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

some pens and paper, so we can talk ?”
    Boricio chewed on the request, then said, “Nothing stupid?”
    “No,” Charlie shook his head. “But I can’t promise nothing sappy.”
    Boricio surprised Charlie with a wide smile, something he had never seen his Boricio do, at least not without something crude coming before or after it.
    “Yeah,” Boricio said.
    As Boricio left and the door slid closed behind him, Charlie took another sip of his Coca-Cola then closed his eyes, savoring the sweetness in his mouth. It reminded him of being young, back when his dad was still alive. Charlie hadn’t been allowed to drink soda like most of the other kids he knew — except on special occasions. One such occasion happened every Friday night when they all went out to dinner at The Burger Palace, and Charlie got to pig out on turkey burgers, fries, and a tall glass of Coca-Cola with chipped ice. Sometimes the waiter or waitress, dressed in 50’s diner style, would pour some cherry syrup into the Coke, amplifying the awesome. Long after he was done with the Coke, Charlie would suck the puddles of sweetness from the chipped ice.
    Charlie closed his eyes, trying not to let thoughts of his father lower the rising summit of his mood.
    Tonight would be sad enough, and possibly the last time he’d see Callie for a while.
    He finished his Coke and stared at the can wondering if they’d really be able to go home. And more than that, Charlie wondered if Callie would still be friends with him if they were suddenly able to return to the world they once knew.
    If that world was still there, maybe his mother was, too. And that fucker, Bob. A version of Bob that Charlie didn’t murder.
    If he could go back, Charlie wouldn’t kill that Bob. That Bob hadn’t raped Callie. That Bob wasn’t the same monster. Or at least hadn’t been given enough opportunity to become one yet. So no, Charlie didn’t think he’d kill that Bob.
    But he would kick the living shit out of him.

    **

    that night…

    Charlie and Callie sat on their mattresses on opposite sides of a glass wall.
    Though all the other cells were dark, theirs were dimly lit, which would have given the cells an almost romantic glow, if calling glass prison cells with video cameras and flame-spouting holes romantic didn’t seem like so much of a stretch.
    Charlie also felt like their cells being lit, while everyone else’s were swallowed in darkness, set them on display and in an unflattering light. That made him feel weird. He didn’t want everyone staring, especially after all of the special treatment, from fresh clothes to the pens and paper delivered an hour before, right after dinner. Charlie imagined the other six residents of the cell block were pissed.
    However, this was Charlie’s first chance to communicate with Callie in what seemed like forever, so he didn’t care who was watching or what they thought.
    They’d been talking (via pens and paper) ever since — catch-up stuff mostly, like updates on what had happened to each of them, how there were two Boricios, and two worlds, both facts blowing Callie’s mind, and then, of course, that they might be able to find a way home.
    Charlie told Callie that the new Boricio was going to ask her to show him the way to the old Boricio’s compound. She said okay, and then worked out the directions together as best they could.
    Connecting with Callie again felt great. It reminded him of how much he loved her, even if she didn’t feel the same. Hell, maybe she did, now. Who knew?
    “What’s the first thing you’ll do if we go home?” Callie wrote.
    “Drink a Coke. You?”
    “One word: Starbucks.”
    Charlie laughed. “Then what?”
    “I dunno. What do YOU want to do?”
    “Whatever you want to do,” he wrote.
    “Whatever?” she wrote, smiling.
    Is she flirting with me? No way.
    “Anything,” he wrote, smiling, though unsure if his smile matched hers, which still seemed flirty.
    She set her pad of paper on the mattress, scribbled something, then held it up for him to see.
    “Will you fuck me?” she wrote.
    Charlie’s eyes widened and his cock went instantly stiff in his sweats.
    Callie laughed hysterically, probably at the look on his face.
    Charlie frowned.
    “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” he wrote.
    “Maybe,” she wrote. “Maybe not.”
    Callie put the pad down, then licked her lips.
    Charlie’s cock went from stiff to a near bursting pipe.
    Callie circled a finger over her nipples.