Yesterday's Gone: Season One

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 cluster 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 fuck 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 fucker. 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 fuck you know my name, kid?”
    “Sorry,” he said, “I’m... I’m not sure what I meant.”  
    A controlled rage rumbled inside Boricio. “The fuck you talking about, boy? You said my name clear as fucking 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 fuck? 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 fucking cunt and that nobody fucks with Boricio. You also said that the only thing to do when you find a pussy is to fuck 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 fuck me silly. Looks like Benedict Arnold might be onto something with this Waco mother fucker and the dream machine.
    “No crazy talk,” Boricio said, relaxing his grip on the kid’s throat. “I don’t have time for bullshit, 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 asshole. 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 fucked her in the pool. Stole her away from me. So fuck him like the rest of the world.” Charlie drew a quick breath, then added, “And fuck 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 shit 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,