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

make him look weak. Vic was as much a bully as Bob, with a nose fine-tuned to sniffing out pussies ripe for torment.
    Charlie hoped the little scene last night might finally give Vic pause before fucking with Charlie overtly. Putting a knife in the one-eyed biker who killed Jeremy must’ve earned him some respect. Judging from Adam’s stunned expression and Boricio’s smile, he knew he’d at least impressed them. Vic grinned, but Charlie couldn’t read what inspired the smile. Had Charlie finally done something to impress the man, or was he smiling in mockery, judging Charlie’s kill as that of a pussy?
    He wasn’t sure what Callie had thought either.
    He didn’t even look at her after he’d killed the man. He stormed from the room, and went outside to clear his head. She followed a few minutes later, finding him on the side of the house. She approached cautiously, as if suddenly afraid. He could barely look her in the eyes, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was shame, or maybe he was afraid he’d puke once he really thought about what he’d done. He killed a man. Another man. Bob was one thing. Bob had earned Charlie’s rage and hate with years of abuse, treating his mom like shit, raping Callie, and then saying the shit he did about Charlie’s dad. Nobody said shit about his dad. But killing the biker had been different. He’d taken no joy from it. Worse, he instantly regretted the decision. He had to go outside to try and push the thoughts from his head, before they began a forever loop in his mind’s movie reel
    Callie stepped closer, meeting his eyes. She hugged him, burying her face into his chest. She didn’t say a word. She simply hugged him. And he hugged her. And then he broke down, crying.
    “It’s okay,” she said, over and over, whispering to him as she hugged him so hard, he wondered who needed the hug more.
    Callie had been acting weird, lately. Sad, and almost needy   at times. Usually, she was either tough talking, brash, and funny, or light-hearted and friendly, sharing stories of her childhood. But lately, she spent a lot of time staring at thoughts just out of focus. Sometimes, she looked like she wanted to cry. And when they slept together, she’d snuggle up closely to him, pulling his arm around her, though never once pushing it into more romantic areas. It was as close to a romantic bond as he’d ever had, yet he didn’t dare attempt to breach the line.  
    Sometimes, he wondered if she was finally falling for him. But he was too damned afraid to make another move and have a repeat of the awkwardness that followed his first attempt to ask her out.
    They remained outside for a while, neither saying much and not really needing to. Sometimes, just being close to someone is enough. They went to bed a bit after that, laying together, her in his arms. They stayed that same way all through the night.
    Now, as the golden light of morning caressed her skin, he had to fight the urge, and his morning wood, to follow the sun’s touch on her skin.
    He closed his eyes, flashing back over the past few months, wondering where it all was leading. Not just he and Callie, but what he was doing with Boricio and crew, and whether or not his place had permanence. Would he be better off trying to go it alone, or just he and Callie, assuming she’d come with him? Boricio was no saint, and maybe the world’s biggest dick, but at the same time, he seemed to have a respect for Charlie that no man since his dad had given him. He was like a cool uncle, in a way. But he sensed there was a side to Boricio that was pitch black; a side he didn’t allow the others to see but Charlie was certain was there. A savage side hungry to break free its chains.  
    When Charlie thought back about all the time spent with Boricio, all the daring shit and all the big words, he still found himself confronted with a frighting question: What did they really know about Boricio?  
    What had he done before he showed up as a prisoner of The Prophet with he and Adam? From the best Charlie could tell, Boricio had been a cook, a mechanic, and a debt collector of some sort at one point, though Charlie wasn’t sure if that meant the kind who cashed in on legitimate debts, or something more sinister. Charlie suspected the latter, and could see Boricio being a mobster henchman, but only for a while. Boricio liked to fly solo, that much was clear. Charlie figured Boricio had grown up on the streets, pretty much doing