Yesterdays Gone: SEASON TWO (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) (Yesterday's Gone) (59 page)

“She can’t hear you,” a girl’s voice said behind Luca. He turned and recognized the older teen from the pictures Rebecca had shown him at her house — her sister. She wore a long black dress, which blew around her like a tapestry in the wind.

“Alexis?” Luca said.

“She’s gone.” Alexis said, no emotion on her face.

“No,” Luca said, “She
can’t
be gone. I can save her.”

“Just let her go. She’s better off here, where Mother can’t hurt her.”

“No!” Luca said, “I can protect her!”

“No,” Alexis said, “No one can. It’s too late. Too late for all of you. He’s bringing them all.”

“What?” Luca said, “Who?”

“The Man in the Middle; he’s not who you think he is. And he’s preparing to eat you all.”

Rebecca gasped, sucking for air, then caught her breath as her eyes went from black to blue. They were both back at The Sanctuary, with Desmond holding off an angry mob.
 

“You’re alive!” Luca said, eyes tearing up as he hugged her.

“Luca?” she asked, her voice thin and shaky, “What happened to you? You look older.”

Luca looked around and saw that everyone was looking at him with wide eyes, shocked into silence.

Desmond looked down at Luca and nodded his head, “You look about 25 now, buddy.”

Rebecca’s mother, who must’ve seen what happened, came over, practically pushing Luca out of the way, and fell to her daughter’s side, crying, and holding Rebecca, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

She looked at Luca, eyes red, “Thank you.”

Luca said, “You’re welcome,” then noticed something.

Luca saw the movement too late to warn Desmond, as a man slipped behind him, and punched him in the back of head, knocking him to the ground, out cold. It was only after the man picked up the gun that Luca recognized who it was — Boricio.

Boricio looked at Desmond’s gun oddly for a second, as if he’d recognized it or something, then turned it over in his hand and handed it butt end to Brother Rei.

Two pairs of hands grabbed Luca tight around his arms and yanked him away as Rebecca screamed, “No!”

* * * *

RYAN OLSON: PART 1

Elmore, Georgia

February 26

8:17 p.m.

Ryan had hoped to reach Alabama by nightfall, but they’d had to flee the highway five times thanks to the seemingly endless piles of vehicles littering the road. The world around them was pitch black, slowing Ryan’s driving to a crawl.
 

If the moon was out, it had been choked by the low-hanging churning dark clouds.

Driving on the highway in complete darkness was an accident waiting to happen, as they’d discovered two nights earlier when they plowed into a stalled VW at full speed. If Ryan believed in miracles anymore, he’d consider it one that they all escaped without a scratch. Their Honda Odyssey however, wasn’t so lucky.

Ryan, Carmine, and Gramps found themselves stranded and having to walk two miles, inching Gramps along in a wheelchair, and praying to find shelter before the monsters found them.

Their luck had lasted a little longer, leading them to a hotel just off the highway where they found another van, an older Econoline with a full tank of gas, which is what they were driving now.
 

“We gonna find a spot soon?” Carmine asked from the back of the van as they hit a logjam of dead metal, making them backtrack in a snaking line away from the highway.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, “You all want to find a house, or a hotel?”

“Whatever’s first,” Gramps said from the back, “I need to use the facilities something fierce.”

“OK,” Ryan said, getting off the highway and driving into a small nothing town.

Ryan killed the headlights, and drifted through darkness, not wanting to attract any attention. The main street stretched for a bit before they found anything worth finding — a strip mall. They passed the strip mall, then turned down the first connecting street, searching the neighborhood for homes that looked secure and vacant, finally killing the engine at a cul de sac with 13 houses. They picked the two story house at the end since it offered the best view of the entire street.
 

Ryan pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine, and rolled down his window, listening to the night for sounds of creatures.

“I remember when the sound of night was like music,” Gramps said, “Back when I was a kid, we used to go to my Grandpa’s house out in the country, and I remember opening the window so I could listen to the crickets sing. To a city kid used to hearing traffic as music, it was almost magical.”

“Sounds like the magic is gone,” Ryan said, “I haven’t heard crickets, or seen much insect or animal activity, since October. It’s like whatever took the people got greedy and took everything else, too.”

Gramps started to say something about the rapture and animals, but stopped when something grabbed his attention outside the van.

“Do you hear that?”

“What?” Ryan asked, reaching for his pistol, before he heard the sound a second later.

“A helicopter?” Ryan said, confused. “I haven’t seen one of those since October!”
 

“Let’s flag them down!” Gramps said, “It’s the government, and they’re looking for survivors.”

Gramps started to open the passenger door, even though he’d have to wait for them to get his wheelchair from the back.

“Wait, Joe!” Ryan said, “We don’t know for sure who or what they are, or even if they’re looking to
help
anyone.”

“Have some faith, boy!” Joe said, “That sounds like a Black Hawk, and that means armed services, or maybe FEMA or something, someone able to help.”

“Let’s just wait to see if they come closer before we get out of the van. We don’t need to be outside screaming our heads off and attracting the creatures. If they come, I’ll hit the lights and honk the horn to get their attention, if they’re even looking.”

“OK,” Gramps said, wrinkles crinkling with agitation.
 

Though they’d gotten along well the past three days since Ryan was attacked, Gramps could be on the cranky old man side at times, especially when his blood sugar dropped. It wasn’t like Ryan was feeling himself since the attack, either. Though his body had mended remarkably well from the gunshots and bite wound, and despite feeling stronger than he had in years, he was also feeling irritable with excruciating migraines, which hurt bad enough to make him vomit. Worse was the pain-inducing sounds it seemed that only he could hear. Initially, it sounded like a light ringing in his ears, but then the ringing grew more distinct, like the buzzing of an insect. Dozens, maybe hundreds.
 

The buzzing came and went at random intervals, a few minutes here and there. Usually, it was a minor annoyance. Sometimes the pain was so loud, not in his ears but rather his head, that it was as crippling as the migraines.

Add to that a lack of a full night’s sleep since they began keeping watch, and it was easy to see why his, and everyone’s, nerves were rawer than usual.

There was also the little issue of their journey.
 

Ryan had to convince Gramps and Carmine that they couldn’t stay in their apartment any longer, that it was no longer safe now that the monsters had locked onto their location. And while Gramps was a helluva shot, he was disabled and unable to run if necessary, a fatal liability. Gramps resisted at first, headstrong and full of pride. In the end, he relented, admitting that yes, there was definitely strength in numbers.

But the issue of
where
they would go was a simmering debate. Gramps wanted to head to Virginia where he had an old friend, Harry, he wanted to check on. Ryan insisted that they first go to Alabama, where he believed his ex-wife and daughter were, thanks to the dreams he’d been having since the attack.

“Yeah, but you’re going off a dream. We don’t even know if that’s where they are, assuming they didn’t vanish,” Gramps said. “At least with Harry, I know where Harry is, if he’s still here.”

“Yeah, well I knew where Mary and Paola were, too,” Ryan argued. “They were at their house, but had to leave, remember? What are the odds that your friend Harry stayed in one spot? And if he’s still there now, then there’s a good chance he’ll still be there after we find Mary. Besides, I’m looking for two and you’re looking for one. And my two are family.”

“Come on, Gramps,” Carmine had said, “He’s right. It’s his
family
. They’re more important than a friend, aren’t they?”

Gramps apologized and agreed, and they began their trip. However, Ryan felt like the old man was rushing him at times, in a hurry to get to Alabama to either find Mary and Paola or not, so they could get on to Virginia. If it came to that, and Ryan’s family wasn’t in Alabama, Ryan was going to have to
really
upset Gramps. Because when it came right down to it, Ryan had no intention of going to Virginia,
unless
he found his family. If he didn’t find Mary and Paola, he would circle the state until he did. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, as he didn’t want to pull rank, and didn’t want Gramps and Carmine going off on their own, since Carmine was just a kid, and still unable to take care of them both. They needed Ryan.
 

Besides, he’d come to like them.

They listened for the sound of the chopper to come closer, but instead, it faded away.

“Aw, hell,” Gramps said, “OK, let’s go inside. I need to whiz.”

**

Ryan took the first watch, at the upstairs bedroom window, watching the street for any sign of a threat. It was nearly 2 a.m. and Carmine, who had the next shift, lay sleeping in a bed just feet away from the chair Ryan was sitting in. Gramps slept in the room next door.

From past experience, Ryan figured they were safe as the monsters generally only seemed to go into homes when they saw or heard something inside. As long as the three of them kept quiet, it wasn’t likely anything would come bursting through this house, of all houses on the street, hunting for people. At about 2:14 a.m., Ryan was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He fought the urge to nod off by drinking warm cans of energy drinks. Unfortunately, that also made him have to pee — a lot.

He went to the bathroom, then back to his spot in front of the window. The shades were drawn almost all the way, save for a sliver through which he spied the street below. Five minutes after he pissed, Ryan saw a pair of monsters at the other end of the block, where his street met the main connector road.

Ryan hoped like hell they’d keep right on going. Instead, they stopped, staring down the cul de sac. Ryan’s heart began to accelerate as his breath froze. He reached down blindly behind himself, his fingers fumbling for the gun.

The creatures turned their gaze in his direction, though he doubted they could see him a full block away. They must’ve heard, seen, or smelled something of interest, since they started to lope down his street, headed toward his house.

Fuck!

Ryan looked down at Carmine, wondering if he should wake the boy, or wait until the monsters drew closer. If he woke the boy, he risked startling him and shattering the silence of the house, which would put them in graver danger. So he waited, watching the street below.

The pair of creatures were halfway down the block, eyes on one of the other houses on the left. They lifted their heads high, as if sniffing something through their slits for noses, then turned their attention back to the end of the street and seemingly on Ryan’s house.

Fuck, they can sense me.

Go away, go away, FUCKING GO!
 

The creatures stopped dead in their tracks, as if they’d heard his last command, turned around, and began to bound away, on all fours, like wild gazelle running from a lion.

What the hell?

Ryan’s head started to throb, and the buzzing sound hummed in his ears again. It grew louder, as if someone were cranking up the volume in his brain. His stomach churned as he grew dizzy and nauseous. He hurried out of the room and into the bathroom, found the flashlight on the sink, clicked it on, shut the door behind him, then fell to the floor over the toilet. Before he even had a chance to determine if the bowl had a floater, he vomited forth a bag of Chili Fritos and three energy drinks.

Oh God!

His stomach was churning, painful cramps pinching his gut from all sides, as he continued to splatter the toilet with puke. His head continued to buzz like hornets were swarming through his ear canals.
 

His hands gripped the cold bowl tight as his arms shuddered, continuously spitting until he was all finished retching, and the sound faded from his head.

He swallowed, turned, and grabbed a towel off the towel rack. He wiped his mouth, collapsing against the bathroom wall, exhausted. As he sat on the floor, his eyes grew heavy, and he thought about going to sleep right there.
Just a few minutes.
The monsters had run away, after all.

But what were they running from?