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

slamming into their targets with a horrible squishing.
    Ryan roared, then charged forward toward a cluster coming at them, shredding aliens with a crazed blend of alien intensity, human cunning, and a father’s need to protect his wife and child.
    Ryan continued to drop creature upon creature, as the dark hordes continued to close in around them. Both Boricios were out of bullets and fighting beside one another, Bald Boricio using a machete and Crazy Boricio using a knife. Ed still had plenty of rounds, and was taking aliens down one carefully placed burst of gunfire at a time. Mary and Paola stood back to back, firing only at the creatures actually coming toward them, though they were hitting their marks and dropping every one, with Ryan shocked by the accuracy of their aim. Sullivan rotated in small circles, firing into the sound of the gnashing aliens.
    The girl who was threatened by Charlie showed no fear on her face, though it was twisted with rage as she stared into the shadows, probably searching for Charlie, likely wanting to see him dead as much as Ryan wanted to see his family safe. She finally growled, then ran into the shadows of the forest.
    Ryan was surrounded by a trio of aliens, quickly closing in around him. He raised his claw and hand as the largest of the three creatures brought him hard to the ground. Ryan gnashed and raged and screamed and bucked his body hard against the ground, thrashing about as he tried to throw the mounting aliens from his slippery body.
    Ryan’s world was quickly fading to dark as another pair of aliens joined the trio.
    He was as good as dead.
    Ryan squeezed his eyes and twisted his head, swaying his body as he tried to grab a final glimpse of his girls.
    The first of the five aliens fell, quickly followed by a second.
    Crazy Boricio screamed, “Come and get me, you slippery soul-eating fucks!”
    The alien swiped at Crazy Boricio, its claw connecting with Boricio’s arm and spraying a jet of crimson, which rained across the sky and splattered Ryan’s still mostly human face.
    Bald Boricio joined him, screaming just as loud, though nowhere near as crazy, while waving some sort of giant stick.
    Ryan slipped from the bottom of the huddle and saw Mary with an alien charging toward her. She raised her gun, but the alien slapped the pistol from her hand. Paola raised her gun and pulled the trigger but the gun only mocked her with an empty clicking.
    Ryan charged forward, closing the distance in less than two seconds, thrusting his claw deep into the alien’s torso, then twisted the blade inside the creature’s body, pulling the alien’s still beating ebony heart from its body, then throwing it into the darkness with a wailing bellow.
    Mary screamed, terrified, then swallowed her fear and ran toward Ryan. “Thank you,” she cried out, hugging him.
    He looked around. Aliens were everywhere, circling them at a bit of a distance instead of attacking, as if they seemed to be moving with less urgency. The hive buzzed with discord in his mind, and there was nothing Ryan could do to filter through the countless lines of chaos.
    The aliens seemed suddenly confused and Ryan could feel something interfering with their commands from the Darkness. He looked around, but couldn’t discern the source.
    Charlie was gone, and his minions had stopped attacking, but at the same time, they weren’t leaving. The aliens numbered in the hundreds, surrounding them on all sides.
    Ryan looked around at Mary’s companions. They were still alive, but not for much longer. Ryan had heard enough empty clicking, and had seen enough discarded guns, to know they were out of bullets. Everyone was covered in blood, and the bright crimson with only shadows of black said most of the blood was human. They gathered between the trucks with two old men in the back seat of one of the trucks. Ryan recognized one of the men from Charlie’s vision as Luca — their last true hope.
    Ryan didn’t think the old man looked like much of a hope, however.
    A man with glasses cried out, “Keenan!” running toward one of the fallen men, 30 yards away from the others.
    Keenan was lying in a pool of quickly spreading blood beneath him, “Go, Sullivan,” he said, his voice frail. “Get Luca to the house. And take this.”
    Ed pulled a glowing orange ball from his tactical jacket, then handed the ball to Sullivan as the two Boricios ran over to join them.
    “If you can’t get Luca to the house, or if that monster