Yesterday's Gone: Season One

great.”
    Neither highlighted the growing certainty that Jade would be gone, like everyone else. But still, if the two yokels at the gas station had survived, there had to be others. Maybe whatever happened hadn’t affected Georgia or Florida.
    “Go ahead and get whatever you want to bring and we’ll head out in a few minutes.”
    Ed stood in the doorway, enjoying the sound of ocean waves and the smell of saltwater. It was the first time the world felt close to normal since the crash. He considered walking the path to the beach and sitting in the sand. It had been forever since he’d just sat on a beach and let the sound of waves, wind, and gulls set him at ease.
    That’s when he realized there weren’t any gulls, or birds of any kind.
    That’s weird.
    As he strained to hear over the waves, he picked up on the undeniable sound in the distance.
    A helicopter.
    They’re coming for her baby.

    * * * *

BRENT FOSTER

    Three quick knocks followed the first set as Luis and Brent traded glances.
    “Do you think it’s the aliens?” Luis whispered.
    Brent shrugged his shoulders, uncertain what to do. If they didn’t answer, the person, whoever it was, would leave. But was it a person, or something else?
    Another knock, followed by a whisper, “Hello?”
    A man’s voice, familiar, but Brent couldn’t quite place it.
    “Hello?” Brent asked.
    “Mr. Foster? Is that you?” a vaguely Jamaican sounding voice asked.
    “Yeah,” Brent said, trying to match the voice to a face or name.
    “It’s Joe from maintenance.”
    Joe was the elder of the building’s two maintenance men; a tall, thin man who had to be pushing 65, though he looked 10 years younger. He was always super nice to Ben, who called him Mr. Joe, whenever Joe came to the apartment to fix something.
    Luis and Brent pulled the fridge away and unlocked the door.
    Joe was in his red maintenance uniform, like always. But he looked 100 years older.
    “Come in,” Brent said, “This is Luis from across the street.”
    Joe smiled, and walked in, limping.  
    As Luis locked the door, Brent asked, “Are you okay?”
    “Do you have any rice?”
    “What?” Brent asked confused.
    “Rice, I need some rice. Right away.”
    “You’re hungry?” Brent asked, thinking Joe was injured and confused.
    “No, not to eat, to keep them away.”
    “To keep what away?” Luis asked.
    “The jumbees. Rice will preoccupy them. You pour it outside your door.”
    “What are jumbees?” Brent said.
    “Do you have rice or not?” Joe asked, raising his voice, though it was edged with fear, not anger.
    Brent grabbed a bag of white rice from the pantry and handed it to Joe, who asked Luis to open the door. Joe poured half the bag onto the ground just outside the door, then turned to Brent and said, “Do you have another bag?”
    “Yeah,” Brent said.
    “Good,” Joe said, pouring the rest of the first bag on the ground. He came back inside. “You can lock it now.”
    Luis did so.
    “What are jumbees? And what’s with the rice?” Brent asked as he ushered Joe to the couch to get off his injured foot.
    “Jumbees are evil spirits. I used to think they were just old island folklore that my mother would go on and on about, but then I saw two of them tonight.”
    “What do they look like?” Luis asked.
    “Jumbees can take different forms, but the things I saw on the street tonight, were dark, deformed, monstrous jumbees. They came after me, but I got away.”
    “You ran?” Brent asked, surprised Joe was able to get away.
    “Yes. But they were also distracted. They saw someone else on the street and … they…” Joe looked down, like he might not finish the sentence. “They tore her up.”
    “ Her ?” Brent asked, fear stirring in his guts, “Who did they get? Did you know her?”
    “No,” Joe said, “A young Puerto Rican girl, maybe 20, I don’t know. Nobody from this building, I don’t think. They ripped her apart, though, limb from limb like some kind of wolves or something. Eating her.”
    Brent released the breath he’d been holding.
    “How does the rice distract them?” Luis asked.
    “The rice is supposed to slow them down. Jumbees are like kids passing a candy store. If they see a bunch of stuff spilled, they have to stop and count it. By the time they’re done counting, daylight comes and they have to return to the spirit world.”
    Brent and Luis exchanged a sounds-like-bullshit glance.
    “I don’t think those things are jumbees,”