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

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    eBook Edition - February 7, 2012
    REVISED: March 25, 2012 to fix typos including instances of incorrect capitalized “Rs”

    Layout and design by Collective Inkwell
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    * * * *

“JOHN”

    Kingsland, Alabama
    The Sanctuary
    March 25
    9:06 a.m.

    “It’s coming.”
    The creature that was once John started its morning as it had each day, meditating in the middle of the man-made room, sucking in the soured air and reaching beyond the gates to speak with the best parts of him – the parts that crawled through the forest, waited in the mountains, and lingered in the shadows beyond The Sanctuary.  
    John smiled wide at the long awaited message, finally delivered by fraying fragments of his self, lingering in the shadows and oozing like oil over his thoughts.  
    “It’s coming.”
    John was growing stronger by the day, and his new strength was making the old patience even more restless. He could end them in a flood of fury, before they had time to blink in disbelief. The man who called himself “The Prophet” believed them all safe, here in their laughably named “Sanctuary;” this man was foolish enough to think that his “God” would somehow keep his congregation safe inside a self-proclaimed holy land.  
    The Prophet’s “holy land” was hollow. The only thing keeping his congregation safe was It ,   or John as It was named in this mortal disguise. The humans would breath their soured air as long as John allowed it, and not one second longer. The Prophet’s archaic god had nothing to do with their safety, but everything to do with how easy it was going to be for John to slaughter all his little lambs at once.  
    For now, the human gathering served John well, fencing them inside, too blind to see the bars that their “protection” had built around them, too thick to bend or break. He allowed it, encouraged it, fostered the illusion of safety by having his legions of darkness strike hardest whenever doubt about the The Sanctuary’s safety began to bleed through its walls.  
    Yesterday, he had to kill two. Today, he might need to kill another. John could sense the doubt threading itself through the seams of the woman, Mary, and her flock.
    He should have killed them all back at the hotel, should never have allowed their strength to build, even if it was only a whisper compared to his inevitable scream.
    But he couldn't kill them all, not then and not now. Not without damaging his connection to Luca. And that was something he simply couldn't afford to do. The boy was more than powerful, he was preordained.  
    Luca would soon play a large role in the inevitable. He simply needed a little encouragement, a nudge in the right direction. The Prophet gave John the breadcrumbs to lay, which made it easy for Luca to follow him precisely where he wanted him – here, behind the walls of The Sanctuary, sharing the soured air with his pompous flock.  
    Things were starting to settle into place, the pieces finally fitting together. It would happen soon — the event he’d been made for; the event that would unite his scattered parts and fraying fragments into the the fabric of the future.  
    John could feel the grand design like these humans felt hunger. He was born from the past, was the core of the present, and the only thing the future cared about. Because John was all that mattered to the universe, he knew things the humans never could, things they were not designed to see.  
    How could they expect to stare into the infinite when they couldn't even smell the sour of the air?  
    John could see his true purpose forming in the shadows around him, slowly taking shape – crawling through the forest, waiting in the mountains, and lingering in the shadows while he waited behind the walls of The Sanctuary, preparing to strike.
    His communication with the creatures these people called demons, monsters, and bleakers had grown stronger over the months. John was able