Tomorrow's Gone Season 1

by Sean Platt

  Slum Lord stared down at his city, thinking about Jackie and Hobarth, and his advisor, Kiril, all advocating for the same things. Was he on the wrong side of this? Allowing his judgment to be clouded?

  Sasha was the only person he could trust to steer him right. She had originally agreed with Kiril about moving against Yugo, but hadn’t appreciated how Slum Lord had handled Yugo’s firebombers, and even seemed to agree that he should move on Hobarth. But he hadn’t updated her since his conversation with Jackie, and needed her input.

  He arrived at The Baxter to find Sasha sitting at the bar flirting with a young blonde bartender with ample breasts and big blue eyes. She looked innocent, just Sasha’s type when it came to girls.

  Sebastian nodded at Sasha on his way to the elevator.

  She said something to the blonde, then followed.

  As they rode the rattling box to their bedroom, lights blinked before the power died for good and the elevator stopped mid-floor. The red glow of back-up lights filled the claustrophobic space.

  “Fuck.” Sebastian paced, the air already stuffy.

  “Relax.” Sasha slid her hands over his chest, then dipped into her purse and pulled out a couple of pills. She shoved them into his mouth, glazed eyes and slurred speech suggesting she’d already started without him.

  He closed his mouth, shaking his head. “Not now.”

  “What is it?” She frowned and dry-swallowed her pills … as if she needed more. “You’re jealous of the blonde?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Well, maybe you should be,” Sasha teased. “She’s sweet. New in town, from Riverside. Not too bright, but a gentle soul. She was talking about her cat at length, but that was the wrong kind of—”

  “A gentle soul you’re planning to corrupt.”

  “You make it sound so bad.” Another frown, her emotions already shifting. Sebastian wasn’t sure what she was on, but he was beginning to think that maybe she was in the wrong place to advise him right now.

  She stared at the ground. “I just … I like being their first experiences. It’s like the innocent first romances I never got to have.”

  “I’m sorry.” He took her into his arms, even though the last thing he wanted now was to be in such a tight space with someone so close. “I understand. You deserved better.”

  “We all did.” She rested her head on his chest, then pulled it away. “Your heart is racing. Are you okay?”

  “I … can’t stand confined places.”

  The lights clicked back on and the elevator kicked back into motion.

  Sebastian finally exhaled.

  “There. All better now.” But she looked at him, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Hold on …”

  The doors opened and they walked to their room.

  He closed and locked the door behind them, took off his jacket, then removed his weapons and laid them on the dresser, and joined Sasha on the bed. She was wearing the thin blue dress that always aroused him, but he throttled those urges, needing to talk more than fuck.

  He lay next to her, holding her hands as he stared into her beautiful eyes. Her pupils were dilated and she could barely focus. Sebastian never minded seeing her out of it when they were having fun together. But when he was sober and she was fucked up, her state made him sad.

  He felt guilty for cheating on her. Their relationship was open, but they were still supposed to be honest and tell one another when they slept with someone else. And the other people were never supposed to be anything more than a fling. Richmond was a secret, and that said it all.

  A part of him wanted to confess, but he resisted.

  Not now. Maybe not ever.

  He did love her. All he wanted was to give her the happiness she’d been denied for so much of her life. She’d come from the same streets as he had, and went through even worse shit.

  He started telling her about Yugo, Hobarth, and Jackie. And by the end of it, he was surprised that his eyes were welling up, thinking about his sister and how much he missed her.

  Sasha kissed him on the forehead. “You’re a good man, Sebastian. I’m sure you’ll think of the right thing to do.”

  “But … I don’t think I will. I’m so torn. I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t think I should take Yugo out. Even you think I should.”

  “I … I didn’t say that.” Her eyelids were gaining weight, her speech growing ever more slurred.

  “What would you do? If you met Yugo … if you saw the situations they’re living in … I don’t know … I just think you might agree with me.”

  Her smile was as sweet as her eyes. “I … I think you will …”

  But then she fell asleep.

  And Slum Lord rolled over with a sigh.

  He still had no answer. But for now he would be content to lie beside Sasha and hold her. For now, the world wasn’t crashing in around them. For now it was the two of them, and they were both happy.

  For now.

  Forty-One

  Johan Pascal

  Pascal’s coin sat between him and the mystic.

  “How do you know me?” he asked.

  “I saw you in the merchant’s fate. I take it he has come to pass?”

  “Yes,” Pascal said.

  “Give me your hand.”

  “I need to know about the men who killed him.”

  “Give me your hand,” she repeated sternly.

  “I’m not here to get my future read.”

  “Do you not want to know what’s going to happen?”

  “You’re an Alt?”

  “Touched, they call it.”

  “That’s how you see things?”

  She nodded.

  He slid his palm across the table.

  She took his hand and he saw flashes of her life — before The Event, and the horrible thing she’d done in her youth, drowning her toddler son.

  She yanked her hand away, glaring at him. “How dare you.”

  “I wasn’t prying. It just happens, especially with stronger Alts … Touched.”

  “Get out!”

  “Please, I just need to find the people who killed the merchants. We all have sins we’re ashamed of. My family would be alive if not for me.”

  She kept glaring at him. “Get out.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not going until you tell me where to find the people that did this.”

  “I will scream for help.”

  He needed to de-escalate. Intimidation wouldn’t work on someone so old and cranky. Nor would forcing her mind with his powers. She was Touched; her mind had different rules.

  “Listen. Rangers are delivering a cart of corpses of those merchants to your town any minute. People will want answers and justice. You can do the right thing and help the families of these men get both.”

  A quiet moment before she spoke. “I only know of the man with the fire hands. He is from another’s fate.”

  “Who is he? Where can I find him?”

  “I don’t know his name, but you can find him staying at the old meat-packing plant in Carston.”

  “I thought that New Gods cult moved in there after we cleared it out?”

  “They took it back five months ago, killed or enslaved everyone in there.”

  “Thanks,” he said, surprised that he hadn’t heard about the fall.

  “Now please get out.” The shame was thick enough to slur her words.

  Merchants threw him dirty looks on his way to the stables.

  The two men he’d spotted earlier were gone from their booth. It was now manned by a woman who looked away as he passed.

  Pascal kept moving.

  Five men greeted him at the stable, including the two he’d passed earlier, getting between him and Cobalt.

  Two with knives, one held a sword and the other a metal bat. The last man was the biggest among them, and was holding the largest axe Pascal had ever seen.

  “What you doin’ here, Ranger?” A broad-chested bearded man i
n overalls slapped the end of the bat against his open palm.

  “I’m looking for the bandits who killed four of your Merrick Tea merchants yesterday on a delivery to Riverside.”

  The men stared at him, suspicious.

  “Unless you want to stand in the way of justice and get on the Merricks’ bad side, I suggest you let me on my way.”

  They stared at him.

  He reached back and put his hand on the sword sheathed to his back. “Or I could kill you all on the spot. Your choice.”

  “Well, if it’s for the Merrick family, I don’t see a problem in letting you go.” Bat Man gave him a nod.

  “Thank you.” Pascal’s hand fell from his sword.

  He remembered the apple in his pocket, fed it to Cobalt before tipping the stable hand, then mounted Cobalt and left before the men changed their mind.

  He rode fast, eager to get home so they could organize a raid on the meat-packing plant.

  As he passed the fork in the road and the wooden arrow-shaped sign aiming east to Fortress, he wondered why he’d not seen Knox and Campbell. A wheel on the cart might have broken. Or maybe they’d taken a detour to Fortress on some errand for the Captain or McTaggart.

  He kept riding, Cobalt freshly energized from a respite with some food and water.

  Thunder rolled overhead and rain began to fall fast.

  He was still half an hour from Hope Springs, if not more.

  Then something stopped him in his tracks.

  The wagon of bodies was abandoned on the roadside without any horses.

  What the hell?

  He pulled the reins to stop Cobalt. He dismounted and walked toward the wagon, looking for Knox and Campbell. There was nothing but the cart with the canvas tarp covering the corpses.

  He inspected the wheels to see if they were broken — maybe they’d needed supplies to repair the cart.

  Everything seemed to be in shape.

  Pascal was confused. “Knox … Campbell!”

  The rain fell harder and the sky turned into a black canvas.

  He stopped.

  Blood coming through the tarp.

  He grabbed a piece of canvas at the corner and pulled it aside to find six bodies, including the burned corpses of Campbell and Knox, stripped naked.

  Pascal had to bite his lip not to whimper. They’d just been together and now they were stacked like cordwood.

  He stared, unaware of the movement behind him until it was too late.

  He tried to draw his dagger as he turned, but his hand was barely around the hilt when someone knocked him on the back of his head and sent him sprawling into the mud.

  He tried to stand, but someone hit him again.

  He sank into the mud, hearing a symphony of masculine laughter coming from the woods.

  Then someone shouted, “We got him!”

  * * *

  TO BE CONTINUED …

  * * *

  EPISODE FIVE

  Episode 5

  Welcome darkness

  Forty-Two

  Emory Gray

  Emory was standing in the snow, unsure of how she got there. It was coming hard and fast, a brutal wind whipping at her hair, the white bright enough to blind her.

  “Mama?” she cried out.

  But Emory heard only the wind, its music like a dying animal.

  She was freezing, bundled in a red jacket she didn’t remember owning. She tried to move forward but every step was a slogging effort in the snow.

  “Mama!”

  Emory remembered when her mom would take her deep into the woods blindfolded, then leave her somewhere she’d never been. Even frightened, she somehow always found her way home. Last year Mama finally admitted that she’d always been just behind her, so Emory could never really get lost.

  Like she was right now.

  Abandoned in the snow without a clue how she got there.

  Her tears froze immediately, same as the snot crusting her nose.

  Emory pushed herself to move faster. She saw movement ahead. Something dark against the white.

  She went to call out, then thought better. It didn’t seem like a person.

  And wasn’t.

  A second shape appeared, closer. Squinting, Emory realized it was a wolf. She reached into her pocket but the knife wasn’t there.

  She frantically searched her other pockets as the shapes moved closer.

  No, please …

  The knife was missing.

  One of the wolves moved in so close she could fully see its dark black fur, glowing red eyes, and teeth like razors.

  Emory had lost sight of the second wolf. She heard movement behind her and spun around, bracing for impact.

  But it was only the man from the bar, the one who had been there when her mother was murdered — the man who tried to help her escape.

  Emory thought he might be able to help her, but instead the man shoved her violently to the ground.

  She crashed into the snow, confused for a moment before realizing what he’d done and was continuing to do, saving her from this rampaging wolf.

  The man attacked it with his hands, tearing it apart, biting into its neck and sending blood gushing like a fountain into the snow.

  The wolf cried out as life left its body.

  Once the husk stopped moving, the man held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

  Emory reached for it.

  But she didn’t just stand — the man pulled her up so fast that he accidentally threw her above him.

  He reached out to grab her, but she kept floating up and away.

  She screamed as his fingers missed her and the howling white vortex carried her skyward.

  She watched in horror and disbelief as the ground became a white blur far below and she floated ever faster into the darkening sky.

  She stopped floating above the clouds, where everything was quiet.

  She saw the planet below and the moon above, a million twinkling stars.

  It was all beautiful enough to hurt.

  But then Emory began to fall, and her descent was not slow.

  She screamed all the way to her end on the ground.

  * * *

  Emory woke with a jolt to the jostling carriage as its wheels hit something hard. It was dark inside and she was still chained up. Her entire body ached, and now her mouth had been gagged.

  It felt like they’d been on the road forever, but time was tricky when the world was this blurred. She wished they would give her something to dull the pain if they were going to drug her.

  She tried to think of better times, of her and Mother in the cabin cuddled in front of the fire. One of the rare times when her mom didn’t look strained, and Emory could see her genuine smile.

  She wondered what her mom was like before the world ended. Had she always been serious and sad and strict? Or had she once been carefree?

  The carriage slowed and Emory heard the men murmuring something too low for her to hear.

  The carriage stopped and her stomach twisted as she wondered if they were going to drug her again. Maybe this was her last stop, being sold to the people who had murdered her mom.

  She heard them talking to someone. Two men asking where they were headed. They sounded official. Maybe the good guys.

  Emory cried out but the sound was muffled, so she kicked against the floor and carriage walls.

  “What do you have back there?” asked one of the men.

  “Just animals we’re bringing to NorthVale.”

  She kicked harder, screaming through the gag. They might not be able to understand her, but surely they could hear.

  “Open it.”

  Yes! Emory kicked harder, screaming through the gag.

  Footsteps approached the rear of the carriage.

  I’m saved! The sound of someone fumbling with the lock, then the squeaking of doors on their hinges. Yes! Yes!

  “What the—?”

  Emory heard a stabbing as the doors opened, followed by the man gasping
and gurgling, then rustling as someone hit the outer wall.

  That had to be the good guy’s head pounding into the carriage until the ugliest silence followed.

  Emory pressed her back to the wall. She heard the chilling sound of laughter coming from the blond who had killed the Jenkins family.

  More movement, plenty of shuffling.

  What’s happening?

  Are they going to drug me again?

  Or maybe something worse?

  She wasn’t sure what was worse than death but Mama had warned her of men who liked to hurt girls in particular. She had made her promise to never trust a man she didn’t know.

  Someone was pulling her hood off.

  Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared.

  It was the blond. His gross breath felt hot on her face. “Thought you’d want some company, since you got them killed.”

  She turned and saw two men, one old man and the other young, both dead. The younger’s face had been bashed in, with bits of bone and gore blooming through the damage like flowers from the dirt.

  She threw up.

  “Get a good look, and next time think twice about doing anything stupid.” The blond bandit laughed, then covered the vomit with her hood.

  The younger, brown-haired bandit came in and injected her, then climbed out of the carriage and slid the lock shut again, leaving Emory in the dark with two dead men.

  Dead like I’m going to be soon.

  She cried until sleep finally claimed her.

  Forty-Three

  Johan Pascal

  Pascal was chained to a meat hook, hanging in the abandoned packing plant freezer, his bare feet just inches from the ground.

  He’d been stripped naked. Fortunately for him the place had no power, so the freezer wasn’t cold. The room was dark red, lit by a portable lantern the mountain of ugly man who’d been working him over had set on the ground.

  Mountain punched Pascal in the gut. The blows had been getting worse. This one sent waves of pain rippling through his entire body. The man wore thick leather gloves that might have been loaded with something to make them hit harder.