Yesterday's Gone (Season 5): Episodes 25-30

by Platt, Sean

  “I could try, but it might take forever. It’d be easier to get a paper clip or soda can to make a shim, then work on it that way.”

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  “I told you the vials have an effect on you over time. I noticed some abilities the longer I held onto the vials — moving stuff with my mind, hearing people’s thoughts. Nothing big, and it’s off and on, but I got lucky back there, I guess.”

  “So is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me. I mean, you said you didn’t even know about the vials until recently, right? Maybe you weren’t close enough for them to exercise any influence over you.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t feel anything. So, what’s the plan now? What are we going to do? We have four vials instead of six, right? That guy drank the one, and we didn’t wait around for Keenan to come out with the other. Is that enough?”

  “It’ll have to be for now.”

  “So, what are you planning? Do you think maybe we ought to give them to the government?”

  Acevedo laughed, then stopped when he saw in Marina’s eyes that it was a serious suggestion.

  “Wait? You really want me to hand the vials over to them? You know what they’d do with this kind of power, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know, maybe fight The Darkness and win?”

  “You really think that? You, of all people, I would’ve thought you’d know better than to trust the government. All the trouble they put your father through because of the church.”

  “He invited plenty of those problems on himself, and we both know it,” Marina argued. “Besides, Keenan saved my life and didn’t have to. Hell, you would’ve been dead if Luther hadn’t saved you back at Beef’s house. And you just left them behind. What kind of priest leaves innocent people to die?”

  “Innocent?” Acevedo laughed. “Need I remind you that that innocent G-man put a gun to you and punched you in the face to coerce us to cooperate with him? I think someone here’s getting a case of Stockholm Syndrome, identifying too closely with the bad guys.”

  Marina shook her head. “I’m not identifying with anyone. But at least they had a plan. They knew what to do. They have resources. We only have us. And in case you missed it back there, I’m not exactly a fighter.”

  “How do you know they have plans? Did they tell you about them when I wasn’t listening? Did they tell you what they were going to do other than get the vials?”

  “No. But neither have you. You’re acting like God will personally give you directions or something.”

  Acevedo met Marina’s eyes, no longer laughing, his harboring a sadness that Marina wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.

  “I have a plan,” he said, “and I know what I need to do.”

  “What?”

  “I have to find the vessel and kill it.”

  “The vessel?”

  “Yes, The Darkness is hiding inside a human. I’ve seen him before, and the vials will show me where he is.”

  “You’ve seen him before? Who is he?” Marina asked. “Do we have a name?”

  “Yes,” Acevedo said. “I’ve been dreaming about him since I got the vial. His name is Luca Harding.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 12 — BRENT FOSTER

  Brent stared at the TV’s clock: 10:30 p.m.

  When the hell is Desmond coming home?

  It was late, and Brent wanted to get Ben home and to bed. He was pretty sure Teagan wanted to get home, too. They’d promised Desmond that they’d stay with Mary. But that was late last night. He hadn’t counted on Desmond staying at the facility all day.

  Sure, there was a ton to get done, and Desmond was pretty much the island’s number two, just under Director Bolton, so he had plenty on his shoulders. Still, Mary had just lost her daughter. And while they weren’t married, Desmond and Mary were a couple, and the closest thing Desmond had to family — so why the hell wasn’t he here in her time of need?

  Ben was sleeping in Paola’s bed, with Teagan’s little girl sleeping beside him.

  Brent hoped Desmond would return before Mary emerged from her room. He wasn’t sure how she would react to their kids sleeping in her daughter’s room so soon after her death.

  Brent looked at Teagan passed out but sitting up beside him on the couch, her neck at an awkward and uncomfortable-looking angle. She’d not only lost her closest friend on the island but also her roommate. Still, she didn’t have the luxury of wallowing. Grief was expensive when a young child was counting on you, so she seemed to be shoving her response deep down, as low as it would go.

  Brent could relate. He’d barely had time to process his wife’s death before they’d hit the road with Ed and crew.

  Holding it together, maintaining a strong facade, was tough, and sometimes felt impossible.

  That wasn’t to say Brent didn’t grieve for Gina, but it was usually in the dead of night, while alone in his bed. But he, like Teagan, had to stay strong. Ben was counting on him. The five-year-old had been surprisingly resilient, sometimes making it an entire day without crying for his mom, wondering when she’d come home.

  While Brent thought his son had understood death after he explained that Mommy had gone to heaven, the boy sometimes seemed to forget that his mother was dead. It was worst when Ben was tired and cranky. He’d cry, “I want Mommy.”

  Times like that threatened to crack Brent’s brittle facade to nothing.

  Listening to Ben cry for his dead mother, wondering when she’d return, was a cold blade to his gut. But Brent had to stay strong for his son. Had to guide him through the grief, even if he barely knew how to navigate the lonely waters himself.

  He looked at his cell phone, hoping to see a signal. Nothing.

  He had to reach Ed and let him know about Jade.

  But the island was still on lockdown.

  The front door clicked unlocked, and Desmond finally came home.

  “I’m sorry.” Desmond inside with a face filled with apology. “Everything at the facility is insane.”

  “No problem,” Brent lied, standing to meet Desmond in the kitchen, hoping that Teagan wouldn’t wake.

  Desmond went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Heineken. “Want one?”

  “I’m good,” Brent said.

  Desmond popped the cap and took a long swig.

  “So,” Desmond asked, “how’s Mary holding up?”

  “She hasn’t come out of her room.”

  “At all?”

  “No. We went to her door a few times, but she just kept saying that she wanted to sleep. Teagan went in a couple of times to leave food and drinks. She said that Mary’s back was to the door, and she couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not. So she set them on her nightstand. She went back a few times, but the food and drinks were always untouched.”

  “Jesus.” Desmond sighed then finished his beer with four long swallows.

  Desmond offered the second bottle to Brent again. After he said no thanks, Desmond asked, “You sure?” then popped it open and started gulping.

  Brent didn’t think Desmond was much of a drinker. Maybe it was the stress.

  “So,” Brent asked, “what’s the latest on the outbreak, or whatever they’re calling it?”

  “They’re calling it ‘Incident 1151,’ officially, between you and me, which doesn’t sound scary at all, eh?” Desmond let out an odd laugh, as if stress was pinching every last nerve.

  Brent suddenly felt stupid. He’d not considered how hard Paola’s death might be hitting Desmond. The girl was like a daughter to him, Brent figured, and Desmond had yet to grieve. Work was calling, and he had to secure their safety. Brent felt selfish and guilty for wondering where in the hell he was earlier. Desmond obviously wanted to get home to Mary and process what happened. But he had a duty to keep the island secure, so his own needs, and Mary’s, had to come second.

  Brent said, “I’m so sorry about Paola.”

  “Thanks,” Desmond sai
d as he finished off the second beer. “And thanks for hanging out today, or rather, tonight.”

  “Ben and Becca are in Paola’s room. I hope that’s OK. It was getting late, and … ”

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it, man. Thanks for helping. How is she doing?” Desmond nodded at Teagan, still asleep on the couch.

  “She’s being strong, but I’m worried about sending her back to her place alone.”

  “They can stay here,” Desmond offered.

  “I don’t want to burden you all. Plus, I was going to invite them to stay with Ben and me for a while. Unless you think Mary needs us to hang around more?”

  “Actually, about that … I was going to ask if you can all stay through the night. I have to go back and take care of a few loose ends. If the kids are sleeping, no need to wake them up just to bring ‘em back to your place, right? I have some inflatable beds in my office; you and Teagan can bunk in there or bring the beds into Paola’s room — it’s pretty big. If you can stay, that is.”

  Brent surprised himself. Ten minutes ago he was annoyed and couldn’t wait to get home. Now he felt eager to help Desmond and the others however he could. Maybe in helping others get through their grief he could better process his own. They’d been through hell together, and while he’d lost the love of his life and Ben had lost his mother, he had to focus on what they still had left — for as long as they still had it.

  “Yeah, we can stay. Just one thing,” Brent said as he reached for his cell, “how long is the island on lockdown? I can’t get a signal, and I really think someone should call Ed to let him know about Teagan.”

  Desmond’s eyes narrowed on Brent. “I’m not sure how long Bolton will keep us on lockdown. He wants to make sure that if there are any more infected they won’t be able to contact anyone they might be working with off island.”

  “Working with? What do you mean?”

  “We have reason to believe there are certain people, not infected, trying to undermine our efforts.”

  “Like terrorists?” Brent asked.

  “That’s as good a word as any.”

  “Who?”

  “We’re not sure. But there are some alien vials out in the wild, and someone has released a few already. We’re trying to contain it, and that’s what Keenan’s doing now. He’s doing vital work out there. And as much as I agree that he has a right to know about his daughter, he’s one of the only people who can get these vials before it’s too late.”

  “Yeah,” Brent said, not sure how to frame the next part of his argument without seeming insensitive, “but weren’t you using Paola to find the vials? I would think that without her, you might as well bring Ed back here.”

  “He has a couple of the vials and should be able to use those to help him find the others. From my understanding, these vials want to be together. Once you have some, they will lead you to the others. And we need to make sure we get them before the enemy.”

  “So you’re not going to tell him that his daughter is dead?”

  “It’s not my decision. This is straight from Director Bolton. But as heartless as it may seem, I tend to agree. Tell me, Brent, you know Ed best of all. How do you think he’d react if we told him about Jade? Do you think he would finish his job, or rush back here, demanding answers, wanting to beat down everyone who failed to protect his child?”

  Desmond had a point. As dedicated as Ed was to his job, he was only helping out to ensure Jade’s safety, and perhaps to a lesser extent Teagan, Becca, Brent, and Ben. But with his daughter gone, there was little to entice him.

  Brent said, “Yeah, I think he’d come back here immediately, and heads would roll.”

  Desmond nodded, putting a hand on Brent’s shoulder, “So you see how tough a position I’m in?”

  “Yeah, I get it. It just sucks so much. He’s going to hate us for not telling him.”

  “Maybe, for a bit. But in the long run I’m sure he’ll understand. Hell, I think he’d do the same thing if things were reversed. I don’t know him that well, but from all I’ve heard, Ed was one hell of an agent.”

  “Yeah,” Brent said, nodding, as he stared at Teagan’s sleeping form. It was still so odd to not see Jade beside her.

  Not odd — wrong.

  “OK,” Desmond said, “I’m going to slip out before Mary wakes up. I should be back in an hour or so, but you never know. We’re still processing people we picked up on the island that are potentially infected. And unfortunately, I’m the only person left that can sense if they are.”

  “You didn’t bring any of that tech over from the other world when you jumped back here? I remember they had these wands to show infection.”

  “No, I didn’t think to, and a lot of that stuff was destroyed with the facility. There’s not much left. Now it’s pretty much just me.”

  “Well, thanks,” Brent said, “for working so tirelessly. I know you’d rather be here consoling Mary.”

  Desmond nodded, staring at Mary’s closed door. “Yeah, it’s tough. Which is why I need to get going before I say to hell with it and go and lie down next to her for the night.”

  Desmond left, taking a third bottle of Heineken on his way.

  Brent wondered again if Desmond was an alcoholic. Not that he would tell the man to slow down or say anything at all. So long as it helped him get through this, Brent figured no harm, no foul.

  He went into Desmond’s office and found the inflatable mattresses along with a battery-operated pump. He filled two, then thought about bringing them into Paola’s room, but didn’t want to wake the kids — or it could be hours before anyone got any sleep again.

  He dragged the beds, along with blankets and pillows, into the living room then went to the couch and tapped Teagan on the shoulder.

  She wouldn’t wake up.

  Man, she must be wiped out.

  Brent considered letting her stay where she was, but was near certain she’d wake with an awfully sore neck if he did. He reached beneath her, her body warm, scooped her up, then laid her gently on the bed.

  She stirred as he set her down and looked up at him. “What’s going on? Where’s Becca?

  “She’s sleeping in Paola’s room with Ben. She’s fine. Desmond asked if we could stay the night, so I got us these beds. Relax, I’ll wake you up if Becca needs you.”

  “OK,” Teagan said, eyes delirious before she closed them again. “Thank you.”

  Brent covered her with a blanket, then turned off all the living room lights, leaving the TV muted on Disney Junior, in case Ben woke up and came out looking for him.

  Brent lay down on the other mattress beside Teagan’s and watched her sleeping bathed in the TV’s dim-blue light.

  Teagan looked so peaceful in her sleep, more like the teenager she was, rather than the young single mother and survivor of an apocalypse on the other world that had aged her waking self.

  If only we could all go to sleep and wake in a world before this all happened. Have things return to the way they were.

  Brent thought of Gina. How much he would give to wake up beside her, and have his family whole.

  He closed his eyes, trying to stifle the black thoughts and wishful thinking before they brought tears. But he couldn’t.

  Teagan’s voice surprised him.

  “Are you OK?”

  He looked up, and was going to lie with a yes. He had to be more like Desmond, wear his strongest face to get them through this.

  But Brent’s mouth ignored his brain.

  “No,” he said.

  “Me neither.”

  She moved closer to Brent, and for a moment he was startled, thinking she might kiss him or something — which would have been a hundred kinds of wrong.

  She wrapped her arms around his body and hugged him, crying into his chest.

  “I miss them so much,” she said. “Paola, Jade, and Ed.”

  Brent was confused then remembered that she’d been in a relationship with the other Keenan, who had sacrificed himself to
save them on the other world. It must’ve been tough for Teagan to be around this other version of Jade’s father, who didn’t have that same attachment to her.

  Brent felt stupid for not seeing the obvious sooner, and perhaps helping her through it. Though he wasn’t sure what he could do or say. He didn’t know her nearly as well as Ed or Jade.

  But as they lay side by side, holding one another through their tears, Brent realized perhaps this was enough for now — to simply be there for each other.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 13 — DESMOND ARMSTRONG

  Desmond watched as numbers on the elevator’s panel ascended and the box dropped lower.

  On the seventh floor, the elevator stopped.

  Desmond pressed two buttons, seven and zero, then the elevator lurched, descending again to the unmarked eighth level.

  He placed his hand on the panel. The doors slid open, accepting his palm print.

  Outside the elevator, Desmond came to a set of double sliding doors, guarded by a Guardsman holding an AR-15.

  “Good evening, sir,” the Guardsman said.

  “Good evening, Proctor.” Desmond raised his face to the retinal scanner to the right of the double doors, waited for the second scan, then the doors slid open.

  Desmond stepped through the doors then headed down the hall, passing several chambers filled with specimen for the scientists’ experiments on The Darkness.

  The hall ended in a fork that went left and right. Desmond took the left hall, a long corridor with black metal doors rather than cells. He stopped at the end of the hall in front of a white door with another retinal scanner, this one keyed for his entrance alone.

  He brought his eyes to the scanner, and the door slid open.

  Desmond stepped inside the cavernous room, which housed eight reinforced, unbreakable glass captivity cells, all dark and empty — save for one.

  He approached the cell and looked down at the sleeping figure on the mat, covered by a blue blanket.

  He pressed buttons on the touch screen beside the cell door and turned on the light. Another press of a button brought the microphones and speakers to life.