Yesterday's Gone: Season One

beneath the creature’s skin, pulsated brighter. Joe screamed as his body continued shaking as if being electrocuted.
    “Shoot it!” Brent yelled, not confident in his ability to get a clear shot.
    Luis screamed and ran toward the creature, gun raised. The monster threw Joe aside like a rag doll and brought its hands down to tackle Luis. Before Luis could take aim, Brent fired two shots — one hitting the monster’s torso, the other striking its head.
    The creature dropped immediately and Luis descended, firing another shot and finishing it off.
    Luis screamed, “Die motherfucker!”
    Brent, shaken, scanned around them for any sign of more creatures. Something moved in the fog above them and Brent fired into the sky.
    Luis raised his gun, “What? You see something?”
    “I’m not sure,” Brent said, heart pounding, eyes scanning the sky above as he circled his gun in all directions, praying nothing would pop up from a direction he wasn’t looking. “I thought I did.”
    From the ground, Joe moaned.
    “Shit!” Brent said, having forgotten that the old man was injured. He ran to Joe and noticed two things at once — the man’s eyes were white and milky, the pupils barely visible. Dark, painful looking splotches stained his head where the thing had touched his scalp.
    “Help,” Joe moaned, his jaw shaking, drool streaming from the corners of his mouth.
    Luis had the car’s passenger door open and they carried Joe and put him inside, Brent hopped into the back seat as Luis slammed shut the driver’s door and stepped on the gas, putting the shotgun on the center console.  
    “Are you okay?” Brent asked Joe, who was moaning something incoherent.
    Something was off about Joe’s voice. It had lost the Jamaican accent and sounded lower, words slurred.
    Luis stared at Joe, then shot a concerned look back at Brent.  
    “Mphrrr,” Joe mumbled, his voice sounding even more different than before. Joe’s head fell in a nod, chin on his chest, as he mumbled more.
    No, he didn’t look good at all. Brent put a hand on Joe’s shoulder and was about to ask if he was okay, when the man’s head shot up, turned back and looked at Brent with vacant white eyes, and said, “Daddy?”
    But it wasn’t Joe’s voice.  
    It was Ben’s.

    * * * *

CHARLIE WILKENS

    “I like you too,” Callie said with a smile, seemingly oblivious to what Charlie was trying to say.
    “No,” he said, “I like like you.”
    “Oh,” Callie said, her eyes widened in recognition. She paused, looking down to her hands. It was a longer pause than the one that usually comes before good news.  
    She finally met his eyes again, “Listen, Charlie...”
    Oh no.
    “I like you too. You’re a nice guy. But … I’m not really looking for a relationship.”
    He looked down, and could feel tears welling up.  
    Don’t you fucking cry!
    “Oh,” he said, not sure what else to say. “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be,” she said, reaching out across the chess board, putting a hand on his, “I’m flattered, I really am. But right now, with all this crazy shit that’s going on, the last thing I want is complications.”
    He didn’t say anything. Didn’t know what to say, or do.
    She went on, “You know how hard relationships are under normal circumstances, but this? This is zombies n’ stuff. We need to be strong if we’re gonna fight these things. And if things get weird, we lose whatever advantage we have. Besides, I wouldn’t want to risk our friendship, you know? Does this make sense?”
    Friend Zone, admission one.
    “Yeah,” he said, his eyes now watering.
    Fucking baby!
    He got up and left his room, embarrassed on too many levels.
    “Charlie,” she called, but he kept going. He didn’t want to make a dramatic exit, but at the same time, he felt if she were to stop him, he would collapse into tears. He walked downstairs, past Bob, who was passed out on the sofa, and outside into the night.
    Derek lived on a cul-de-sac with a dozen houses similar to Derek’s on the south end backing up to the Gulf of Mexico. He stared at the other houses, barely visible in the late hours. The house across the street was nice, also three stories. He ran to it, tried the front door, and was surprised to find it unlocked. He went inside, shut the door behind him, and locked it. He fell against the door and put his head in his hands and cried.
    Big fucking baby! If Bob could see you now!
    He hated himself for being so damned