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

— while thumbing through a stack of magazines left behind on the crate by either the guards, or maybe some of the vanished employees before the world went adios.
    Lisa hadn’t sent more than a few words in their direction since their capture, at least anything beyond the occasional order to, “Shut the fuck up!” or the vague promise that she’d tell them the shit they needed to know, when they needed to know it.
    Ed had overheard enough from the others last night while pretending to sleep, and he figured he knew enough to know what was going on.
    Ed said, “They’re not coming back for you.”
    “Excuse me?” she said, looking up from her magazine. Her response sent Ed from suspicion to certainty - Lisa would love for Ed to give her an excuse to use the Remington 870 propped against the wall beside her.
    “I said they’re not coming back. The rest of your squad.” Ed grinned. “How long since you last heard anything?”
    Lisa ignored Ed and turned to Brent. “You wanna tell your friend to shut his face?”
    Brent turned to Ed and smiled, “She said to shut your face.”
    Brent was in remarkably better spirits than Ed would’ve imagined. Perhaps, he figured, it was because Lisa, and the others, had been far nicer to Brent than they had to Ed. They were treating Ed like he was some sort of treasonous spy, while practically apologizing to Brent for the inconvenience of holding him hostage. Ed figured they were working Brent in preparation for splitting the two of them up — to help turn Brent against Ed, in hopes that he’d surrender intel on Black Island.
    “You know that isn’t protocol, right?” Ed said. “I don’t know how different Black Mountain is from the Island, but way I figure, protocols can’t be that different. Little things, sure. But not something like, don’t ever fucking contact your squad. Something happened. So the only question is, how long are we gonna sit here and wait for more of them aliens to come at us?”
    “Until I fucking say so, all right?” Lisa yelled, voice cracking right in the middle where it mattered the most.
    Ed nodded, “Oh, I see,” his eyes widened in mock surprise, “You’re not the one in charge, are you? Your commander is out there, eh? And you’re afraid of leaving and getting reamed.”
    He watched her eyes as they pretended not to see him.
    He continued, his confidence growing muscles. “And I’m guessing you’re not moving because you’ve either dropped the ball a few times already and are worried that you’ll make the wrong decision. Or … you’re scared.”
    “I’m not scared,” she said, no hint of emotion.
    “You’d be stupid not to be scared, Lisa,” Ed said, using her name to worm inside her head. “I’ve seen these things do some scary shit. They nearly killed my daughter.”
    She looked up, “You’re with your daughter?”
    It worked. Maybe.
    “Well, I was. And I’m gonna level with you right now. God’s honest truth, because way I see it, there’s no point in lying. The people on Black Island are holding onto her until I do this job for them.”
    “What’s the job?” she asked.
    Ed wasn’t sure if he should continue with his honesty, but if they got a hold of Brent before he and Brent were able to get their stories straight, they’d find out, anyway. Besides, they’d already taken the picture of Boricio from his wallet. And if they were in fact already seeking him, then the jig was already up. May as well consider changing teams, even if only long enough to just get away.
    “They want me to find someone and bring him back to the island.”
    “Who?” Lisa asked.
    “A man named Boricio. The guy in the picture you lifted from me.”
    “Ah, Boricio ,” Lisa said. “Interesting.”
    “You looking for him too?” Ed asked.
    “Not exactly.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    The door in the front of the stockroom crashed open, killing their conversation and drawing their attention. A pint-sized steroid case named Rojas ran inside the warehouse, holding his M-16. He looked — for the first time since Ed had met him — nervous.
    “We’ve got a problem, Sergeant,” Rojas said.
    “What?”
    “The parking lot. There’s a shit-ton of them out there.”
    “A shit-ton?”
    “Hundreds!”
    Ed’s eyes widened. No way he heard Rojas right. He’d never seen more than two dozen together.
    “Hundreds?” she asked, “Are you fucking with me?”
    “No, Sgt. They’re out there, like they’re waiting for us