Yesterday's Gone (Season 5): Episodes 25-30 (30 page)

“Yeah, you’re a guy who gets paid a lot of money to play pretend and shoot bad guys and fuck starlets. And oh yeah, you’re a lot shorter in person. And you like to hurt women.
Yeah
, I know who you are. But all I care about is that vial. So you’re going to lead me to it and hand it over, or else.”

“Why the hell do you even want it?” Torrino whined.

“It’s a matter of national security, and you, sir, are impeding our attempts to preserve said security. That makes you a terrorist, son.”

“I want to know why you need it.”

Keenan was tired of playing patty cake with this bastard, but figured the man was clinging to his fragile ego and needed a win, something he could cling to. If that meant trading the vial for some information, Keenan had no problem throwing the mongrel some scraps.

“Have you seen the violence on TV? The mass shootings at the mall, at the school, that woman who tried to bite a child’s face off? These people have been infected with what’s inside the vial. It’s a highly dangerous biological weapon.”

“Bullshit,” Torrino said. “No way Josh Harmon would have a biological weapon, or give it to me, or anyone else, to hold onto.”

“It’s complicated,” Ed said, “but believe me — if we don’t get the vials back into custody, millions of people will die.”

Torrino stared at them, his grin finally fading as he seemed to consider Ed’s words. He looked at Marina, and something twisted in his face, an anger he couldn’t dismiss. He shook his head no.

“I want my lawyer.”

Marina shouted, “He’s telling you the truth, Max! Innocent people will die if we don’t hand over the vials. Do you want to be responsible for that?”

“I’m
not
responsible. Whatever happens happens, it’s what’s meant to be. As the Great All-Seeing intended.”

“You can’t be that heartless,” Marina said. “You’re willing to let innocent men, women, and children die because of what? Some stupid belief that the Great All-Seeing won’t let bad shit happen?”

“It won’t happen to me, or any of the other enlightened.
We’ll
be fine. It’s all ordained. Perhaps the world needs a proper flushing.”

Ed shook his head. “You can’t be serious. Are you stupid? I mean, I know you Hollywood types will believe anything, but this is some world-class high school misfit nihilism shit here.”

“Why should I care about anyone else? You think I don’t know what people think of me, think of
us
, Marina? They laugh at our religion, mock our beliefs, and they thought your father was a fraud. But it looks like he’ll have the last laugh, eh?
No
, I’m tired of being everyone’s dancing monkey. Fuck humanity, and fuck you, too, Marina. You can die with the rest of the unenlightened flotsam.”

Torrino grinned his big, stupid Hollywood smile, like he was sitting on a talk show host’s couch, discussing his latest flick, oblivious as he was evil.

Ed had had enough.

He reached into the loop on his belt, fingered the handle of his black carbon blade, and whipped it out, slicing across Torrino’s left cheek.

Torrino screamed, fingers up as the flap of skin fell open and blood began to gush down his face and onto his neck.

Keenan glanced over at the guard who stared back with terrified eyes. Keenan pointed his gun at him and said, “Staaay.” The man turned back around.

In his ear, Keenan heard Luther ask, “What did you do?”

“Don’t worry. What’s the situation with the cops?”

“The agency is taking care of it. We’re good.”

Keenan smiled, and leaned closer to Torrino. “My man just said the cops are getting sent home. That means we have all night to give your plastic surgeon the biggest hard-on of his life. Now you might not give a shit about most people, and that doesn’t surprise me at all, but as long as there are people, you’ll care about your appearances. And as long as there are people around to watch your stupid movies, you wanna be making as much money as you can, right? So here’s the deal,
Max
. When I’m done with you, the only role you’re gonna be able to land is a remake of
The Elephant Man
. Do I make myself clear?”

“You’re fucking crazy!” Torrino held the flap of flesh to his cheek, as if it might mend itself back if pressed hard or long enough.

“You’re right,” Ed said, “I am crazy because I
love
my job. Especially when I get to put little bitches like you who
play
tough guys on the big screen in
your place.
”

Ed turned and winked at Marina.

She smiled.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” Ed asked. “The vial, or round two of Stabby Pokey?”

Torrino nodded yes, tears in his eyes.

Sometimes, Ed really did love his job.

* * * *

CHAPTER 3 — MARY OLSON

Mary stared up at her bedroom’s darkness. She could feel hot sun outside the drawn curtains, trying to pour light into her room, but wanted nothing of it, nor the people in her cabin — Brent, Teagan, Ben, and Becca.

She could hear them outside, discussing Jade’s death and how they couldn’t tell Ed that his daughter was gone because Bolton had killed all communication between the island and the mainland. It was wrong — that the people in charge were choosing operational security over Ed’s rights as a parent.

There were also whispers about Mary. She couldn’t make out much of it, other than how horrible everyone felt about her losing Paola.

Every now and then someone would come to the door, gently knocking to check on her needs. Mary said no thank you each time, wanting nothing more than to be left alone.

But Desmond had asked them to stay while he was back at the facility working to get the situation under control. The island was on lockdown. No ferries in or out. No shipments from the mainland. Civilians were told to stay in their cabins while the Guardsmen scoured the island for infected and Desmond inspected everyone.

It was all meaningless to Mary.

Paola was dead, murdered right in front of her.

Mary was trapped in a vortex of vicious thoughts. Waves of memory collided, too many things she’d not thought of in years. She flashed back to the first time her baby had stared up into her eyes; then to the time when Paola had drawn something for Mary, eager to be like her mommy and make cards; and then back to a rainy Saturday morning when she, Ryan, and Paola let morning turn into afternoon without leaving their bed, watching cartoons on TV. Such a silly little thing, that one moment of inactivity would be among Mary’s most cherished moments. A sign of happier times when the family was together. Alone, those memories were heartbreaking. But then they blended with darker thoughts — the imagined memories for her daughter’s future that could now never be. Paola’s first job, her first boyfriend, going to college, doing something she loved for a living, perhaps exploring the world. Her life erased in a flash by some alien entity bent on humanity’s destruction.

And for what?

Why
had they targeted humans?

Why
were they so hell bent on using Mary’s daughter as a pawn?

It wasn’t just the aliens. Even the horrible people at The Sanctuary had tormented them for no reason other than some
top-of-the-food-chain
bullshit.

Mary wanted to scream. Wanted to punch things. Hell, she wanted to shoot something.

But screams invited company. And whom would she shoot? The man who murdered her daughter had been shot dead the moment he pulled his trigger.

Mary had no target for her wrath, no well to pour her grief. Nothing to fill her soul’s wretched void.

She turned over, squeezing her pillow as tightly as she could, and screamed into it.

* * * *

CHAPTER 4 — BORICIO WOLFE

Boricio woke to a world of blurry pain.

He tried to move, but couldn’t. 

He panicked, looking around, barely able to move his head, trying to suss out his situation.

Boricio was in a bed, in what had to be a hotel room. A nice hotel, from what he could see in his limited view.

The last thing Boricio remembered was being in a motel while Rose, Mary, and Paola had gone off to see that weird-ass cult chick from the Church of Original Design.

What the hell happened?

Was I in an accident?

“Hello?” he called out, barely able to push breath into voice.

He turned, coughing blood violently onto the bed.

Boricio tried moving his fingers, his hands, his toes, anything, but his body couldn’t hear him. The more he focused, the more tired he felt.

Boricio noticed a tube running from his hand back to an IV bag hanging from a pole beside the bed. A peek under the covers would probably show a catheter moving piss from his prick to a bag beneath the bed. But there were no wires or machines, so far as he could tell, meaning that despite the medical equipment Boricio wasn’t in a hospital.

He drifted off, exhausted.

When Boricio woke, he had a bit more strength to his voice. He called out, “Hey!” And then, “Hello?!”

* * * *

CHAPTER 5 — LUCA HARDING

Luca sat at the foot of their occupied summer home’s stairs, wondering when Boricio would finally wake up. 

The house belonged to a man named Parker Davison, founder of P.K. Davison Industries, a multinational company with its fingers in a bit of everything, including, Rose said, elections across the country. Davison was seventy-five years old and had been on the verge of suicide a few months ago when
Steven
befriended, infected, and ushered him into the Church of Original Design.

Rose had turned to Davison before getting Boricio out of jail, requesting his summer home in Highland Park — with sweeping views of the San Gabriel Mountains — to use as their new headquarters. It was better than a hotel, as they didn’t have to worry about suspicious staffers, and Davison rarely used the house himself, so they didn’t have to worry about
him
being around either.

The home was two stories and well kept for a place so rarely used. Most of the furniture was made of dark wood and looked cozy, reminding Luca of his mom and the magazines she used to read.

Luca was spending a lot of time alone as Rose was getting Art accustomed to the alien inside him. She was also often busy meditating, during which time she was reaching out to other elements of The Darkness, trying to strengthen its core and prevent its weakest members from doing anything rash that would draw suspicion from the government agents searching for them.

Sitting in the house alone, Luca couldn’t help but think about his parents, and his sister, Anna. Not just his real family, who had died in a car accident years ago, but the other Luca’s mom and dad, the ones who had been raising him unaware that their real son had evolved into something else, his place taken by a child impostor from another world. 

Luca also felt horrible that he had to run away after he killed the bullies. His family had to be worried sick about their son, never knowing they were worried about, or perhaps even mourning, a fraud. Their real son had become something they couldn’t comprehend.

He imagined them sitting up at night, sick with worry, wondering if their son would ever come home.

Luca wanted to call them, to let them know he was OK. It was the least he could do.

But Rose had refused to let him. She said they couldn’t risk the police tracing the call and coming to get him. After all, Luca was wanted for murder. 

It would ruin their plans to secure the vials if he were in custody. Even worse, the moment someone realized that Luca had The Darkness inside him, his family would be doomed. They would be picked up then shipped off to Black Island or some other secret experimental place. They could be murdered into silence.

No one could know about The Darkness. The government wouldn’t allow it, Rose explained. And the government had killed far greater numbers to keep lesser secrets.

Still, Luca longed to call home. And it surprised him to realize that it wasn’t just to ease their minds, but a hollow part of Luca missed them. He knew they weren’t
really
his family, but he’d lived with them since his arrival, and had come to love them as if they were his. After spending so long with the silence in his head, Luca was desperate for the sound of their voices.

The Darkness spoke inside his head:
You know you can’t call them
.

I know. I just miss them.

It’s odd how your species can be so disconnected from one another and yet remain so bonded. Why is that?

I dunno.

When we evolve the species, all will be connected. Things such as misunderstanding, violence, and war will all be relegated to the past. You will all truly be one with each other. When you wonder how your family is, you’ll be able to reach out in your head and know. What you’re feeling now is the result of mankind struggling to be something more — to be part of a whole. In time, we will make that happen, Luca. In time, all will be one.

So, what will happen when we evolve? I mean, are we no longer ourselves?

Self is an odd human construct. A need to identify as something more than what you are. It’s as silly as each part of your body wanting to declare itself a different being. What if your finger tomorrow wanted to go off and be its own person, perhaps change its name? I know it’s hard to understand in your current form, but there is an elegant beauty to all being one
.

But I like being myself. I like the way my father would tell corny jokes. I liked the way Mom would make me feel special. And I loved Anna. 

When they evolve, do they stop being who they are? And what happens to me? Am I like I am now, which is kinda like me but with someone else inside? Or will I change again?

Do you feel like yourself now?

Yes. But I’m not alone in my head. You’re always there. I get the feeling that when you and Rose do whatever it is you’re planning, the part of me that’s here will go away and it’ll just be you. Is that true?