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

“Welcome back, Brother Carl. Please, go to Brothers Gerald and Evan. Tell them the time has come. Then get Brothers Peter and Boricio and round up Linc and bring him here to me. If anyone tries to stop you or stand in your way, shoot them where they stand. The Good Lord will decide what happens to them after that.”
    “Thank you, Brother Rei,” Carl said, bowing. He left the torture room without looking behind.
    “So, what is this about weapons?” Rei asked, smiling.
    “He’s laying,” Desmond said, “He just wants out of here. And you just let him go. He’s playing you for a fool.”
    Rei stepped closer to Desmond, “You think you’re so damned smart, don’t you?”
    Desmond said nothing.
    Rei began to pace again, and then disappeared up the steps for a few minutes.
    Luca looked at Desmond, afraid.  
    “Don’t say anything,” Desmond thought. “He might be listening at the top of the stairs.”
    Rei returned with a pitchfork, holding it up for Desmond to see. “What do you think would happen if I plunged this into your boy’s stomach?”
    Rei turned to Luca and aimed the pitchfork at his stomach. As the sharp prongs grew closer, Luca closed his eyes, either out of fear, or desperation to reach Will before he died.
    Desmond was about to say something to bring Rei’s attention back to him, when footsteps fell into the chamber.
    Carl returned, shoving Linc inside the torture room with two guards walking behind him, Peter and the full of shit sycophant, Boricio. Linc looked at Desmond with defeated eyes.
    “Brother Boricio, would you please help Brother Carl tie our new guest to the wall so we can get to the truth and finally leave all of this ugliness behind us?”
    Once Linc was secure, Rei smiled a sickening smile, then thrust the handle of the pitchfork hard into Linc’s chest, knocking the breath from his body.  
    “While the Good Lord decides if you’re worthy of breath, I want you to consider the meaning of the word ‘Truth.’ If you do manage to retrieve your breath, well, I’m guessing that means the Good Lord would like you to share what he’s left on your tongue.”  
    When it sounded like Linc was finally done choking, Rei said, “Now, I hear you all are planning ‘an attack.’ Tell me how many traitors there are among us? I want a name for every one, and then I’ll release you immediately. I hold no grudges. Just ask Carl.” Rei gestured toward Carl who still had his gun trained on the prisoners, as if they posed a threat, fastened to the wall.  
    Linc gathered his breath as though he were about to spill every secret inside him, then did the unthinkable by hawking a giant wad of mucus into Rei’s face. Desmond smiled, hating himself for ever doubting Linc.
    “Fuck you,” Linc said to punctuate his action, clearly not giving a fuck what Rei might do.  
    Rei looked ready to boil. Desmond winced imagining what was about to happen to Linc. Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the steps as another of his men, Brother Chris,   raced down the steps and shouted, “Brother Rei!”
    Rei wiped the spit from his face, dabbed at his chin with his robe, then turned toward to Chris. “Yes,” he said, voice calm but laced with an insanity that sent a chill down Desmond’s spine.  
    “What is it?” Rei said. “And I dare say, this had better be worth the interruption.”
    “I’m sorry,” Chris said. “You wanted to know if there was anything happening with Mary or John. Something’s happening with them both right now. Mary just ran into the men’s house. She was frantic, demanding to see John.”
    “Very well,” Rei stepped toward Linc until he was just inches from his face, almost daring him to spit again. “We are far, far from finished here. When I return, you will tell me everything, or you will die.”  
    Rei turned to the room. “Brothers Carl and Chris, follow me.” He nodded toward Boricio and Peter. “You two stay here and guard the traitors. Empty your guns into anyone who looks at you funny.”  
    Rei smiled, turned, and led the way up the stairs.  
    Brother Peter held his gun nervously in front of him, aimed at the prisoners. Boricio smiled at Desmond, a smile too wide to worship a loving God.  
    Luca closed his eyes tight and Desmond wondered where he was going.  

    * * * *

MARY OLSON: PART 2

    Mary and Paola were alone in the reading room of the women’s house when she heard the commotion in the courtyard, looked out the window, and she saw Linc