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

this place. Which was probably the kick in the ass he needed, anyway.
    He’d never find Mary and Paola by staying put. He had to keep searching, even if that search was in vain.

    * * * *

3 - MARY OLSON: PART 1

    Kingsland, Alabama
    The Sanctuary
    March 20, 10:40 a.m.

    “The Prophet?” Mary said, barely hiding her snicker.  
    Had John gone off the deep end, running off to do God-knows-what, following a so-called prophet? Prophet of What? Apparently he hadn’t foretold whatever the hell it was that had burned half his body , Mary thought with a sting of guilt.
    “He foresaw everything that happened,” John said, eyes toward the sky and hands in the air, proudly singing the praises of his new best-friend. Mary had never known John to be a religious, or terribly excited man. Back in Warson Woods, the only thing he ever prattled on with unbridled enthusiasm about was Jenny, and how thrilled they were to be together. John always had a story about the latest thing they’d done, or were planning to do. It was nauseating, at times. But that was John and Jenny, and you put up with it.  
    Since October 15, the old effervescent John had vanished into a shell, replaced by a bitter drunk, pissed at the world and happy about nothing . . . until now.
    The Prophet had ignited something in John’s eyes and his spirit; that much was clear despite the mystery enveloping Mr. Godsend, which now enveloped them too.
    The Prophet hadn't budged since John’s introduction; he just stood at the foot of the stairs watching, though observing was probably a word more fitting. While John was talking up the Prophet, most everyone’s eyes were fixed on John. But The Prophet’s eyes were fixed on everyone else, as if taking mental notes on how each of them responded to John’s message.
    “He saw it all, down to the day and time it would happen. That’s why we’re here,” John said, warmth like honey on his voice. “The Sanctuary is more than the name of your new home, it’s our purpose here as well.” John waved his hands around the compound with enough pride to suggest he’d pounded the nails himself.  
    “How old is this place?” Desmond asked, moving his eyes from the three houses to the silo, then across to the hangar and back. “How many people are here?”  
    Will shot him a look, desperate for the guided tour from Animatronic John to be over. Although Desmond’s face was turned from her, Mary was sure he could feel her glare.  
    “Oh, it’s old,” John said. “The land had been in his family for more than 100 years. It began with a simple house on farmland. Then The Prophet’s grandfather built the church, which stood until October 15. We’re now home to more than 60 people, though there’s room for you all should you decide to stay.”
    Mary took a step toward Desmond then grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard.  
    “The Prophet built The Sanctuary to prepare for the Glorious Day when Heaven would open its doors to its chosen few. He never asked to be a leader, never wanted it at all, but The Prophet is not just the son of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, he is the Son of The Inevitable, and there is no redirecting fate from eternity.”
    Mary squeezed harder, wishing the lecture would end soon. She felt as uncomfortable as the time her old friend, Susan, got married and became a Jehovah’s Witness and started trying to sell Mary on her faith. Mary was on the fence with religion most times, but was never comfortable with the hard sale; especially when it came from someone she knew. This latest experience felt like that, but multiplied, as if John had also joined some multi-level marketing scheme and was trying to sell them on a “golden opportunity.”
    “God showed our Prophet the future. Gave him the vision and then the strength to see it in all its Glory, because only then could he lead the righteous to His Kingdom. Once he saw God, The Prophet knew his life’s purpose. And as the Lord’s Chosen, he bore the burden of choosing the path for everyone to follow – building the compound, gathering his flock, and waiting for the Glorious Day when Heaven would open its doors.”
    “You covered that,” Desmond said.  
    John stopped speaking and turned to Desmond, considering him for a moment with undecided eyes, then opened his mouth to speak. Before he could say a word, The Prophet stepped forward and said, “Desmond, right?”  
    Desmond nodded. The Prophet moved faster than Desmond would have