting with every human and alien that Luca had poured The Light into over the past four years.

  Come. Take the ship.

  The door burst open.

  Boricio’s connection to the others broke as he was snapped back into the moment, just in time to see an old man with bushy eyebrows standing outside the door with a giant square weapon-looking thing that must have broken the door’s seal.

  Behind him stood the biggest, ugliest red centipede-moth-like creature.

  They stormed the control center.

  Eighty-Two

  Mary Olson

  Mary fell for what felt like forever.

  After finally hitting the ground, she found herself in a large black circular room that reminded her of a fighting arena.

  The floor and walls were made of the same black flesh with embedded amber lights. Desmond stood in the red glow, smiling. His eye was already healed, but Mary was sure he was still pissed and wanting to lash out.

  “I knew one of you would follow me.”

  Above her, Mary heard metal sliding.

  “Now you’re trapped.”

  “We’re both trapped then.”

  “You forget, Mary. We are many. We cannot be contained to a handful of bodies. We are nearly a thousand strong on this ship alone, with thousands more out there in the world. And you are what? A handful of people?”

  Mary glared at him.

  “That’s all we need.” She thrust out her palm, surprised as an electric arc of light sliced through the air and sent Desmond back.

  She ran toward him, feeling The Light working through her, transforming her fist into a golden blade of light, eager to finish him off.

  As she leaped at Desmond, he opened his mouth, shooting out dark swirls of matter.

  The Darkness hit her in the gut, sending her flying back.

  Mary hit the ground hard as The Darkness disintegrated then jumped back into Desmond’s body.

  The ship rocked, sending Mary sideways, sliding toward the wall.

  “Looks like the ship is going down!” She smiled, feeling The Light working to land it, though she wasn’t yet sure about the rest of its plan.

  As she started to stand, thick ropes of Darkness shot out of Desmond’s mouth, wrapped around her ankles, and yanked her back hard.

  Mary hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from her lungs.

  Desmond’s Darkness reeled her in, pulling her in too fast for Mary to counter the move as she panted and puffed, catching her breath.

  His hand formed a dark blade when she reached her. As the dark tendrils snapped back into his mouth, he sliced down, straight into her gut.

  Unable to scream, Mary gasped.

  Eighty-Three

  Boricio Wolfe

  As the eight-foot red alien shoved the old man with bushy eyebrows aside and burrowed through the doorway, Boricio’s fist burned bright, forming a sharp triangle-like blade. He brought it up, straight into the fucker’s underbelly, and sliced up.

  Boricio used his other hand, also burning bright but still in its human form, to tear into the insect’s flesh, ripping out guts and chunks of goo, screaming as he did.

  The alien fell to the ground, black liquid pooling from its maw.

  No, not liquid, but the alien’s essence — its soul, seeking a home.

  “Take that shit outta here!” Boricio yelled, thrusting his open palm toward the thing.

  A bright-yellow spark of lightning shot from his hand and fried the fucker.

  Bushy Eyebrows came at Boricio, no longer holding the big square thing but instead holding an assault rifle.

  “Enough!” the old man screamed, firing.

  Bullets smacked into Boricio, but he wasn’t going down like that.

  He raced forth, even as the gunfire tore into flesh, driven forth by Charlie and Keenan’s white-hot anger.

  Bushy Eyebrows looked up, startled, wondering why the fuck Boricio wasn’t falling.

  Boricio grabbed the gun, snatched it from his old fucking hands, and spun it around, fired point blank into the old man, tearing his organs apart.

  Boricio kicked the old man back from the doorway then looked up to see a line of Guardsmen, weapons aimed at him.

  He raised his rifle, fired, screaming, “Die, motherfuckers, die!”

  “Kill them!” one of the helmeted voices screamed.

  Gunfire erupted, tearing into Boricio’s flesh. He fired back, taking out as many of them as he could bef
ore they brought him down, hoping they wouldn’t hit any vitals.

  The ship rocked, sending Boricio and the others skidding along the floor, again starting to take off.

  Boricio grabbed the doorway, pulling himself back into the control room.

  “Someone’s overriding the flight controls! They’re moving the ship!” Paola screamed.

  Shit! Fuck!

  “Can you keep the bay doors closed and land the ship?” Boricio asked, unable to look back as the Guardsmen scrambled to their feet and opened fire on him again. Boricio returned their shots but was taking too many himself.

  “I’m trying!” she cried out.

  “We need to land before we open the doors,” Boricio said. “So land this fucker, now!”

  “We’re too high!” Paola said.

  “Find a way!”

  The ship rocked again.

  Guardsmen and giant insect fucks alike slid and fell.

  Boricio dropped the rifle then grabbed both sides of the door, struggling not to fall, or die, as blood poured from his dozens of wounds.

  Guardsmen found their feet and aimed their guns to finish Boricio off. Gunshots tore into his body.

  He staggered backward with each shot’s impact, struggling to hold tight to the doorway, standing as a makeshift barrier to keep anyone from getting Paola.

  The ship lurched downward then hit the ground, sending Boricio’s enemies back to their feet.

  The landing was hard, but not enough to hurt the fuckers. Just momentarily disable them.

  “Get out of the doorway!” Paola cried. “The ship’s landed! Lemme open the doors!”

  Boricio looked up and down his bloodied body. Gunshots pocked his chest, legs, arms, and gut, gushing blood.

  “No, not yet. We’re not ready!”