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

Charlie.
    Charlie ran at him, and as the man fired, Charlie sprang forward, leaping at least 20 yards before slamming into the man in black, sending him sprawling backward into the cell behind him. His rifle fell to the ground.
    Charlie looked up at the man to Callie’s left, his eyes wide behind the glass helmet. Charlie’s arm thrust out — as if driven by instinct — and his fist smashed straight through the glass, and he plunged his fingers into the man’s eyes, gouging them.
    The man released Callie with a scream.
    The other man let go of Callie, then dived for the rifle. She kicked it from reach as Charlie grabbed the man by his helmet, yanked it sideways, then shoved him forward and into the man in black.
    Callie grabbed the gun and squeezed off a burst of shots into the men until the clip was empty and all three men were lying dead on the floor.
    Charlie stared in disbelief at the carnage beneath them, then down at his arms and bloodied fists, expecting — and terrified — to see that he’d become a monster. But he looked normal, at least every part of his body he could see.
    “How did you do that?” Callie asked staring, eyes wide, and looking around, maybe trying to figure out what they should do next.
    “I dunno.” Charlie shook his head, not daring tell her the truth — that he was infected with God knows what.
    He stared at Callie, feeling the warmth of her body, then reached out and embraced her, crying. “I thought they were gonna kill you,” he said.
    She held him back, her hands circling around his waist. He felt the warmth of her flesh against him, hardening his cock. He pulled away, embarrassed, then looked to the side, awkwardly.
    The other prisoners started pounding on their cells, eyes and mouths wide open in likely pleas to be released.
    Callie turned to Charlie, “What do we do?”
    Charlie looked at the closed door in front of them, with its black glass hand panel to the right. Then he looked down at the dead men, trying to formulate a plan. Did they have keys, codes, or something he could use to get away? He bent to search but the lights went black before he was halfway down.
    “Fuck!” Charlie screamed.
    The door in front of them opened, the light from the hallway beyond illuminating another four men in black coming toward them, armed with infrared goggles and rifles.
    The door closed and cast them back into darkness.
    Charlie turned to cover Callie with his body, shielding her from their intent.
    Arcs of blue light shot from one of their weapons, sending Charlie to the ground twitching in pain.
    He tried to fight, but whatever bit of strength he’d been given was failing him now.
    Charlie’s world was nothing but pain until it was nothing but black.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 9 — Boricio Bishop Part 3

    Other Earth
    Black Island Research Facility
    Level Seven
    July 17, 2011
    one week after the accident…

    I’m a monster. A fucking monster.
    Boricio stared at his reflection, unable to turn away from the ugliness.
    He was on edge, his body in pain, and he was doing his best not to give into the swelling darkness within. Part of him just wanted to punch the mirror and let the rage out.
    He clutched either side of the bathroom sink, to keep himself from giving into impulse. As he stared at the ugliness in the mirror, his growl turned to laughter, dancing along the thin fissure between humor and pain, comedy and sorrow. If he didn’t laugh, the rage would swallow him.
    He looked like a goddamn action figure, with a patch over his right eye like a pirate. With his freshly shaved head, giant scar, and semi-permanent scowl, Boricio was a catchphrase away from a Saturday morning cartoon.
    Boricio snarled into the mirror. When life gave you lemons, it was time to get the salt and tequila.
    “Staring all day won’t change a thing,” Will said, surprising him as he opened the bathroom door. “Don’t worry, you make bald work,” Will slapped Boricio affectionately on the shoulder.
    Boricio was nervous as hell.
    It had been three days since he and Rose were transferred to the Facility for rehab and treatment. Today was going to be the first time he saw Rose since the accident. The doctors had made him wait, saying she needed some more time, and that things were still fuzzy for her. Apparently she was having trouble remembering stuff, though Will said it was a normal thing following head injuries, and that they shouldn’t be too concerned yet. Will warned that she might not