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

walked away.
    He returned to Charlie and said, “They’ll be sending the Love Boat before the next commercial break.”
    “Good,” Charlie said, smiling a bit too wide for Boricio’s liking.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 8 — Boricio Bishop Part 2

    Black Island, New York
    April 2, 2012
    SIX MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT…

    They had practically flown from Georgia to New York, taking turns behind the wheel and flooring the pedal the entire way. The trip could only be described as eerie, not for what happened, but for everything that didn’t.
    Even when they had to find alternate routes and take back roads because entire chunks of highway had simply vanished, which easily doubled their trip time, nothing got in their way or attacked them along the way. It was as if every alien, mutant, and bandit had decided to take the day off.
    And while Boricio was grateful to fly through the omnipresent danger all the way to Black Island, it felt wrong .
    When they hit New York, it seemed even worse, the empty seemed somehow emptier, like a red carpet rolled before them. Once Will finally cleared the ferry, and they were standing at the docks ready to cross, Boricio could almost feel the waiting army of eyes behind, watching from the shadows, but not striking for reasons he could only imagine.
    Even on the ferry, in the middle of the water and away from any chance of attack, Boricio bristled with unease. The two Guardsmen on the ferry eyed him with suspicion, looking like the men from Black Mountain, though somehow softer. They were definitely new, and didn’t recognize him at all.
    Before they were allowed off the ferry, Will radioed them and asked what the message was. Luca stepped forward and told them about the vial — the last vial — tucked away in a moon globe. Boricio wasn’t sure why his brother had hid the vial away, but hoped like hell the kid knew something that he didn’t.
    Their walk across the island grounds was as uneventful as their drive into the city, terrifying because of its thousand-pound silence. When they arrived at the Facility gates, Ed stepped to the front of the group, then hit the intercom button and identified himself. There was a long silence, then another try from Ed before they heard a crackling response from Will.
    “Let me speak to my son,” he said.
    Boricio stepped to the front. “I’m here.”
    Will said, “A.D. Keenan will let you inside, but one wrong move and the Guardsmen have been instructed to shoot. I don’t know all of what you’ve done, Boricio. But I know enough. You have no margin for error. Understand?”
    “I understand.”
    The outer doors parted, and the group stepped into the Facility’s reception area — a sprawling lobby with a welcome desk in the front and a high tiled wall behind, more like a posh hotel than a research center, spilling into a long, wide hallway with a bank of eight elevators leading down to the lower levels.
    They were halfway to the elevators when Boricio realized that bringing Charlie down to Level Eight would violate every instinct inside him. Charlie was dangerous; Boricio could feel it. Not being able to see inside Charlie’s mind fueled his rising worry.
    Boricio pulled Ed back toward him, and into a conspiratorial whisper. “I need you to knock Charlie out, now. He isn’t safe.” Boricio didn’t even have to add, “Trust me.” Ed winked, then nodded. He may as well have said, “Glad you asked.”
    Ed brought the flat of his palm against the back of Charlie’s skull, sending him into a silent collapse. Ed hit him a second time when he was halfway to the floor, where he lay like an empty bag of skin and bones.
    Callie screamed, “What the fuck?!”
    Her yell was louder, but Asshole Boricio’s was meaner.
    “What the fuck you trying to do?” Asshole Boricio screamed, getting in Boricio’s face, pistol out and aimed at him. Ed and Brent immediately responded, guns trained on Asshole Boricio.
    His asshole twin laughed as he looked around at the Mexican standoff and seemed to almost relish the situation.
    “You wanna take us out one by one, and your adopted daddy taught you to hit people on the back of the head like a yellow-bellied candy ass? I knew you were a tiny-pricked fucker without a ball in his sack, but this is some goddamned bullshit!”
    Boricio ignored the asshole’s anger and calmly said, “Ed, Brent, put your guns down. You all need to understand that we can’t take Charlie where we’re going. He’s infected, and if