by Sean Platt
Boricio’s bullets found the man true and killed him before he could squeeze off another round.
Luca reached Rebecca, frightened out of her mind, and crying. He collapsed to the ground beside her and pulled her close.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Rebecca wept into Luca’s chest. “They killed my mom,” Rebecca cried.
“I’m sorry,” Luca said, then turned to Boricio, who was right behind him, eyes on the lookout.
“Get us a car,” Luca said, “And keep Rebecca safe. I need to find Desmond.”
Boricio made a face that was sort of like a smile, though Luca couldn’t really tell.
Linc appeared, blood all over his clothes, and holding a pitchfork covered in black demon blood. “Where’s Desmond?”
“I dunno,” Luca said. “Let’s find him while Boricio gets us a car.”
Linc nodded his head as Boricio took Rebecca’s hand from Luca, and led her toward the hangar, saying “Whatever you say, G.I. Junior” as he walked off, laughing as he fired at monsters and anything else that stood in his way.
The chaos around them was dying, but the nightmare was just getting started. There was a black inside Luca’s mind he couldn’t see through. The only thing that made things okay was the glimmer of Will in the distance, roaring toward them as fast as he could.
Seventy-One
Desmond Armstrong
Desmond found Rei behind the barn, just as Rei finished off one of the monsters.
Desmond had a shot from about 40 yards away, but Desmond didn’t want to dull the vengeance with a ranged shot in the back. No, that wouldn’t do. He wanted to experience Rei’s death up close.
He wanted to see the lights leave his eyes.
Desmond should have taken vengeance when he had the chance.
Rei heard him coming, spun around, and fired. He missed, but the sudden shock of Rei’s shot caused Desmond to duck and weave. Rei bobbed from view before Desmond could recover his aim. Desmond was on Rei seconds later.
Desmond kicked the gun from Rei’s hand. Rei managed to grab Desmond’s right wrist and squeezed hard, wrenching Desmond’s gun away. The pistol fell to the snow, and Rei jumped toward it.
Desmond fell atop him, got him in a headlock, and pulled back just as Rei’s fingers grasped at the gun handle.
Desmond rolled back, pulling Rei with him, and away from the gun.
Desmond squeezed Rei’s neck with all his might, choking the life out of the weasel.
“Die, fucker, die!” Desmond said through gritted teeth, squeezing even tighter.
Rei struggled, his legs and arms flailing wildly, attempting to break free.
Desmond squeezed tighter, then reached up with his free arm and gouged Rei’s eyes out, thrusting his fingers deep into Rei’s warm eye sockets, puncturing balloons of blood that seeped forth.
Rei screamed, shaking even more violently.
Die, you fucker. Die, die, die!
A moment later, Rei obliged, his limbs falling limp to the crimson snow.
Desmond collapsed into tears of grief for Paola, Mary, and their unborn baby.
Just when Desmond was about to renew his vengeance upon Rei’s lifeless corpse, Linc and Luca appeared. “Desmond!” Luca called out.
Desmond stood up, gave a final scowl at the deceased harbinger of death, then began to walk toward his friends when his back, then stomach, erupted in explosions of pain. He looked down just in time to see a monster’s hand sticking through his guts.
Seventy-Two
Luca Harding
Luca screamed to warn Desmond, but he was too late.
The creature dropped Desmond’s dead body in the snow, then opened its mouth wide, screeching at Luca and Linc.
Linc, with only the pitchfork, could not attack the demon. It ran toward them, at full speed.
Luca raised his pistol and fired at the rapidly approaching doom. Linc held his pitchfork out, ready to strike.
One of Luca’s bullets connected, and the creature rolled to the ground in a shriek just short of them. But it was not dead.
Linc stabbed the beast through the head. Now it was.
The rear gate burst off its hinges as a fresh wave of the creatures raced into the grounds of The Sanctuary.
“Fuck!” Linc screamed, “Let’s go!”
Linc and Luca raced toward the hangar and the hope of escape with Rebecca and Boricio. The creatures, at least eight of them, were hot on their heels.
Two cars screamed from the hangar, plowing right into one of the several creatures scattered outside the hangar, waiting for them. Both cars made it to the front gate.
Luca hoped to God Boricio was still in the hangar, waiting for them, and that they could get to his car in time.
Luca wasn’t sure how many bullets his gun had left, but he doubted many. And while there were plenty of scattered weapons lying next to corpses in the snow, he didn’t think he’d be able to get to any before the monsters made a meal of him.
He swallowed, preparing for death, when Boricio and Rebecca raced from the hangar entrance in a black Escalade. Boricio whooping and hollering so loud, Luca could hear him outside the car’s cabin, even above the roar of the engine and screeching from the monsters.
Boricio tore through a cluster of creatures, then swerved toward Luca and Linc.
The monsters were just steps behind, and gaining ground.
Luca raced toward Boricio, pinched his brain, and thought, “Run them over.”
“Gotcha,” Boricio thought.
Boricio was angling the Escalade directly at them. At the last possible moment, Luca shoved Linc to the side and onto the ground just as Boricio sped past them, striking a mob of creatures, sending some flying backward and crunching others beneath the Escalade’s oversized tires.
Three creatures raced past Linc and Luca, eyes now on Boricio’s truck.
Luca sat up and took aim, hitting two of the creatures as the third veered off toward a new target, one of the Brothers who was fleeing from the main house.
The courtyard was momentarily cleared. Boricio drove up next to them, rolled down the driver’s side window and said, “What the French fried fuck are you waiting for? Git your asses inside!”
Rebecca opened the back and they climbed inside. Linc slammed the door shut just as another monster landed on the Escalade’s roof, quickly followed by another.
Another two sprung onto the hood, their claws ripping through the Escalade’s metal and digging deep into the engine.
A shrill and sudden ringing filled the night, followed by an explosion. The main house erupted in flames. Then the second house echoed, with a second detonation sending it to splinters.
The third house was already on fire.
Boricio gunned the engine, but nothing happened.
“Fuck my asshole with asphalt!” Boricio’s face was beading with sweat. He gunned the engine again. The silence seemed louder the second time.
“Alright, folks,” he said, turning to the backseat. “Looks like we’re gonna have to run from here to there,” He nodded toward the barn. “There’s at least three of them greasy motherfuckers outside, maybe five. Anyone got bullets left?”
Luca handed Boricio his gun so he could check.
“Okay, we’ve got one bullet left. Awesome.”
The car started to shake violently. The clicking and screeching outside the cabin was deafening, as though the monsters were determined to be heard.
“We’ve got slightly less than no time. You trip, stumble, think, or breathe, you’ll end up a couple hundred pounds of demon chew. You run, and don’t stop. First one to look behind them is a rotten egg forever. I’m gonna bust this door open and run as fast as I can in the other direction.” Boricio pointed to the church that would never be finished, then pointed at Rebecca. “You wait five seconds, then open the door and run as fast as you can. Miracle Boy will follow. Linc, you go last, or with Luca. Don’t look behind you, no matter what. I guarantee every one of th
em fuckers’ll be following me. I’ll lead ‘em in the other direction, then circle back round to the barn.”
“What if you don’t make it?” Luca said.
“I will.”
“But you only have one bullet.”
“Boricio don’t need guns,” he said, handing the gun to Linc. He opened the door and roared, then charged from the truck like a raging bull. The monsters followed. Rebecca counted to five, then opened the door and raced for the barn. Like Boricio said, they were clear. Every one of the fuckers was following him.
Luca watched Boricio a moment longer. Boricio was still in full sprint when he suddenly dove to the dirt, landing between a pair of fallen brothers. He picked up one weapon and carefully aimed, then emptied it of its few remaining bullets, dropping two of the demons. Boricio grabbed another gun, then rolled away just as a demon landed beside him. Boricio stood and blew off its head, then pivoted his body and pulled the trigger twice, sending a pair of charging monsters into the snow.
Luca had seen enough and looked at Linc, “OK, I’m going.”
Monsters were crawling over The Sanctuary’s stone walls from all sides, black shadows over white snow, like a sun setting on forever.
Luca got out of the truck and ran for his life.
He reached the barn, Linc just behind him.
Someone screamed, but Luca didn’t dare look behind him.
He darted through the smaller of the barn doors, where Rebecca waited.
Her eyes were wide in horror.
Luca turned to see a creature about to pounce on Linc. Somehow, Linc managed to roll and avoid its swipe, but slipped and was unable to get up before the monster descended on him.
Luca grabbed a pitchfork leaning against the inside of the barn, and raced out toward the demon before it could kill Linc.
Just as Luca was about to plunge the pitchfork into the demon, a second one came out of nowhere, and slammed into him, sending him to the ground, and knocking the weapon from his hands.
Luca screamed as the creature rolled on top of him, mouth gnashing and shrieking.
Four shots rang out, and the monsters fell to the snow, their hot, black blood steaming the cold ice. Boricio appeared, gun in hand, and scooped Luca up and shoved him inside the barn. Linc followed them inside, just as more of the things appeared behind him.
Linc slammed the door shut just in time, and pressed his weight against it, trying to keep them from breaking through. The door rattled and shook, as the creatures pounded.
Little pig, little pig, let me in.
Only now it wasn’t Boricio trying to break down the door, but the demons outside.
Luca looked around. The barn appeared to be sealed off on the ground level, but there was an open door up top, in the hayloft. If the demons were able to get up there from the outside, there would be no way to keep them from getting inside.
Boricio looked at the hayloft, then at Luca.
“You got any miracles in that noggin, you better crack ‘em open and get to scrambling.”
Luca said nothing.
And just then, two creatures appeared in the hayloft’s opening.
They’d gotten in, and more would follow.
Seventy-Three
Will Bishop
Will put a bullet in the last of the monsters, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He took a final look around the store, then ran to the car outside and climbed in.
He pressed the pedal as far as it would go, as though pushing the car harder would change the future’s history.
Will had seen a lot of yesterdays go by. Even if the dreams didn’t decide the future, they never lied. When you tried turning the dreams into liars, they snitched to Fate and that fucker, Fate, made everything worse.
Will didn’t know how it could be worse than what he’d seen, but he also knew it could be. He couldn’t argue with the dreams, couldn’t try to turn them into liars. He could only hope there was something else on the other side of the vision, another angle to the prism he couldn’t quite see. Not a loophole, but an opportunity to do something.
Will kept on driving because the alternative was letting that fucker, fate, make everything worse. The dreams showed that Will had to be at The Sanctuary. He should have been there already, in fact.
He was late.
What would that mean?
After 10 minutes, Will saw orange on the night’s horizon where The Sanctuary should have been.
It’s burning.
Will drove faster, until he arrived at the gates that were no longer there, and drove into where The Sanctuary used to be. There was nothing standing or breathing. Every building was cinder or ash, trails of smoke snaking into the darkness above. Charred remains of structures and corpses littered the snow in black and red.
It was worse than he’d seen in the dreams. Much worse.
Will got out of the car and stepped onto the death grounds, searching for any signs of life.
His heart ached as he looked around. A little girl, maybe 6, lay in a pool of blood just outside where the main house had been. Her stomach had been gouged open, and blood still poured from her mouth. She was clutching a burnt doll, and her eyes were open in a permanent death stare. She was but one of the corpses, and but one of at least three children he could see in the immediate area.
Oh God.
The only building still standing somewhat was the barn, but flames were quickly lapping at what was left of it.
Snow continued to fall, faster now, as if it could cover the dirt, grime, and blood.
Will moved toward the burning barn as two figures appeared, silhouetted in fire.
Boricio and Luca, blackened from smoke, and bloody.
Will approached them.
Luca’s eyes were wet, his mouth struggling to make a sentence.
Finally, he stared at Will, then swallowed and said, “They’re dead . . . They’re all dead.”
Will looked away, hedging for a second.
There are no loopholes.
“Not everyone,” Will said, reaching into his jacket. A tear rolled down his cheek as he pulled out the pistol, aimed at Luca, and pulled the trigger.
To Be Continued
In YESTERDAY’S GONE: SEASON THREE
CONVERSATION WITH AUTHORS SEAN PLATT AND DAVID WRIGHT
(NOTE: Oct. 2013 This conversation originally appeared at the end of Episode 7. We’ve moved it to the end of the season compilation so it doesn’t interfere with the narrative.)
We’ve gotten some great feedback from readers since Season One of Yesterday’s Gone. We’ve also gotten a lot of questions from both readers and fellow writers. In January, we put out a call for questions and sat down (virtually, since Sean and I live in different states) to discuss the questions.
Here’s the conversation:
January 2012
WHAT INSPIRED YESTERDAY’S GONE?
DAVID: As Sean and I watched the digital publishing revolution unfolding, we saw an opportunity to do something we’ve long wanted to do but would never have gotten a chance to do under traditional publishing — serialized fiction. As fans of Stephen King’s The Green Mile, and serialized TV like The Wire, LOST, Carnivale, Deadwood, The Sopranos, The Walking Dead, Mad Men, Breaking Bad, and a bunch of other shows, we LOVE the whole concept of “To be continued . . . ”
Given that traditional publishers don’t even embrace the format with proven authors, there was no way in hell they’d touch the format from a couple of unknown writers. But that’s the thing about this revolution, the power has shifted, and now writers like us can write the things we want to write.
Conventional wisdom says there’s not a huge audience for serialized fiction. But we feel that’s about to change with e-books. We’ve gotten great response from readers for Season One, and have since heard from many writers who are planning to pursue serialization.
SEAN: Serialized fiction isn’t really new, it’s actually a really old way of doing things. It’s how Dickens released the majority
of his work. Readers love open loops and cliffhanger endings because it gives them more to think about, pulls them deeper into the narrative, and gives them a deeper connection with the characters, as well as investment in their story. And that’s what an author wants most, for their reader to care about their story.
I love TV. But the TV I think about when I’m not watching, are the shows that leave me asking questions and wanting answers. It’s a ridiculously fun way to watch a story, so surely it would be a ridiculously fun way to write one, too.
And it was. Just as television shows are shot with scenes out of order, that’s how we wrote Yesterday’s Gone. Dave wrote his scenes, and I wrote mine, then we went into post production together, edited into a unified story with the best possible flow.
We’re thrilled that it worked, both for us as writers and you as a reader, because our inspiration flies far beyond this title. Writing Yesterday’s Gone has been so much fun, and so creatively rewarding, we can’t wait to follow it up.
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE WORLD? WHAT KEPT THESE PARTICULAR PEOPLE ALIVE?
David: You’re going learn what happened to the world real early in the season. That’s one of the answers we knew we HAD to answer early on. One of the criticisms I heard for Season One is we (the writers) didn’t answer that many questions. One person even suggested the theories that we posited were ridiculous and showed no understanding of quantum theory. The thing to remember is that the speculations about what happened in Season One were from the mouths and minds of the people trying to figure out what the hell happened. The explanations weren’t informed in any way by knowledge, but rather people with limited knowledge, trying to figure shit out.
Imagine if you and your friends woke up and most of the world was gone. Unless you’re a scientist, or well-versed in scientific theories, you’re probably gonna say more stuff that sounds crazy and far-fetched than things which make sense. As a reader, you are limited to what the character whose point of view the chapter is told from, knows.
