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

dick!”
    Ed ignored her, and said, “Lead us to our weapons, or you’ll see just how big a dick I can be.”
    The woman took off her glasses, and glared at Ed with her fierce blue eyes. He pointed with his gun, gesturing for her to start walking in front of them. She looked young, maybe in her mid 20’s. The kid, who looked around 12, was probably a brother or someone she teamed up with on the road.
    As they walked to the store, the woman asked, “So, what’s your name, Mr. Homeland Security?”
    “Doesn’t matter,” Ed said. “Keep walking.”
    “Is he always this grumpy?” the woman asked, turning and grinning at Brent.
    Brent wanted to say nothing, to stay as serious as Ed was, but the mischievous part of him hadn’t been let out in a while. Plus, Ed did gross him out with all that talk of eating a pregnant spider.  
    “Yeah, he used to work at the DMV before becoming an agent. He’s a teddy bear when you get to know him, though.”
    “No, I’m not,” Ed said, not even looking at Brent, keeping his eyes, and gun, trained on the woman and child in front of them.
    “Aw, did someone not get enough love as a child?” the woman asked. “My name is Lisa, and this is Billy. It’s a pleasure meeting you both.”
    She stopped and offered her hand to shake.
    Ed pointed with the gun, “Keep walking.”
    Ed turned to Brent, “She a relative of yours? She sure is chatty.”
    Brent laughed, hoping Ed would return the laugh, but he stayed corporate.
    “So, you’re with the government; can you tell us what the hell happened? Where everyone went? What the fuck these monsters are?”
    Brent wanted to say they’re not monsters, but aliens, but kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure what information was still classified. There was no disguising the fact that these things were running rampant, but what they were, that was still top secret shit, perhaps.
    “That’s classified information,” Ed said in his gruffest voice.
    “Ah, so it was you all that made the world go poof? I figured as much.”
    Ed didn’t respond.  
    When they neared the grocery store, the woman pointed inside and said, “Your stuff is in there, inside the manager’s office. You think you can leave us something?”
    “Like your boy left us? No. Besides, as you said, there’s plenty of stores you can find what you need.”
    “You’re the government; you’re supposed to help us!” Lisa said, turning back and casting an exaggerated angry look at Ed. Though she was likely serious, Brent couldn’t help but notice how good she was at banter. She was probably a rather successful person before October 15, like one of the power networkers he used to run into on the job — someone who could get anything, meet anyone, or find out anything through the power of their words alone. The opposite of Ed, who couldn’t persuade without a weapon or the threat of violence.  
    “Where are you two going?” Lisa asked. “Are there others out there? Other than the people who killed our friend the other night, and chased us here?”
    “Yes, there’s others,” Ed said, surprising Brent with his candor. “At a place called Black Island, up by New York City.”
    “Never heard of it,” Lisa said.
    “Most haven’t,” Ed said.
    “So, can you take us back there? Is it safe?”
    “Yeah, it’s safe, but we’re not headed back for some time.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because we’re looking for someone,” Ed said.
    “Who? Wait, lemme guess . . . Classified?” Lisa said as she pulled the double mechanical doors of the grocery store open, and slid inside. The kid was right behind her.
    “That depends, do you know anyone named Boricio?” Ed said, as they followed the duo into the grocery store.
    The minute they breached the doorway, rifles were pressed into their heads, held by men in black gear similar to their own.
    Lisa turned and smiled.
    “Wow, Black Island has approximately shit on Black Mountain Guardsmen.”

      * * * *

LUCA HARDING: PART 4

    At the top of the stairs, Luca looked at Boricio. “Thank you,” he said.  
    “You can give Boricio the Blue Ribbon later, and maybe teach me the magic mind bayou voodoo you do so well. Right now, it’s time to keep the balls swinging in their sacks and kill us some fuckers.”  
    Luca didn’t know what happened, what he’d done to Boricio, or if he’d done anything at all. Nor did he know what to make of the scene he saw or the lightning that struck he and the three versions of