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

Adam said, then pulled the gum from his mouth, in a big sticky, saliva-coated wad, rolled down the window, and threw it outside. “Sorry,” he said, mouth now free of gum.
    Charlie didn’t say anything. He knew he should apologize to Adam, that he was only snapping at him because he was stressed, but he was far too annoyed to fake an apology. So he kept driving, eyes peeled for anything familiar, anything that might lead him to the compound where they’d been held captive five months earlier.
    “What if Boricio’s not there? And what if those people remember us?” Adam asked.
    “I dunno,” Charlie said, not snapping, and actually considering the question. He reached into his jacket pocket, then ran his fingers over the cross that Callie had made for him.

    “It’s for good luck,” she’d said. “I figured we could use that more than anything right now, right?”
    “Yeah,” he had said, and hugged her.  

    Now, as he thought back on Callie’s gift, Charlie wished he’d hugged her harder, showed more appreciation than he had. He wasn’t used to getting gifts, particularly from girls, so he thanked her, said it was awesome,   but felt maybe he should’ve said more, talked about how well it was carved, or something! He loved the cross enough to hide it so Vic, or anyone else, wouldn’t steal it. But he hadn’t explained that to Callie, nor did he even tell her he was hiding it. One day, for some reason, he simply thought to do so. Callie never mentioned the fact that Charlie had hidden the cross. He wondered if she had wondered where he’d put it. Maybe she thought he didn’t like it and threw it away. He hoped that wasn’t the case. He considered her now, prisoner of whoever took her, alone and thinking that Charlie didn’t like her gift. That image made his eyes water.
    He blinked, refocusing on the task at hand — figuring out where the hell they were.
    “She’s gonna be okay,” Adam said. Dumb as he sometimes was, he was intuitive enough to know what was plaguing Charlie’s mind.
    “What is that?” Adam asked, pointing to a black van about a quarter mile ahead, pulled to the side of the road.  
    “Is that like the one that took Callie?” Charlie asked, heart racing.
    “Hard to tell from here, but could be.”
    “Get the guns ready,” Charlie ordered.
    Adam grabbed a shotgun from the bag behind their seats. He made sure it was loaded, even though he’d done so at the beginning of the ride, then grabbed a rifle for Charlie.
    As they drew closer, they noticed the back doors of the van were wide open. Snow piled and flowed into thick forest on either side of the road. Charlie wasn’t sure if the van on the side of the road with open doors was a good sign or not. He wasn’t sure if Callie would have fled into the snow-dense woods. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if this was the van used to abduct Callie. But it was a black van and there was no snow piled on it, so it was likely recently used.
    Charlie eased off the gas as they pulled up behind the van, coming to a full stop about five car lengths back. Charlie analyzed the scene — the van, the road, the woods, everything. The back of the van was empty. A black wall with a sliding window separated the back of the van from the front. Charlie figured it made the perfect prisoner transport vehicle.  
    The distance made it impossible to tell if anyone was in the front of the van. He considered driving around to the front, but decided he’d rather be on foot so he could get a better shot off, if needed.
    “See anything?” Charlie asked Adam.
    “No, nothing. What should we do?”
    “Let’s investigate,” Charlie said. He stepped from the van and onto the road. “I’ll take the driver’s side; you take the passenger’s. And check the snow over there for footprints.”
    Adam stepped out and walked along the side of the highway, eyes alternating between the passenger door and the snow, approaching the truck directly opposite Charlie.  
    They walked together in tandem, guns raised. “Don’t shoot unless you’re sure it’s not Callie,” Charlie warned, voice low. “You understand me?”
    “Yes, sir,” Adam said, eyes bolted on the van ahead.  
    Say what you want about Adam; in times like this, he was pretty fucking intense, and kept his eyes on the task at hand.
    They were maybe 10 feet away. Charlie strained to see the mirrors on the side of the truck, to get a look at the driver’s side. The windows were tinted,