Yesterday's Gone: Season One Part 30

"You don't want to kill me, man." Moe said, more statement than plea.

"Don't I?" Boricio raised an eyebrow. The prisoners strained to listen. Boricio lowered himself to a squat. "What are you really afraid of? I'm unarmed and all you have to do is yell. Are you that big of a p.u.s.s.y, or is there a bigger badder wolf out there than ole Boricio?"

A final whimper, then a vomit of words: "Look, we don't have time at all because any second now Jackson is going to come back in here and when he does, he'll be bringing Brock and Veronica with him and that's going to be big bad news for all of us. I don't have the time to tell you everything but I swear I can help. I can save your life, not just in here, but out there too. I don't think you know what's out there. But it's not what you think... oh my G.o.d, I think I hear them outside..."

A rustling outside the door...

"Sit down, man, please." Begging from Manny.

"You're going to get us killed." Jack agreed.

"I think they're right, sir." Adam made three.

The rustling grew louder, then stopped.

"We're not finished," Boricio said, kissing Moe on the cheek and returning his blindfold, and laying back down on the ground with his hands beneath him.

A single set of footsteps preceded the sound of cloth sc.r.a.ping concrete followed by a squeaky hinge and burlap whipping air. A sixth mat was added to the floor, confirmed by the thud of a body.

A second later, Dead Guard Walking's bad breath was stinking up Boricio's personal air again. "Looks like I got s.h.i.t to tend to on the immediate side," he said, "but you and me got unfinished business 'fore this day gets to being yesterday."

Boricio smiled. "You know, I was just thinking the same exact thing."

Another slap hit the side of Boricio's head, but Dead Guard Walking must've been in a hurry because Boricio barely felt it. A second later the door whined shut and the guard's scent fled the room.

Boricio was back on his feet and in Moe's face. "Alright, piggy, squeal. You got seconds, and I mean short ones, before I start creating new ways to f.u.c.k you up, starting with ones that hurt most, followed by the ones that just make me laugh."

Boricio introduced his heel to Moe's jaw, hard enough to prove he wasn't worried about getting caught, though he forced his fist in Moe's mouth to m.u.f.fle his cry anyway.

"I ain't ready for them to get back in here quite yet," he said.

Boricio grabbed another thatch of hair and said, "Squeal pig!" then started whistling the tune to Gimme One Reason.

Moe spoke in a whimper. "I was one of you. No different. Same thing happened to me when Veronica brought me here, just like all of you guys. Only difference was it happened to me on the first day. They told me I was gonna get spared so long as I played ball and told them what the prisoners was saying each time they was in here and so that's what I've been doing since. I just told you the thing about my cheek because I didn't want you to be suspicious. I'm not one of them, I'm just trying to stay alive."

Boricio stopped whistling. "Why don't you have a blindfold?"

"They want me to keep my eye on things. Let them know if I see anything weird. But I'm still locked up, no different." Moe tilted his head back to gesture at his bound wrists.

"That's the sorta that's all there is that makes a man stop breathing. I suggest you talk faster and actually start saying something, f.u.c.knut."

Moe swallowed, then continued to push words through a cry. "I think these people are survivalists, you know like the folks you hear about up holing away for the end of the world up in Montana. And this place is some sorta compound."

"Survivalists?"

"More than survivalists, though, I think they're a cult. I'd reckon every group has a leader, but these guys kept talking about a Prophet or something."

"A prophet? Like Waco s.h.i.t?" Boricio said.

"Exactly. No one's told me anything direct, but I heard a bit, including from some kid who disappeared the first day. Seems he was one of them until he had a change of heart up around 2:15 a.m. a few days ago. Guess it was family fun when it was all Kool-Aid and unicorns, but as soon as it was real, he wanted out. But there is no out, so Jackson was allowed to take care of things as he saw fit. I didn't see how fit that was, but I could hear some of it, and it sounded awful."

"Solid job," Boricio said, standing back up. "I'll give you a B-. Course, you'll need at least a B+ to keep breathing, so it's a good time to step it up. Tell me, what makes Senor Prophet so special, and what are they doing with the people they toss in here to trade bulls.h.i.t with you? And don't give me none of that 'I don't know s.h.i.t,' because the only thing that's gonna keep you from earning a big fat C is some solid info. Now."

"I can only guess about why they're bringing people in here. For sure they're looking for information. But it also seems like they're waiting for someone in particular to show up. They also seem keen to know everything they can about everything, but I've no idea how much they actually know. But they seem to have some big plans."

"What plans?"

"I don't know..."

Boricio's nostrils flared.

"But everyone here does, and I know it's something bad. They're sorting things out; seems like they're gearing up to go after someone, but I don't know who. As far as what makes the Prophet so special, I think he dreamed about whatever happened before it actually happened. I can see how that would give a man a mighty lot of power. I know it ain't much, but it's the best I got, and it's honest to the word."

Well now, I don't think that's what I ordered at all. Dreams have been daffy as a diseased duck for days, which probably wouldn't mean s.h.i.t if they weren't so G.o.dd.a.m.ned Technicolor. And it's a sour gallon of f.u.c.king milk that I don't have a clue what they mean.

Boricio tried not to think about his own weird a.s.s dreams. Wasn't like Moe was gonna be much help figuring s.h.i.t out. That f.u.c.ker rode the short bus and licked the windows on the trip. "What else can you tell me about the grounds? How many guards?"

"Not sure how much more I can help," Moe said. "I've never been out of this room, except for about 15 minutes on the second day when they were cleaning this one, though it didn't look no different when we came back in. I guess I did see some stuff then."

"Like what?"

"There's a station just outside this main building, seems like a communication shack or something. And then there's a second cl.u.s.ter of buildings, looks like there's a farm with a silo, plus a big long building, might've been stables."

"How many people you figure are in this place?"

"No idea, never even seen anyone from the other buildings. I seen maybe a dozen people total, but there could be ten times that. Or more."

Moe didn't wait for his B+, just started begging instead. "I'm like you, man, just lucky enough to wind up here a few days earlier. I'll help you, I want to help you. These people scare the f.u.c.k outta me. And I'm the only one in the room who knows the way out of here, at least sort of. There's a garage by the communication shack. I'm sure there are cars in there. I'll take you there. If you don't waste time, you will survive. I want to get out of here and I want to help you."

"Long as you're not one of them, it's fine with me," Boricio said. "Every number matters."

Yeah, we'll just see about that you Benedict Arnold mother f.u.c.ker. Give me a reason to reach down your throat and pull your tongue out and gut you like a pig.

The newest prisoner stirred.

"I think our new friend is awake," Adam said.

Boricio couldn't have the new prisoner making noise and drawing anyone to the room; not before he was ready. He placed his hand over the prisoner's mouth, "Shhh," he said. "You've been kidnapped. But we're gonna get you outta here."

Uneasy recognition blended with the confusion on his face. "Boricio?" asked the prisoner, who looked to be around Adam's age.

Boricio paused, got down next to the kid, and clutched his throat. "How the f.u.c.k you know my name, kid?"

"Sorry," he said, "I'm... I'm not sure what I meant."

A controlled rage rumbled inside Boricio. "The f.u.c.k you talking about, boy? You said my name clear as f.u.c.king Windex. You wanna tell me why, or you want me to tear off your arm and beat you with the soggy end, you Kids-Eat-Free-On-Tuesday f.u.c.k? You don't use my name and not tell me why, unless you want it to be the last thing you do."

The prisoner swallowed. "I'm sorry, man. My name's Charlie Wilkens, and strange as this sounds, I met you in a dream. Last night. I fell asleep and there you were, talking to me, just like you are right now. And then again, you were talking in my head when these people kidnapped me."

Boricio stared down at Charlie, curiosity creeping through him. "Oh yeah, what did I say?"

Charlie gulped again. "You said that your father was a f.u.c.king c.u.n.t and that n.o.body f.u.c.ks with Boricio. You also said that the only thing to do when you find a p.u.s.s.y is to f.u.c.k it."

Icy shock wrapped around Boricio. The words were his alright. He vaguely remembered dreaming something along those lines, too, but the specifics were as lost as everything else in his recent memories.

Well that's about 14 inches of f.u.c.k me silly. Looks like Benedict Arnold might be onto something with this Waco mother f.u.c.ker and the dream machine.

"No crazy talk," Boricio said, relaxing his grip on the kid's throat. "I don't have time for bulls.h.i.t, or to figure out where we met before. Start with how you ended up here in the first place."

"I was with my stepdad, Bob. He also survived, which is unfortunate since he's such an a.s.shole. We came across another survivor, a girl a little older than me. Once Bob decided not to crush her head with a crowbar, he went ahead and f.u.c.ked her in the pool. Stole her away from me. So f.u.c.k him like the rest of the world." Charlie drew a quick breath, then added, "And f.u.c.k you, too."

The defiance on what was exposed of the kid's face was enough to make Boricio smile. It was obvious he never would've said what he had if given a second to think. And he sure as s.h.i.t wouldn't have done it if the blindfold wasn't blocking the view of ole Boricio. Even now, the kid looked like he wished he could swallow his tongue, but he was still, unwilling to show fear. Even if his quivering chin betrayed him ever so. Still, Boricio had to give him credit for guts.

The room was silent. Manny, Jack, and Adam stayed quiet through the exchange with Moe, then the entire room had given him and Charlie the floor. Everyone was right where Boricio wanted - so terrified they could barely breathe, and ready to worship him as their new lord and savior if given the chance.

"So who's up for busting out of here?" he asked.

Smiles and nods circled the room. Boricio reached into his boot and peeled back the sole, and retrieved his emergency razor blade, then moved in a line, freeing each of the prisoners from their restraints and blindfolds. When he got to Moe, he leaned in, blade to Moe's face, and said, "You give me one reason and I'll kill you till you're a second from dying, then stop so these Kool-Aid drinking mother f.u.c.kers can decide when you get your last two breaths, you dig?"

Moe nodded. Boricio turned to the room, slipped the razor back in its plastic case and slid it into his pocket.

"You're all untied. That means you're all invited to be valuable members of Team Boricio. Now if you're not on Team Boricio, then that means you're on Team f.u.c.ker. And let me a.s.sure you, every single person on Team f.u.c.ker is gonna die. So," Boricio gave the group his biggest grin, "who wants to be on Team Boricio?"

Everyone nodded.

"No one does a thing without my say and only when I give it. I don't know who these people are or why they want us here, but I can a.s.sure you, any f.u.c.ker who walks through that door will be crawling out with a red smear behind them, if they're lucky enough to crawl at all."

Charlie laughed.

Boricio smiled. Kid had potential.

EDWARD KEENAN.

October 16, 2011 Early evening Cape Hope, North Carolina "What are we gonna do?" Teagan asked, as the helicopter grew from hum to thunder as it drew closer. "Where can we hide?"

"We can hide in here." Ed said. "But if they've got F.L.I.R., they'd still pick up the heat signature on the SUV's engine, exhaust, and brakes. If they've got ground troops, they'd come looking house to house."

"Are they looking for us?"

"Don't know," Ed said, "Maybe they're looking for survivors. Maybe they're here to help."

"You think?"

The pregnant teen stared at him, wanting to believe things might be okay. Ed didn't want to shatter her hopes.

He knew she was thinking of the dream where the men in helicopters came to take her baby. The more he considered it, the less credence he gave the supernatural nature of her dream. It was a first-time mother's fears of losing her child, that's all. Amplified in a young girl who found herself suddenly without parents, or anyone else to care for her.

Still, that quiet voice in the back of Ed's mind was there. Finely-tuned intuition: It isn't just a dream; listen to the girl. His intuition had always called bulls.h.i.t on anything superst.i.tious or psychic. But for some reason, its ears were perked now. Either she was sharper than he thought or he was growing dull.

"I dunno," Ed said. "I suggest we play it by ear. See what happens, prepare for the worst."

"The worst? What's that?"

"That they've come to harm us."

He ran to the car, grabbed the Remington 30-06 rifles and sh.e.l.ls he'd taken from the men at the gas station, and came back inside to prepare. He wished he'd had the foresight to break into a gun shop and load up on more weapons. But he hadn't exactly expected to go toe-to-toe with helicopters.

That's when he realized: the men in chopper were looking for him, not the girl. Why didn't I think of that before? Sure, he was probably presumed dead, and searches would be limited to the crash site and surrounding area unless evidence suggested he'd survived, but maybe someone had seen him and reported him to whatever authorities were still around. The rest of the world might be gone, but agents were roaches. Some survivors were a near certainty.

And now they are coming.

He couldn't take any chances. The men in the choppers might be there to help, but agents would say anything, show any face, to disarm you.

He'd have to act quickly, without question; fire the first chance he got. Like at the convenience store. And he'd have to prepare Teagan for what was going to happen.

"I need you to trust me on this," he said, meeting her frightened eyes. "If these guys are bad, or if I even think they're bad, I'm going to shoot, no questions. Understand?"

Teagan nodded.

Thunder grew louder.

Ed went to the window, peered through the curtain, and saw the chopper hovering above the trailer park, light sweeping the grounds. The chopper appeared to be a Uh-60 Blackhawk, which meant it wasn't likely scouring for people to save. There was room for maybe 11 troops in addition to two pilots and two crew chiefs, so even if they were flying with less troops, they couldn't be expecting to pick up too many people. Meaning they'd either specifically come for them, or to kill them. Of course, the chopper could be reporting to base or be flying in advance of a transport chopper, but Ed couldn't take the chance.

It's go time.

"Stay inside. Get whatever you need and get it now. Be ready to go in two minutes."

Ed stepped outside as the helicopter descended, raised his rifle and aimed at the c.o.c.kpit. The pilots saw the threat, spun the chopper sideways, and a soldier stood at the machine gun, taking aim at Ed.

Ed had one shot before he'd be torn to shreds. While the top rotor made an easier target, it would likely require a few shots. A rear blade hit could bring the bird down quicker, but the shot was next to impossible. He steadied his aim on the rear propeller, held his breath, and took the shot. He managed two shots, both hitting the rear blade, causing the copter to spin violently out of control, nose pointed toward the tree tops as the pilot tried to wrestle the copter to a safe landing.

Ed loaded more sh.e.l.ls into the rifle, then followed the chopper's descent to the beach as it crashed into the water. The top propeller, along with the tail of the chopper, split from the body like b.u.t.ter under blade and sent waves of debris flying toward the sand.

Ed waited for any sign of survivors, rifle ready. Two men emerged from the wreckage, dazed. Ed shot them both, one in the head and the other in the chest. Their bodies went limp then fell to the tide.

He waited two minutes worth of nothing, as most of the chopper remained underwater.

He ran back to Teagan's house, yelling, "Let's go!"