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

inside of the empty Mustang. Shadows came from within the garage. Someone was with Harry.“Who’s that in garage?” Adam asked. “Is Boricio back?”
    “I don’t know,” Charlie said, a nervous chill slithering through his gut, as they moved toward the garage
    The bag of weapons in the car punctuated Charlie’s thoughts; he wished he’d thought to bring a gun with him into the house. And he never thought to ask Adam where his knife went after Adam saved him. He looked at Adam, who was also unarmed.
    Shit.
    They approached the garage with practiced caution.  
    His ever sense in alert-mode, Charlie nearly jumped out his skin when Harry came bolting into view. “Hey guys, guess who’s back!” the mechanic said with a smile.
    Charlie felt a swell of hope rise in his heart.
    Boricio’s back. Time to go get Callie, right now!
    Except, it wasn’t Boricio.
    Seconds after Harry spoke, something black pierced him from behind, ripping through his back and out his stomach, followed by a river of gore.
    Harry’s eyes widened, his smile a memory, as he looked down and saw the dark, glistening alien hand which was twisted into a large blade jutting from his stomach as his guts spilled onto the ground. The blade retracted and Harry fell to the ground as the owner of the dark alien blade stepped out of the shadows, a smile on his face and a scar across his neck.
    “Hello, boys! Miss me?” said Vic.

    * * * *

EDWARD KEENAN: PART 2

    When Ed awoke, the morning sun was bleeding through a sliver of the slightly parted curtains, and Brent was gone.
    He grabbed his Remington 870, and was on his feet in seconds. He was already dressed; all he needed was his tactical vest, which he quickly slipped on and fastened. Fully armed, he approached the hotel room door like a ghost, silently opening it and slipping into the hallway. Brent was at the end of the corridor staring out the window.
    “What you looking at?” Ed asked, surprising Brent, who looked pale.
    “Come look,” Brent said, keeping his voice low, and waving his hand in a “come here” motion.
    Ed jogged to the end of the hall and joined Ed at the window. Someone was in the parking lot. Not just one someone, but several someones — three men and one woman, walking between the cars, searching for something. They were identically dressed — camouflage pants, shirts, jackets, hunting gear. Each carried a hunting rifle and had a backpack strapped to their back. They were a serious bunch, but not military.
    “Are they Black Mountain?” Brent asked.
    “No, just civilians, probably looking for supplies or a place to stay.”
    “What do we do?”
    “We wait. As long as they don’t touch our van, we let them pass.”
    “And if they don’t pass? If they come in here?”
    “Then they’ve got a problem,” Ed said.
    “I don’t think they’re looking for supplies,” Brent said. “I think they’re looking for someone.”
    Ed watched as one of the men squatted and peered beneath a truck, his rifle muzzle leading the way.  
    “You know; I think you’re right. The question is who?”
    “They’re looking for me,” a scared voice said from behind, jolting both Ed and Brent.
    Ed spun, gun aimed, and saw a young boy, maybe 12, eyes wide and scared, teetering toward terrified. The boy was dressed in jeans, a red tee shirt, and dark blue jacket. No gun. With his big blue eyes, mop of brown hair, and dirty face, he didn’t seem much of a threat, but Ed kept his gun on the kid just the same.  
    “Please, don’t let them find me,” the boy said, voice raspy.
    “Who are they?” Ed asked.
    “I don’t know. I woke up yesterday and they’d killed the man I was living with. I tried to hide, but they saw me, and now they’re after me.”
    “Why?” Brent asked.
    “I don’t know, and I don’t know what they want.” The boy was on the verge of tears.  
    Ed lowered his gun, then looked back down to the parking lot, but didn’t see them anymore. Where are they?
    Seconds later, breaking glass answered the question.  
    “They’re inside,” Ed said to Brent, who already had his pistol ready.
    “Hide in here. Do not leave until we come get you, okay?” Ed said, ushering the boy into the room at the end of the hall, not the room they were in. He didn’t trust the boy enough to put him in a room with their supplies and weapons.
    Ed closed the door with the boy inside, then turned to Brent. “You ready?”
    “Ready for what? Are we gonna shoot