Yesterday's Gone: Season One

looked like she wanted to argue, but didn’t. Just stared out the window, like any other teenager who thinks the world, and God’s judgment, revolved around her.
    “Maybe we’re not on Earth,” she said after a few minutes of thought. “Maybe the reason there’s not a ton of people around is because we’re in purgatory. Not bad people, necessarily, but not good enough to get into heaven.”
    “I doubt it,” Ed said, “I can’t imagine a jury of angels debating whether or not I was a good person. If God had anything to do with this, I’d be in hell right now, trust me. And while we’re in the Deep South, and some might argue otherwise, this is hardly hell.”
    Teagan laughed.
    Ed was relieved when she closed her eyes. He didn’t really want to explore their situation more than he’d already done a hundred times in his mind. He had no idea where everyone went. But there had to be a scientific explanation. Something that made sense. The problem with science was that it left so many things in the air. Despite millennia of theology and centuries of science, the world had expired before finding answers to life’s biggest questions.
    Maybe what happened wouldn’t come with a pat answer. Maybe they’d just have to learn and adapt on the fly, like humans had always done.  
    Evolve or die.

    * *  

    11:20 p.m.  
    Winding, Georgia

    Jade lived in an apartment building that catered mostly to college students and young people in the town’s thriving service industry. What it lacked in architectural style (a giant dorm-style five-story building), it made up for by being well-maintained and on the nicer side of town. Hers was one of four identical buildings surrounding a large parking lot, packed with cars, most of which had student parking decals and stickers of trendy bands slapped across their rear windows.
    From outside, Ed didn’t see any lights in the windows or sense anyone inside, deflating the small hope he’d reluctantly allowed to swell in his heart.  
    Teagan woke from her nap in the passenger seat, and said, “We’re here?”
    “Yeah,” Ed parked the SUV behind a row of cars closest to Building B. “Looks deserted.”
    Ed grabbed his pistol, shoved it in his waistband, then opened the door. He grabbed a duffel bag from the back seat, filled with flashlights, food, and tools, including a crow bar, then headed toward the building’s entrance. Teagan followed.
    On the front double glass doors, was a sheet of white paper taped to the inside, facing out. On it, large letters written in royal blue marker.

    “Survivors - Meet Us In Room 410.”

    The handwriting looked like a woman’s, though Ed couldn’t be sure it was Jade’s. A long time had passed since he’d seen her writing, 10 years, at least.
    Ed handed a flashlight to Teagan, then took one for himself and pushed through the doors. The hallway was dark except for a small red EXIT sign at the other end. He shined his light down the hall and his heart nearly stopped.
    Every door was open as if someone had gone into each of the rooms searching for something. Looters?
    “Wait here,” he whispered to Teagan, advancing down the hall with his gun drawn and flashlight scanning the darkness.
    He held the gun and light as though a single instrument, one to banish the dark and the other to blast it to hell.
    The rooms weren’t looted, or in any way destroyed. Perhaps just the product of someone looking for others. Maybe Jade had opened the doors and was now in Room 410, he allowed himself to hope, though his cold inner cynic warned him not to let his expectations carry him away. He searched four rooms before surrendering to his instincts, and the evidence at hand — no others were on this floor.
    He found the stairwell at the end of the hall, beneath the EXIT sign, and called for Teagan to follow.
    The second floor was the same as the first, open doors, including Jade’s at 205.
    He entered her apartment, gun down. Her walls were dark red with giant prints of foreign movies. A black sectional with a pillow and blanket was rumpled in the rough shape of a comma. He wondered if that’s where Jade had fallen to sleep, watching TV before she vanished.  
    “Which room is hers?” Teagan asked, looking at two doors, both open.
    “I dunno. I’ve never been here.”
    “Oh,” Teagan said.
    Ed went into the smaller of the two rooms. Slightly messy, lots of pillows on the unmade bed, and ... the blue unicorn they’d given her when she was a