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

and into the bathroom, found the flashlight on the sink, clicked it on, shut the door behind him, then fell to the floor over the toilet. Before he even had a chance to determine if the bowl had a floater, he vomited forth a bag of Chili Fritos and three energy drinks.
    Oh God!
    His stomach was churning, painful cramps pinching his gut from all sides, as he continued to splatter the toilet with puke. His head continued to buzz like hornets were swarming through his ear canals.  
    His hands gripped the cold bowl tight as his arms shuddered, continuously spitting until he was all finished retching, and the sound faded from his head.
    He swallowed, turned, and grabbed a towel off the towel rack. He wiped his mouth, collapsing against the bathroom wall, exhausted. As he sat on the floor, his eyes grew heavy, and he thought about going to sleep right there. Just a few minutes. The monsters had run away, after all.
    But what were they running from?  
    What scared them so bad?
    Ryan didn’t want to consider that something worse than the monsters might be lurking nearby. Perhaps they’d seen or heard the helicopters, even though Ryan hadn’t. Maybe the monsters could hear at longer distances.
    No, that’s not it.  
    You know what happened.
    His inner voice had obviously figured out something his conscious mind hadn’t yet assembled. He felt like he should know why they ran, but was coming up empty. He tried to think back on the moment, and then he heard the sound of something wet.
    He rose to his feet, carefully, his head still throbbing, and still feeling waves of vertigo.
    Where is that sound coming from? The toilet?
    He grabbed the flashlight and cast its beam into the bowl, where he saw his vomit, black and thick, alive with inch-long writhing things, like worms or maggots. There had to be hundreds, if not a thousand, in the bowl.
    Jesus, what are those?!
    Were those in me?
    Then the light caught movement, something racing across his left arm.
    No, not on it, but in it , just beneath the skin.
    What the hell was that?
    He thought he was seeing things, floaters in his eyes, shadows, something! But when he cast the light fully on his forearm, he saw the shapes writhing beneath his flesh. Worms, just like in the toilet.
    He stared in disbelief, revulsion growing, and threatening to make him return to the toilet to vomit up whatever else was in him.
    What is happening to me?
    His mind began to pull at the thread of his question: the weird dreams he’d been having where he was running with the creatures, like a pack of animals; the weird buzzing sounds; how he’d healed so quickly from wounds that should have laid him up for weeks if not killed him; how the creatures turned tail when he thought at them to go.
    The answer unspooled before his mind’s eye, leading him back to a sickening conclusion.
    He was infected.

    * * * *

MARY OLSON: PART 1

    Kingsland, Alabama
    The Sanctuary
    March 27
    4:01 p.m.  

    Paola was nestled deep into her mother’s chest, sobbing, but Mary pet her head and pushed her deeper. “It’s okay,” she soothed, “We’ll figure this out.”
    Paola tried to make words, but couldn’t. Through fresh tears, she finally confessed. “I’m scared, Mom.”
    “I know, honey; I know.”
    “Do you think Desmond’s okay? What do you think they’ll do to him? Will they throw him in the box, like they did to Rebecca?”
    Mary held her tighter. “Everything is gonna be okay. I’m sure Desmond is fine. The situation was getting out of hand, and they had to disarm him. Things were confusing. People didn’t know what Luca could do, because they hadn’t seen it. Desmond had a gun, so he looked like the aggressor. That Boricio guy was only trying to help. And no, I don’t think they’ll throw him in the box, not at all. I think they’ll ask him a few questions. Then he’ll be back with us, telling us his stories.”  
      Of course, Mary didn’t believe a word that left her mouth. While she hated lying to Paola, it was better than the alternative. She had no clue whom to trust, which was partly why she shuddered when Paola said, “Do you think there’s anything John can do to help?”
    “I’m not sure,” Mary said, “but I’ll find out right now.”  
    She hated the question, but hated her answer even more. Mary told Paola she’d be right back, then left to go find John. She found him talking to a pair of Brothers. She called his name and he turned to face her. “I’m so sorry