Yesterday's Gone: Seasons 1-6 Complete Saga

by Sean Platt

  Still, that quiet voice in the back of Ed’s mind was there. Finely-tuned intuition: It isn’t just a dream; listen to the girl. His intuition had always called bullshit on anything superstitious or psychic. But for some reason, its ears were perked now. Either she was sharper than he thought or he was growing dull.

  “I dunno,” Ed said. “I suggest we play it by ear. See what happens, prepare for the worst.”

  “The worst? What’s that?”

  “That they’ve come to harm us.”

  He ran to the car, grabbed the Remington 30-06 rifles and shells he’d taken from the men at the gas station, and came back inside to prepare. He wished he’d had the foresight to break into a gun shop and load up on more weapons. But he hadn’t exactly expected to go toe-to-toe with helicopters.

  That’s when he realized: The men in the chopper were looking for him, not the girl. Why didn’t I think of that before? Sure, he was probably presumed dead, and searches would be limited to the crash site and surrounding area unless evidence suggested he’d survived, but maybe someone had seen him and reported him to whatever authorities were still around. The rest of the world might be gone, but agents were roaches. Some survivors were a near certainty.

  And now they are coming.

  He couldn’t take any chances. The men in the choppers might be there to help, but agents would say anything, show any face, to disarm you.

  He’d have to act quickly, without question; fire the first chance he got. Like at the convenience store. And he’d have to prepare Teagan for what was going to happen.

  “I need you to trust me on this,” he said, meeting her frightened eyes. “If these guys are bad, or if I even think they’re bad, I’m going to shoot, no questions. Understand?”

  Teagan nodded.

  Thunder grew louder.

  Ed went to the window, peered through the curtain, and saw the chopper hovering above the trailer park, light sweeping the grounds. The chopper appeared to be a Black Hawk, which meant it wasn’t likely scouring for people to save. There was room for maybe 11 troops in addition to two pilots and two crew chiefs, so even if they were flying with less troops, they couldn’t be expecting to pick up too many people. Meaning they’d either specifically come for them, or to kill them. Of course, the chopper could be reporting to base or be flying in advance of a transport chopper, but Ed couldn’t take the chance.

  It’s go time.

  “Stay inside. Get whatever you need and get it now. Be ready to go in two minutes.”

  Ed stepped outside as the helicopter descended, raised his rifle and aimed at the cockpit. The pilots saw the threat, spun the chopper sideways, and a soldier stood at the machine gun, taking aim at Ed.

  Ed had one shot before he’d be torn to shreds. While the top rotor made an easier target, it would likely require a few shots. A rear blade hit could bring the bird down quicker, but the shot was next to impossible. He steadied his aim on the rear rotor blades, held his breath, and took the shot. He managed two shots, both hitting the rear blade, causing the copter to spin violently out of control, nose pointed toward the tree tops as the pilot tried to wrestle the copter to a safe landing.

  Ed loaded more shells into the rifle, then followed the chopper’s descent to the beach as it crashed into the water. The top rotor blades, along with the tail of the chopper, split from the body like butter under blade and sent waves of debris flying toward the sand.

  Ed waited for any sign of survivors, rifle ready. Two men emerged from the wreckage, dazed. Ed shot them both, one in the head and the other in the chest. Their bodies went limp then fell to the tide.

  He waited two minutes’ worth of nothing, as most of the chopper remained underwater.

  He ran back to Teagan’s house, yelling, “Let’s go!”

  Teagan was outside with two bags in four seconds, tossing them into the back of the SUV, as Ed pulled from the driveway and raced down the street.

  “What happened?”

  “They’re gone.”

  Teagan’s face was still. He could tell she was trying to work out whether to thank him or scold him for another round of murders. Guilt had a way of silencing criticism, so Teagan said nothing.

  “Are we driving straight to Georgia?” Teagan said as the last of the sun dipped behind the horizon and the world fell into darkness again.

  “Yeah, sooner we get to Georgia, the sooner we’ll know if Jade is okay.”

  Teagan rubbed her belly, then looked up at Ed and said, “Thank you for saving us back there ... and at the gas station. You were right.”

  Ed nodded, uncomfortable getting accolades for being a good killer.

  “Do you think we’ll find anyone else? I mean, people who aren’t trying to hurt us?”

  “I’m sure there’s good guys left,” Ed lied, “If we’re careful, maybe we’ll find a few.”

  “What if we don’t?” She asked, tears in her eyes. “What if everyone else is gone? How are we supposed to live?” Then, a hiccup from hysteria: “How am I supposed to raise a child? How am I even supposed to have a child with no doctors, or nurses, or hospitals?”

  “We don’t know if everyone is gone,” Ed said in his calmest voice. “For all we know, this is localized to a few states.”

  “But what is it? What happened? Where did all the people go?”

  “I dunno,” Ed said, “I’ve been trying to figure that out since I realized they were gone. And every time I think I have an idea which might seem plausible, I turn down the path to see where it goes and slam into a dead end.”

  “Maybe God called everyone home?” she said.

  Ed laughed.

  “What?” she asked, offended.

  “You really believe that?”

  “Why not? It would explain why my parents went and I didn’t,” she said putting a hand on her unborn baby. “Maybe this is God’s punishment for my sins.”

  Ed laughed harder, but stopped when he saw her pained look, ready for a fresh batch of tears.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” he said, “It’s just that with all the evil shit going on in the world on a day-to-day basis, an unwed mother is the least of God’s concerns, assuming there is a God. If you were denied entry into heaven because you’re pregnant, the streets wouldn’t be empty now. They’d be so full to the brim with sinners, you wouldn’t be able to move six inches without bumping into another one. Believe me.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue, but didn’t. Just stared out the window, like any other teenager who thinks the world, and God’s judgment, revolved around her.

  “Maybe we’re not on Earth,” she said after a few minutes of thought. “Maybe the reason there’s not a ton of people around is because we’re in purgatory. Not bad people, necessarily, but not good enough to get into heaven.”

  “I doubt it,” Ed said, “I can’t imagine a jury of angels debating whether or not I was a good person. If God had anything to do with this, I’d be in hell right now, trust me. And while we’re in the Deep South, and some might argue otherwise, this is hardly hell.”

  Teagan laughed.

  Ed was relieved when she closed her eyes. He didn’t really want to explore their situation more than he’d already done a hundred times in his mind. He had no idea where everyone went. But there had to be a scientific explanation. Something that made sense. The problem with science was that it left so many things in the air. Despite millennia of theology and centuries of science, the world had expired before finding answers to life’s biggest questions.

  Maybe what happened wouldn’t come with a pat answer. Maybe they’d just have to learn and adapt on the fly, like humans had always done.

  Evolve or die.

  11:20 p.m.

  Winding, Georgia

  Jade lived in an apartment building that catered mostly to college students and young people in the town’s thriving service industry. What it lacked in architectural style (a giant, dorm-style, five-story building), it made up for by being well-maintained and on
the nicer side of town. Hers was one of four identical buildings surrounding a large parking lot, packed with cars, most of which had student parking decals and stickers of trendy bands slapped across their rear windows.

  From outside, Ed didn’t see any lights in the windows or sense anyone inside, deflating the small hope he’d reluctantly allowed to swell in his heart.

  Teagan woke from her nap in the passenger seat, and said, “We’re here?”

  “Yeah,” Ed parked the SUV behind a row of cars closest to Building B. “Looks deserted.”

  Ed grabbed his pistol, shoved it in his waistband, then opened the door. He grabbed a duffel bag from the back seat, filled with flashlights, food, and tools, including a crow bar, then headed toward the building’s entrance. Teagan followed.

  On the front double glass doors, was a sheet of white paper taped to the inside, facing out. On it, large letters written in royal blue marker.

  Survivors - Meet Us In Room 410.

  The handwriting looked like a woman’s, though Ed couldn’t be sure it was Jade’s. A long time had passed since he’d seen her writing, 10 years, at least.

  Ed handed a flashlight to Teagan, then took one for himself, and pushed through the doors. The hallway was dark except for a small red EXIT sign at the other end. He shined his light down the hall, and his heart nearly stopped.

  Every door was open as if someone had gone into each of the rooms searching for something. Looters?

  “Wait here,” he whispered to Teagan, advancing down the hall with his gun drawn and flashlight scanning the darkness.

  He held the gun and light as though a single instrument, one to banish the dark and the other to blast it to hell.

  The rooms weren’t looted, or in any way destroyed. Perhaps just the product of someone looking for others. Maybe Jade had opened the doors and was now in Room 410, he allowed himself to hope, though his cold, inner cynic warned him not to let his expectations carry him away. He searched four rooms before surrendering to his instincts, and the evidence at hand — no others were on this floor.

  He found the stairwell at the end of the hall, beneath the EXIT sign, and called for Teagan to follow.

  The second floor was the same as the first, open doors, including Jade’s at 205.

  He entered her apartment, gun down. Her walls were dark-red with giant prints of foreign movies. A black sectional with a pillow and blanket rumpled in the rough shape of a comma. He wondered if that’s where Jade had fallen to sleep, watching TV before she vanished.

  “Which room is hers?” Teagan asked, looking at two doors, both open.

  “I dunno. I’ve never been here.”

  “Oh,” Teagan said.

  Ed went into the smaller of the two rooms. Slightly messy, lots of pillows on the unmade bed, and ... the blue unicorn they’d given her when she was a kid. He picked it up and brought it to his nose. He expected to smell her, flash back on some memories of them together, hugging her maybe. But the unicorn brought no memories. And it smelled different, not like her; unfamiliar perfume.

  He glanced at Jade’s nightstand, saw a framed photo from her 16th birthday party. He smiled, remembering the night, and the photo. One of the rare pictures he’d been in. However, he noticed he wasn’t in the version on her nightstand. The photo had been blown up and reproduced, to edit him from the photo. A knot formed in his heart and throat, and he swallowed the bitter fact that his daughter didn’t want reminders of him.

  “Nice room,” Teagan said from behind, snapping Ed from his thoughts.

  He returned the unicorn to the top of her pillows.

  “Let’s go see who’s in Room 410.” Ed said.

  They didn’t bother checking the third floor. Ed opened the door to the fourth and came face to face with a young man with a baseball bat.

  “Put the bat down!” Ed yelled, aiming his gun at the stick-thin, olive-skinned guy with thick, black-framed glasses and long, dark hair.

  The guy was frozen, very likely the first time he’d ever had a gun pulled on him.

  “I said fucking drop it,” Ed said, voice sharp.

  Dude dropped the bat and stepped back, “Sorry, man. I wasn’t gonna hit you with it.”

  “Just wanted to play some ball, eh?”

  “I didn’t know if you’d be human.”

  “What?” Ed asked.

  “I thought you might be one of them.”

  The man saw the look on Ed’s face and said, “You haven’t seen them, have you?”

  “Seen what?” Ed was getting impatient with the clown.

  The guy stammered, trying to find the right words, when the door to Apartment 410 opened behind him.

  “Daddy?”

  It was Jade.

  Forty

  Brent Foster

  Brent jumped down, ran over another car, then leapt again as he heard the creatures landing on the cars behind him, navigating the metal and plastic maze with ease. They wouldn’t be able to outrun them, not when they were that fast and agile.

  Brent’s mind raced, keeping time with his heart, as he tried to think of something to do. He could barely keep up with Luis, now two rows ahead.

  Just keep running.

  A creature shrieked behind him, so loud it seemed like it was right over his shoulder, about to take him down.

  Brent turned back and saw the black monstrosity. Distracted, Brent’s foot slipped from under him, and he landed on the hood of an old Nissan, smacking his right cheek hard against the hood before he slid off, hitting the ground hard on his back. The bag of weapons slid beneath the car along with the gun he’d been holding.

  The creature jumped over the thin space between the two cars as Brent rolled over, and reached for the pistol.

  CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK, the sound came from above, audible even over the incessant warbling of the triggered car alarm. The creature circled back, about to pounce as Brent got hold of the gun and rolled onto his back.

  The creature landed on him, knocking the breath from Brent’s lungs. It opened its large mouth and wailed an unearthly shriek as it straddled Brent’s chest, swiping at Brent’s face with its claws. Brent pushed against the creature’s wet, fleshy chest with his left hand, trying desperately to hold it back.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Brent screamed as he struggled to raise the pistol and steady his shaky aim. He fired twice. The bullets hit the creature’s chest and head. The thing was still moving.

  Brent emptied the clip into the creature and got a hot splatter of hot, black gore to the face for his effort.

  “Fuck!” he yelled, trying to wipe the goop from his eyes and face as he pushed the twitching creature aside and got to his feet.

  Before he was fully upright, something punched him in the ribs, sending him hard into another car. The gun fell from his clumsy hands again. Brent looked up just in time to see another creature coming at him, two eyes narrowed on him.

  Two thunderous gunshots ripped through the air, knocking the creature back. Relieved, Brent turned to see Luis standing on the hood of a pickup truck. Luis fired another four shots at creatures Brent couldn’t even see yet.

  “Come on!” he screamed, though Brent wasn’t sure if he were yelling at him or the monsters.

  Brent ducked down, found the bag of weapons, grabbed two more pistols, fresh clips in each, and jumped onto the truck’s roof beside Luis, who had opened fire with an Uzi. Brent fired, too, missing more than he hit, but able to keep them away, and even take a few down.

  “Die! Die! Die!” Luis screamed, emptying his clip into four creatures just below them.

  As Luis changed his clip, something dark caught Brent’s eye, moving in from behind, and coming right at Luis. Two creatures, in tandem, no, connected at the hip, were sailing over the cars behind them, barreling toward Luis faster than he could reload.

  Brent fired six shots, the last two hitting the joined monstrosity and sending it to the ground.

  Luis now had two Uzis loaded, and was firing them like a post-a
pocalyptic Rambo, still screaming.

  Brent loaded fresh clips into his pistols, and stood to join in the firefight, only to find nothing left to shoot.

  Nearly 40 creatures lay in scattered pieces around them. Luis called out, “Any more?!”

  Nothing but silence.

  After a long echo of the same nothing, Brent stared at Luis, somewhere in the middle of admiration and outright hero worship.

  “You are a fuckin’ bad ass!” Brent said laughing.

  Luis’s face, fat with rage just seconds before, melted to a warm smile, “Not a bad shot yourself. For a desk jockey. Come on, let’s get outta here before more of them crawl out of the woodwork.”

  They raced over the last rows of cars and down the road, high with a confidence that could only come from living the action part of a popcorn flick while leaving a trail of dead monsters behind them.

  As they approached Times Square, the silence was replaced by the sound of birds. Lots of birds. As if the entire city’s avian populace had decided to flock to Times Square. Brent couldn’t see the birds through the fog. Nor could he see the giant advertisements that usually greeted him at the world’s most famous intersection. Without power, commerce was dead, and the giant LCD screens were just more objects barely visible in the fog. Even the solar and wind-powered Ricoh billboard was eerily dark and silent.

  As they reached the corner of 7th Avenue and 42nd Street, the birds grew to a constant loud chorus of chirps, shrieks, and calls.

  Luis, 10 feet ahead of Brent, stopped in his tracks.

  As Brent picked up his pace, Luis turned, eyes wide, and said, “Go back.”

  “What?” Brent said, not listening, pushing past Luis. And then he saw for himself.

  Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of human corpses were lining the thoroughfare, in 10-foot-high mounds, piled like garbage.

  Brent’s throat ached, and his eyes welled. He stood, rooted to the spot, unable, unwilling to register what his eyes were clearly seeing.