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

familiar darkness Will had seen in his dreams too many times to count.  
    “Well, what do you think?” Desmond gestured toward the gate. “Does our new friend end up kneeling at the altar of New Unity, or does he get smart in the other direction?”
    “Who knows. Has anything turned out   as we expected? Maybe that guy out there,” Will nodded toward the gates, “ends up on that back there.” He threw his thumb behind him, toward the new cross. “All we can do now is watch, and wait.”
    “Ah,” Desmond said, “the end of the world special.”
    The men fell silent as they approached the breakfast table, which Mary, Paola, and Luca were already sitting at. A few others from the church were also seated at their table, neutering any real conversation.  
    Desmond pulled out his chair and sat directly across from Will. Both men folded their hands and waited for Morning Prayer. Will smiled at Mary and Paola and Luca, but didn’t see Linc at any of the other five tables. There was another few minutes of silence, and when it was clear that neither Brothers Rei or John, or The Prophet, were coming to lead grace, Brother Reginald stood and thanked The Good Lord for all they were about to receive.  
    Silverware clinked, a few people coughed, and the wood from the bench whispered as members of the congregation shifted in their seats. The silence was so loud it was nearly a scream. Paola couldn't take it. She dropped her fork with a clatter and yelled, “Isn’t anyone going to talk about him?”
    Will didn’t think she and Scott had been all that close, but he kept the thought in the back of his head where it belonged, then reached for Paola across the table. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Some people like to grieve in silence. Just because no one’s saying anything, doesn’t mean they don’t care.”
    “Scott was funny,” she said. “He wouldn't have wanted everyone to keep quiet.”
    “Well then,” Will said, “let’s remember the good times. How about the time we were stuck in that warehouse for two days and had nothing to eat, and Scott made you the imaginary milkshake?” All eyes were on Will, even the ones that acted like they weren’t. “Now what was in that milkshake again?”
    “It was a Jolly Rancher flavored milkshake, with rainbow sprinkles, chocolate chips, and magical drops from the sun to keep me warm.” Paola laughed, then wiped a tear from her eye. “And it was in a tall glass made from sugar crystals and Saturn rings.” Paola started laughing harder through her tears.
    That was enough to get others at the table, those who hadn’t known him and had no right to really talk of him, to do just that, with more than a fair share of “he’s with the Good Lord now,” and “the Gates have swung open early for him.”  
    Will saw Desmond trying not to roll his eyes while grabbing Mary’s attention. But her mind seemed elsewhere, which would explain the gaze that was nowhere near Desmond. There was a new frosty layer between them that had to be a recent development. He wondered if they’d been in a fight, but the chill was only coming from Mary. He waited for her head to turn in his direction, then swallowed his mouthful of biscuit and said, “You okay?”  
    Mary nodded. Desmond’s eyes moved between her and Will, as though he wanted to know the same thing, and was sure one of them harbored the answer.  
    Mary and Desmond were always desperate for alone time, but had to wait until after breakfast each morning, when they could sneak away to the garden and steal a few minutes worth of whispers. But the funeral was scheduled for this morning, so they wouldn’t have their usual chance. Any whispers worth stealing would have to be stolen later.
    Two of the older women in the congregation, whose names Will didn’t know, began clearing the tables as the rest of the congregation drifted like the black cloud it was out of the house, past the church and beyond the far wall, outside The Sanctuary and to the cemetery in the woods just beyond.
    The iron gate whined open to a short, twisting path through the woods, leading to the ancient cemetery. Even if it wasn’t ancient by biblical standards, it was ancient for American soil, with a few newer headstones mingled among the mostly Civil War-era graves.
    Will’s eyes were everywhere, but The Prophet was nowhere in sight. Not knowing where he was made Will feel like a target. The Prophet, Brother Rei, and John had been watching him