Yesterday's Gone: Season Six (35 page)

Mary held her tongue and nodded. She followed the pair out the door and along the bright corridor. It reminded her of a hospital in many ways, down to the white-tiled floor chilling her bare feet. Mary navigated the hallways, making mental notes in case she needed to retrace her steps later.
 

Yeah, like you’re gonna escape an alien ship! What are you gonna do? Jump off?

After several turns, Mary wondered how big the damned spaceship could be. It appeared massive from the mainland, but even so, it was hard to get a feel for its actual size. She wondered how many aliens, or hybrids, or even other humans were living onboard. Maybe she’d ask Paola when they were alone again.

If they
let
you be alone with her again.

They finally stopped in a long hallway, exactly like all the others.

Paul went to one of the doors and waved his hand in front of it.

The door opened to a pregnant woman lying in bed. She was nude, asleep, covered in a translucent blue sheet with hundreds of tiny lights blinking inside it.

“What is this?” Mary whispered.

“This,” Paul answered, “is but one room of our maternity ward.”

A sickness grew inside her, memories surging that she’d tried to keep down.

Paul continued. “Thirty women, each deemed an ideal specimen for birthing perfect children, or at least as close to perfection as we can engineer.”

“Perfect children for what?” Mary asked, unable to hide her disgust.

“The children will serve as hosts. Clean bodies, not weighted with the psychological baggage preventing most humans from being ideal hosts.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

Paul looked at Desmond.

Desmond nodded.

Paul took his cue and left the room.

The door closed, leaving Desmond and Mary alone with the sleeping pregnant woman.

“Tell me, Mary, what happened to our child?”

She wasn’t sure which child he meant — the one the real Desmond had impregnated her with, or the one the alien had. “I lost the baby. I told you.”

“No, not Desmond’s baby.
My baby.
”

The way the alien said
My baby
sent a chill through her. He stepped forward, just inches from Mary, as if inspecting his bill of sale.

Her skin burned as she tried not to flinch or show fear. To give him the satisfaction of seeing the white-hot rage burning inside her.

“You killed it, didn’t you?”

“It died.”

Desmond’s hand was quick as he smacked her hard across the face.

“Don’t lie!”

Mary held her breath, trying to stay calm, trying not to give him whatever the hell he was looking to get. She glared at Desmond, wondering if he could tell how close he was to having her thrust her palm upward, into his nose, sending his bones straight up into his brain and ending him.

“I want to know what you did with my baby.”

“I killed it,” Mary said, meeting his eyes.

“You had no right.”

“And you had no right to kill my daughter.”

“But she’s alive. I brought her back. Can you say the same about our child?”

“Don’t call it a child. There was no way I was going to give birth to some alien
thing.
”

She hadn’t meant to say it with such disgust, but it was too late to reclaim the words. She’d have to ride it out and gauge his response.

“It would have been a perfect child. A true hybrid, two souls born into a single shell. Not … this temporary arrangement.” Desmond waved his hand across his body. “With combined DNA, our child could have been a wonderful thing. The next step for both species.”

“Well, it looks like you have your fill now. So, all that shit about humans and aliens living together as some sort of evolved species, sharing a body was bullshit?”

“No. I meant every word.”

“These are babies whose bodies will be used by grown aliens. How will these children have free will?”

“It will all work out.”

“Why are you showing me this? To guilt trip me over killing that thing growing inside me? It’s not gonna happen. I already felt like shit, especially after losing Desmond’s first baby, and worse after losing Paola. You think I
wanted
to take another life? I had to because I couldn’t stand the thought of giving birth to the creature who betrayed me and caused me to lose my daughter.”

He nodded. “On some level, I can understand.”

“Good for you,” Mary snapped, barely able to check her emotions. Years of simmering rage rolled to a fast boil, threatening to spill over.

“You asked why I showed you this. Yes, I have my motives.”

Here we go.

“I want to let you and your daughter live here, freely, not as hosts.”

“But?”

“But I need something from you in return. I want Luca’s location.”

Mary laughed. “Not gonna happen.”

“Oh, I think it will. Let’s not kid ourselves, Mary. We both know I have the upper hand. And there are things far worse than death for your daughter.”

He looked at the pregnant woman.

Mary snapped.

She lashed out, aiming with her palms at his nose.

He was too fast, turning away, so Mary struck only his cheekbone. Desmond fell back with a yelp.

Mary did some damage, but her blow was far from lethal.

He looked up at her, eyes wild.
 

Mary remembered her favorite Niccolò Machiavelli quote:
 

Never do an enemy a small injury
.
 

She couldn’t take the strike back. Now she’d have to kill him.

But Desmond was on her before she had a chance.

He thrust her against the wall, hands around her neck, squeezing tight. He glared up at her, eyes gleaming with hate.

“I should kill you.”

Mary’s instincts took over. She used her heel to stomp on the top of his right foot. The alien still had Desmond’s pain points.

He screamed, releasing her throat as he fell back against the wall.
 

Mary didn’t bother to run for the door. She came back at Desmond, ready to end this before he could counter.

She struck at his Adam’s apple, causing him to reach up and grab his neck with both hands, gasping for air.

Mary made her fingers into a triangle and thrust them into his right eye, puncturing the socket, shoving his eyeball back into his head.

Desmond screamed an unholy howl, human and alien.

Mary was about to take out his other eye when she felt her entire body catch fire.

She fell to the ground, pain coursing through her: a shock from men who had entered the room behind her.

Two Guardsmen tended to Desmond while another pair grabbed Mary by the shoulders and hoisted her up.

“What do we do with her?” one of the men asked.

Desmond looked up, blood pouring from his injured eye, and screamed, “Take her to the chamber! And tell Glih we have a new host.”

* * * *

CHAPTER 4 — Boricio Wolfe

Boricio stared down at the kitchen table where Lisa was sprawled following his impromptu operation. Bloody cloth and snippets of thread lay discarded on the floor.

“Well, look at that,” Boricio said, admiring his handiwork. “It’s like I’m Dr. Archibald Moonlight Graham.”

“Who?” Lisa said. Then, “It’s a shame we can’t put those skills to use in a quilting bee or something.”
 

She sat up with a grimace.

“You might want to sit a spell and let it heal a bit before we set out. And by the way, I’ll have you know I can quilt like a motherfucker.”

“Really?” Lisa arched an eyebrow.

“Do I look like a fucking fag?”

Lisa shook her head.

“I’m sorry, I meant, do I look like a fucking
homo?
”

“Oh,
soooo
much better.”

“Just call me a kinder, gentler Boricio.”

Lisa snorted.

“What? I’m a changed man. You should’ve known me before shit hit the fan.”

Lisa’s smile faded. “Yeah, I’ve seen flashes. And if I’d met you back then, I would’ve put a bullet between your eyes.”

He looked down, a swell of guilt in his gut.

“Yeah, well, that me is dead.”

“Is it really?”
 

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“Well, as you said before, Luca fixed you. But how do you fix someone so broken?”

“You saying you don’t believe I’ve changed?”

“No, I believe it. I can see it. I think the old Boricio would’ve kept running if I got wounded. Or maybe he would’ve taken me inside and finished me off himself.”

Boricio looked down again. If Lisa was trying to make him feel like shit for his past sins, she was doing a damned fine job. Hell,
Mary
hadn’t given him this much grief. What the hell was Lisa’s deal — he hadn’t seen many of her memories in the cross dreaming, so he wasn’t sure what baggage she was checking in with.

After an awkward silence, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I deserve it. Hell, I deserve whatever the hell I get, and more.”

“Maybe,” Lisa said. “But I’ve gotta treat you as the person you are now, not what you were.”

“You speak about this like you have experience.”

“My ex.”

“What about him?”

“Let’s just say he wasn’t a nice guy. Met him when we were both in the Marines.”

“Ah,” Boricio said. “And did you kick his ass?”

“No.” Lisa sighed. “The old me was a pussy. Well, at least where he was concerned. I could field strip any weapon in front of me. Could kill five unarmed men with my bare hands. But for some reason, I couldn’t stand up to myself when it came to him. I had some guy friends who offered to kick his ass, but I didn’t want to make trouble.”

“I’ve seen that a lot. Were you in love?”

“Fuck if I even know what love is. Thought I was. But hell, who knows?”

“So what happened with you two? You leave him?”

“I took a job offer with Black Mountain, left his ass behind. We weren’t ever married or anything.”

“And that’s it?”

“Well, then the world ended.”

“Ah … think he’s still alive?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he was running with the bandits. He was always out for himself, so he’d fit right in with ‘em. But I doubt it.”

“Well, if we run into him, I’m sure you won’t be so shy next time around.”

Lisa laughed then winced, holding a hand over her wound. “No, I won’t be so shy.”

“And if you need some help, well, the New Boricio would love to atone for some of Old Boricio’s sins.”

“By killing?”

“Hey, if you’re killing the right people, it ain’t a sin in my book.”

Lisa smiled.

Suddenly, Boricio had the distinct feeling that they were no longer alone in the house.

* * * *

CHAPTER 5 — Emily Roberts

Emily was with Jake Barrow, watching over Luca.
 

She couldn’t stop staring at the wobbly, wooden dividing walls and thinking about how flimsy the basement seemed, as if the room had been built as a hurried contest in one of her father’s old reality shows.
 

Life on The Island was nice by comparison. Their walls were all wood or brick, with straight lines and sturdy materials. The basement Emily was hiding in now had been divided into separate rooms using portable walls. Everything felt so awkwardly constructed that Emily could imagine them falling over, one after the other, if Jake coughed too hard, given his size.
 

The thought made Emily laugh, and she had to cover her mouth. The big guy was more awkward than the walls.
 

“What did I do?” Jake asked.
 

“Nothing.” Emily smiled, and he looked away.
 

She wondered if he was always this uncomfortable, or self-conscious, or whatever it was. Maybe it was only because he’d probably been told to watch her and didn’t really know how to act around a little girl — not that he was all that much older than she.
 

Emily also wondered if Boricio had told him about her little teleportation event. And if he had, then how many of the others knew, too?
 

For some reason, it hurt her to think about.
 

Emily didn’t want anyone to know. It was embarrassing. And beyond that, she barely felt like herself. Ever since the event, she’d felt somehow … less than who she’d been. Dizzy.
Lost.
 

At first, Emily figured she’d teleported them away. But as time passed, she wondered if Luca had somehow done it even though he was unconscious. Yet that didn’t feel right. Something inside her insisted that
she’d
somehow done it.