Yesterday's Gone: Season Six (31 page)

Keenan didn’t even look back.

Lisa rolled her eyes then turned her attention back to the road.

Boricio smiled. “I guess that’s a yes.”

After another minute of walking, Keenan finally ate the bait. “We’re out here looking for Mary, and checking on Radio Bob, and you want to ask if we’re
fucking?
Really?”

“Inquiring minds.”

Lisa turned, raised her middle finger, and smirked.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was walking with the Pope and Mother Teresa.”

Neither responded.

Now Boricio kinda wished he’d brought Barrow. That asshole was easy to rile. Especially when you fucked with him about his weight.

How come every other person is on the verge of starving in this alien apocalypse, and you’re still Hurley? You sure you’re not slipping away and eating people while out on runs?

And Barrow would attempt to give shit back to Boricio. But the guy was slow, and tended to say stupid crap that only made Boricio laugh harder. But it was all in good fun. Barrow didn’t mind you poking fun at him, and Boricio liked the big fucker well enough.
 

Now that Boricio felt like talking, Keenan and Lisa were a silent film walking. Next mission: Barrow and Lisa. Boricio would instigate Barrow to make some joke about Lisa. She’d respond with a verbal beat-down. Barrow would shrink like a pussy.
 
Good times.

Despite his need for distraction, Boricio was glad to be walking the apocalypse with the Boring Twins. If shit
did
hit the fan, they were the two motherfuckers, aside from Mary, he most wanted by his side.

Their radios crackled to life: Brent Foster, who’d been staying with Marina and the others at The Farm.

Keenan answered first.

“It’s Brent. We lost The Farm. We need to talk with you.”

“Lost The Farm?” Keenan said. “What happened?”

“Overrun with aliens. A few nights ago. I’ll tell you about it when we get there. We’re down to just five of us, and just got within radio range.”

“Shit.” Keenan swallowed. “Who’s left?”
 

“Me, Teagan, and the kids. Plus Marina.”

Keenan sighed. “What about Mary?”

“Mary?”

Boricio got on his radio and interrupted, “Yeah, Mary was headed to The Farm last night.”

“Well, we haven’t seen her,” Brent said. “We were a bit off path for a bit, but we’re sticking to the normal route now. We’ll let you know if we run into her.”

“Fuck!” Boricio yelled.

Brent said, “We’re coming in. Where are you now?”

“We’re staying with Beta Team at Station C 17,” he said, giving Brent the code for Chandler House. “We’ll meet you there once we’re back from our current job.”

They walked in silence for several blocks, no one remarking on the loss of more lives or what might have happened to Mary. No use dwelling on the maudlin. You had to shove that shit deep where it couldn’t get you, pick yourself up, and carry the fuck on.

After another few blocks, they saw the belfry and steeple come into view over the treetops through the fog.

The belfry’s stone walls and large wooden shutters concealed the bell and room, making it the perfect watchtower, and sniper’s nest, if necessary.

As if tuned into the same thought frequencies, Keenan signaled for them to stop.

He raised his infrared binoculars to survey the belfry then slowly lowered them. “Nothing.”

They continued forward, guns ready, approaching from the south, through neighborhood backyards abutting the church’s cracked, overgrown parking lot.

The trio hid in the thick brush, Keenan scanning for signs of life.

“I got something,” he said.

“What?” Lisa raised her rifle and peered through the scope.

Boricio squinted and saw something in the parking lot, sitting on the ground, but couldn’t tell what it was. He’d mistaken it for a body — it wasn’t uncommon to find corpses whenever they went on a run or recon mission. Of course, the bodies never stayed out long, either picked apart by carrion or carried off by cannibals.
 

“What the fuck is it?”

“A dog,” Lisa said.

While it wasn’t uncommon to see wild dogs, Boricio hadn’t seen a mongrel just sitting there, hanging out like it wasn’t the end of the world. They were usually twitchy, nervous, always on the move. This fucker was waiting for someone to pet him.
 

“He alive?” Boricio said.

Lisa nodded. “Yeah.”

Boricio grabbed the binoculars from around his neck and looked. Sure as shit, it was a dog. Black and white, fuck if Boricio knew the breed, with blue eyes. And he — Boricio couldn’t be sure without checking if it was male or female, but assumed it took balls to sit there — didn’t look fucked up and dirty, or wild. He looked like a pet.
 

“I got a clear shot.” Lisa said.

“No, don’t shoot him,” Boricio said.
 

Lisa turned and looked at him, eyebrows arched.

“He’s not a threat.”
 

“Oh, Jesus, you’ve gone soft. First the kids, and now the dog. You sure you don’t want us to take you home so you can apply your makeup?”

Boricio returned the bird she’d given him earlier.

Keenan turned to Boricio. “Okay, we don’t need to kill him. But if he starts barking or comes at us, you’re putting him down, got it?”

“Got it,
chief.
”

Boricio didn’t mind Keenan calling the shots in the day-to-day, but he didn’t like when the fucker thought he was Boricio’s boss.

Ain’t nobody the boss of Boricio, c
hief.

Keenan, as he typically did, ignored Boricio’s tone and continued to search the surrounding area, a burned-down shopping plaza, and another handful of houses.

“Looks clear,” he said. “Let’s roll.”

Keenan led the way into the parking lot and toward the church, guns drawn, prepared for any sign of enemies.

Lisa stopped, signaling trouble ahead.

“Two o’clock, possible bogey.”

They all turned, though no one fired until Keenan determined the threat. The potential peril was a man shuffling along the street near the burned-out plaza. He was old, pushing a creaky garbage-filled shopping cart, seemingly oblivious.
 

Keenan shook his head.

They crept closer, now drawing the dog’s attention.

The dog, who was sitting on all fours well past the entrance, looked up at them, ears perked.

Easy, boy. Don’t make me have to put you down.

Boricio didn’t aim his silenced pistol at the dog but kept it ready, just in case.

They were halfway toward the front doors, and the dog kept staring without a growl. No getting up, barking, or chasing them off, defending his territory. He just sat there.

Boricio kept watching the dog as they drew closer to the church entrance.
 

That’s it, good boy. Shit guard dog, but good boy.

As Keenan and Lisa approached the wooden front doors, Boricio kept an eye on the dog to make sure it didn’t suddenly charge them.

“Clear,” Keenan said.

Boricio turned and followed them into the church, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, and that they were walking right into a trap.

* * * *

CHAPTER 11 — Mary Olson

Mary wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Somehow, she’d managed to fall asleep then woken to darkness, no longer confined to a table. She was lying in a bed, dressed.

What the hell?

Mary sat up, confused, trying to gather her bearings and maybe figure out how she got here, and where exactly
here
might be.

A light came to life above her, revealing that she was in a small room, almost like a ship’s cabin, with its low ceiling and narrow claustrophobic walls. And she wasn’t alone.

Paola — or rather, the thing wearing her daughter’s body — was sitting across from Mary in a sleek, curved, black matte-finished chair.
 

Mary was going to get up but couldn’t move after seeing Paola sitting across from her. She couldn’t do anything but stare at the girl.

“Desmond let you up as a show of good faith,” Paola said.

Her cool, calm speech indicated to Mary a lack of humanity. No emotion. No pleading. No tears. Matter-of-fact:
Desmond let you up as a show of good faith.

Mary said nothing. She smirked at the creature.

Does it really think it’s fooling me?

“I want to go home.”

“You
are
home, Mother.”

“Do
not
call me that.” If glares could cause violence, Mary’s would’ve eviscerated the alien.

“But you
are
my mother.”

“No. And you are not …
her.
”

“Yes, I am. How can I prove it? Ask me something only Paola would know. Go ahead.”

“I’m not playing games with you. Just because you’re in my daughter’s body, and can access her memories, doesn’t make you my daughter.”

The girl stared at Mary, her head tilted to the side as if lost in thought, or trying to understand something Mary was saying. Maybe it was attempting to mine the right tactic to change Mary’s mind, to convince her that Paola was still in there.
 

The girl spoke, still with no emotion. “Why are you so afraid of the unknown? The different?”

Mary shook her head, refusing to answer. “I want to go home.”

“Is it the alien inside me that disgusts you so much? Do you really think Paola is dead?”

Mary looked down, refusing to participate in its manipulation.

“Do you know what happens to the human body when it dies,
Mary?
”

Calling her Mary rather than mother was a confession, the alien no longer pretending.

She looked up and met its eyes. “No, please, enlighten me.”

“There’s a release of energy as your body shuts down, an energy your science isn’t equipped to register. Some might call it a soul. Other species have different words. But it isn’t really all that different from what you’ve seen of our scouts. Or from our true forms.”

“Scouts?”

“Yes, this thing you’ve been calling The Darkness is part biological, part artificial intelligence, created by our species, sent to many planets, searching for those inhabitable to our kind. But we’re not all that different, at our root.”

“What are you saying?”

“These … ” The girl waved her hand in front of her chest to indicate her —
Paola’s
— body. “These aren’t us. They aren’t
you
. They are husks. Shells. They are biological machines in which we, in our true forms, exist.”

“What the hell are you saying? Aren’t you The Darkness?”

“No, we are another species altogether, called Pruhm. We are
all parasites
, as you call us. You, me, even your precious daughter. We’re all forms inhabiting a shell for a finite amount of time before we go on and inhabit some other form, or vanish into the Great Void. The only difference is that our species is advanced enough to leave
before
our hosts die. We can then find a new host to hold our identity.”

“Are you talking about reincarnation?”
 

“That’s the closest to your understanding, yes.”

Mary tried to wrap her head around the alien’s words. Something about them rang true, as if it were providing her with the secrets of life, but her human mind was too feeble for true understanding.
 

Or maybe they’re trying to get me to drink the Kool-Aid, manipulating me into joining them.

“As I was saying,” the alien continued, “when the human body dies, your soul remains for a while, until the organs sustaining the body’s life finally die. Some souls can stay in a body for weeks after the shell is dead. But once the body is gone, the soul moves on, to the Great Void if it can’t find another vessel.”

Mary wasn’t exactly buying the story, but her curiosity couldn’t be quelled. “What is the Great Void? Like Heaven or Hell?”

“Nobody knows for certain. It is believed that we all go there if we can’t find a new body to host us.”

“How do you know of this void if people, souls, whatever, don’t come back?”

“Like humans, we all have our myths, Mary. But no there is no certainty of what happens next, which is why we cling to life for as long as we’re able. Which is why we’re here on your planet, to find a species to live with. From what we know of your kind, we can allow you to live practically forever. Isn’t that a dream worth pursuing?”

“So, are you telling me that Paola really is alive in there? That you got to her soul before it crossed over into the Void?”

“Yes, I am.”

Mary stared at the girl and shuddered. Her every fiber wanted to kill this conversation, to refuse the possibility.
Her
Paola was dead. There was no returning from that.