Yesterday's Gone: Season One

civilization were shifting, if not disappearing entirely, and Boricio was starting to worry that he’d run out of gas right out there in the middle of the big empty. The radio was still mostly silent, except for the single station broadcasting the occasional static punctuated by the even rarer “Boricio.”
     
    The needle was dancing just above the red when Borico saw the impossible — a dull red Ford F150 pulled to the side of the road. An attractive, slightly heavy woman with a sheer sky-blue tee shirt and denim skirt was waving at Boricio as he slowed to a stop behind the open tailgate.  
     
    Fry me a fresh tortilla full of fuck yeah; are those her nipples pokin’ through? Day-um, they must be the size of a quarter and the goddamn thumb holding it!
     
    Boricio licked his lips and stepped from the late-model Honda Civic he had no memory of getting.  
     
    “Boy am I glad to see you,” the woman said, relief coating her dusty face. She smelled like a perfume this waitress he once fucked used to wear. Couldn’t remember the name of it, or the waitress, though.
     
    “Likewise, Ma’am. Been out here long? Need help? What can I do? I’m about on empty myself. You outta gas?” Boricio smiled behind his friendly rat-a-tat-tat.
     
    “I have close to a full tank. But the truck started rattling about 15 miles back and I got worried. Don’t know what I’d do if it flat out quit on me out here.”  
     
    “Yeah, you don’t wanna be stuck out here alone. Not with them creepers out there.”
     
    “The creepers?” Splotches of white bled through the blotches of red on her face.
     
    “Yeah, the creepers. They must be what up and replaced the people” Boricio tipped his head forward and then looked down. Ignorant yokel was one of his favorite masks. Seemed people liked believing that one, and Boricio liked to make it easy when appropriate.
     
    “What do they look like?”  
     
    “Well, that I don’t know,” Boricio scratched his head. “I haven’t actually seen them. But I know they’re there.” It was true, he hadn’t actually seen them, so much as sensed them in one of his many trips.
     
    The woman was scared, her eyes moving rapidly. Her voice rose an octave and fresh sweat beaded her forehead. Her breasts were heavy, covered in sweat and full against the tee. Boricio felt himself getting stiff, but he couldn’t rush it. This one had to last.  
     
    “You seen anyone else?” Boricio took a step back and leaned against the side of the Honda.  
     
    “Not since,” the woman choked, then fell to her knees and started to cry.  
     
    Boricio didn’t like this at all. No fun if they didn’t fight.  
     
    “Now, now,” Boricio knelt to one knee and put a hand on her back. “Everything’s gonna be okay; you’ll see.” Boricio moved in closer. “I’ve got a plan. Come with me. Everything will be okay.”  
     
    “What’s your name?”
     
    “Emil, Emil Branson.” Boricio held out his hand and the woman took it.  
     
    “Do you know where anyone else is?” she asked. He could tell she wanted a yes, to know he knew where others were. No problem there. He’d give her what she wanted, then take what was his.  
     
    “Sure do! Just heard a distress call on the CB. Small group, not more than 20 miles from here. Was racing to get there just as fast as this car’ll fly, until I happened on you.”  
     
    The woman met Boricio’s eyes. And that’s when he saw it. That ever-so-slight shift in the woman’s eyes. The same shift so many of his victims saw just before the end. He didn’t hear the person behind him until the last second.
     
    Christ.
     
    “I’m sorry,” she said.
     
    He felt the impact in the back of his skull and blacked out before he hit the ground.

    * * * *

 
    EDWARD KEENAN
     

     
    October 15, 2011
     
    early morning
     
    Somewhere in Ohio  
     

     

     
    Ed put the gun in his pants as soon as he saw that the only person in the abandoned car was an obviously unarmed and pregnant teenager. She was skinny (save for the belly) and on the mousy side, with long auburn hair covering most of her face. When she finally looked up, he did a double take. The girl was nearly the spitting image, though a younger version, of his daughter, Jade.
     
    “Are you okay?” he asked through the closed window. He didn’t want to spook her by opening the door.  
     
    She was crying and mouthing something he couldn’t hear through the rain which was drenching