Yesterday's Gone: Season One

once in the chest and then again in the head. The man fell back into the candy rack on the front of the cashier’s counter, dropping the rifle, which sent a shell into the fountain drink station.
     
    Ed jumped up, marched outside, gun aimed straight at the pickup, ready for anyone else.
     
    No others were there.
     
    He went back inside, opened the door to the cooler, and said, “Come on, we’ve gotta go. Hold my hand. Don’t look down.”
     

     
    **
     

     
    In the back of the pickup, Ed found a hose and some gas cans. He siphoned gas from the truck to the cans, then filled his SUV. He went back into the store, retrieved a few Cokes to wash away the taste of gasoline. He grabbed the Remington rifles and ammo, and tossed them into the back of the SUV.
     
    Once in the truck, he saw Teagan in tears.
     
    “Why did you shoot them? You didn’t even find out if they were good or bad.”
     
    “I couldn’t take the chance,” Ed said matter-of-factly, as he left the gas station and headed back into the storm.
     
    “You just ... shot them. Dead.”
     
    “Would you rather it was me? Or you?” Ed snapped, “Because those men had rifles. If they got my gun, then they had the advantage. They called the shots. And you’d have to do whatever the hell they told you to do. Men with power are hardly gentlemen in the normal world; you don’t want to know what they’re like when everything goes to shit.”
     
    Teagan shook her head, “I just can’t believe you...”
     
    Ed didn’t bother to say anything else. Either she’d get it or she wouldn’t. He didn’t have time to convince her. And to be honest with himself, he’d be better off if he didn’t have to worry about her. So if she got pissed and took off on her own, his life would be that much easier.
     
    He considered pushing her buttons, to get her to act, to get her to leave. Really piss her off. But when she looked at him again, so much like a younger Jade, and with such innocence in her eyes, and baby in her belly, he couldn’t be a dick. Couldn’t do what needed to be done.  
     
    He couldn’t flip The Switch.
     

    ****

 
    BRENT FOSTER
     

     

     
    They took West End Avenue to West 93 Street, then cut to Central Park, all the while, keeping an eye out for stranded cars, other people, or the nefarious creatures Brent had yet to see.  
     
    The fog had grown thicker, if that were even possible, turning Manhattan into an alien landscape where once globally recognized buildings and landmarks had moved from immediately identifiable to silhouettes of their original form. Everything had taken new shape — gloomy shadows shrouded in clouds of milky murk.
     
    Luis stopped the car along Central Park West and took out the two-way radios. Static fuzzed in the car. “You guys alright?” he said to Stan and Melora on the other end.
     
    “Yeah,” Stan said, voice excited, “Did you hear the radio?”
     
    “Don’t have it on,” Luis said. “What’s up?”
     
    “Turn it to 88.8 FM; there’s a broadcast.”
     
    “Okay, hold on,” Luis said, giving the radio life.
     
    There was static, but it wasn’t the empty static of a dead station. It was the lively static of an attempted broadcast.  
     
    A man’s voice, loud and strong: “Attention, survivors. The Department of Homeland Security has set up a safe zone on Black Island. We are running ferries from East Hampton Docks every four hours starting at 8 a.m. We advise anyone traveling to do so only during the day. We’ve had reports of strange sightings at night. Repeat: It is not safe to stay in the city. If you are indoors at night, we advise you to wait until morning to travel.”
     
    A long pause followed, then the recording looped and started over.
     
    “Black Island?” Brent said, “That’s the place where Homeland Security has a complex and research facility, right?”
     
    “One of a few islands like that out there, I think.”
     
    Luis picked up the two-way radio again, “Okay, Stan, we’re gonna drive around the park once more, then head back if you all want to get ready to go with us.”
     
    “Melora isn’t sure,” Stan said, “She’s thinking we should stay.”
     
    “Jesus,” Luis said, venting the frustration Brent was already feeling with the woman. “You’ve gotta do what’s right for you, Stanley. You think on it; try to talk her into coming. I’ll call back in half an hour. If you haven’t made up your mind by then, we’re going without