Yesterday's Gone: Seasons 1-6 Complete Saga

by Sean Platt

  The rat dog snarled.

  Growl … Growl … Growl …

  John looked at the filthy, four-legged rat with two narrowed slits of brewing hate, then turned his attention to the woman.

  “You sure everything’s okay?” she repeated.

  “Yes,” John nodded. “I’m ready to go, too. It’s been a long few days.”

  He got out of bed and followed Mary downstairs and into the lobby where all the others were standing around. John sorted through the memories he’d collected from both John and Paola, so he could relate to each of the humans in an appropriate manner.

  The dangerous one, Desmond, was speaking with the man-child, Jimmy. Both wore the loathsome look of concern, making them look even more like the weak, pathetic creatures they were. They were discussing him, or at least the shell that was once the man John, their conversation a miserable blend of worry and disquiet. John wished his shell wasn’t so limited. It could not hear thoughts, nor could it even hear the wide spectrum of sounds that It could normally hear in its native form. John wondered how humans had gotten as far as they had with such limitations.

  The dangerous one nodded, slapped the man-child on the shoulder, then headed toward the lobby doors. The man-child headed toward John.

  John’s shell was suddenly hot. Scorching. It looked at the shell’s limbs but they weren’t burning, weren’t even red, even though they felt like they were on fire. It wondered if this was a normal condition humans all shared or if it was some sort of limitation to inhabiting their shells. Whatever the case, John was not pleased with yet another limitation. But It would have to continue inhabiting this shell, or another, if it were going to fulfill its destiny.

  “Sorry about last night,” the man-child said to John. “I was out of line.”

  John filed through a sliding bank of the shell’s possible responses.

  Fuck you, and the horse you rode in on.

  You’re just a kid; you don’t know anything.

  It’s fine, Jimmy. Let’s just get going. You were only trying to help.

  Thanks, Jimmy. Everyone needs me. Thanks a lot for helping me see that.

  Though John was all but evicted from his mind, It could still access how John would respond to stimulus. It was intrigued that John would have probably throttled his instincts, choosing what he should say, rather than what he wanted to.

  How weak, pathetic, and temporary. Thoughts built from bent willow could barely stand against a breathing wind. This species deserved its departure.

  “Thanks, Jimmy. Everyone needs me. Thanks a lot for helping me see that.”

  John smiled, keeping his nature buried, though he could tell that the man-child felt a bristle at the base of his neck.

  “Thanks for saying that, man. Really. I appreciate it,” Jimmy said with a nervous grin. “You know I’ve nothing but respect; I just want us all to get along. And it kills me to see you throwing down shots like you were last night. Reminds me of my Uncle Micky, and believe me, you start drinking like Uncle Micky, nothing ends well.”

  John stared at the man-boy, transfixed. He should have been filing through verbal records so he could fill the air with blather, but he had wandered down an unexpected memory.

  The shell is just a boy. His father is drinking. His eyes are red and hair a mess. The woman beside him, the shell’s mother, is holding her nose.

  The atmosphere is lead. The sorrow thick. Air sour.

  “Hey Jimmy,” Desmond said, approaching from behind. “I need you on the second floor while we start moving out. Eyes out the window, okay.”

  Growl … BarkBarkBarkBark ... Growl ... The dog was barking.

  The dog could see that John was not himself. Fortunately, the people didn’t understand the dog’s warnings.

  “Thanks, Jimmy.” Desmond turned to John. “Everything okay?”

  Get the fuck out of my face, Desmond.

  Sure thing, boss. Just taking a minute to mourn, if that’s okay with you.

  I’m great, thanks.

  Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?

  “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Well, you had a pretty rough night last night, and you seem ... I don’t know, off this morning. I’m sure it’s a massive migraine on an empty stomach, but I’ve not seen you eat anything. Like I said last night, I just want to help. You think of a way I can do that, let me know, and it’s half-done already, okay?”

  What’s your endgame, boss? What’s in it for YOU?

  You could pay more attention to getting us out of here than you do to Mother Mary.

  Thanks, Desmond. I’m good.

  I appreciate your concern and will work harder to be one of the team from now on.

  “I appreciate your concern and will work harder to be one of the team from now on.”

  The dangerous one took a step back, wrestling his expression.

  Being a human required more than words and motions. John had yet to absorb the subtleties. What he was trying to say wasn’t getting the reactions he expected.

  “How about we get you something to eat? An empty stomach can’t be helping.” Desmond said.

  Is that why I’m burning? Because the shell is famished? How useless — a mind dependent on a bottomless shell for survival.

  The dangerous one disappeared, then returned a few minutes later with a banana, crackers, and a bottle of water. “Here you go,” he said, handing them to John. “Sorry about the banana. Nothing we can do about fruit getting old, except maybe get out of here and start growing our own.” He smiled awkwardly. “Alright, be ready to leave in 10 minutes, okay?”

  You can kiss my ass in 10 minutes.

  Thanks for the banana. I’ll never be hungry again.

  Sounds good.

  Thanks for everything, I feel much better now. Ready to go when you are.

  “Sounds good.”

  The man-boy ran into the lobby. “You guys are gonna want to see this,” he said. He turned, ran back toward the stairs, then sprinted a flight to the window on the other side of the second floor door. The dangerous one, the old man, the mother and daughter, the boy-child and the dog all followed, with John close behind.

  Why am I burning. It shouldn't be this HOT.

  “Christ on a cross,” the dangerous one said. “When did this happen?”

  “I’ve no idea,” the man-child shook his head. “They’ve more than quadrupled in the past half hour.”

  Everyone stared as what the humans had called “bleakers” had packed the parking lot hundreds strong.

  John smiled. His legion was growing stronger by the second.

  They know; that’s why they’re coming. To help usher in the change.

  But he wasn’t ready, not yet.

  The dog: Growl … BarkBarkBarkBark ... Growl ...

  Furious shrieks were followed by a low growl of uncurling hatred.

  Will said, “Looks like Lord Vader doesn’t like them bleakers at all!”

  But the rat wasn’t looking out the window, its snarl was curled at John; teeth bared, saliva pouring from the open side.

  “Luca,” Will said, “would you mind taking the dog downstairs so we can figure out what to do?”

  “Okay,” the boy buried his fingers in the dog’s coat and led it toward the stairs. The daughter followed.

  “So, what do you think?” The old man, the one who sometimes saw things, was looking at the dangerous one as though he was the only one in the room. The shell’s disdain for Desmond tainted Its perception of Desmond, also. An unsettling realization for John, that the human’s feelings could affect Its perceptions. How limiting, to be so easily swayed by perceptions. Maybe I can use that to my advantage in dealing with these creatures.

  The dangerous one shook his head. “I don’t know. Seems like it’s too risky to leave now. But if they’re growing that fast and have us in their sights, maybe it’s a bigger risk to stay.” Desmond looked out the window again, then tilted his neck and peered as far as he could
in the other direction. “Christ, I can’t even see where they end.”

  BARK ... RUFF RUFF ... BARK ... RUFF RUFF

  John could still hear the dog barking a floor below. He wondered why the dog had not just attacked him the moment it noticed the ruse. Do dogs also throttle their desires?

  The room rained with flames only John could feel. His head was in pain and he felt like the contents of his stomach might spill out at any moment.

  The man-boy spoke. “It’s not just me. You guys all feel that, right? Like something really, really bad’s about to happen.”

  Mary turned to the old man. “Still think the bleakers aren’t much of a threat?”

  The old man shook his head. “My theory just expired.”

  “What changed?” The dangerous one’s mouth was open, but the man-boy made the words first.

  “I don’t have a foggy,” Will answered. “But something definitely has. Their power is growing, and so are their numbers. We all feel it. What I don’t like is the tone.”

  Perhaps the humans aren’t as deaf to such things as they seemed.

  “The tone?” Desmond said.

  “Yeah,” the old man nodded, “the tone. It’s different. I always felt like they were waiting, but now I feel like they know what they’re waiting for. Like they were lost. But now they’re found.”

  “Amazing grace,” Desmond said with a sigh.

  “Will’s right,” Mary said. “I feel it, too.”

  The dangerous one looked helpless. He turned to John.

  “What do you think?”

  Thanks for giving a shit about my opinion when there’s no right answer.

  It never mattered before. Why bother to ask now?

  I think we should stay a little longer and see what happens. Please excuse me; I need to use the restroom.

  You know best. We should probably stay, but if you think we should go, I’m right there behind you.

  “I think we should stay a little longer and see what happens. Please excuse me; I need to use the restroom.”

  Everyone stared at John, mouths open as he turned and headed for his room.

  John went into the room, closed the door, then into the bathroom where he plugged the tub and filled it with water.

  He peeled the clothes from the shell then stepped into the bath, letting water flood the shell’s face as John went underwater.

  Finally.

  The water was cool against its skin. The shell was over-heating. John was over-taxing its available memory. The water soothed John, cooled the body several degrees, clearing his mind long enough to let him see his next move with clarity. John sat up in the tub.

  It would stay, and foster its growing strength as long as possible. After all, they were coming for him, and if It lingered long enough, It would have the planet to command.

  Cancers were born from a single putrid cell, but soon enough, they seeped into every crevice of the system. John smiled. It would be fun, doing what It had been born to do.

  Sixty-Two

  Teagan McLachlan

  Oct. 17

  Morning

  Winding, Georgia

  Teagan screamed as Ed fell to the ground, clutching at the darts still loosely dangling from his flesh.

  “What the hell?” Jade screamed.

  Ed moaned, trying to crawl toward the group.

  Another dart flew through the window and hit the wall. Ken shouted, “Get down!”

  He dropped to the floor, crawled to Ed, who was now motionless, and felt for a pulse. “He’s alive,” Ken said, clutching a rag over the bloody wound on his left shoulder where he’d been bit.

  Jade ran hunched to the table where Ed had set his pistols, then took one for herself and slid the other to Ken.

  “You know how to use one of these?” Jade asked Teagan, who shook her head. Jade crawled to her father, pulled the darts from his chest, then threw them to the ground.

  “I shot two of those alien-looking things, not bad for a beginner.” Ken said in a loud whisper as he crawled beside Jade and tried to peer outside without getting shot through the window.

  “Who’s shooting at us?” Teagan asked, hands over her suddenly kicking baby.

  “Well, not the aliens,” Ken said.

  Teagan thought of the dream — the men in the helicopter coming for her baby. Maybe this was them. Her heart raced as she mentally scoured the room for a hiding place. But the room was too small with nowhere to hide.

  “Come out with your hands up,” a loudspeaker’s voice blurted outside.

  Ken, Jade, and Teagan exchanged confused glances.

  “This has to be because of my dad,” Jade said to the others. “Who’s out there?!” she shouted out the window.

  A firm voice: “We won’t ask again. Come out now, hands in the air. Or we will move in with force.”

  Ken strained to peer out the window then ducked back down, “Men in black uniforms, black vans. They look official.”

  Jade and Teagan exchanged glances then looked down at Ed, still out cold.

  “This has to be men looking for him,” Jade said “Let’s just do what they say.”

  “What if they’re not the good guys?” Teagan asked, scared.

  Jade crawled to Teagan, put her hands on her shoulders, then looked her in the eyes. “Look, I know you had that dream and stuff, but these men are only here to take my dad in. They’re not looking for your baby.”

  “How do you know that?” Teagan asked, unable to cease her quivering mouth or the tears stinging her cheeks.

  “Because that’s what makes the most sense,” Jade said. “And in my world, the things that make the most sense are usually the answer. Not wild conspiracy theories and secret agents. We’ve got a fugitive in here. They’ve come to get him. And given the hell outside, I’d rather go with them, answer a few questions, and maybe be safe, than end up getting eaten by monsters.”

  “What do you mean fugitive?” Ken asked. “Your dad’s a fugitive?”

  “Not now, Ken.” Jade said annoyed, then turned back to Teagan. “There’s no one coming to get your baby. It doesn’t make any sense and my dad should never have let you believe that.”

  “But we don’t know,” Teagan said, feeling whiney, but not caring. This was her baby they were talking about. They’d get no do-overs if they made the wrong choice.

  “Even if they have come for your baby, or all of us for that matter, there’s nothing we can do. We have two guns, and I’m a shit shot. If they want to get to us, they will, and there’s nothing we can do to stop them. So we’ve got to run with logic over fear.”

  Teagan cried out, and Jade hugged her.

  “They’re not coming for you, I swear.”

  “On the count of 10,” the loudspeaker voice called before initiating countdown.

  “We’re coming!” Jade yelled, annoyed, putting her gun on the ground. Ken did the same.

  “Wait,” Teagan said, “Maybe we should keep a gun in case we run into more of those things in the hallway.”

  “Good point,” Ken said, picking up a pistol and slipping it into the waistband at the small of his back.

  Jade knelt, kissed Ed on the cheek, then whispered something Teagan couldn’t hear. Teagan looked back at the man who may, or may not have, saved her life twice. For all that had happened, she didn’t want to see him come to any harm. She felt a connection to him, however tenuous, that she wasn’t ready to see severed.

  They stepped into the hallway. Jade shined a flashlight as they entered the stairwell and started their descent. At the ground floor, Ken paused before opening the door to the lobby, pulled the gun from his waistband, and put it in the corner of the stairwell. “Don’t wanna get shot,” he said.

  They pushed through the door with their arms raised and were met by two men in white space-age looking Hazmat suits, complete with enclosed helmets and breathing tanks. With them was a third man, in a black outfit, like a SWAT team would wear. He wore something on his face that looked like a gas
mask and had his rifle aimed right at them.

  “How many more are with you?” he said, voice muffled by the mask.

  “Just my dad,” Jade said, “You guys shot him with darts, and he’s passed out upstairs.”

  One of the two Hazmat-suited men shined a light on the three of them, then trained it on Ken’s injury. “What happened to you?”

  “I was bit,” Ken said, “By one of those alien-looking things.”

  “We’ve got an infected,” one of the Hazmat men said into a microphone. Suddenly, two more SWAT team men ran in with rifles aimed at Ken, Jade, and Teagan.

  One of them yelled, “Outside, now!”

  Teagan felt hands on her, pushing as they were rushed out into the parking lot, three guns at the back of their heads.

  “Please, don’t shoot us,” she cried.

  “Shut up,” one of the SWAT men said, “Keep moving.”

  Outside, they were met by two other SWAT men in masks along with a woman in a Hazmat suit.

  “What’s going on?” Jade asked.

  “No questions,” one of the SWAT men said. He walked up to Ken, “How long ago were you bit?”

  “About 10 minutes ago,” Ken said. “Why?”

  “Were any of the rest of you bitten?” the woman in the Hazmat suit asked, waving some sort of light wand over them.

  “No,” Jade said, “just Ken. What’s going on? What are those things?”

  “How about the man upstairs? Was he bit?” one of the SWAT men asked.

  “I don’t think so, was he Ken?” Jade asked.

  “No, just me,” Ken said. “What’s going on? What did you all mean infected? Am I infected?”

  “Get these two in the van,” one of the SWAT men said to the woman.

  “Yes, Sergeant,” she said, and turned to Teagan and Jade, “I need you to come with me, please.”

  “Wait a second,” Jade said. “What are you gonna do with Ken? With my dad?”

  “Please,” the woman said, her voice kind, but firm, “just come with me. We can’t stay here long.”