Yesterday's Gone: Season One

minutes.”
    Charlie and Adam nodded, then split, each one taking an opposite side of the hangar. Bullets smashed against the hanger’s corrugated metal walls, some bouncing off, some ripping through, as Boricio searched through four trucks and found exactly dick. He circled back to the first truck, and tore the large plastic panels from the top and bottom of the steering column and pulled the wiring from inside. He looked up just in time to see a survivalist fuck appear from nowhere, grabbing Charlie in a headlock and putting a gun to his head.  
    “Outta the truck!” the fucker yelled at Boricio.
    Boricio didn’t even need his thinking cap. Adam slipped behind the toady and bashed the fucker’s skull in with the bat.
    Team Boricio is getting better and better.  
    “Great job, boys!” Boricio hollered through the open window of the truck, slapping his hand on the roof. “One more minute and we’ll be outta this bitch!”
    Boricio dug his nail across the top of the wire’s coating until the metal was exposed, then twisted the ends together. The dashboard lights came on and Boricio howled again.  
    Charlie opened the hangar doors, as Adam fired shots outside. Boricio revved the engine and drove up to the doors. “Get in!” he yelled and Charlie and Adam each jumped in on opposite sides. Boricio floored the gas and the truck roared from the hanger.  
    Several dozen survivalist fucks were lined up near the front gate, waiting with rifles aimed and empty shells flying from the side as bullets tore through the night. At least another two dozen soldiers were spread throughout the compound and the entire place was lit like gay Christmas.  
    Boricio mowed through any survivalists stupid enough to stand in the way, keeping his head low as bullets kissed the metal in a symphony of deafening dings. Bullets that found the windshields hardly left a scratch.
    “Woo-hoo!” Boricio hollered. “Nice of them fuckers to armor the truck for us, eh boys?” He turned to the back seat. Adam was quiet but smiling. Charlie’s grin took up half the back seat.  
    Boricio spun the truck and aimed for the gate, which didn’t stand a chance when Boricio barreled through it going 40 MPH six seconds later.  
    The truck flew up and over the small lip at the edge of the gate, caught air, then landed on the street, fishtailing a bit before Boricio got control of the wheel. Damn, it felt good to hit concrete.  
    Boricio glanced in the rearview and saw another truck, surprisingly close behind.  
    “Ha!” Boricio laughed. “That all them redneck fuckers got? You boys ain’t worried, are you?” He turned to the back seat.  
    Adam looked behind him at the truck, then back up at Boricio and shook his head.
    Charlie leaned forward. “Anyone know how to use this thing?” He had a grenade in the palm of his hand. “I lifted it from the soldier in the garage after Adam shot him.”
    Boricio laughed then pounded the dashboard.  
    “Holy shit you little fucker! Look who just stepped up to claim MVP!” Boricio grinned at Charlie through the rearview. “Now I ain’t no expert, but I say you just lean out the window, pull the pin, release the spoon, then chuck that fucker behind you. Just make sure you throw it outside the window or we’re gonna be on the worst episode ever of Funniest Home Videos .”
    Charlie nodded, then rolled down the window, grinning ear to ear. “Die FUCKERS!” he yelled, pulling the pin and dropping the grenade onto the highway.  
    For a moment, it seemed as if nothing would happen. The truck was too close and it looked like Charlie dropped too early. But just as Boricio was starting to think he’d have to outdrive the fuckers, the grenade did its job, taking out the back of the gunmen’s truck, causing the truck’s headlights to swerve out of sight in the rearview.
    “Woo-hoo!” Boricio yelled. “If Moses saw the look on your two faces, he would’ve had to add an extra commandment!”
    They roared into the night, kings of the fucking road.  

    * * * *

BRENT FOSTER

    Brent had eaten both Pop-Tarts in the foil wrapper and was still hungry. He returned to the kitchen, grabbed a Twinkie, then sank back into his chair.
    He laughed at the cliché of eating a Twinkie at the end of the world. Truth was, he could think of far worse foods to be stuck with into an eternity. Like those cans of weird meat that looked like flesh from another planet. That would suck if that’s all there was left. He