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

woman other than Gina, in fact. But now, he found himself intoxicated by the woman’s beauty as if she’d just removed a mask and was revealing her true self for the first time. Jane’s father was Irish and mother Japanese, leaving her with beautiful fair skin, long dark hair, and oversized, but gorgeous brown eyes.
    As he was looking at her eyes and trying to figure out if it was merely his imagination that had filled them with flecks of gold, she turned and caught his gaze. He meant to turn away, flushed with embarrassment, but instead leaned over, cupped her face in his hand, and kissed her. Softly at first, then passionately, as she fell back and he, on top of her, hands running down over her breasts, down her sides and back up again, kissing her the entire time.
    Neither said a word. She let out a sigh as his mouth found her neck. He licked, sucked, and nibbled as his hands moved down, hiking up her dress, then unbuttoning his pants. He was about to slide her underwear aside when Emily screamed.
    Jane bolted upright, eyes wide and darting back and forth, avoiding eye contact with Brent. “She gets real bad dreams, sometimes,” Jane said, even though Brent knew it, and raced into Emily’s bedroom.
    Brent buttoned his pants and sat up, uncomfortably, on the couch, wondering what the fuck he was doing.
    They’re still out there.
    He closed his eyes, trying to will the nagging thought into submission.  
    No, they ARE gone.  
    Stop it. Just . . . stop.
    Jane’s voice carried from her daughter’s room and cut through the inner battle in Brent’s head, “It’s okay, baby,” she said, “Mommy’s here.”
    Brent stood, went to the doorway, and peeked into Emily’s room. A blue nightlight lit just enough of the room for him to see Jane sitting at the edge of Emily’s bed, stroking her daughter’s hair as the girl lay on her side, facing the wall. Jane looked up at him. Again, he felt like an outsider.
    He whispered that he needed to go.
    She nodded, then waved awkwardly.  
    Once outside, Brent locked her door with his copy of her key, then headed toward headquarters, a quarter mile away. He wished he’d thought to bring an electric cart, but then again, Brent didn’t want to push his privileges too far as a recent recruit.
    The air was crisp, cool, and the wind tinged with salt from the ocean, reminding him of the few times he’d taken his family to the shore. And how much more often he wished he had.  

    * * * *

3- CHARLIE WILKENS

    Dunn, Georgia
    March 20
    8:40 p.m.

    Three flashes of light were followed by a second set before they went black.
    The signal outside the gate was Adam’s code to enter, but the vehicle wasn’t the truck he and Jeremy had left with. Charlie stood from his chair on the second floor balcony where he’d been waiting nearly two hours for the guys to return.
    “You got eyes on the gate?” Charlie called into the radio to Vic, who was on watch in the cupola. “Can you see inside?”
    “Hold on, it’s dark, but looks like him.”
    “Wait here, okay?” Charlie said to Callie, half asleep in a lounge chair beside him, where she’d been staring at the stars and engaging in her usual “what-ifs.” She sat up in her seat, staring at the front gate.
    Charlie grabbed the shotgun, ran inside, down the stairs, and out the front door with Boricio, who was holding his trusty bat, and Vic, with his Colt Python.
    “Where’s the truck?” Boricio asked.
    “I dunno,” Charlie said as they drew closer to the car, still a blur in the dark, though they were close enough to see it was some sort of dark sedan. The car’s interior was bathed in darkness, causing Charlie to silently curse himself for not thinking to bring a light. He hoped Boricio wouldn’t notice his lack of planning. There was no room for errors on Team Boricio, even if they’d been safe for nearly three months since finding the compound. And Charlie already felt like the weakest link, aside from maybe Adam. Vic and Jeremy were constantly teasing him, calling him by girls’ names and giving him the same shit that Bob did, though they claimed they were just playing. Charlie thought he’d settled the issue of his supposed weakness with what he did to Bob, but most of them hadn’t been there to see that, and only Boricio really knew what happened.  
    In their eyes, Charlie was the kid, the baby of the group. Never mind that Adam was actually weaker, younger, and more timid than Charlie. Somehow Adam got a