Yesterday's Gone: Season One Part 47

It's fine, Jimmy. Let's just get going. You were only trying to help.

Thanks, Jimmy. Everyone needs me. Thanks a lot for helping me see that.

Though John was all but evicted from his mind, It could still access how John would respond to stimulus. It was intrigued that John would have probably throttled his instincts, choosing what he should say, rather than what he wanted to.

How weak, pathetic, and temporary. Thoughts built from bent willow could barely stand against a breathing wind. This species deserved its departure.

"Thanks, Jimmy. Everyone needs me. Thanks a lot for helping me see that."

John smiled, keeping his nature buried, though he could tell that the man-child felt a bristle at the base of his neck.

"Thanks for saying that, man. Really. I appreciate it," Jimmy said with a nervous grin. "You know I've nothing but respect; I just want us all to get along. And it kills me to see you throwing down shots like you were last night. Reminds me of my Uncle Micky, and believe me, you start drinking like Uncle Micky, nothing ends well."

John stared at the man-boy, transfixed. He should have been filing through verbal records so he could fill the air with blather, but he had wandered down an unexpected memory.

The sh.e.l.l is just a boy. His father is drinking. His eyes are red and hair a mess. The woman beside him, the sh.e.l.l's mother, is holding her nose.

The atmosphere is lead. The sorrow thick. Air sour.

"Hey Jimmy," Desmond said, approaching from behind. "I need you on the second floor while we start moving out. Eyes out the window, okay."

Growl....BarkBarkBarkBark...Growl... The dog was barking.

The dog could see that John was not himself. Fortunately, the people didn't understand the dog's warnings.

"Thanks, Jimmy." Desmond turned to John. "Everything okay?"

Get the f.u.c.k out of my face, Desmond.

Sure thing, boss. Just taking a minute to mourn, if that's okay with you.

I'm great, thanks.

Yes, of course. Why wouldn't it be?

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, you had a pretty rough night last night, and you seem...I don't know, off this morning. I'm sure it's a ma.s.sive migraine on an empty stomach, but I've not seen you eat anything. Like I said last night, I just want to help. You think of a way I can do that, let me know, and it's half-done already, okay?"

What's your endgame, boss? What's in it for YOU?

You could pay more attention to getting us out of here than you do to Mother Mary.

Thanks, Desmond. I'm good.

I appreciate your concern and will work harder to be one of the team from now on.

"I appreciate your concern and will work harder to be one of the team from now on."

The dangerous one took a step back, wrestling his expression.

Being a human required more than words and motions. John had yet to absorb the subtleties. What he was trying to say wasn't getting the reactions he expected.

"How about we get you something to eat. An empty stomach can't be helping." Desmond said.

Is that why I'm burning? Because the sh.e.l.l is famished? How useless - a mind dependent on a bottomless sh.e.l.l for survival.

The dangerous one disappeared, then returned a few minutes later with a banana, crackers and a bottle of water. "Here you go," he said, handing them to John. "Sorry about the banana. Nothing we can do about fruit getting old, except maybe get out of here and start growing our own." He smiled awkwardly. "Alright, be ready to leave in 10 minutes, okay?"

You can kiss my a.s.s in 10 minutes.

Thanks for the banana. I'll never be hungry again.

Sounds good.

Thanks for everything, I feel much better now. Ready to go when you are.

"Sounds good."

The man-boy ran into the lobby. "You guys are gonna want to see this," he said. He turned, ran back toward the stairs, then sprinted a flight to the window on the other side of the second floor door. The dangerous one, the old man, the mother and daughter, the boy-child and the dog all followed, with John close behind.

Why am I burning. It shouldn't be this HOT.

"Christ on a cross," the dangerous one said. "When did this happen?"

"I've no idea," the man-child shook his head. "They've more than quadrupled in the past half hour."

Everyone stared as what the humans had called "bleakers" had packed the parking lot hundreds strong.

John smiled. His legion was growing stronger by the second.

They know; that's why they're coming. To help usher in the change.

But he wasn't ready, not yet.

The dog: Growl....BarkBarkBarkBark...Growl...

Furious shrieks were followed by a low growl of uncurling hatred.

Will said, "Looks like Lord Vader doesn't like them bleakers at all!"

But the rat wasn't looking out the window, its snarl was curled at John; teeth bared, saliva pouring from the open side.

"Luca," Will said, "would you mind taking the dog downstairs so we can figure out what to do?"

"Okay," the boy buried his fingers in the dog's coat and led it toward the stairs. The daughter followed.

"So what do you think?" The old man, the one who sometimes saw things, was looking at the dangerous one as though he was the only one in the room. The sh.e.l.l's disdain for Desmond tainted Its perception of Desmond, also. An unsettling realization for John, that the human's feelings could effect Its perceptions. How limiting, to be so easily swayed by perceptions. Maybe I can use that to my advantage in dealing with these creatures.

The dangerous one shook his head. "I don't know. Seems like it's too risky to leave now. But if they're growing that fast and have us in their sights, maybe it's a bigger risk to stay." Desmond looked out the window again, then tilted his neck and peered as far as he could in the other direction. "Christ, I can't even see where they end."

BARK...RUFF RUFF...BARK...RUFF RUFF.

John could still hear the dog barking a floor below. He wondered why the dog had not just attacked him the moment it noticed the ruse. Do dogs also throttle their desires?

The room rained with flames only John could feel. His head was in pain and he felt like the contents of his stomach might spill out at any moment.

The man-boy spoke. "It's not just me. You guys all feel that, right? Like something really, really bad's about to happen."

Mary turned to the old man. "Still think the bleakers aren't much of a threat?"

The old man shook his head. "My theory just expired."

"What changed?" The dangerous one's mouth was open, but the man-boy made the words first.

"I don't have a foggy," Will answered. "But something definitely has. Their power is growing, and so are their numbers. We all feel it. What I don't like is the tone."

Perhaps the humans aren't as deaf to such things as they seemed.

"The tone?" Desmond said.

"Yeah," the old man nodded, "the tone. It's different. I always felt like they were waiting, but now I feel like they know what they're waiting for. Like they were lost. But now they're found."

"Amazing grace," Desmond said with a sigh.

"Will's right," Mary said. "I feel it too."

The dangerous one looked helpless. He turned to John.

"What do you think?"

Thanks for giving a s.h.i.t about my opinion when there's no right answer.

It never mattered before. Why bother to ask now?

I think we should stay a little longer and see what happens. Please excuse me; I need to use the restroom.

You know best. We should probably stay, but if you think we should go, I'm right there behind you.

"I think we should stay a little longer and see what happens. Please excuse me; I need to use the restroom."

Everyone stared at John, mouths open as he turned and headed for his room.

John went into the room, closed the door, then into the bathroom where he plugged the tub and filled it with water.

He peeled the clothes from the sh.e.l.l then stepped into the bath, letting water flood the sh.e.l.l's face as John went underwater.

Finally.

The water was cool against its skin. The sh.e.l.l was over-heating. John was over-taxing its available memory. The water soothed John, cooled the body several degrees, clearing his mind long enough to let him see his next move with clarity. John sat up in the tub.

It would stay, and foster its growing strength as long as possible. After all, they were coming for him, and if It lingered long enough, It would have the planet to command.

Cancers were born from a single putrid cell, but soon enough, they seeped into every crevice of the system. John smiled. It would be fun, doing what It had been born to do.

TEAGAN.

Oct 17 morning Winding, Georgia Teagan screamed as Ed fell to the ground, clutching at the darts still loosely dangling from his flesh.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Jade screamed.

Ed moaned, trying to crawl toward the group.

Another dart flew through the window and hit the wall. Ken shouted, "Get down!"

He dropped to the floor, crawled to Ed, who was now motionless, and felt for a pulse. "He's alive," Ken said, clutching a rag over the b.l.o.o.d.y wound on his left shoulder where he'd been bit.

Jade ran hunched to the table where Ed had set his pistols, then took one for herself and slid the other to Ken.

"You know how to use one of these?" Jade asked Teagan, who shook her head. Jade crawled to her father, pulled the darts from his chest, then threw them to the ground.

"I shot two of those alien-looking things, not bad for a beginner." Ken said in a loud whisper as he crawled beside Jade and tried to peer outside without getting shot through the window.

"Who's shooting at us?" Teagan asked, hands over her suddenly kicking baby.

"Well, not the aliens," Ken said.

Teagan thought of the dream - the men in the helicopter coming for her baby. Maybe this was them. Her heart raced as she mentally scoured the room for a hiding place. But the room was too small with nowhere to hide.

"Come out with your hands up," a loudspeaker's voice blurted outside.

Ken, Jade, and Teagan exchanged confused glances.

"This has to be because of my dad," Jade said to the others. "Who's out there?!" she shouted out the window.

A firm voice: "We won't ask again. Come out now, hands in the air. Or we will move in with force."

Ken strained to peer out the window then ducked back down, "Men in black uniforms, black vans. They look official."