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

she her mind wondered what to do. If this gang were the bikers they’d run into, she was a dead girl walking.
    Click, click, click.
    Shit! I have to get out of here!
    The van — black, with blacked out windows — looked like it meant business. She stepped aside as it pulled up and she was facing the blacked out passenger window. Callie waited for it to roll down, heart in her throat, fists balled, and feet ready to turn and run in an instant. Instead, the side panel door burst open, and two men in black paramilitary gear   with giant black goggles covering the intent of their eyes hopped from the van, darting toward her, rifles in hand.
    She turned and dashed into the fog as fast as she could, ignoring the threat of monsters.
    The truck revved behind her, though she didn’t dare turn to see where it was going. It was angling to head her off, she figured. She got maybe another 10 yards before something struck her in the back of the legs. She tried to jump, but instead, the hard object, a black wooden club like police carried, tangled her legs and sent her sprawling into the cold mud.
    Callie flipped over, pain shooting through her legs, and grabbed the club, then rose to her feet, ready to swing. She was too late. She saw the taser seconds before its wires found her chest, sending an agonizing jolt through her body.  
    She cried out and crumpled to the ground. Seconds later, the van pulled up, and the two commandos threw her unceremoniously inside the back. As the door swung closed and the van drove away, she swore she could hear Charlie screaming her name.
    “Who the hell are you?” Callie shouted as one of the men twisted her arms behind her, restraining them with some kind of wire she couldn’t see. The binding chewed hard into her wrists.
    “Ow!” she screamed, kicking at the man in front of her, catching him in the crotch.
    He screamed, cocked his arm back, and swung hard. His punch landed in her chest, forcefully knocking the wind from her body.
    As she gasped for air, the man behind her slid a rag over her face. The funny scent made her feel woozy on contact. As Callie slipped into the inescapable surrender of nothing, she spied a patch on the arm of her attacker’s jacket, which answered her question as to who the hell these people were.  
    The patch read, “Black Mountain Research Facility.”

    * * * *

CHARLIE WILKENS: PART 1

    Abrams, Georgia
    March 22
    afternoon

    “Who took her?!” Charlie screamed at Adam.
    “I don’t know. A black van and men in black.”
    “Why didn’t you do something?” Charlie screamed, pushing Adam hard. “Why didn’t you stop them?!”
    “With what?!” Adam cried, holding out his empty, gun-less hands. “They had all kinds of weapons. Big ones. They looked like military.”
    “Military?”  
    “Yeah, or SWAT, or something. They had tons of equipment, all over them. They looked deadly serious.”
    Charlie stared into the fog, as if he might somehow divine answers from the nothingness surrounding them. There weren’t any answers, but there was something else in the fog.
    He heard it seconds before the shadow passed them.
    Click, click, click, click.
    “Shh!” he said to Adam, scouring the ground for anything Adam could use as a weapon. Finding nothing, Charlie flicked open his knife, then pivoted in circles, trying to discern where the monster was.
    Click, click, click.
    The shadow, with the weird illumination beneath its skin, moved past them again, this time closer.  
    Is it toying with us?
    Adam drew closer, eyes wide and full of terror. He balled his fists, as if he could somehow conquer the creatures with his knuckles alone.  
    Click, click, click.
    Movement again, then nothing. The fog thickened around them, as if it and the monster were partners in crime.
    “I’m scared,” Adam wheezed.
    Movement again. Adam screamed and jumped back, holding his bleeding left arm. The cut wasn’t deep, but it looked nasty.
    Charlie spun around, knife poised to strike. “Come on, you fucker!” he screamed.
    Click, click, click
    Charlie spun around, but it had disappeared again into the mist.
    Adam looked up, eyes tearing, “It hurts so bad.”
    “Stop crying!” Charlie said, annoyed. They didn’t have time for crying. Or weakness. He felt bad that Adam was hurt, but there was nothing Charlie could do, except what he was doing - waiting for a chance to strike back.
    Click, click, click.
    Charlie turned again as the creature flashed by, colliding