Yesterday's Gone: Seasons 1-6 Complete Saga

by Sean Platt

Desmond felt a chill run down his spine. He looked to Will, who stared straight ahead, attempting to avoid emotion. Then Desmond saw that John was watching him, likely gauging his reaction. Desmond pretended not to notice John’s gaze.

  “Nothing happened. Nothing!” Carl said, the treble in his voice rising.

  Desmond was chewing on his lip, doing everything possible to keep his brain from sending his body into motion. Will’s plastic glare said: Don’t be stupid. Sit tight.

  Why in the hell would John bring him down to see this? What was he expecting to think? Did he want him to get the hell out of there? Was he testing him? Did it have anything to do with Mary? Was John trying to get to her by getting Desmond to leave?

  As if on cue, John smiled.

  Creepy fuck.

  Rei continued his pacing routine in front of the boy, stretching each minute to the length of painful. He finally stopped pacing in front of Carl, waiting for the boy to meet his eyes. He said, “If everything is as you say, you have nothing to worry about. The Prophet can see innocence as clearly as the daylight. But I would like to help you improve your odds, to give you another chance. Because God forbid, if you’re found guilty ... I’m afraid you’ll have to face his full wrath. Not The Prophet’s, mind you; he is but a humble servant of The Almighty. You will indeed be punished, and it will be according to The Word.”

  Rei cleared his throat and softened his voice. “I suggest you start telling the truth and stop protecting the whore. Tell us it was her idea. Tell us how she seduced you. How she practically pulled you inside of her. Tell us you couldn’t help yourself, you are only a fragile, young man, after all. A young man with wants and needs that Satan loves to exploit. You’re not yet equipped to deal with these slings and arrows and the Eves that are everywhere. Tell us how you fought off her advances. Tell us you did everything you could to steer clear of the shadows and remain faithful to The Word.”

  Desmond could see Carl starting to break, and was digging his fingernails into his palm to keep himself from beating Rei to a pulp and releasing Carl from his shackles. If John wasn’t standing a foot away with a gun, he probably would have – damn the consequences.

  “Do it for both of you,” Rei whispered, dripping the final sweet drop of his own seduction into the boy’s ear. “The punishment for girls is far less strict than it is for men. You will be helping both of you by admitting the truth. The Prophet is a great man, a loving man. He’ll be looking for any excuse to show mercy on the child. Give him one, Carl. Allow God’s grace to spare your life.”

  Desmond was glad he didn’t have his gun. If he did, he’d probably empty it into Brother Weasel before he could finish his brainwashing.

  “Let’s get you down from there.” Rei ran his hands across Carl’s shackles. “Tell us, is that what happened? Did Rebecca seduce you?”

  The perverse smile that spread across Rei’s lips just before his final question caused Desmond to make a vow inside his head. Given the chance, he’d kill Rei. John, too. Not just for making him watch, but for playing his part.

  Carl started to cry, then nodded. From behind a torrent of fresh tears he said, “Yes, yes, that’s exactly what happened. The picnic was all her idea. I only said yes because she was trying to seduce me and I didn’t know no better. And that’s the honest truth.”

  “Thank you, Carl,” Rei said, eyes now turning to Desmond and Will. “The truth shall set ye free.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Brent Foster

  The next night . . .

  For the first time in months, Brent was smiling. He could hardly contain himself. His joy at the thought that Gina and Ben might still be alive was more than he could sort. A part of him had given up and died. Its resurrection was unfamiliar, but wonderful.

  And while Keenan hadn’t said much about why he needed help searching for Boricio, or why he didn’t just start the hunt with any of Black Island’s other more qualified Guardsmen, Brent couldn’t help but think that Keenan had a plan.

  And Keenan’s plan might actually bring him home.

  Keenan hadn’t said it in so many words, had even talked Brent down when he asked if it might be possible to return to their world. But there was something in his eyes. Keenan didn’t have to say a thing, Brent could see it clearly — Keenan believed he could get them home. Unfortunately, Keenan had to leave before giving Brent additional details. He promised that he’d fill him in more tomorrow, when they’d leave Black Island and start their search. Until then, Brent had to keep his mouth shut, even when he thought he was alone. Continue acting normal. Every home on the island was monitored, and if they knew what he knew, it could endanger him and Keenan.

  Brent was practically giddy, so it was some surprise to Jane when she opened her door to find him smiling like a fool. “What’s got you so happy, and . . . ” she glanced down at her watch, which read 4:05 p.m. “So early?”

  “Just happy to see you,” he said. Jane welcomed him in, then closed the door. “Got out of work early today.”

  Emily, with cute pigtails and turquoise bows to match her T-shirt, ran toward him and hopped into his arms, yelling “Mr. Brent!” He scooped the 6-year-old into a giant hug, and she planted a big kiss on his cheek. He noticed the scent of strawberry.

  She giggled, and said, “I just gave you a strawberry kiss!”

  “Huh?” Brent said.

  “She found some strawberry lip balm,” Jane explained. “You’d think she found a pony, the way she’s carrying on.”

  “Yeah, Ben used to get excited about the littlest things,” Brent said. “To be so young, and have such simple things bring you so much happiness.”

  “I haven’t even started dinner,” Jane said, glancing toward the kitchen.

  “Good,” Brent said, “I can help. We can all cook together.”

  “You can cook?” A surprised look arched Emily’s eyebrows.

  Brent laughed as he carried the girl into the kitchen. “Yeah, of course I can cook!”

  “I thought only mommies cooked.”

  Jane laughed. “Mike didn’t like to cook, so she figured no daddies cooked.”

  “What can you cook?” Emily asked.

  “I dunno, let’s see what you have.” He sat the girl on the kitchen counter, then turned to their pantry. “So, um, let’s see . . . I can make, um . . . snakes and meatballs.”

  “Snakes?!” Emily screeched, “Eeeew!”

  “You don’t like snakes? I thought all kids like snakes.”

  She giggled. “G-R-O-S-S, gross!”

  Brent laughed. He loved the girl’s goofiness. It reminded him a lot of how Ben was, or would be with a few years and a lot more language added to his personality.

  “OK, no snakes. Let’s see. Um, oh, I’ve got it, how about some boiled worm stew? Do you like that?”

  Emily stuck out her tongue, “Yuck!”

  “OK, one last try, and then I give up,” Brent said, pretending to look high and low in the pantry. “Well, you have a whole jar of blueberry bumblebees! I bet those would make a great pie! Who doesn’t love blueberry bumblebee pie?”

  “I don’t want you to cook,” she said, her voice completely serious, as if he’d make her eat every disgusting dish he listed.

  Brent and Jane laughed at her frown.

  “OK, how about spaghetti, then? You like spaghetti?”

  “Normal spaghetti?” she asked.

  “Yes, normal spaghetti. No worms, or anything!”

  Yeah!” she said enthusiastically, “Can I help?”

  “If your mom says okay.”

  “OK,” Jane said. “And if you’re really good, I’ll let you help clean the dishes, too.”

  “OK!” Emily said, not getting the joke.

  “That’s good, because daddies aren’t so good at cleaning dishes,” Brent said with a wink at Jane.

  “That’s okay,” Emily said, in all seriousness. “I’m sure there are other things you can do well.”

  Brent laughed from somewhere deep in
his belly.

  “What?” she said, not understanding why he was laughing.

  “You’re so cute,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

  As they ate dinner, and Emily and Jane talked about the day’s events, Brent’s earlier smile began to dull with the realization that he had to soon tell them he’d be leaving in the morning, and would gone for a week or so. Though he wasn’t sure why, it surprised him how much he expected to miss Jane and Emily, how much they’d come to mean to him in the months since fate set them all together. Their dinner routine was one of the few things he had left to look forward to. And now he was going to have to tell them he might not be back for a couple of weeks. Hell, he might not make it back at all, if things went bad out in the world, or if this Boricio guy didn’t want to be found.

  How do I tell them?

  Finally, mouth full of pasta, he decided to simply say it. “I’ve got some bad news,” he said, regretting his choice of words even as they were leaving his mouth. “I’m going on a mission with one of the other men, and I’ll be gone from the island for a week or so.”

  “What?” Jane said, her eyes big and watering with concern.

  “What do you mean?” Emily asked immediately, worry furrowing her brow.

  “I can’t say much about it, and I’m not sure where we’re going, but they need us to go on a run and I’ll probably be gone a week, two at most.”

  “Two weeks?!” Emily cried, making a sad face.

  “Is it dangerous?” Jane asked.

  “No, not at all,” Brent said, even though he was sure it probably would be. “Just a routine mission, everything will be fine. Believe me, if it were dangerous, they’d be sending more people. Not like they don’t have tougher guys than me in the Guard.”

  “I don’t want you to go,” Emily said, now in full pout.

  Brent felt uncomfortable, not knowing what to say, and wishing he’d thought out his messaging better before making his announcement. He should have known Emily would be upset.

  “I don’t want to lose another Daddy,” Emily said.

  Brent glanced at Jane, and felt his heart breaking.

  He slid his chair closer and hugged Emily. “Don’t worry, nothing will to happen to me. I swear.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know everything, except maybe how to make good spaghetti,” he said, trying to make her smile, but she wasn’t playing ball.

  Brent wondered if he should tell the girl and her mother that her real daddy might still be alive. Wouldn’t that ease the pain of Brent leaving? Wouldn’t that make them a little less sad?

  Before the thought took root, the smarter side of him shut it down.

  Don’t you dare give these people false hope! Even if her daddy is alive, even if Gina and Ben are alive, there’s no guarantee anyone will get off this planet! Keep your mouth shut!

  As Emily wrapped her arms tight around his neck, Brent looked at Jane, and saw that look in her eyes again. That mixture of sadness and strong feelings for him. Even if they weren’t dating or together, there was a strong bond between them, some sort of love forged in sadness and tragedy. And these days, that kind of love was all there was. But this wasn’t his family. And as long as Gina and Ben might still be out there waiting for him, he had to do whatever it took to get back. He couldn’t afford to feel love for a new family.

  It was in that moment Brent considered something he should’ve thought about last night or earlier today. If Gina and Ben were still alive on his Earth, what happened after Oct. 15? Did they wake up to find him gone with no idea where he went? Did they think something happened to him? That he’d been killed? Maybe they thought he just got up and walked out on them as so many parents did these days.

  It killed him to picture Gina and Ben wondering where he was, wondering why he didn’t love them enough to stay.

  And then another idea surfaced, one that sent a chill through his core. What if the Brent of this world took his place over there? Maybe that Brent didn’t even know he was in another world. Or worse, maybe he sensed something was wrong, but didn’t know what it was. What if the Other Brent snapped and did something to harm Gina and Ben?

  Every second he remained on this planet was another second of possible pain in the lives of those he loved most. He had to get back to Earth, no matter what he had to do, or who tried to stop him. He would do anything. Kill anyone who tried to stop him.

  Because that’s what you do for family.

  Twenty-Nine

  Rebecca Snow

  It was standing room only in the New Unity Church, temporarily located on the bottom floor of the women’s housing. The Prophet would have preferred to hold the hearing in his newly finished church, as he explained with apology while everyone shuffled inside, but construction was running behind and this would have to do.

  Everyone was there, old people and new, all standing together. The Prophet was sitting at the head of a long table in the front of the room, their best attempt at recreating a judge’s chambers. Brother Rei was sitting to his left, John to his right, both dressed in thin, white robes. Even with half his face concealed by the mask, The Prophet looked serious, sitting at the head of the table and stroking his chin for several minutes before finally opening his mouth and casting his eyes from Rebecca, who stood along the far wall, alone, to the onlookers, then back, with pain in his pupils, as though the burden of his duty was too much to bear.

  Finally, he cleared his throat and stood to address the room. The already silent room grew so still that Rebecca wondered if some of the congregation had stopped breathing completely. She looked over at Mother, who may as well have been carved from rock. Her eyes weren’t moving, and she didn’t even have the usual twitch at the edges of her mouth. Her expression was indifference, if she wore any at all.

  “Please bring the corrupted forward.” The Prophet waved his hand toward the door, and Brother Eli ushered Carl inside, and then to the front of the room. Carl stood in front of The Prophet, who held his hands wide, as though offering the audience a giant embrace. He said, “Please, son, tell us what happened. And remember, The Good Lord always sees a way to reward the virtuous, and there is nothing more virtuous than looking into the eyes of honesty and speaking openly without flinching. Now, tell us what happened.”

  Carl kept his head straight and his voice steady. “Rebecca seduced me. She knew I was weak and so she took advantage, tried to get me alone so she could corrupt me with her wicked ways.” He stole a quick glance at Rebecca, then added, his voice shaky this time, “Not really her fault. She has the Devil inside her, like all women do.”

  Rebecca couldn’t believe what she was hearing, couldn’t believe what was happening. Her ears were burning, her face was crimson, and her stomach was at a rolling boil. She felt like she was about to throw up or cry. Maybe both. She shouted out in protest, “He’s lying!” but her words were drowned by The Prophet.

  “Silence!” he commanded, though the kind, patient look still covered his face.

  Rebecca shrank back. The Prophet continued, meeting Carl’s eyes. “You must pay for your sins,” he said. “You may have been led down the dark path by the Devil himself, and though you merely bit the beautiful apple that was set in your palm, we learn through punishment what not to do, just as we learn the steps to Heaven by following the Word. I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you two weeks in the Sin Box. That should afford you plenty of time to think about the corruption you allowed to infiltrate your heart and reaffirm your vows to The Lord Almighty so it never happens again. It shouldn’t be too tough to manage that in two weeks.” The Prophet smiled. “The Good Lord did make the entire world in half that time, after all.”

  Carl said nothing, so Brother Eli led him to the back of the room. The coward didn’t look at Rebecca once. She glared at him, her heart broken. He was the first nice boy she’d allowed to get close to her. And he betrayed her.

  Is this God’s punishment for my wicked thoughts?
r />   The Prophet said, “Please, come forth, Rebecca.”

  She walked slowly to the front of the room and faced The Prophet, trying to stop her tears. “And what do you say in your defense?” The Prophet narrowed his eyes and she glanced to the ground.

  “That’s not how it happened at all,” she said, her voice cracking, tears waiting to gush from behind their gossamer-thin wall. “Carl asked me if I would meet him for a picnic. He seemed nice, like the kind of guy you could trust.”

  She did everything she could not to turn and shoot him a look. “So, I said yes. But I shouldn’t have left The Sanctuary. That was wrong.” She looked down, caught her breath, then looked back, this time meeting The Prophet’s eyes. “But what he’s saying happened, didn’t. He asked me to meet him, and I said okay.” She turned to Mother, and the congregation. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where we were going.”

  The Prophet flashed an almost imperceptible glance at Brother Rei, though Rebecca caught it and felt fear flutter through her body. Brother Rei stood from his seat and looked at Rebecca. “Are you saying that Carl is lying?” he asked, his voice soft and almost soothing.

  Rebecca was silent.

  Brother Rei continued. “We cannot tolerate liars, Rebecca. That is a violation of the Good Lord’s Word. Truth is power, and nothing is more powerful than The Truth. Let me ask you again. If you’re saying Carl is lying, tell us now. Because if he is, he’ll be spending his two weeks inside the hole healing from a freshly removed tongue.”

  Panic bleached Carl’s face, but no words escaped his lips. Rebecca wanted to blurt out that of course Carl was lying. He had to save himself after all, didn’t he, but the thought of Carl missing his tongue was enough to keep her silent. Like Rebecca, Carl had seen Brother Rei make good on his threats enough times to know they never lay idle.

  Rebecca looked down, her head heavy with despair and fear. She shook her head, knowing she had no other choice. “No, it happened just like you said. Please forgive me.”