Yesterday's Gone: Season One

boats — save for what looked like three ships sitting out as far as his eyes would go — wasn’t on his radar at all.  
    If it had been bobbing in the middle of the Mississippi by last sundown, it was gone now.  
    Looks like it’s time to get the fuck out of Dodge.  
    A minute later Boricio was back behind the wheel, with the siren at full bray and the cruiser’s odometer kissing red, headed back into the business district. To see so many buildings, a city that was always busy like this, dead, was a mind fuck like no other.

    **

    After a few miles of nothing, Boricio found himself playing “I Spy” with his sanity. The empty outside was bad enough, but the shit he couldn’t put his finger on was a chronic case of Crabs worse. People were missing, but now it seemed like shit was missing, too. And he didn’t know what. He could feel things gone, but couldn’t put his finger on what they were. Like memories he couldn’t withdraw from his bank.  
    He knew billboards were missing, but wasn’t sure which. Seemed like all the chain shit was still there, though. Boricio flew by a billboard for Applebee’s advertising their new Stacked, Stuffed, and Topped “Entrees You Deserve!”  
    That right there’s a swinging sack of crap, especially in New Fucking Orleans. Not like the slop makes you sick, but it’s always cold, crappy, or served by some curly cunt hair pimply faced fuck who spends 40 minutes giving you the WhatTheFuck? eye. Plus, the pussy up in there is always too old or too young. Never just right. If the world is dead, at least it took Applebee’s with it.  
    Boricio whistled as he flew by the missing church that everyone knew wasn’t really a church. That one he knew was missing. The big billboard was still there, but other than that , it was just a big empty nothing sitting on the side of the street.
    Well, how about that!! Crazy, fucking shit.  
    Boricio kept fiddling with the radio. Nothing. Hell, he’d settle for Top 40 right about now, but the nothing on the radio and the nothing on the scanner matched the nothing in the air and all the nothing he’d been driving by.
    He was about to drive back home; he’d thought of a few people’s places he’d like to break into if they weren’t there. Some people that had some good shit that could keep him high for months. But then, in the middle of the street was a pickup. Unlike the countless other vehicles he’d passed, this one had a passenger standing next to it. The guy was waving for help.
    Yee. Fucking. Haw.
    Boricio slowed to a stop and gave the siren a celebratory blare as he pulled beside the stranded motorist. The pickup was less than a year old and the dude with the fresh haircut standing next to it was wearing clothes that still held their store-bought creases.  
    What kind of asshole puts on new clothes to meet the seven fucking horsemen?  
    Boricio lowered the window, then leaned his head out and smiled. “Morning, Sir. Need any help?”  
    The motorist nodded. “Thanks officer, you’re the first car I’ve seen pass in the last two hours. Any idea what’s happening?”
    “Haven’t a clue,” Boricio stepped from the cruiser, closed the door behind him, and leaned against the black and white. “Been responding to calls all morning. Didn’t even have time to get my uniform on proper.” Boricio gestured at his dirty jeans and the faded indigo polo with a tear on the collar. “Where you from?”
    “Gretna, but there’s no one there now. Whole city seems to have disappeared. Same here, I see?”
    “Bout half the town’s gone missing,” Boricio chewed on the lie, “They sent the rest of us south on reconnaissance. I’m sure happy to have found you. I was about to turn around.”
    “Any idea what’s going on?”
    “Nothing for sure, though we got a call from the feds around 4:00 a.m. saying there was some strange happenings started last night over in Nevada. Nothing certain, but you can imagine how the rumors are flying.” Boricio had to swallow his grin, looking at the idiot with the brand new clothes wrestling the idea he’d put there.  
    “You think it’s some kinda ... alien thing?”  
    “Probably. Seems like Hollywood’s been predicting somethin’ like this forever.” Boricio ran his hands through his thick hair then looked up and down both sides of the street. Nobody else in sight.
    Time to figure out if this fuck knows anything worth knowing.  
    “I need to check in with dispatch.