Yesterday's Gone: Season Three (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER)

when I was a kid. Was one of the only women who ever reached out to me, almost like she actually cared. But I shit on her like I shit on everyone.” Boricio looked suddenly hollow. It was another several seconds before he finished with, “Though I’m not sure I’ve ever given it a lick of thought until today.”
    He shook his head and muttered, “Fucking Rip Van Creepy broke me,” then opened another bottle. “How about you, Miss Contrary, any regrets?”
    Mary was just fake buzzed enough to bore Boricio with the story of her and Ryan, and how she caught him with Natalie Farmer.
    Boricio said, “Well, that’s not all that surprising. Men are a helluva lot more likely than women to cheat anyhow, and it sounds like you were giving your man all sorts of reasons.”
    Mary blinked her eyes, shocked. “Excuse me,” she said. “And how’s that?”
    “Didn’t you say you were making like a billion dollars a year with your To Be or Not to Be greeting card shit?”
    “Not quite,” Mary said. “But yes.”
    “Well hells bells and cum-filled wells, Miss Mary, that will get a fucker wanting to test the Big Bang Theory with a bitch he don’t have to hear snoring. Now don’t get me wrong, you’re a mighty fine looking piece of ass, but with your little lamb being around for so long, you probably started boring your boy in the bedroom. And us guys like our shit fresh. We don’t get it, and it’s easy to justify the cheating. Add to that the fact that you’re wearing the pants — bringing in the bacon and cooking it for dinner, well that’s a formula for fucking outside of the house.”
    It was almost funny. Mary could hear Boricio discuss murder like he was talking about the size of his tomatoes, and it was almost easy to take. A little like watching Dexter . But the second he started talking about Ryan’s cheating, and making excuses for her ex, she wanted to punch him in the face.
    Mary knew that if she didn’t change the subject, they’d end up walking into a mess of trouble. “So, how do you think the training’s going?” she said.
    Boricio smiled wide, said, “Well, lookie lookie, crunchy cookie; looks like Miss Mary doesn’t want to see the truth inside her separation.” For a few seconds it looked like he was going to twist the knife, but then he followed Mary’s lead and changed the subject.
    “Training is good,” he said, his tone going from playful to thoughtful. “I think another day’s worth of shooting at shit would be good, though I don’t really know if that’s the problem. Seemed like it was nothing more than fear keeping the gun at your baby girl’s side today.”
    “It wasn’t that,” Mary said. “At least not that simply. The monsters are scary, but Paola wouldn’t have froze like that if it was one of the bleakers that had come through the gate. It was because she was staring at something she’d never seen before. That dog was bigger than you; it would’ve been scary on October 15, before it was half zombie. Any new thoughts on what giant mutant dogs might mean? Think there’s more of ‘em out there?”
    Boricio shook his head. “Not since the forty-seventh time you asked me, round about a half hour ago,” he said. “But if the monsters are now coming in all manner of man and beast, I’m thinking we want to mosey up to New York, double time.”
    “When do you want to go?”
    Boricio said, “Tomorrow, day after that at the latest. I make sure Luca’s ready for the trip. He didn’t look so good today. And since I’m the captain of Team Boricio, I’ve gotta decide how we’ll fight the battle before it begins. That means knowing what everybody is and isn’t capable of doing. I don’t wanna get on the road and find we need to find a wheelchair or some shit. One more day,” he promised. “Two max, okay Miss Mary?”
    Mary nodded, astonished at how much her knowing was trusting the monster on the other side of the table.
    “Another beer? Just say the word and I’ll go grab some,” he said.
    “You mean near beer, right?” she said, suddenly nervous that he had gotten her drunk.
    “Yes,” Boricio said, smiling, “One more bottle of piss for the lady.”

    * * * *

CHAPTER 8 — “The Prophet”

    Black Mountain, Georgia
    March 2012
    FIVE MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT…

    It lay on the mattress with its eyes closed, feigning a sleep It did not need.
    It used the time to allow the husk to refresh itself while It connected with the parts of itself