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

to get in his way.”
    “And then?” Boricio asked, full attention on Adam’s story while Vic paced in the shadows where the kitchen opened to the dining room.
    “Well, Jeremy said hell no, so the guy with the patch shot him right in the head. I wanted to shoot the guy, but there were six of them and I knew I couldn’t get them all. He told me to give him my gun.”
    “And you did?” Boricio’s upper lip twitched.
    “Yeah,” Adam said, eyes on Boricio like a child afraid he was about to see the slapping side of a belt. “So the guy took my gun, then hit me in the face with his shotgun. All the other guys started laughing. He asked me for the keys and I asked him if he was gonna shoot me. He laughed and said if he’d planned to do that, I’d already have maggots making babies in the holes. So I handed him the keys, and he was all, ‘See, I told you I wasn’t gonna shoot you’ then headed to the back of the truck to see what was inside. The other guys followed, except one, who stood over me. I don’t know what took so long, but they seemed to be looking in the back of the truck forever. Then the guy who was watching me went to join them. I got up and ran into the woods, but they came after me, and knocked me down. I thought for sure that was it. The bald guy came over, leaned down, slid the knife across my chest, and said, ‘Tell your people that we own Dunn, and we’d better not see them again.’ Then they left me there. I walked a half a mile or so, without a gun or anything, praying I wouldn’t run into one of them monsters. Then I found a house, went inside, got the keys to a car, then drove back here as fast as I could.”
    “Thank God you’re alive,” Callie said, looking up at Charlie, quietly urging him to say something.
    “You did a good job,” Charlie said, figuring someone should praise him if Boricio wasn’t.
    Boricio laughed, “If shitting the bed and losing a truck along with one of our men is what constitutes a good job these days, well fuck me in the face and show me where I can sign up for the union.” Boricio laughed, then added, “My my, how far the mighty Team Boricio has fallen.”
    Charlie looked up, “Do we really want to bag on him while he’s down. I’m sure he feels like shit enough, already.”
    Boricio’s eyes drilled into Charlie. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but kept his mouth shut in a rare moment of silence.
    “So, what are we gonna do?” Vic, the walking steroid case, asked, “We’re not gonna take this shit, are we?”
    “I dunno,” Boricio said, “Let’s ask Prince Charles, here. Do we want to make this shit straight, or should we just pack our bags, tuck our dicks in between our legs and cluck the fuck out of Dunn because One-Eyed Willy and his gang of cum-colored fucktards said to get off their turf?”
    “There’s enough homes and stores for all of us,” Callie said, ignoring Boricio’s usual   ranting. “Why did they rob us? It’s not like there’s that many people competing for resources, right? They’re the only ones we’ve seen, right?”
    “Well, them and The Prophet’s compound, but that’s about an hour away,” Charlie said. “Maybe supplies are drying up around Dunn? Or maybe they’re just acting now to get what they can before they do? Maybe they’ve run into other people left behind?”
    “Who gives a dickstick dipped in twat oil WHY they robbed us,” Boricio said, swinging his hands theatrically. “It’s Top Of The Food-Chain Time, kids! That means kill or be killed, whether you’re human or monster. I know Charlie and Adam here have this cozy notion that people are ‘nice’ and we ought to be a happy band of Mr. Rogers-types, taking off our shoes and wiping survivors’ asses if they can’t do it themselves. But when the cosmic shit hits the fan, people ain’t nothin’ but animals – hunter or prey. And in case any of you fuckers were in the bathroom tossing one off during intermission, Boricio is a hunter. The only question is what do you all wanna be?”
    “Hunters!” Vic shouted as he came back into the kitchen, fist in the air like he was rooting for his favorite wrestler.  
    Boricio smiled, “What about the rest of you?”
    Charlie and Callie were silent. Adam whispered, “Hunter,” avoiding eye contact with anyone.
    Boricio looked at Charlie, eyes wide and smile manic. “Well, what say you, Charles In Charge? Hunter or hunted?”
    “Hunter, but...”
    “Nope, nope, nope.