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

asking, “What the hell is happening?” or some variation of that question. Some have made guesses as to what happened, but nobody’s come close to the truth yet.  
    There were a few critics that took issue with the lack of answers in Season One , though I think most people understood that this is similar to a TV series, and we want to let the mystery play out slowly. One of my favorite TV shows, HBO’s Carnivale , unrolled at such a leisurely pace, it felt like The Best Book Ever! Even though the show failed to find an audience, I believe it did pacing right, keeping the mystery alive and introducing new ones as the story unfolded. As I watched it, I felt like I was in the hands of master storytellers. While we’re not masters (yet), we aim for the same sort of magical experience with Yesterday’s Gone.
    This season, though, you’re going to get answers. And more importantly, you’ll have a clearer understanding of exactly what’s at stake as the survivors are forced to choose sides.

    THANK YOU
    Lastly, we’d like to thank you for reading Yesterday’s Gone.  
    We’re thrilled that you have taken a chance on the books and the serialized format! That you’re reading this far means the world to us. We appreciate your investment of your most valuable possession — time. And we promise to never take that for granted.  
    So thank you for coming back. Though the first season only ended in November, I couldn’t wait to return to the world of Brent, Boricio, Mary, Charlie, and Luca, and explore the shadows with you, Dear Reader.

    Thank you for making this dream come true. Thank you for the kind words. Thank you for the reviews.  
    Thank you for reading.

    David Wright  
    & Sean Platt

    P.S. There’s a special Conversation With The Authors at the end of this book, where you can read a conversation between Sean and I based on reader questions.

    P.P.S. If you know someone who would enjoy this book, please tell them about Yesterday’s Gone , or buy them a copy. Whatever you can do to help spread the world helps us to keep writing for you. NOTHING helps spread the word better than reviews wherever you bought the book. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review today.

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MARY OLSON: 1

    Billings, Alabama
    March 20

    Mary woke up sticky. Another dream about Ryan.
    Though he was little more than an echo of the past during her waking hours, there wasn’t a thing Mary could do to keep him from haunting her sleeping ones. Odd how the past forgot its place in dreams, where old friends, lovers, and ex-husbands held court on equal footing with the present.
    A flash of sudden sorrow, then a current of guilt flooded Mary’s guts. She turned over, adjusting her eyes to the early morning that spilled through the thin opening in the thick dark curtains. A shaft of light fell on what she assumed to be Desmond’s sleeping form, but when her eyes met his, she saw that he was wide awake. Watching her again.
    “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said.
    “What time is it?”  
    Desmond turned and picked up his watch from the nightstand. “Quarter after six.”
    “You realize we don’t actually have to rise before the roosters anymore, right?”
    “Old habits,” he said, “Besides, when else can I get a peep show?”
    “I can’t imagine there’s anything interesting about watching a log.”
    “You have no imagination,” he smiled. “Or any idea how dirty I can make mine.”
    Mary blushed, like she did several times a day beneath the glow of Desmond’s compliments, though he didn’t usually start so early.  
    She had no idea what the last five months would have been like without him. Desmond was a godsend – smart and a natural leader — but more than that; he had a way of untangling the knots of their hardships, no matter how thick the gnarls. Without Desmond, they never would have left the Drury alive and never would have found sanctuary in their new Alabama home.  
    “You’re doing it again.” Desmond rubbed his hand on the ball of her knee.  
    “Sorry,” she met his eyes, “I was just thinking about the last few months.”
    Mary was getting lost in thought a lot more often lately. Too often. She’d been known to go deep, and had her whole life. It’s what made her a good, if not great, artist. She had a way of pulling whimsy from nowhere, then displaying it in a way no one had ever seen before. But that took time and space. And now, with all the time and space in the world,