Yesterdays Gone: SEASON TWO (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) (Yesterday's Gone) (66 page)

He screamed again, his voice cracked and throat raw, until the buzzing started to die.

He kept running, thinking now of Mary and Paola, and how he’d never see them again. He was infected. He was going to die like this; he was certain. Die without ever seeing his daughter again.

He collapsed to the ground, in the middle of the street, and wept. Not for himself now, or at least not for his physical self and the things that ravaged his insides.
 

Ryan cried only for his family.

Memories swirled through him: everything he’d done; all the guilt; how he’d abandoned his family for what, a stupid, superficial girl with nice tits who wasn’t a tenth as smart, caring, or loving as Mary? If he hadn’t cheated, he would be with them right now. Whether that meant with them in the post-apocalypse, or with them in the graveyard, it didn’t matter – he’d be
with them
.
 

Instead of alone.

He wished like hell he could go back in time, to before it all went wrong, and make things right. There was no way he could go to Mary and Paola like this, and let them see what he’d become, or worse, pass the infection to them.

He sobbed into the cradle of his bloodied palms, rooted to the ground, and decided he would die right there. He would wait until death claimed him, one way or another.

The buzzing grew so loud it drowned out everything else. He sat in the street, kneeled, head in his hands, rocking and crying, begging God for a merciful death. He wished he’d thought to bring the gun with him. He would end it all right now.

Then a light came from above.

God?

He looked up, finally hearing the sound of the chopper’s rotor blades, which had been drowned out in his cranial buzzing.
 

“Stay put,” an electronically amplified voice said as the chopper descended upon the middle of the street.

Ryan did as the voice instructed. Was this the help Gramps had promised would come? Or was this death?

Either way, Ryan was ready.

The chopper landed and two armed men, in black paramilitary outfits and sealed helmets attached to air tanks on their backs, rushed toward him.

One of the men flashed a weird blue light on Ryan, then turned to the other, and through a speaker said, “He’s infected.”

The other man raised his gun and fired a shot into Ryan’s neck.

Ryan smiled at the thought that death had come so quickly.

But he wasn’t dying.

Instead, Ryan fell to the ground, immobilized, his world a blur. The men lifted his limp body and carried him to the chopper.

If they’re not killing me, what are they doing?

Is this help?

Ryan tried to speak, to tell them about Gramps and Carmine, to go help them too, but he blacked out before he could utter a word.

* * * *

JOHN

As
John’s
body hit the ground of the balcony, the thing that wore
John’s
body like a stiff suit the past few months, and was nameless before that, was freed from its mammalian shell.

When the humans left the room,
It
left
John’s
husk through his mouth, then floated in the air, in its true form, like liquid smoke, lighter than air, flowing back into the house, in search of a fresh host.

It
had forgotten how good it felt to be in its natural state.

But it needed a human body in order to fight. And
It
was itching to fight.
It
was surprised to have become so embroiled in such petty human matters as vengeance. Perhaps
It
had spent too long in its human wrapper, and had taken on a few of the species’ lesser qualities. Nonetheless,
It
wanted revenge. Now.

Brother Rei would pay for his betrayal. The humans were a wretched species, and
It
was tired of waiting to extinguish them.
It
would kill them all, except the child, Luca, and perhaps the new visitor, Boricio. There was something about them
It
needed to understand.

Whatever
It
was waiting for, whatever the voices promised, would have to wait.
It
needed to feed – NOW.
It
flowed past Brother Eric, who stared, eyes wide in horror, at
Its
true form.

Brother Eric reached for his rifle, and and fired a shot, but guns had no effect on
It
in this form.

It
flowed faster, snaking through the hall and drifting up the stairs, sensing the perfect new host, laying crippled in bed, practically dead – The Prophet.

Brother Saul, one of The Prophet’s right hand men, stood guard in front of the door. When Saul saw
It
coming, he screamed.

It
entered Saul’s mouth, finding his core in seconds, taking over the shell and using it to open the door to The Prophet’s room.
 

The Sanctuary’s self-righteous leader lay in bed, nearly dead thanks to whatever Brother Rei had done.
It
knew Rei was plotting something.
It
had allowed it, even, not really caring much for the games of mortals, as
It
had more important things to plan.
 

It
didn’t realize that Brother Rei would betray
John
, though.

It
left Saul’s body, floating out and over The Prophet’s bed, gathering strength before bursting in through the man’s mouth. Then in
It
went.

The Prophet
put up a decent fight, but was no match for
It
, who seized control within a minute.

The Prophet
stood from his bed and stretched out its new husk, feeling exhausted and frail.
It
didn’t like this husk; it was obese and felt tired. But this was the husk that was most useful at the moment, the one that would make people obey.
 

It looked down at Saul, who was gasping for air, looking up at The Prophet with a confused, scared expression.

The Prophet
stepped past Saul, then went forth into the world to wreak havoc.
 

It
walked down the stairs, still in his pajamas, past several of The Prophet’s followers, staring with wide-eyed disbelief. They were surprised, and mortified, “Sir, your mask,” one of the men said.

The Prophet
felt no need to hide
his
burned face any longer.
 

“You’re okay, Prophet! Praise The Lord; it’s a miracle!” another said.

The Prophet
ignored everyone, leaving through the front door and approaching the main gate.

Brother Roderick stood guard, the only one on gate duty. He held a rifle at his side, and a vest with ammo, ready for war at a moment’s notice. He was The Sanctuary’s best shooter by a mile. When Roderick saw The Prophet coming, he straightened his back and stood taller, “How can I help you, Prophet?”

The Prophet locked onto the man’s gaze until he was subservient to any command.

“Give me the keys to the gate,”
The Prophet
said.

“Yes, sir,” Roderick said, handing him the keys, unable to resist
The Prophet’s
instructions.

“Now, go forth and kill them all, except Boricio and Luca.”
The Prophet
flashed images of the child and Boricio into the man’s mind, in case he didn’t know who was who. “Kill the other guards first.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, then marched toward the main house and opened fire on the guard perched on top. Then he turned and took out the next guard. The third guard managed to get a shot off, but it missed. The puppet’s shot didn’t.
 

A woman in front of the women’s house screamed, followed by another. Roderick opened fire, cracking the woman’s skull open in one shot. He then marched toward the main house, firing upon men as they emerged.

The Prophet
turned his back on the violence and went to the front gate, slipped the key into the lock, sprung it, then pulled open the gate.

More gunfire erupted in the distance behind him as guards returned fire on Roderick.
The Prophet
didn’t flinch, but walked out of The Sanctuary and into the woods. He looked up to the sky as it started to snow. He opened his mouth, and let out a shrill scream — his call to the things that were an extension of himself.

Come feast. The time is now.

* * * *

DESMOND ARMSTRONG: PART 3

Rei shoved Mary and Paola down to the ground at gunpoint, forcing them to kneel in the center of the room, next to Linc, as they cried. Peter, Carl, and Boricio stood behind Rei, guns ready.

Rei pushed the pistol into Linc’s temple. Mary winced, then shuddered. “Tell me who the others are,” he said. “All of them. Now.”
 

“I don’t know anything,” Linc cried. “I swear.”

Rei clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk. That’s the wrong answer, Brother Linc.”

“You’re not gonna get anything from him, because he doesn’t know anything to tell you!” Desmond screamed. “No one here trusts us enough to tell us anything!”

“Tell me now, or I kill the girl first,” Rei said, without a whisper of apology.

“I don’t fucking know!” Linc’s voice cracked, tears running down his cheeks.

“Too bad,” Rei said. He aimed his pistol at the back of Paola’s head, held it steady for a pregnant second, then pulled the trigger, sending a bullet sailing through the back of her head, then exploding out the front of her head.

Desmond and Luca both screamed “No!” as if they could somehow turn back time and stop the moment from happening.

“YOU FUCKER!” Desmond screamed, struggling to break free his shackles.

Paola’s eyes widened at the sight of infinity as her body fell forward, face first into the ground. Mary screamed in anguish, as she crawled toward her daughter and cradled Paola in her arms.
 

Mary looked up from Paola, eyes on fire, then leapt to her feet and charged toward Rei. But he was expecting her. His fist landed in her stomach and his foot on her knee.
 

Mary dropped to the floor, wailing and crying, her pain so animalistic and raw that it tore like a knife through Desmond’s heart.

Rei took a step toward her, lowering his gun on the way.
 

“No!” Desmond screamed. “She’s pregnant!”

Rei looked up at Desmond, “Tell me what I want to know. Names. Plans. Now.”

“I swear,” Desmond said, breaking down, “I don’t know.”

Rei shook his head, then pulled the trigger, shooting Mary in her stomach. Mary looked up at him and screamed. He put a bullet through her head, ending her anguish and her life. And the life of her unborn child.
 

Their
unborn child.

No!

Desmond, Luca, and Linc cried in a symphony of shared torment. Linc started to get up, but Peter put his gun in the back of Linc’s skull.

Outside, a Fourth of July’s worth of gunfire erupted behind a Halloween’s worth of screaming. And then they all heard the unmistakable sound of monsters outside, shrieking, clicking.

“It’s started,” Rei said. “Well, I guess I don’t need the names any longer.” He turned and headed for the stairs. “Kill them all,” he said to his men. “Including the kid.”

“This isn’t over,” Desmond screamed. “I’ll tear the life from you, you motherfucker!”

Rei was already half way up the stairs when Desmond swore he heard the son of a bitch laugh.
 

Peter and Carl took aim at Linc and Luca. Boricio aimed at Desmond.
 

Desmond winced, waiting for the blast and the arrival of death.

Death didn’t show.

Desmond opened his eyes a half second later to the sight of Boricio’s hands suddenly divided between two guns. In a ballet that Desmond could barely fathom, Boricio pulled Carl into his hands and knocked Peter to the floor, then kicked Carl in the back of his calf, sending him down in a painful kneel, while he took aim at the Peter.
 

Peter shielded his face and body with his hands, inching backward toward the stairs. Boricio emptied his clip without flinching. Bullets ripped through his flimsy shield of flesh and tore his body to pieces. Boricio dropped the empty gun on the floor, then slammed his fist into Carl’s face, before delivering another blow to his liver.
 

Carl fell doubled over and screaming. Boricio casually walked to the far side of the torture room, retrieved Carl’s dropped gun, aimed it at its former owner, then pulled the trigger twice. Blood pooled through the room, soaking the floor and everything on it, including Desmond’s love and her beautiful daughter.
 

Boricio said, “Brothers love; Boricio 30,” then started freeing the prisoners, one by one. Desmond wasn’t sure what Luca had done to switch Boricio to their sides, nor did he have time to ask or figure it out.