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

Boricio had seen in his head, that had been the story of his life.
    Boricio could relate to the abusive step-dad. And he could see how Asshole Boricio had developed a soft spot for the kid as well. Perhaps he wasn’t a complete asshole, after all.
    The top stair creaked and the entire room spun toward the sound. Ed thrust his arm in front of Brent and took a slight step forward as Mary wrapped her arms tighter around her daughter, then fell a step back toward the door.
    Another stair squeaked and Asshole Boricio was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, looking up toward the top. A smile split his face as he turned to the rest of the room. “Looks like Old Man Luca wanted to come down and meet his brother from another mother.”
    A second later, Boricio saw Luca’s foot, though it took about a half-minute for his body to follow. He didn’t speak until he reached the bottom stair, and when he did, it sounded as though he was using every last drop of energy to push a few splintered words through his ancient throat.
    “We have to go to Black Island. Now.” Then, after a few long seconds spent struggling for breath while the rest of the room stood and waited, he whispered, “If we don’t go, we’re all dead.”

    * * * *

CHAPTER 3 — “Charlie”

    Dunn, Georgia
    Boricio’s Compound
    March 31, 2012
    FIVE MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT…

    It was hungry.
    Starving.
    Empty, hollow, deprived.
    It smelled the ripened scent of the unfiltered feast It longed to consume.
    The good one — ancient on the outside, but still gooey in the middle where the child harbored his innocent thoughts — would be bliss to consume.
    Soon.
    Soon, everything would be finished.
    The beginning of the end was already over.
    The girl Its shell yearned to seed was trying to convince everyone that Charlie was safe. He wouldn’t hurt any of them.
    If only she knew.
    The one who held hate where his eye had gone missing was trying to read the room. But he couldn’t — at least not all of it.
    Though the man who held hate had a bit of The Enemy within him, which allowed him to read these animals’ minds, there was nothing he could do to penetrate Its mind.
    It waited for the spotlight to fall off of Charlie . If It was found out, It might be killed before It could consume Its enemy.
    It was starving. Deprived. Near hollow.
    Ready.
    This was taking too long.
    The scent from the top of the stairs grew stronger. It felt ripe, beckoning to It.
    The gooey parts in the middle of the child’s thoughts now running like broken yolk.
    The end of the beginning was over, but the beginning of the end felt like it was taking forever.
    A stair creaked from the top of the stairs — the end, finally on its way.
    The aggressive one put his arm before the one who was too thoughtful. The woman It met before wrapped her arms around the girl who was too weak for It to stay in.
    Then the violent one, the one It wish It had found at Sanctuary before going into the fat old man, said, “Looks like Old Man Luca wanted to come downstairs and meet his brother from another mother!”
    It licked Its lips.
    Once It attacked the child, It would be forced to silence every breath in the room.
    But it would be worth it.
    It would be stronger than ever.
    The child in the old man’s shell appeared, first his feet, then finally his head.
    The child took great labor to speak. “We have to go to Black Island,” he said. “Now.”
    The eternity it took for the child to finish his thought gave It plenty of time to see everything the child didn’t know he was supposed to be hiding.
    It now knew what the child knew.
    Its body relaxed, putting aside Its hunger now that It had seen the far greater meal waiting for It at Black Island.
    There was plenty of time.
    Soon It would be full.
    Gorged, glutted, satisfied.
    It wanted what the child wanted.
    But the vial — holding the last of Its enemy — would belong to It , never the child.
    It had all the time in the world, now that It knew where It needed to go.
    The child whispered, “If we don’t go, we’re all dead.”
    The beginning of the end was now.
    And nothing would stop It.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 4 — Other Ed Keenan

    Black Island
    Black Island Research Facility Level Eight
    April 2, 2012
    SIX MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT…

    Ed stared at the giant monitor, wondering how long they had before everyone topside was either infected or dead.
    More than 100 cameras were on the island, and all three digits worth were displayed in squares