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

drop her in the trunk and take her home for seconds. Shit, she could be homely as a mud fence, that wouldn't matter much these days. Ole’ Boricio would simply make her face the other way. He could still barrel down Boscoe Boulevard, splatter her sphincter, then leave her in a heap and hit the road. Maybe even leave her breathing, in case he wanted to swing that way again.  
    He pulled the Boriciomobile to the edge of a clearing, then took his binoculars from the passenger seat and pointed them toward the massive house sitting squat in the middle of nowhere. Boricio never could make sense of why people lived in those sorts of huge ass houses, in the capital of nothing, far enough from everything to be Ma and Pa Kettle hunting for their meals, but with marble and granite and Dom Pérignon. Who delivered the Dom out to the middle of Fuckall?  
    He stared through the binoculars for a long while, unmoving and seeing nothing. There was a massive window looking half a mile wide running along the front of the house, so Boricio figured it was a matter of time before someone would walk in front of it. He was right. And when he finally saw what he wanted to see, Boricio wanted to whoop and holler at a Christmas come early.
    Standing in front of the half mile window was a Holy Trinity of fuck yeah: Two girls and one guy, all of ‘em purty. One to cut; two to fuck. Boricio wondered whether he’d start with the brunette or the sandy blond, then figured he must’ve been an awful good boy all year for Santa to give him two to choose from.  
    Boricio tossed the binoculars on the passenger seat, exited the Z8, then peeled the shirt from his body and dropped it in the dirt, kicking it around on the ground and dragging it across the dirty sludge with his feet. His freshly dirtied shirt was now half frozen, sending a chill and a shudder through Boricio’s body when he put it back on.
    Perfect.  
    His guise ready, he headed toward the house, whistling “ Here Comes Santa Claus .”

    **

    He knocked, then waited a long five minutes, perking his ears, though he couldn't hear a thing on the other side, especially from behind his own chattering teeth. Then a faint, metallic click strummed his ears. A gun? He figured as much and was instantly proven right. A sharp order blasted through the door, still muffled but clearly coming from the guy. Then the door opened, barely. The girls must have been standing behind it because Boricio could hear them breathing. Could smell them.
    The guy was the only one Boricio could see, though he couldn't get a clear view with the rifle aimed right between his eyes. “Who are you?” the man shouted. The way his forehead was beaded and neck veins twitching, there was no way he’d ever pulled the trigger on a beating heart before.  
    Boricio raised his hands slowly.
    “Sorry, Sir,” he said, teeth still chattering. “I’ve been walking for days. You’re the first person I seen in I don’t even know how long.” Boricio scrunched his face, then said, “Since the second week of January, I guess, when Billy stopped breathing on account of it being so cold.”  
    Boricio’s hands went higher in the air. “I don’t mean no trouble at all, Sir. I know there ain’t nothing more important than staying safe. And I don’t mean to intrude. It’s just that, well, I saw the fire and thought maybe you’d spare some help for a fellow survivor. I don’t need much, maybe just a can of meat if you have it. Anything to take away the burn in my belly. Again, I don’t need much,” Boricio shook his head, even managed to force a rumble from his stomach. “I was hunting my own food, but then I ran out of bullets and now I’ve lost both my gun and my knife. I’ve got nothing, not even a jacket.” Boricio shivered.  
    Would-be Rambo said, “How’d you ‘lose’ your weapons?”
    “Didn’t lose them so much as had them taken by the guy who killed my friend, Frank. It was just the both of us after Billy passed. We lasted about a month, up until last week when this guy, called himself Boricio, came from nowhere. Killed Frank like it was nothing. Never saw no one move like that. He told me I could live since I looked too pathetic to die. Then he took my gun and knife and left me for dead. That was two days ago, and I can’t see my way. Been wandering in circles since.” Boricio gave a hopeful smile. “Maybe you could see to help me with a way out of the woods along with that can of meat?” He