Yesterdays Gone: SEASON TWO (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) (Yesterday's Gone)

do?!
    Vic pulled the blade out, choking up blood, then looked up to Charlie, eyes filled with anger and confusion.
    He tried to say something but all that fell from his mouth was more blood.
    Then Vic stopped moving.
    Charlie leaned down, grabbed his blade, and wiped the blood off on the dead man’s shirt. He wanted to say something like fuck you, take that you steroid fuck, or any of the other million rage-filled thoughts running through his head. But instead, he said nothing. He was simply taking out the trash.  
    You didn’t do victory dances for taking out the trash.
    Something screamed out in the distance, veiled by the fog.
    Callie!
    And then another sound. A truck.
    Charlie’s heart pounded hard in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his system, pushing him forward despite the aches and invisible path before him.
    “No!” she cried.
    “Callie!” he screamed, not caring if whatever she was scared of heard him. “Callie!”
    Another scream, and then the truck revved its engine and took off.
    Fuck this fog!
    Then silence.
    “Callie!”
    Charlie raced further forward through the fog as the truck’s engined faded into the distance, direction unknown. As he ran forward, the ground unveiled itself, 30 yards at a time through the fog. He prayed he wouldn’t find her dead on the ground.
    “Callie!” he cried again, as something took form in the fog ahead.
    He raced forward, blindly, hand on his blade and heart in his throat, dread coursing through him.
    “Charlie?” a voice said from the shadows ahead.  
    Adam!
    Charlie closed the distance and found Adam stumbling toward him, just as bruised and bloodied as Charlie.
    “What happened?” Charlie asked.
    “They took Callie!”

    * * * *

RYAN OLSON: PART 2

    Brookdale, Tennessee
    February 17
    nighttime

    Ryan woke to an explosion of loud, muffled music, which seemed to be drifting in from a nearby apartment.
    “What the?” he bolted up in his sleeping bag, momentarily disoriented, feeling around for his rifle, then finding it on the floor beside him in the darkness. He pulled it toward him and slipped his finger over the trigger.
    “What is that?” Carmine whispered, stepping into the room, though Ryan could barely see him in the dim light bleeding from the moon.
    “What’s going on?” Joe called out, way too loud. The clank of his wheelchair clattered across the apartment. Both his voice and noises were loud, even above the riot of the music.
    There was a second explosion of music, this time from another nearby apartment. “Stereos!” Ryan said, as he realized with sick dread what was happening.
    “What’s going on?” Joe said, wheeling himself into the living room.
    “Shh,” Ryan said, moving in a crouch toward the windows, then peering out at the parking lot below. Sure enough, the music had achieved the desired effect. No less than six of the creatures were moving toward the apartment building, targeting the source of the music.
    Red Jacket, you son-of-a bitch!
    “He’s luring them here,” Ryan explained to Carmine, who ran to the window and gasped.
    “Who’s leading what here?” Joe asked, annoyed and nervous. Maybe afraid, but unwilling to show it in front of his grandson.
    “The thug we ran into earlier; the one that got away. I think he came back here and is using the music to lure the monsters to us.”
    “Monsters?” Joe asked.
    That’s when Ryan caught Carmine staring at him, trying to throw him a look he wasn’t catching. He remembered too late that the boy had not told his gramps of the real danger lurking out there.
    Shit.
    “There’s something I didn’t tell you, Gramps,” Carmine said, his voice on the verge of breaking. “There are monsters out there.” He gestured out the window. “Big, black things that look like aliens or something, with lights under their skin and giant teeth and claws.”
    Joe laughed, but only until he realized no one else was.  
    “Wait . . . You’re serious?”
    Carmine nodded.
    “I want you both to go in Joe’s room and lock the door,” Ryan said. “Don’t make a peep!”
    “What are you gonna do?” Joe asked.
    “We’ve got two problems: the monsters and whoever turned on the radios. I need to take care of the latter first, then try to lure the monsters away.”
    “No,” Joe said, “You two go. You can run, get away. Go to the roof, bar the door or something.”
    “No, Gramps, we’re not leaving you!” Carmine said.
    Ryan stared at the man. Wheelchair or