Yesterday's Gone: Season One

Walking decide, give him a chance to live another small while just to be a good sport. But if he wants to live, he’ll have to be a good puppy and show me.
    “What’s up dipshit?” Another slap on the side of Boricio’s ear.  
    “I’m sorry about earlier, Sir. Really I am.” Boricio kept his hands behind his back, laying flat on the mat. “I meant no disrespect. I’m just awful scared. These last couple of days have been terrible hard, and I sure didn’t expect to get thrown in here on top of it all.”
    “Aww, shucks, well ain’t that a nice apology?” He’d become Dead Guard Walking the second he shoved food into Boricio’s mouth, but he just sped up the sands in his hourglass with the condescending tone and a second slap to the ear. Boricio’s ear stung loudly, but he didn’t mind. It was fuel.  
    Boricio laughed.  
    “What’re you laughing at? You need me to remind you about some of the rules before I show you firsthand who makes ‘em?”
    Boricio continued to laugh, harder and harder, forcing himself into the rhythm at first, until he lost himself to the insanity of the beat. He could feel Dead Guard Walking start to sweat. “Better tell me what you’re laughing at, fucker, or I’ll make you swallow your chuckles along with a few of your teeth.” To punctuate his threat, Dead Guard Walking slammed a boot heel on Boricio’s knee. He should’ve screamed but Boricio only laughed harder.  
    “You’ve seen Star Wars , right?” Boricio said, once he stopped laughing.
    Dead Guard Walking was silent, but mostly because he didn’t know what to say. Finally he said, “Course, everyone has.”  
    “You know what a Tauntaun is? They’re those furry snow camel kangaroo things from Empire Strikes Back . Remember when Han Solo has to keep Luke warm so he cuts open the belly of the Tauntaun to steal his heat? Well, I was just picturing doing that to you, except I’d be doing it just for fun, seeing as how I’m plenty warm as is. I got to laughing once I realized I couldn't truly picture it on account of me not knowing what you look like. So I just pictured a big old rusty sheriff’s badge tacked to an asshole.” Boricio erupted into an encore of raging laughter.
    Dead Guard Walking leaned down and put his face just inches from Boricio. “What are you going to do with your hands behind your back, you fucking freak? Only thing you can do in the position you’re in right now is suck my dick and thank me for the pleasure.”
    “I will thank you. I can’t wait until your cock is in my mouth. Mmm, yummy,” Boricio said, laughing. “I’ll bite it off and swallow it without chewing, then I’ll make sure I stick around long enough to make you gobble every bite of my shit, even if I have to drag you out of here half dead and screaming.”  
    Dead Guard Walking took a big step back. Boricio laughed again. That type of fear was probably new for Jackson, but then again, so was Boricio’s brand of crazy.
    “You’re jumping to the front of the line, asshole.” Dead Guard Walking’s final words were followed by a whine and the door shutting. Boricio figured he had maybe three minutes before Jackson was back, probably with Testosterone and Big Nippled Bitch in tow.  
    It was now or never.  
    Boricio gave up the pretense of being bound, and slowly reached up and took off his blindfold.  
    Well, fuck me.
    He almost didn’t believe what he saw.  

    TO BE CONTINUED...

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    EPISODE FOUR
     
    ****
     

BRENT FOSTER

    October 16
     
    7:20 a.m.
     
    New York City
     

    “Daddy?” Ben’s voice cried out through the old man’s face.
    “Ben?” Brent said, eyes wide, staring at Joe in a mixture of disbelief, horror, and... relief. “Is that you?”
    “Daddy?” His son again. Impossible as it was, it was without doubt his son’s voice escaping from the maintenance man’s throat.
    “Can you hear me?” Brent asked.
    Joe’s lids closed on his milky white eyes, then fell silent as his head dropped forward.
    “Ben?!” Brent screamed, shaking Joe.  
    Joe was breathing, but he may as well have been dead.  
    Luis kept driving, navigating through the foggy streets of New York like a pro, though Brent was only slightly aware of anything beyond Joe.
    “That was your son’s voice?” Luis asked.
    “Yes.” Brent said.
    “How is that even possible?”  
    “How is any of this possible?” Brent said. “Is Joe okay, do you think?”
    Luis looked Joe up and down, “I dunno; what