Yesterday's Gone: Season One

before to bring down the creatures. Especially since the creatures seemed to be multiplying in numbers as the hours ticked by.
    If Paola was better, it’d be different. At least then they’d have a chance to run. The creatures didn’t seem terribly fast.  
    Yet as long as Paola was in this state, they couldn't leave. Though Mary couldn’t hear or even feel any of her daughter’s thoughts, she felt like Paola was ... waiting for something. Perhaps it was Mary’s imagination, wishful thinking, or just trying to hold onto anything and afraid to do anything wrong, but the sensation was strong. Paola was waiting... for something.
    Desmond was suddenly behind her. “How you doing?”  
    She looked up, happy he was checking on her again.  
    Her smile was weak, but stronger than she felt. “Worried about Paola. What did you find out?”
    “There’s a bunch of bleakers…”
    “Bleakers?” Mary asked.
    “Yeah, that’s what Jimmy’s callin’ them, and the name kinda stuck. Anyway, there’s a bunch still huddled around the Suburban and the cargo van, maybe 10 total. I’ve been watching them. Odd as it sounds, I think they’re getting stronger, faster, maybe even smarter. I’m thinking we take them out, back the cargo van into the hotel, to hell with the front doors and the body of the van, throw a mattress in back for Paola, then hit the road in a hurry. We leave first thing in the morning.”
    “Okay,” Mary wasn’t thrilled but didn’t want to explain that she wanted to wait, because she felt silly. Besides, Desmond seemed so full of hope as he laid out his plan.
    “Desmond?”
    “Yeah?”
    “What do you think happened?”
    He sighed, then sat next to Mary on the couch. “You’re starting to make me feel bad every time you ask me. I wish I had a different answer, but I just don’t.”
    “That scares me more than anything. You have a cargo van and guns, but you’re not the survivalist type. You’re the sharpest guy I know, and I’m sure you at least have a theory. Why are you so scared to tell me what it is?”
    “I’m not scared; I just don’t want to speculate. Information is everything. When you give the wrong information, even once, people trust you less.”
    “Sorry, Desmond, but your business is dead. If you have a theory, I want to hear. Come on, don’t be stingy. Maybe whatever you say will be good enough to make me feel fine throwing my comatose child in the back of a cargo van while ‘bleakers’ wait outside to kill us.”
    “Well how can I argue with that.” Desmond stood. “Mind if I pour us an evening glass? I promise I’ll drink just enough for good theory, but not enough to dull my rather awesome bleaker-killing abilities.”
    It felt good to laugh, so Mary was glad when she didn’t hold it in.  
    “Yes, please. Make it two.”
    Desmond was back a moment later with two full glasses of Pinot noir.  
    “Here ya’ go.”
    He made her wait behind a long sip, then said, “Okay, now remember, I have no idea here, so I don’t even count this as theory since that implies a hypothesis which would require an educated guess at least. This is me talking entirely out of my ass. Unmitigated bullshit. I love theory; I just don’t like talking about it. At least not before I can link theory to facts. Before then, it’s just popcorn. Yummy, but no nutritional value.”
    “Not everything has to have nutritional value,” Mary said. “Sometimes popcorn is great just because that’s the best way to watch Amelie .”  
    “True,” Desmond smiled, raised his glass, took another long sip of wine, then continued. “What if this is the planet’s way of starting over? Maybe Mother Nature is sending us back to dusty roads and wooden wheels, and it’s all for a reason.”  
    Mary took a sip of wine and looked curiously at Desmond.  
    “The technological achievements of the last decade are staggering. We may not have jet packs and moving sidewalks like The Jetson’s promised, but we have video conferencing and a ton of stuff Hanna Barbara couldn’t imagine. Yet, the more people get, the more they want. And the less happy they are with what they already have.”  
    Desmond paused, took another sip, then set his glass on the end table beside him. “Do you know about Moore’s Law?”
    “Is that the one about technology doubling every five years, or something like that?”
    “Sort of. I’m gonna get geeky, okay? Moore's Law states that the number of transistors you can