Yesterday's Gone: Season One

his fucking skull in. But this wasn’t a dream. This was the real world. And in the real world, the real Charlie Wilkens was neither a bad ass nor a hero. He didn’t know dick about dick, and still needed Bob’s skills if he was going to survive.
    Asshole that Bob was, he knew how to fix things, hunt, and all the shit survivalist types know. Charlie was an ignorant child who couldn’t last a day in the real world.  
    And like the pussy he was, he went home with his tail between his legs.

    **

    Charlie was crossing the street, wondering how worried Callie would be when she woke to see he wasn’t there. Maybe Bob would be worried, too. Maybe he’d feel bad for being such a dick. Or maybe he would be mad that Charlie left and was gone all night. Who knew? The coin could land on either side with Bob.
    But Callie, Charlie was sure, would be missing him. Maybe that would soothe the awkwardness between them a bit, he hoped.
    The front door was unlocked just as he’d left it last night. He walked in, surprised that Bob wasn’t still on the sofa sleeping off his drunk. He went to the kitchen, nobody there. He was about to go upstairs when he heard Bob laughing from out back.
    Two large tinted windows looking out onto the back patio. Bob and Callie were splashing in the pool.
    Did they even notice that I was fucking gone?
    Callie dunked Bob under and he grabbed her, pulling her down with him. When they came up, they were kissing. A long kiss and Callie wasn’t breaking away.
    Charlie stared, not willing to believe what he was seeing.
    How could she? Why? Why Bob?
    His heart pounded so loud, hard, and fast, he could feel it through his entire body. He wanted to run, wanted to scream, wanted to do anything other than stand there mute and paralyzed as he watched them kiss. Callie’s arms locked around Bob and he lifted her up slightly, and reached down.  
    He’s fucking her right there in the pool!
    Charlie could feel his nostrils flaring, rage coursing through his veins. An idea came to him, then spun him around and sent him to the living room where the shotgun lay propped against the sofa.
    He picked it up. Bob had taught him how to load it and fire it. Charlie hoped he was good enough not to miss.  
    Charlie went to the kitchen, cocked the shotgun, and raised it, aiming at the couple in the pool. His finger curled around the trigger as his heart pounded louder, so loud, he could hear it in his ears, drowning out everything else.
    He tightened his grip and leveled the gun. Callie opened her eyes, looking at the window. He didn’t think she saw him, but he had seen her eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes that looked like she was looking past him into some distance he could not see. Charlie felt a tug at his heart which he couldn’t ignore.
    He closed his eyes, then turned away from the window, lowering the gun.
    Charlie ran upstairs instead, grabbed one of his duffel bags, filled it with some food, some comics, a couple of pistols, some bullets, and kept the shotgun. Then he grabbed the keys to Derek’s Toyota and drove as fast and far as he could, tears in his eyes.

    **

    As Charlie drove, he replayed the events in his head over and over again, wondering how long Callie had liked Bob. Wondering why she didn’t tell him. Wondering if she was just using both of them, sticking with whichever one would provide a better chance of survival. If that were the case, Bob had Charlie beat by a long shot.
    He wanted to be mad, was mad , but at the same time, he couldn’t ignore biological imperatives. If the world really did flush all the people away, then it was survival of the fittest again. And a big ape like Bob was at the top of the food chain. He would get the best of everything, including the women. He’d get them despite the fact they were nothing more to him than things to fuck, use, and abuse.
    The more things change, the more they seem the same.

    **

    Charlie was about an hour or so into Alabama, driving along the highway, jamming to a Tool CD. Neither Derek nor his lover seemed like the typical Tool fan, but who was Charlie to judge. People surprised him every day. At least this was a pleasant surprise.
    He banged on the steering wheel to the throbbing drum tracks of Forty Six and Two , letting his rage out through music — the only therapy he believed in.
    He wasn’t sure where he was going, but would drive until he found something. He didn’t know anyone outside of Florida, except his grandmother in New