Yesterday's Gone: Seasons 1-6 Complete Saga

by Sean Platt

  If Will was dead then everyone else on the island was doomed. Though Will had been getting increasingly more unstable since October, he was the only one on the island who was able to understand — and predict — some of the things that were happening.

  Ed cut the lights before he parked the truck, deciding to go the rest of the way on foot. He grabbed an AR-15 from the back of the truck, along with five clips, which he slid into his tactical vest. He then made sure the sphere was safely tucked in his pocket before setting off into the woods, using the light clipped onto the rifle to guide him.

  He was about 40 yards from the old, brick two-story structure — overgrown with trails of vegetation creeping up and along its moss-covered walls, but otherwise still standing after more than a century spent mostly abandoned. The wooden front door had been replaced a few years earlier as part of a restoration project.

  It was now open.

  Ed slowly approached, his gun and light aimed at the threshold. He was about 20 feet from the doorway when he spotted movement to his right. He almost jumped, nearly squeezing the trigger as he raised his rifle. Somehow, he managed to remain steady and keep himself from sending a bullet into what turned out to be only a white cloth strip either stuck to — or tied — to a branch.

  Surrender?

  Ed glanced at the open door again, searching for a sign of either Williams or Will Bishop.

  Seeing nothing, Ed stepped through the doorway and into the darkness, ears perked, careful to move silently.

  Moonlight spilled in from the open windows and into the main room, painting four large squares dimly across the floor’s center. Dust floated along motes of light, suspended in space and barely moving. Everything else was dark.

  Ed swung the rifle’s light around the room. It had been awhile since he’d been to the monastery, but the layout was easy enough to remember. One main chamber, leading to a pair of doors and a stairway on the left. Both doors were open.

  Ed made his way through the room, stepping over debris along the ancient stone floor. Apparently, renovations had only extended to the building’s outside.

  He stayed on the room’s far right, sweeping his light over doors as he passed. He looked out the two large windows on the rear wall and saw the moon peering through the forest about 50 yards away.

  Ed stepped toward the second of the two rooms with its door half ajar, where any of the people he was searching for could easily be hiding. As he approached, his boot cracked something on the ground — a pane of dusty glass, crunching with an echo across the old building with its high ceilings.

  He paused, waiting to see if the sound would draw someone from hiding, but was greeted with nothing but silence.

  Ed pushed the door the rest of the way open, wondering if someone had set the glass there as an alarm. Given the layer of dust on the glass, and lack of clean spots outside of his boot print, it seemed unlikely.

  He opened the door to a sudden voice.

  “Don’t shoot.”

  Ed’s light found Will, sitting perfectly still in the darkness on an old, wooden chair as if he were waiting to see a doctor.

  “Sir, what are you doing here?” Ed said, moving his light from Will’s face to the floor.

  “Waiting,” he said, his voice eerily calm as if he were talking in his sleep and responding to someone Ed couldn’t see.

  Ed brought the light up again, just enough to see Will’s dark, open, and oversized pupils.

  “Waiting for who?” Ed asked, thinking he probably shouldn’t bother. The old man had been growing progressively worse since the previous fall. Some said he was senile, but Ed didn’t think that was it. Well, not completely, anyway. He was more likely mourning all that he had lost, and what had happened on Oct. 15.

  “For Luca and Boricio. They’re coming back.”

  Ed closed his eyes, feeling a cool blade of sadness cut through him. He didn’t have the heart to correct Will. “Come on, sir; it’s not safe here,” he said. “There’s been a breach. Two of the infected have escaped, and Dr. Williams is nowhere to be found.”

  Something snapped Will from his daze. He cocked his head and looked at Ed quizzically. “Escaped? How?”

  “We believe Dr. Williams had something to do with it, though we’re not sure why.”

  “Oh my.” Will said. “That’s not good. Not good at all.”

  “How long have you been here, Mr. Bishop? Have you seen anyone else?”

  “All day. Waiting,” Will said, starting to get that glassy look in his eyes again.

  “Did you see anybody else?”

  “No,” Will said, meeting Ed’s eyes. “Nobody else.”

  “Come on, let me bring you back to the Facility so I can get back out and find them.”

  Will rattled his head as if trying to shake himself from a fugue, then stood. His bones creaked, and Ed wondered how long the man had been sitting in the chair.

  “Did Dr. Williams tell you to meet him here?”

  “No,” Will said. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious why you came out here of all places.”

  “The dreams told me to come here tonight. What time is it?”

  “Oh-two hundred,” Ed said, glancing at his watch.

  “Oh, they’re gonna be here soon!”

  “What?”

  “Yes, they’re coming at 2:15.”

  Ed stared at Will, staring absentmindedly back, smiling like the senile man many thought he’d become. It was obvious to Ed that Will was confused. Even if he had dreamed of 2:15, it wasn’t psychic phenomena. Yes, the man was gifted, but this was more likely a blend of dream and memory, twisting itself into rambling prophecy.

  The smile on Will’s face said it all: The fragile old man needed his dream to come true. And it would break his heart when it didn’t. What could Ed do, though? No way would he get the old man to go with him until he saw that his dream was just a dream and nothing more.

  “I can’t wait to see them,” Will said, turning from Ed and returning to his chair.

  Ed was going to resist, but decided it wasn’t worth it. What was five more minutes? “At least let’s wait out there,” Ed said as he picked up Will’s chair and brought it out into the main room.

  “Thank you,” Will said, sitting down and folding his hands on his lap like he was waiting on a train rather than an impossibility.

  Ed shook his head, “Have you gone upstairs at all?”

  “No,” Will shook his head, his eyes on the floor where the squares of light illuminated the concrete.

  “Wait right here, okay? I’m gonna check up there.”

  “Don’t go,” Will said, his voice almost sad. “You’ll miss them.”

  “Just call me if . . . er, when they show up. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Will said, smiling.

  Ed shook his head and left Will to wait for nothing. His flashlight probed the darkness of the stairway as he ascended the concrete steps. He didn’t want to leave Will alone for long, so he didn’t bother with stealth. He quickly bounded the steps and checked out the second floor — a tiny bathroom and seven bedrooms with small beds. Without anyone in them, the vacant rooms with their crumbling beds made Ed think of a haunted orphanage. And he felt like the eyes of the dead were on him.

  Once Ed was certain no one was on the second floor, he raced back downstairs and saw Will sitting in the same position he’d left him, and wearing the same stupid grin.

  Ed glanced at his watch: 2:17 a.m. with no sign of anyone. The building was silent as a crypt, and he felt a chill in the air. Ed wanted to get out of the creepy building and on the road.

  “I don’t think they’re coming,” Ed said, showing Will the watch. It’s 2:17.”

  Will looked at the watch, and the hope in his eyes died like the smile on his face. The shift in mood was immediate; sudden enough to surprise Ed.

  Will stood, his face void of emotion. “Let’s go.”

  Will stepped past Ed. As Ed was about to turn and follow Ed, he ca
ught movement in the corner of his eye. He looked up and saw someone outside walk past the window — a man in what looked like a black uniform — though he was past the window before Ed could be certain.

  “Oh!” Ed shouted, surprised, his heart racing.

  “What is it?” Will asked, looking around.

  Ed ran to the window, rifle ready, but saw no one outside.

  “What is it?” Will repeated, immediately beside him.

  “I think I saw someone out there,” Ed said, then turned back to the open door on the far side of the room. “Quick. Let’s go.”

  The door slammed shut when they were three feet away.

  Will jumped back, and Ed raised his rifle. A shadow tore across the floor, racing from the window behind him. Ed spun around, and this time saw the man in black standing in the window, his back turned to them. It looked like a Guardsman in uniform. He was without a helmet or mask, which confused Ed, like the man’s thick and unkempt mop of dark hair.

  What the hell?

  Ed approached the window for a closer look. Just as he was five feet away, the Guardsman turned and revealed a face without any mouth, eyes, nose, or anything. His face was smooth and pale as if someone erased his features, with something, or some things, moving beneath the flesh, pushing at the skin like bones trying to find their way to right.

  Ed raised the rifle.

  Behind him, the door flew open, and Will let out a startled yell.

  Ed turned back to the front door and saw Dr. Williams standing there, completely nude, his saggy skin caked in dirt, mud, or something else. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his eyes were as wide and demented as his hair was wild and crazy.

  On either side of Dr. Williams were two of the infected — now fully devolved, barely resembling the humans they once were — a woman and child found recently in the city.

  “Give us the vials,” Williams said, his voice sounding not like one person, but several, almost like he were speaking while gargling.

  “There are no more vials,” Will said, his voice surprisingly strong and defiant.

  “Lie!” Williams said, pointing an accusatory finger at Will. “I know what you did! I know what you did! You have them!”

  The window crashed behind them, reminding Ed of the man without a face who’d been behind them.

  It was too late to do anything. Ed spun to fire, but the man raised an arm and swung it hard, knocking Ed to the ground. His rifle fell, and the thing leapt on top of his body before Ed could calculate a response.

  The thing gripped Ed’s neck tight, choking him and shoving his head back hard into the dusty ground. Ed struggled to pull the man-thing’s hands away, mesmerized by its face, shifting beneath the skin until it started to tear along the center like a bloody seam, followed by the sickening wet sound of ripping.

  From that seam flowed something dark and fibrous, as blood and black goo gushed from the wound and spilled down onto Ed’s chin.

  He cringed, turning away and clenching his mouth closed so as not to ingest the putrid-smelling shit. It started to spatter Ed’s cheek as he struggled and twisted, swinging his legs enough to try and kick the creature from his body.

  The liquid began to dribble up and toward Ed’s eye.

  If it gets in me, I’m infected.

  Ed clenched his eyes shut as the thing’s grip grew stronger around his neck, choking breath from his body as pain shot through him. Ed felt like his was seconds from being ripped from his body.

  A gunshot thundered in the otherwise empty room, followed by a high-pitched whine, as the body on top of him froze and a fresh batch of hot liquid spilled onto his chest and face.

  Ed rolled over, quickly wiping his face off with the side of his jacket, and spinning around to see Will holding his rifle and taking aiming at Williams.

  Will fired, hitting the infected woman in the head and sending her deformed blackened body to the ground in spasms. Will fired again as the child ran toward them, but missed.

  The wee monstrosity was fast. It screeched from some part that was still a child, wailing that Will had shot its mother.

  Five feet from Will, it sprang to its feet, swinging its clawed hands at the old man, knocking the rifle to the ground and hitting him hard in the chest as he flew backwards to the ground. The thing tumbled onto the floor as Will rolled over, gasping for air and clutching his chest.

  The creature got up, ready to finish Will for good.

  Ed’s hand found his Glock on his holster and was blasting before the creature made it an inch farther. He fired twice, tearing its small head to nuggets of flesh, bone, and goo. Ed looked up, searching for a Dr. Williams who was already gone.

  “Damn it!” he screamed, ignoring Will and running out the front door and into the night, looking for Williams.

  There was no Williams, just six Guardsmen, all of them staring with pitch-black eyes and faces beginning to congeal, standing between Ed and the woods where his truck waited. They began walking toward him.

  Ed raced back inside and slammed the door shut, locking it, then turned to a staring Will.

  “What is it?” Will asked.

  “There’s six more Guardsmen out there,” Ed said. “They’ve been infected, and at a rapid acceleration.”

  “It’s impossible to become infected and to change so quickly,” Will said, “unless . . . ”

  Ed finished Will’s hypothesis. “They’ve been infected all along, and it’s been dormant? If that’s the case, then . . . Oh God.” He shook his head and tried to close his mouth. “It might have infiltrated the Facility already.”

  Thirty-One

  Boricio Bishop

  Boricio waited until he knew Will was gone, then crossed the street and opened the door to his old house without knocking.

  Sarah looked up in surprise. “Will’s not here,” she said. “He won’t be back until the end of the day.”

  “That’s fine,” Boricio said. “I’m here to see my main man, Mr. Luca Bishop!”

  Luca tore into the front room yelling, “Boricio!”

  He smiled; even after two long years of Luca doing it, Boricio couldn’t believe anyone could ever be so consistently happy to see him.

  “How come you’re here?” Luca asked.

  “I came to visit you, Little Man. That’s all.”

  Luca eyed Boricio with suspicion. Boricio nodded at Sarah. She took the hint and left the room. Boricio led Luca to the couch and sat. Before he could say anything, Luca said, “You’re here to talk about Dad?”

  Boricio nodded.

  “Why is he mad?”

  Boricio sat in silence before wrapping his arm around Luca and pulling him into a relaxed lean against the back of the couch — much like he imagined they’d be leaning in another 10 years or so, each of them holding a beer — then said, “Dad just has a lot on his mind right now. It’s crazy how occupied the old man gets.” Then, for a sprinkle of truth, he added, “And there’s a lot happening at work that he didn’t expect. Nothing for you to worry about, but definitely stuff that’s keeping him busy, and not quite here even when he is, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean,” Luca nodded.

  Boricio smiled.

  Luca said. “But that’s not all the story, or even a lot of it.”

  “It’s all the stuff that matters,” Boricio said.

  Luca shook his head. “No, it isn’t. And now I feel sad because you’re lying to me.”

  “Aww, Little Man,” Boricio said. “It’s not like that.” He squeezed his little brother tighter. “There’s just some stuff I don’t think you need to know. Not because I don’t care if you do, but because I don’t think you need to worry about stuff you don’t need to be worried about, you know?” He didn’t wait for Luca to answer. “A kid should have the chance to be a kid.”

  “I see it all anyway.” Luca said pointing to his head. “If you don’t lie to me, then you can help me understand it.”

  “Oh,” Boricio said, “I forget.
” He paused, then added, “How much can you see?”

  Luca said, “I see the what in what you’re thinking, but can’t see the why.”

  Boricio scooted from Luca and pulled his arm back to his side. “Is this about you digging into other people’s minds?”

  Luca nodded, then said. “I can see inside everyone now.” He swallowed. “And there’s more.”

  Boricio could feel it, a special sort of bullshit that wasn’t really bullshit at all. Maybe he was only catching rebounds from Luca’s brain, but it felt to Boricio like they were sitting just seconds away from everything changing. He swallowed.

  “There’s another Earth, mostly just like ours. And I know how to get there.”

  Boricio laughed. “Hahaha, at least that’s funnier than that Charlie Bit My Finger thing you made me watch on YouTube.”

  Luca’s face was cool marble, desperately wanting to warm.

  Boricio swallowed again and asked, “What do you mean there’s another Earth?”

  He repeated, “There’s another Earth, and I can go there.” Then probably because Luca knew what Boricio would say next, he added, “I’ve gone there before, and I’ll go there again. I can even bring stuff back with me.”

  “No way!” Boricio yelled, loud enough to pull Sarah to the doorway. He turned to Sarah, shook his head, and gestured for her that everything was kosher. Sarah left with a shrug, and Boricio turned to Luca.

  “That’s not possible!” he said, even though he could clearly see in Luca’s eyes that it was.

  There was nothing but silence and faster breathing from Boricio, until Luca finally spoke. “You want to believe me, Boricio, but you can’t,” he said. Then after another second, he said, “Dad already saw it. So I can show you, too.”

  “Wait,” Boricio said. “Will has seen this?”

  “Yes,” Luca nodded. “And call him Dad.”

  “When did Dad see this?”

  “I dunno, a few weeks ago,” Luca said. “But he didn’t go with me, even though I think I might even be able to take people. He didn’t want to come. Do you want to come with me?”

  “That sounds like six pounds of vanilla ice cream, covered in fudge, kid soldier. Just tell me what to do and you’ll be halfway to having it done.”