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

obvious bristle. He’d had little patience for charlatans and their shams before 2:15 a.m. a half year earlier. Less now.
    Brent met the man’s eyes in the rearview and felt sickened by his self-righteous smile.
    I wonder how much he’d be smiling if he knew that God had nothing to do with any of this. We were the ones pulled away, and delivered to another world. Our world isn’t empty.
    “You don’t believe me, do you, son?” The Prophet asked, meeting Brent’s eyes and deepening his chill.
    “I don’t know what I believe,” Brent said, “but I imagine I’m a ways away from saying God had anything to do with it.”
    “I’m sorry to hear—”
    “Well, why are we here, then?” Rojas asked. “I’m not saying I was any kinda Saint, but I was good, and I went to church every Sunday, and prayed every night before I went to bed. Why didn’t He take me?”
    “Well now, son, can you really tell me you’re free of sins?” The Prophet smiled kindly at Rojas, his eyes twinkling as if reflecting the sins counted in Rojas’ personal book of life.
    “Are you free of sins, Prophet? ” Lisa finally cut in. “I mean, He left you here. What sins did you commit?”
    Brent didn’t pick fights, and hadn’t planned to get confrontational with the old man, especially since the guy was giving them a ride to Black Mountain, but Lisa didn’t seem to have the same reservations. She almost seems to be looking for a fight, like she hadn’t flushed it from her system during the battle at the store.
    “We’re all sinners, my dear. Just some of us are more honest than others. In answer to Mr. Rojas’ question, I can only say that God works in mysterious ways. Perhaps He is testing you as He is testing me.”
    Brent wondered how in the hell The Prophet had picked up on Rojas’ name. He didn’t recall any proper introductions. Maybe he’d gathered it like Brent had, from the man’s name tag on his tactical vest.
    Still, something’s weird.
    Brent caught Ed, sitting beside him and wearing the same set of black handcuffs, nodding subtly, as if in silent agreement that the old man was definitely suspicious. If Ed felt suspicious too, then Brent felt a hundred times better about his hunch.
    “I know it’s hard to have faith, especially in the End Days,” The Prophet said, speaking to everyone. “Believe me, I’ve grappled with my own faith from time to time over the years.” He laughed as though delight were in his secrets before raising the sad in his voice. “I grappled again after He took my family. Then again after I lost my congregation, followed most recently by The Good Lord setting demons upon my church.” He shook his head. “Though, I was wrong on that last one. He did not set the demons upon me. That was Satan. The Lord is the one who told me about the air horn. Told me in a dream the night before my church was plagued. Do any of you ever have weird dreams?”
    Although Brent thought The Prophet learning of the air horn’s use as a weapon against the aliens in his dream was interesting, it was hardly divine intervention. If anything, it was dumb luck. But he wouldn’t argue with the man, so long as The Prophet didn’t try to sway Brent’s beliefs.
    Whatever gets you through the night.
    “I think we’ve all had weird dreams,” Lisa said. “Most people call ‘em nightmares.”
    Brent flinched at her briskness, wondering why she was being so prickly. Though he shouldn’t have been surprised, she’d been the same way with Ed. Still, he didn’t want to see religious debate erupt in the car. He wanted to get to Black Mountain so that whatever was gonna happen could finally be over and done with.
    Brent had been wondering what was next for some time. Ed seemed anxious about Black Mountain, but Brent figured that with all the chaos in the streets, he’d happily take his chances with another government entity, even if it were at odds with Black Island’s Guardsmen. Differences like these were usually political, and if Brent had one area where he was most confident, it was in his ability to navigate tricky political currents.
    He despised politics, but Brent had plenty of experience playing the game as a reporter. Even though he worked features, politics had a way of invading nearly every section of the paper, from the front page to the sports page. People were political animals by nature. Brent hoped his skills would still be useful when the bullets from Ed’s one-gun-fits-all solution