Yesterday's Gone: Season Six (38 page)

Jake looked around nervously.

I fucked up, and I fucked up in front of Marina. Must’ve missed him when I was looking in the woods. Dammit!

“Wait, is that him?” Marina’s eyes widened as she pointed toward the trees.

Jake turned to look. “Where?”
 

Something sharp hit the back of his head, then everything went black as his body fell.
 

Jake never felt the ground.

* * * *

CHAPTER 7 — Marina Harmon

The kid hit the ground with a dull thud.
 

He was huge, crashing to the road without any grace, like a sack of excrement.

It
looked down as the life left Barrow’s body. The human, Marina, wanted to feel something, but
It
kept her from feeling anything, lest her body revolt against
It
.
 

It
looked down at the boy who was once named Jake but was now the remnants of a soul on the way to the Great Void.
 

It
could feel Marina crying out, fighting for control of her body.

But it wasn’t hers any longer.
 

Neither her body nor her mind. Certainly not her will.
 

That alien at The Farm had seen to that, just as it divided itself, leaving most of
ITS
body for her to kill as a show to the humans, and the other part wormed
ITS
way inside her.
 

Now the thing that was once Marina could only watch, helpless and afraid, as The Darkness planned to decimate her friends.
 

Please
, she begged inside her mind.
Please don’t do this.
 

It
laughed.
It
remembered that other part of
Itself
dating her, getting close, and trying to take over her father’s church, trying to get the vials.
 

How do you feel now, Marina, to finally lose to the very
Darkness
you thought you were destined to defeat?

Marina screamed, trying to push
It
out.

But
It
held on tight, sending sharp pain through the host’s body, until she stopped fighting.

Only after
It
felt her weaken did
It
start walking.

“Where are we going?” Marina asked.

It
refused to answer.
 

But that didn’t matter. She and the alien were one, and if Marina focused, allowed its thoughts to become one with hers, she could see the truth as if she’d felt it herself.
 

“No!”
 

Marina whimpered, seeing —
feeling
— the horrible truth.
 

“Please don’t,” she begged again.
 

It
approached Chandler House, and sent out a message to The Collective.

I’ve found The Light.

* * * *

CHAPTER 8 — Brent Foster

Brent wondered if he’d ever get used to the resilience of children. A day ago, they’d been living in a shipping container filled with filthy slaves under the constant threat of rape or death, with barely anything to eat or drink between terrors. They’d escaped Hell, and found their way to a home in The City. Now, barely a sunrise later, Ben and Becca were smiling while reading the few tattered books that Jazz had managed to scavenge.
 

Teagan took his hand. “Come on.”

Brent looked from the children to Teagan. “Where are we going?”
 

“Upstairs. For some privacy.”
 

“Oh, okay,” Brent said, wondering if Teagan wanted to do what he didn’t think she possibly would want to do for a long time. They went upstairs, leaving Jazz and Emily downstairs with the children.

Upstairs, her face grew more serious. “Are you okay?”
 

Brent nodded. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt worse, or at least less optimistic. They were home but far from safe. Mary was possibly missing, and the aliens were a constant threat, along with the Reaper. Still, he sure as shit wasn’t about to whine.
 

“We’re okay,” Teagan smiled. “We made it, you know.
He
saw to it.”
 

“What do you mean,
He
?” Brent felt his agitation swell.
 

Teagan pointed to the sky.
 

“God?”
 

Nodding, she smiled wider. “I was praying that He would save us, and He did. Now we’re safe.”
 

Brent had prayed, too, a few times during the crisis because that’s what you did when you were a few breaths from death, whether you believed in the bearded man above or not. But away from the wretched town and its wretched people, it was harder for Brent to buy stock in the fairy tale. He couldn’t believe God had saved them, even if he wanted to.
 

“No,” Brent said. “Marina saved us. Not God.”
 

“Yes,” she nodded. “You’re right, Brent. Marina saved us, but only because that was part of His plan.”
 

“Really, Teagan?” Brent dropped her hand and gestured around the room. “This is His grand plan? To flush the world down the toilet except for a few turds that refused to go down, then leave the rest of us here like rats fighting for scraps?”
 

That was probably enough. Teagan’s jaw hardened.

“Some fucking plan, G!” Brent couldn’t help it. “Great job and glory, glory hallelujah.”
 

Teagan’s expression softened, as if she were willing her anger away. She put an arm on Brent’s shoulder; the smile returned to her face. Calm.
 

Her placidity was pissing him off.
 

“
He
works in mysterious ways.”
 

Brent shrugged Teagan from his shoulder and took a step back.
 

“I thought you didn’t believe in God. I thought your father scared the Good Lord right out of you.”
 

Teagan looked at Brent, still calm, now patronizing.

“For a long time, I hated God because of what my father did — how he treated my mother and me. How he more or less made my sister kill herself. But now I understand; I see that we can’t judge Him, or know Him, by the acts of man, especially by the acts of His misguided messengers.”
 

There were a thousand things Brent wanted to say, but he didn’t dare breathe even one. He’d say something he was sure to regret, probably about her having a mind of her own and not needing to use it for Scripture. Instead, he shook his head and reclaimed Teagan’s hand.
 

“Let’s just drop it, okay? We’re going to disagree, and that’s fine. We don’t have to see eye-to-eye about everything.”
 

“No,” Teagan squeezed Brent’s hands tighter. “I want to understand
why
you don’t believe.”
 

“No.” Brent shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to be the one responsible for shaking whatever faith you have. If believing what you do makes you sleep better at night, who am I to fuck that up?”

“You think
you
can shake my faith?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m saying that
I
don’t have it myself. All we’ve seen, all our horrible losses. I don’t have it in me to believe that a loving, benevolent God would allow, let alone
plan
, for such things.”

“It’s not for us to understand His will. Or His plans.”

“That’s bullshit. That’s something people say to justify that God’s plans suck. You think my wife dying, Paola dying, all the other innocents — men, women, and children — that’s all part of some grand plan meant for us? No way. That’s selfish thinking. Dangerous, delusional thinking.”

“Fine, Brent. Whatever.” Teagan let go of his hand, turned, took two steps toward the stairs, then turned back. “I thought we could have a normal conversation, but clearly you’re not ready to talk.”
 

Teagan stomped down the stairs back to the basement.
 

Brent wanted to follow her. Instead, he collapsed into a chair in the main house, still fully furnished — a modernized yet classic mansion, nicer than any place he’d been in before The Fall, let alone after.
 

He wondered why he always had to be such an idiot. Brent tipped back in the chair, remembering the many times he’d had to beg Gina to see his side of an issue yet always caved, doing what she wanted him to, thinking like she wanted him to think. He wasn’t willing to be the weak one again. Following Teagan, pleading, eventually surrendering — like he always did and always had.
 

No, Brent
had
to stand his ground. At least for now.
 

But then again, was it worth it? He’d be losing even if he won. He could let Teagan have her faith and stay in her good graces as much as possible. Be there for her without needing to
be
r
ight
. Besides, it wasn’t like Brent was even sure what he believed anymore. Maybe she was right. Maybe God
did
save them. Who really knew? Just because he couldn’t disprove something didn’t make it false.
 

He could let Teagan have her faith without needing to share it.

He stared out the window, wishing Teagan was with him, knowing he’d apologize if she was. Brent blinked, wondered if he was seeing what he thought he might be, then leaned closer to the window and saw it again.
 

Oh shit.
 

Four shuttles were zooming right toward them.
 

Brent screamed.

* * * *

CHAPTER 9 — Brent Foster

“They’re coming!” Brent yelled, racing through the secret door and into the basement.
 

Jazz looked up and met his eyes as he crashed through the doorway. “Who’s coming?”
 

He closed and locked the door behind him. “Guardsmen!”
 

Teagan rose from the couch. “You’re sure they’re coming here?”
 

Brent felt doubt creep in. He wanted to shrug. Instead, he said, “I don’t know for sure, but there were a
lot
of shuttles headed this way, and it seems like too many for a random sweep.”
 

The room crackled with nerves. No one spoke. Brent could hear the too-loud beating of his heart.
 

Emily stood beside Teagan and looked to Brent. “Can’t we hide out here? This is a secret basement, right?”
 

Jazz shook her head. “Sorry, kid. While the basement is lined to protect us from infrared and stuff, if they somehow know we’re here, they’re gonna find us.”

Jazz turned her back to Brent and addressed Teagan and the kids.
 

“You all need to get into the tunnel. And run. As fast as you can without looking back. Brent and I will get Luca and catch up, okay?”
 

“What if you can’t catch up?” Teagan asked.
 

Brent wished she hadn’t.

Then maybe God will save us.
 

“We will.” Brent could hear Jazz’s lie through a crack in her voice.
 

“Be brave,” Brent said, kissing Ben’s head.

“I will,” he said, surprisingly not crying as he led Becca and followed Teagan and Emily through the metal door, out into the tunnel.
 

“Wait, wait,” Jazz said, running to the gun rack and grabbing two pistols. She gave one to Teagan then found Emily’s hand. “You don’t happen to know how to use a gun, do you?”
 

Emily shook her head. “Sorry.”
 

Jazz still had her face turned from Brent, but he could imagine her smile. “It’s okay, honey. Take it anyway, just in case. You best get going. We’ll catch up.”
 

He wanted to kiss them all goodbye, especially Teagan. Something insistent inside him warned Brent that this might be his last chance. He ignored the voice and told them all to go. They started running.

Glass shattered upstairs. Brent could hear splintering wood — the front door breaking down.
 

“Come on,” Jazz said then led Brent into Luca’s room.
 

The man who was only a boy lay like a doll on the bed, still out cold and barely breathing.
 

Jazz put her hand on Brent’s shoulder. “You better at carrying or fighting?”
 

Brent looked at Jazz, felt embarrassed for what he was about to admit, then shook his head. “I’m not as tough as you.”
 

“All right then, you take Luca into the tunnel. I’ll stay behind and make sure they don’t follow for as long as I can.”
 

This was suicide, and Brent had seen too much death already.