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

Boricio’s hair. “You realize most women would kill to have hair this thick,” she often said while running her fingers through it. He loved when she stroked his hair. It was second only to sex in the pleasure department.
    He gasped, suddenly remembering everything: the drive, the look, the accident. Boricio shivered through the icy chill which chased the memory.
    “Rose,” Boricio said. “How is she?”
    Boricio didn’t like the hesitation on Will’s face a bit, even gave him a good goddamn three seconds to wipe it from his nose holder before he started yelling. “I said where is she, Will?!”
    The word “Will” came out in a roar. He watched his dad swallow and take a step back, then Boricio breathed himself back into another calm. “Sorry,” he said. “You didn’t deserve that.”
    Will said, “It’s okay, son. I understand.” Then he swallowed again and said, “We’re not sure how Rose is doing yet.”
    “I want to see her.”
    Will shook his head. “You know that’s not possible, Boricio. Not yet. You were both injured, badly. Rose worse than you. Right now the doctors need time and space to do what’s best for her. To do what’s best for you both. And we have to give it to them. Do you understand?”
    “I want to see her,” Boricio said, nostrils flaring at the memory of their final seconds, exchanging one last look before he tore through the Schooner or Later patio and murdered his chance for the Happily Ever After which seemed an almost certainty when the day started.
    “Soon,” Will said, returning his calming hand to Boricio’s shoulder.
    Boricio shrugged the hand from his shoulder then started yanking wires and tubes from his body. He’d see for himself what Will was hiding in his eyes.
    “Stop, son; it’s okay.” Will’s hand moved from his shoulder to press down on his chest, firm and urgent. “I’ll tell you everything I know, I promise. But you have to relax.”
    Boricio’s nostrils still flared, but he managed to calm himself long enough to lie back on his bed. He kept his mouth closed, afraid of what would come out if he left it open.
    “I don’t know of any other way to do this then to simply tear the Band-Aid.” Will pulled his chair closer to Boricio’s bed, then sat and leaned in, holding his son’s hands as he whispered, “Rose suffered significant damage to her spinal column. The surgeons were able to repair much of that damage, but there’s a good chance that Rose will never walk again.”
    Will held Boricio’s stare.
    Boricio asked, “Is that it?”
    Will shook his head.
    “What else, Dad?”
    “Rose suffered significant swelling in the brain. And they’re not sure how bad it is.”
    Almost too hoarse to hear, Boricio said, “What about my baby?”
    He didn’t have to wait for Will to respond. The answer was written all over his face.
    Boricio’s roar tore through the hospital.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 6 — Brent Foster Part 2

    They moved cautiously through the dark maze, listening intently as the towers of cars creaked and swayed with every intermittent gust of howling wind blowing over the highway. In the moments of silence, every step was echoed and every breath exaggerated, every inch forward a blend of exertion and relief.
    “What did this?” Billy whispered to Brent, who was walking beside him. Ed was to the right, while Rojas followed in the rear, ordered to make sure the “prisoners” didn’t escape — not that Brent had any desire to do so. Brent had his eye on Ed, waiting for a sign. But Ed kept his plans close to the vest, sewing his lips as his eyes scanned the towers.
    “I dunno,” Brent said, wondering if The Prophet would say God, or maybe the Devil. But The Prophet, who was walking behind Lisa in the front of their formation, was also keeping his lips sewn shut. His eyes were wide as he held his air horn like some sort of magical battle axe which would ward off any evil.
    They’d gone no more than a tenth of the way through the pile when a thick fog rolled in on a cool breeze, so fast it seemed almost sentient.
    “We should be careful,” Brent said. “The aliens use the fog to attack from above.”
    Lisa looked back, but said nothing.
    “Maybe you should take off our handcuffs and give us guns,” Ed suggested.
    “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Lisa said.
    “Do I need to remind you that I could’ve easily left you in the store if I wanted? But I didn’t, did I?”
    Lisa didn’t say anything, too