Yesterday's Gone: Seasons 1-6 Complete Saga

by Sean Platt

  To Paola’s credit, the girl was handling this all better than Mary would have. Mary was pretty certain if she’d felt like someone else was inside her head, she’d go nuts trying to claw it out.

  “Burgers and wieners are up,” said one of the men closest to the grills.

  Mary and the group stood then waited in line. Farthest from the grills, they were also last.

  There was more food than they could possibly eat. Everyone was supposed to bring something. Mary and Paola had baked six dozen oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies the night before. Someone else had made cupcakes. There were a ton of brownies sitting on a plate at the end of the table.

  Mary figured the island was too square for the sort of brownies she wanted most.

  Her stomach growled as the scent of grilled meat hitched a ride on the wind. It had been a long time since she’d had a decent burger, and she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into one.

  As the line inched forward, Mary caught the redheaded woman eyeballing her, snickering with a friend, an older blonde with an uptight ponytail.

  “Ignore the bitches,” Jade whispered in her ear.

  “Why are they even looking at us?” Mary asked.

  “Her name is Rita. She’s married to Ned Wilson, that bald douche bag at the grill who Dez pretty much replaced as Bolton’s right-hand man.”

  Mary looked at the bald man, in his forties, standing behind the grill, piling two burgers onto the plate for a waiting woman.

  “He was Bolton’s second in charge?” Mary winced. “And now he’s here at a nonessential employee picnic? Ouch.”

  “Yeah,” Jade said. “My dad said he’s a real screw-up. He’s the reason for the whole thing with that Sullivan guy getting infected without anyone even knowing.”

  “So he was a scapegoat?” Brent asked.

  Jade said, “I dunno if he was a scapegoat or really to blame. My dad said he’s an idiot, though, so maybe both.”

  Brent asked, “And Ed told you all this? He’s never been the most gossipy of guys.”

  “He only told me because I said the guy’s wife had given me dirty looks one day in the cafeteria. He explained why.”

  “Great,” Mary said, “so she hates us all.”

  Ben, holding his dad’s hand, asked too loudly, “Who hates us?”

  Mary laughed, and pursed her lips.

  “Nobody, buddy. I was just … joking,” she pinched his nose, and he giggled.

  Making their way down the line, Mary grabbed a hamburger and some potato salad, saving space for a cupcake.

  Paola’s plate looked naked with only a few potato chips.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Mary asked.

  Paola looked bothered, not meeting her mom’s eyes, and shook her head no.

  Mary wondered if she’d noticed the nasty women ahead of them in line.

  Bitches.

  As they approached the front, Mary saw that the cupcakes were nearly gone, along with the brownies. Not a single one of her cookies had been touched.

  What the hell?

  Mary’s skin began to sizzle. Nobody, at all, had taken a single cookie. That wasn’t an accident.

  She turned to see Rita and her blonde friend sitting at a table, laughing as they pretended not to eyeball Mary.

  “No, Mom,” Paola said, grabbing her arm.

  Mary looked down at her daughter.

  “Don’t go over there.”

  Mary looked down, surprised her daughter was reading her emotions so well.

  “What’s wrong?” Jade asked.

  “Nobody’s touched my cookies,” Mary said. “Not a single one.”

  “Those cunts,” Jade said, before putting her hand over her mouth and adding, “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you nailed it,” Mary said. “And don’t worry about Paola, she’s heard it all. You’ve nothin’ on our friend, Boricio!”

  Jade said, “Come on, let’s just eat. Ignore them.”

  Mary looked down, grabbed four of her cookies, two of each kind, then headed back to the table with Paola in tow.

  As they sat, still waiting for the rest of the group to join, Paola whispered, “They hate us.”

  “Who hates us?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Did you hear them say something?”

  “I heard them thinking it,” Paola said. “Or rather, Luca heard, and he told me.”

  A chill slithered through Mary.

  “He’s talking to you now?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long has he been talking to you?”

  “He just started.”

  “What else did he have to say?”

  “He said that The Darkness is coming.”

  “What?”

  Paola swallowed then repeated, “He said that The Darkness is coming.”

  Thirty-Five

  Thomas Acevedo

  Acevedo struggled against the women’s weight as they held him down.

  Beef patted his pockets, searching.

  “Where are they?”

  “What?” Acevedo asked, hoping the man wouldn’t pat down his ankle where he had tucked the vial away.

  “You know what, the vials!” Beef’s voice brayed in an array of blended voices. Acevedo wasn’t sure if the man was using the many voices at once as a play on a possessed man, or if the alien were simply channeling voices in its collective — those of the already infected.

  “Out in the car,” Acevedo answered.

  Beef stared at Acevedo as if the man were considering infecting him, or trying to read his mind.

  He can’t read your mind, said the alien in Acevedo’s head who’d been whispering ever since he slipped the vial into his sock. “He’s too strained controlling the women. You must distract him.”

  How?

  Get him to the car.

  He’ll hurt Marina.

  No, he won’t. You can stop him.

  “I swear, they’re out in the car. I’ll go with you, if you want.”

  “Why would you leave them out in the car?”

  “They’re with my friend. I’ll go out with you and hand them over.”

  Beef stared at the priest. “But I thought you came to get them from me. Why you so eager now to hand them over, Padre?”

  “I’m not, but now that you’ve opened one of the vials there’s no point in trying to control anything.”

  “That’s your first correct assumption.”

  “Just please,” Acevedo said, “spare us.”

  Beef smiled. Nodding, he leaned over, picked up Acevedo’s pistol, then trained it on him.

  “Funny,” Beef said, “a priest with a gun. What happened to Thou shalt not kill?”

  “I’m not a priest anymore.”

  “Finally saw that your Christ abandoned you?”

  “Something like that.”

  Beef stared down the pistol’s sight at Acevedo like the caged prey he was.

  “Tell me, why do you want the vials? What do you hope to accomplish?”

  “I saw what you’re going to do to the world.”

  “Did you now?”

  “Yes, the vials showed me.”

  “And what did you think you would do if you got the other vials? Stop us?”

  “I don’t know,” Acevedo lied. “I just don’t want to see the world destroyed.”

  “Oh, we’re not about to destroy the world. The world will be fine. You animals, however … ”

  Beef brought the gun closer to Acevedo’s head.

  “Please. I’ll give you the other vials. I’ll walk you out to the car.”

  “I don’t need your help.” Beef looked down the sight, taking aim.

  A bright flash filled the room, followed by thunder.

  Gunshots erupted. Beef’s body jerked helter-skelter, riddled with gunshots before thudding like a collapsed piano to the ground.

  Thirty-Six

  Mary Olson

  “What do you mean The Darkness is coming?”

  “The Light told
me that it’s coming. We’re in danger.”

  “When?” Mary looked around for any obvious signs of danger. She had six rounds in a Springfield 1911 Ultra Compact in her small-of-the-back holster. She wished she’d thought to bring extra magazines. Six rounds were fine for a small threat, a person or two, but would do little against the infected, or the aliens.

  She had to get back to their cabin, and the assault rifles inside. And she had to reach Desmond.

  She grabbed the cell in her pocket and called him.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said when he picked up.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. Paola said ‘The Darkness is coming.’”

  “Coming where?”

  “Here. She said we’re in danger.”

  “Impossible.” Desmond cleared his throat. “We’ve got this island on lockdown. Nobody comes onto the island without getting screened by me.”

  “Maybe they’re already here?”

  “I’ve checked everyone.”

  “Maybe you can’t sense it as well as you think?”

  Desmond was silent, save for a deep sigh. “Maybe she saw the infected in the secured level. Is that possible?”

  “We have infected here?” Mary asked.

  “Of course,” Desmond said. “But there’s no way they can get out. It’s a secure level below seven other levels of the facility, with too many checkpoints and fail-safes for them to escape. Trust me.”

  Mary looked around the picnic: the warm sun, the nice gentle breeze wafting off the ocean, the chirping of kids laughing and enjoying themselves. The world was at odds with her feelings, and the certainty that danger was near.

  “Relax,” Desmond said, “everything is fine. We have it all under control. May I talk to her?”

  Mary handed the phone to Paola. “Dez wants to talk to you.”

  “OK,” Paola said, taking the phone. “Hi.”

  Desmond was faint as Paola tried to hold the phone so they could both hear, without putting it on speaker.

  “What exactly did The Light tell you?”

  Paola said, “That The Darkness is coming.”

  “And?” Desmond asked. “Is that it? Did it say when, where, or in what form?”

  “Nothing else. But I’m pretty sure he meant it was coming to the island.”

  “Why do you think that? Did he say the island? Could he have been referring to the things that are happening out there on the mainland?”

  “I dunno,” Paola said. “It felt like he meant the island.”

  “What do you think, sweetheart? Do you feel like we’re in danger here?”

  Paola paused. “I dunno.”

  Mary took the phone, trying not to let mounting agitation show in her tone.

  “Paola felt what she felt. I don’t think we should question it.”

  “What would you have me do, Mary? Run and tell Bolton that Paola thinks we’re in danger? Then what? Lock everyone away in their own cells in the research facility?”

  “I don’t know,” Mary said. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”

  “I didn’t say you were. But we can’t jump on the heels of some vague threat.”

  “You trust Paola to help you find the vials, but you won’t trust her when she says there’s a threat to the island?”

  “I didn’t say that. We’ll double check our security protocols, and suspend ferries onto and off the island until I can be there to check all the passengers myself. How’s that?”

  Mary sighed. “Sorry, I just hate not knowing what’s next. Feeling like there’s some threat out there and we have to sit here and wait for an attack. I’m tired of living like this, Dez. I thought the island would be safe.”

  “It is, Mary. I promise. You and Paola are safer here than anywhere else in the world. Do you trust me?”

  She sighed, imagining Desmond’s earnest eyes boring into hers. How could she say no to such a kind, sweet man, who had done everything he could to protect her and Paola since that fateful October night when they were flushed into another world? She had to trust the instincts that had already led them this far. It wasn’t as if she had any concrete idea of what was coming or a better way to protect them against The Darkness.

  “Yes,” she said. “I trust you.”

  “OK, I need to get back to work. Call me if anything happens. Or if Paola has any more visions. Anything at all. OK? I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Mary ended the call.

  “Well?” Paola said, looking into her mother’s eyes.

  “I guess he’s got it under control.”

  Paola looked down, clearly hoping for a better answer.

  But Mary had none. She had to trust Desmond’s instincts, even if hers were shredding her gut.

  Thirty-Seven

  Thomas Acevedo

  Acevedo looked up to see a giant of a man in all black standing with an assault rifle aimed at Beef’s fallen body.

  The man seemed more like he’d been sent by special ops than from a rival cartel. Acevedo wondered if he was part of a drug bust or if the government had grown wise to the vials’ existence.

  The women screamed, launching themselves at the gunman, fingers open like claws eager to tear him apart.

  The big man’s eyes went wide, seemingly surprised by the women’s ferocity, likely unaware that they were infected with an alien species.

  The big man slammed his rifle’s butt into the first woman’s face, sending her to the ground in a heap. The second woman was too quick, grabbing the rifle with both hands and wrenching it from his.

  Rather than fire, she swung it like a bat, hitting the big man across the face and knocking him to the ground. She tossed the rifle back, where it landed at Acevedo’s feet, and approached him slowly, like an animal stalking prey.

  A low growl rolled from her throat, just under some sort of alien clicking.

  The large man looked up at her, seemingly frozen, mesmerized more than frightened. The alien was likely seizing control of his limbs, rendering him incapable of fighting back.

  Acevedo considered his options.

  If he didn’t intervene, she might tear the man apart.

  Acevedo didn’t know who in the hell the gunman was, or if he was a threat, but the giant had saved his life, so the priest owed him the same.

  Besides, if Acevedo did nothing, there was a damned good chance she’d seize control of the man and give the alien another puppet for attack.

  Acevedo grabbed the rifle and aimed at the infected woman, squeezing the trigger twice, the semiautomatic fire tearing her head and back to shreds. As she fell to the ground, twitching, Acevedo turned the gun onto the first woman.

  She started to stand, but Acevedo fired a few rounds into the back of her skull, then aimed the gun on the big man just starting to get back up.

  Is he already infected?

  Acevedo’s heart pounded as the giant stared at him with the same glassy eyes he’d been giving the woman.

  Acevedo asked, “Who are you?”

  “Luther Wahl, with Homeland Security.” Confusion faded from his face. He put his hands in the air as if to show he wasn’t about to reach for his sidearm or any of the fancy-looking grenades attached to his belt.

  “State your business,” Acevedo said, still trying to determine if the man was under alien control.

  “We’re here to get the vials, and I suggest you put the rifle down as we have the place surrounded.”

  “Bullshit,” Acevedo said.

  “Your lady friend, Marina Harmon, is already in custody.”

  Shit.

  “Get down!” Luther yelled, eyes bulging wide.

  Acevedo heard something, like the sound of water pooling, behind him. He spun back, firing the rifle into a thick, black liquid-like substance rising from Beef’s fallen body. The liquid seemed to be assembling itself into some sort of form.

  The Darkness.

  Acevedo had seen it in his dreams, in the visions, but this was his fi
rst time seeing it face to … icy black void.

  It was abhorrent, the antithesis of life, of goodness. It was worse than evil. Worse than the devil. It was nothing — an emptiness desperate to grow, stretch its tendrils, and absorb all that it could.

  But no, it was more than nothing. Nothing held no intelligence, but The Darkness had a cold, calculated intellect, far greater than his own. He could feel it peering into his soul, picking him apart, searching for any weakness to exploit.

  Feeling the alien’s mental prods sent a chill through his core. And for the first time, Acevedo wondered if he had what it took to battle what had to be stopped at all costs.

  He was paralyzed, standing in the bedroom staring, as The Darkness gathered its mass above Beef’s corpse, floating above his body as if suspended by dozens of slowly undulating wind currents.

  “Come on!” the big man yelled, pulling Acevedo by the shirt tail, backward and through the bedroom doorway.

  As they fell back into the hallway, The Darkness shot a large, ropey black appendage almost blindly over them, knocking a hole through the plaster above the door frame.

  “Go!” Luther shoved Acevedo toward the living room.

  The priest’s mind was chaos in a blur, his eyes still drawing The Darkness in its raw form, still trying to process what he had seen, as the big man pushed him forward and out the front door into the brightness of a lying blue sky.

  “Down!” Luther yelled, shoving Acevedo down and falling atop his body, crushing him against the rifle still in his hands, now pressing into his chest.

  Behind them an explosion, likely from one or more of Luther’s grenades.

  The sound and heat washed over them, along with a dying alien scream that sliced through Acevedo’s soul.

  Thirty-Eight

  Edward Keenan

  After updating Director Bolton of the operation’s status, Ed leaned against the van, waiting for Agent Harrison of Homeland Security’s Los Angeles field office to finish talking with reporters outside the cordoned off area at the end of the block.