Yesterday's Gone: Season One

you.”
     
    Luis looked at Brent, as if only realizing at that moment he’d forgotten to ask if Brent was coming along.
     
    Brent nodded, but as Luis ended the call, he remembered his midnight commitment.  
     
    “Shit, I can’t go. Not tonight, anyway. I left a note for Gina saying I’d be back at midnight.”
     
    “Yeah, but if she’s not there when you get home, you know she didn’t see the note, and you can leave a new one telling her where we went.”
     
    “Yeah,” Brent said, “but what if she came and then left? And she came back again at midnight looking for me?”
     
    “You don’t think she’d leave a note, or hell, just wait for you?”
     
    “I suppose,” Brent said. Luis made a good point. If Gina had come home, she wouldn’t leave. And if she did leave, she would definitely write a note updating Brent on her status. She left notes for everything; she’d definitely leave one when the world was circling the drain.
     
    Yeah, well where’s the note when you woke up?
     
    Not the same — she was probably outside when shit went down.
     
    Outside at 2:15 a.m.? Come on, face the facts.
     
    Well shit for dinner, you got me there.    
     
    “I’ll think on it and have my mind made up by the time we get back. Worse comes to worse, I’ll catch up with you next day.”
     
    “Um, hell no,” Luis said, “We’re in this shit together. You wait till tomorrow, I wait.”
     
    Brent smiled, “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”
     

     
    **
     

     
    Not seeing anyone, they decided to drive back to Brent’s, listening to the radio the whole way, even if it was the same message on repeat. Something was reassuring about authority establishing some form of control and safety.
     
    “Why do you think that’s the only safe zone?” Luis asked. “I mean, there’s a million easier places to get to than Black Island, right?”
     
    “Maybe that’s why. Maybe its remote location makes it the only safe place left? Maybe those creatures, aliens, whatever, can’t cross water?”
     
    “Can’t cross water, but they can appear over people’s beds and snatch them up in the middle of the night?”
     
    “Well, that’s assuming we’re not dealing with two different things altogether,” Brent suggested.
     
    “Or maybe the cloud things are like those things on Star Trek , teleportation devices? They zap us up to their spaceships and then come down and hunt the rest of us?”
     
    “I dunno,” Brent said, shaking his head, “I’m just not thinking they’re aliens. It just seems, I dunno, so unlikely.”
     
    “Any more unlikely than people vanishing?”
     
    “No,” Brent said, as they got out of the car and headed toward his building.
     
    They glanced at Stan’s apartment building. “Wanna meet me over there when you’re done?”  
     
    Brent shook his head. “Nah, you can come up. Maybe you’ll get to meet my family.”
     

     
    **
     

     
    When they reached Brent’s apartment, his heart swelled at the sight of his open door.
     
    They’re home!  
     
    He was halfway to the door when Luis yanked him back with one giant arm, “I take it your door was closed when you left?” he whispered.
     
    “Yeah,” Brent said, unable to wipe the goofy grin from his face.  
     
    “It might not be them in your house,” Luis warned, his eyes void of any prior humor or warmth. Nothing but business.  
     
    Brent swallowed, embarrassed by his childish optimism. He was normally a cynical bastard, and should have known better than to see an open door as a sign of fortune.
     
    “Call to them,” Luis whispered, gun ready.
     
    “Don’t shoot until you’re sure it’s not people,” Brent said, stepping in front of Luis. “Please. No accidents.”
     
    “Don’t worry,” Luis said, “I won’t pull the trigger unless one of them is on you.”
     
    “Thanks,” Brent said, as he moved closer to the door, looking inside, but seeing nobody in his apartment. “Hello? Gina? Ben? I’m home.”
     
    Nothing.
     
    “Hello?!”
     
    He stepped toward the doorway, acutely aware of Luis at his back. He moved with slow intent, maintaining distance between Luis and his family, as he navigated the entrance hall.
     
    His heart choked when he saw the disaster scattered in his living room. The dining room table was on its side, chairs were everywhere, some broken. It was like a rugby team had run into the living room, trampled the table, grabbed a few chairs and threw them across the