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

whatever he needed to do in order to survive. If that included grifting, strong-arm robbery, or seducing women with money, so be it. Boricio was all about getting his. And Team Boricio was only a team so far as it continued to serve the captain’s needs. The players, themselves, seemed expendable.
    Expendable.
    The past few months saw a flux of team members; a wanderer picked up there, a casualty from monster or bandit there. The deaths didn’t phase Boricio one bit; he hadn’t stopped to mourn their losses for a second. In fact, Charlie wasn’t even sure Boricio was capable of mourning, or feeling much, really. But there were times when Boricio would say something nice or inspirational to him and Adam; moments when Boricio actually seemed to care about them, perhaps felt some responsibility for taking care of them. Charlie wondered if this was the real Boricio he was seeing in those moments, or if it was simply another mask worn by the man to manipulate them to stick with him.  
    If he or Adam was to die tomorrow, would Boricio even care?
    As Charlie pondered the thought, he felt foolish, and almost like a child, wondering if Boricio was really his friend . These were the sort of thoughts the Old Charlie used to obsess about, always wondering if people liked him, always wanting to avoid things that might offend or anger someone. The kinds of thoughts that had made him such a loser, and a target. The kinds of thoughts that attracted bullies and thugs like Vic. And Bob. The kinds of thoughts that kept him from living life.
    Times like now, as he lay in the morning stillness, more or less alone with his thoughts and the new day dawning outside, he felt hate.
    Hate for Old Charlie, who had let others control his life. Hate for the fears that ruled his existence. Hate for every cowardly choice he’d ever made. Hate for every bully who exploited his kindness. And hate for never striking back at those bullies.
    Life was too short to live in constant fear.
    He was tired of being Old Charlie.
    He was tired of pretending to be some different, manlier Charlie.  
    Now, as the morning sun rose outside and his wood rose in his shorts, he decided, is the time to become New Charlie, for real.  
    If there was one thing he had learned from Boricio, it was that he didn’t have to be a pussy. He didn’t have to take it. He could fight back.  
    He could kill.  
    He could do whatever it took to survive. Because now, more than ever, weakness and fear were qualities that would kill him, and possibly Callie.
    The world had been wiped clean, so had Charlie’s slate.  
    It was time to reinvent himself.  
    To the New Charlie.  
    He imagined himself toasting an invisible glass of champagne.  
    He took initiative last night, by killing the biker who killed Jeremy. He’d done something positive, which made him strong in the eyes of the others. He would build on that today. Do something decisive. Take charge. Step into his new self.  
    He would kill the Old, Weak Charlie once and for all.

    * * * *

MARY OLSON: PART 1

    Kingsland, Alabama
    The Sanctuary
    March 23
    morning

    Mary was sipping a tall glass of tepid water, letting her last swallow sit in her mouth as she leaned against the bar talking to Will. John and Desmond had left The Sanctuary an hour earlier to look for Rebecca and Carl.  
    The mood was humid, everyone waiting for word, while trying to go about the day. The children were still in class; Mary and Will were taking a largely unnoticed break from their chores.
    “I don’t know,” Mary said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t feel right. And I know how much Desmond hates it. I can feel him biting his tongue, and practically hear the million and one things he isn’t saying. It’s exhausting, and we’re not even living together.”
    “Yeah,” Will shook his head, “Dude isn’t half as subtle as he thinks he is.”
      “What do you think?” She tried pinning Will to an answer like the hundred times she’d failed before. “Are we safe?”
      Will nodded. “Sure, we’re safe. At least as safe as we would be out there,” he jerked his thumb toward the wall. “Truthfully, I think safe got swallowed by a tar pit.”  
    Mary got it a second before Will said, “You know, like the dinosaurs, safe doesn’t exist anymore.”
    She felt stupid for giving him long enough to explain.  
    “There are guards, high walls and weapons, and all the food we need. And besides,” Will said, “if they wanted us