Yesterday's Gone: Season One

 
    “He was a traitor, and we can’t be running with none like that,” Boricio said. “I ended him for all of us.”
    He looked through the room; sure as shit they all agreed.  
    “So we have to wait, but we have the advantage. Them fuckers out there don’t know what happened in here, and whoever walks through that door is gonna have to face all five players of Team Fucking Boricio.”
    Boricio gestured around the empty room. “As you can see, not counting Robin there, we don’t have any weapons other than these,” he held up his fists, “so that means we’re gonna have to make a decision, and we should do that before that door bitches open again. We can get the fuck out of here, or we can fight this shit out, stick around and get some goddamned answers. Seems like these cumdingers might know a thing or two. So who’s for fighting and who’s for staying?”
    Charlie said, “I want to fight.”
    “Me too.” Adam was nodding his head.
    Everyone else was silent.  
    Just as he figured, the two kids wanted to brawl while the old fuckers wanted to tuck it between their legs and bitch their way out of the blue.  
    Fine by me. Three’s company, anyway.  
    They spent six minutes standing: Boricio in front, bat in hand, Manny and Jack in the middle, Charlie and Adam in back.  
    The door whined open and Boricio smiled.  

    * * * *

MARY OLSON

    October 16
    Evening
    Belle Springs, Missouri

    Mary did nothing but helplessly stare as her daughter vacillated between writhing uncomfortably on the couch beneath thick layers of guttural moaning, and falling into long silences where she lay so still Mary had to check her breathing. It had been nearly 12 hours, maybe more since they’d found Paola. Mary had stopped paying attention to time as it seemed to slow to a crawl as her daughter lay on the verge of death.
    Moaning occasionally turned to murmurs, but never clear enough to inform Mary of what Paola was trying to say or what she might be dreaming. The murmurs were just enough to give Mary an icy chill — her daughter was in danger and she was powerless to do anything about it.
    Her dreams must have been vivid the way Paola was thrashing about. Her eyes had darted open, not once but twice, as if to protest the atrocities happening behind drawn lids.  
    Mary felt helpless, unable to do anything to help her. She couldn’t latch on to her daughter’s thoughts as she had been able to do increasingly over the years. Specific thoughts would be nice, the kind she occasionally overheard and would have done anything to hold on to now, but Mary would have gladly settled for the psychological equivalent of a pulse.  
    She’d read about amputees who could feel a tingling where their limbs once were. Doctors called it phantom limb syndrome. Made perfect sense to her. Why shouldn’t you feel the ghost of something that had been a part of you forever? Mary should be able to feel Paola, but her daughter wasn’t even a phantom.
    That was bad.
    Worse was outside.  
    When she and Desmond returned to the hotel with Paola, another of the creatures had been milling about the parking lot. Desmond opened fire, but missed the shot, shattering the glass lobby doors behind it. His second shot tore through the creature’s torso. A large chunk of its mid-section fell in wet chunks to the ground before the rest of the creature followed.
    At least the creatures were easy to kill. Or so they thought.  
    They went into the hotel, got Paola bundled in a bed, then barricaded the front door, leaving a space large enough to look out of, and shoot out of. Six hours passed until they saw another creature. After that, they started multiplying, more and more showing up every hour. Maybe a couple dozen were there when they went to sleep. At least twice that by morning. The number gained weight all day.  
    Mary stayed by Paola’s side while Jimmy, John and Desmond took turns with two-man guard duty. The creatures were congregating at the far edges of the parking lot, as though an invisible retaining wall were holding them at bay. The wall seemed to work just fine until early twilight when a trio of the beasts were suddenly standing just outside the lobby doors.  
    John was first to notice, and act, running outside and emptying his gun into the creatures. Jimmy and Desmond joined the volley, and the three of them managed to hold off the threat. And while nobody mentioned it, they all must have realized it had taken more bullets than