Yesterday's Gone: Season Six (42 page)

Mary tried not to think about the why, but that was almost impossible with a foot on the path. She could feel him pushing again, trying to use the known responses to regain entry.

Again, she pushed him out.
 

“You could’ve been safe. Desmond offered sanctuary, for both you and Paola. Yet you refused. And for what? To protect your allies?”

“Pretty much.”
 

“But why? What do you think he’s going to do to them?”

Mary chuckled again. “I know what you’re trying to do. Figure if you push my thoughts enough in the right direction, you’ll sneak past my defenses. It won’t work.”

“So, tell me, Mary, what
will
work?”

Doing something awful to Paola.

Even as Mary thought it, she tried not to.

A smile spread across his face.

Had he glimpsed her thought? Or was he trying to trick her? Mary could no longer tell if he was trying to break in. When someone tried consistently enough, you grew numb to the sensation. It was harder to tell the difference between a genuine attempt at intrusion and a psychic echo of a prior attempt.

“You turned down Desmond’s offer for nothing, Mary. We have Luca, and the others. They’re on the way now.”

“Liar.”

“Oh? Look in my eyes, and see.”

She looked then turned her head away quickly. Another attempt to breach her defenses. Yet in that moment, Mary saw a flash of something she knew to be true.
 

“The Chandler House,” he said. “In a secret basement. We have them. But here’s the thing, Mary. Desmond has no reason to kill them. He’ll offer them the same thing: a chance to live here on the ship, or on The Island, as one of us.”

Mary shook her head, wanting to look back into his eyes again, to see if that was also true. That this war could be over that easily. Simple surrender. She could even keep her mind and body.
 

But didn’t that doom the humans still fighting for freedom?
 

“You’re thinking about those you’d be betraying, aren’t you?”

Mary closed her eyes, pushing Paul out with everything she had.

“You’d only be dooming The Wastelanders, as if they had a shot in the first place, which they don’t. Evolution is coming, Mary, whether you like it or not. We are the last of our species. There’s something special about that: witnessing the next step without being killed by those replacing us. I’d say we’re lucky. Well, some of us are. You, not so much. You chose wrong, Mary, and now you’ll have to regret saying no.”

Paul looked up at the mirror and shouted, “Bring her in!”

The door slid open.

Seconds later, a Guardsman stepped through, gun aimed at Paola, prodding her forward.

“Now,” Paul said, “I’m going to give you one last chance to do the right thing.”

Paola’s eyes were brimming with tears, though she seemed to be doing her best to hold herself together. “Mom,” she said, before the Guardsman at her back told her to keep quiet.

Paul looked at Paola then back at Mary. “I believe I have your attention now, right? This man behind your daughter, his name is Kurtis. He had a wife and family taken by the plague, so he’s been through some shit. But he’s not a bad guy. The alien inside him, however, now that’s a different story. I’m not sure of his name, forgive me, but I do know he has little empathy for your situation. Way he sees it, you and the other rebels are only keeping his kind from finding new homes. He’d like this fight to be finished and is prepared to do whatever it takes. Am I correct, sir?”

“You are correct,” the Guardsman said through his helmet’s speakers.

“So, here we go. Since your friends are already captured, and you no longer need to protect the location of their
secret hideout
, I’d like you to tell me where my daughter is.”

“I don’t know.”

“Kurtis, kill the girl.”

“No!” Mary shouted.

Paul raised a hand to stay the execution then approached Mary. “Tell me where my daughter is.”

“The last time I saw her, she was in the warehouse you all raided, not the Chandler House. I swear. I left because I was pissed off that everyone trusted her so implicitly.”

“What do you mean?” Paul asked.

Mary wasn’t sure how much she could say without risking Emily’s or Paul’s life. If she told him, in front of the alien, that Emily had wanted to leave, that she hated the aliens and wanted to stay with them, it could endanger them all. Or her calling Paul’s daughter a traitor could piss him off. Maybe he’d snap and order them killed.

There was only one way to convey the information. She had to let him inside her.

Mary met his eyes and aloud said, “I was jealous that they’d taken her in, that they didn’t see her as a threat.”

As Mary spoke those words, she sent others into his head.

Look inside me. You’ll see the truth.

Paul’s expression changed for only a moment, but it was enough to see her message received. Mary felt him prodding at her mind’s doors moments later.

This time, she opened them wide and let him in.

* * * *

CHAPTER 3 — Paul Roberts

Paul entered Mary’s head even though he was certainly stepping into some sort of trap. But what choice did he have? If she knew something about his daughter, he
had
to take the chance.

Usually, when Paul entered people’s minds, he was in their present thoughts. If they were daydreaming about a beach, he found his toes curling in sand. Inside, he could go wherever he wanted, spy on whatever memories he found without permission. But he always started in their mind’s current space.
 

But Mary was different.

When Paul entered her mind, he found himself in a small, dark vault, with her standing there, in all black, greeting him, like a guard determined to show him only permitted displays.
 

“What is this
truth
you want to show me?” Paul looked around at the vault’s hundreds of lock boxes. A large circular door led to what seemed like another vault — perhaps where Mary held her deepest secrets. He had to admit it was an interesting, if not obvious, construct designed to safeguard her thoughts.

“I couldn’t tell you in front of the Guardsman. If I did, you and your daughter’s life would be in danger.”

“
Really?
And why is that?”

“Emily doesn’t want to be on this ship. She wants to be free.”

“Liar!” Paul said. “What the hell did you do to her? Did you brainwash Emily, get her to buy into your rebellion?”

“We didn’t do anything. See for yourself.”

A flash, then the vault was a warehouse.

Paul watched as his daughter sat on the ground beside the old man-child that Desmond was obsessed with — Luca. The child with The Light, significantly aged.

Paul listened to them discussing The Island, her father, and a desire to be free of the aliens.

“So, what does this tell me? You took advantage of a confused little girl. She doesn’t know anything about The Wastelands. She’s an idealist without the first clue of the sacrifices I’ve made to keep her, to keep
us
, safe.”

“I’m not judging,” Mary said. “I’m showing you the truth. And no, we didn’t
take advantage
of her. We told her to try and contact you on the ship, but she couldn’t. Hell,
I
wanted to return her immediately.”

“Where is she now?”

“Like I said, she was at the warehouse with the others. When your people attacked, I ran over to find out what was going on, and then you all grabbed me.”

“So if she wasn’t there, and wasn’t at the Chandler House, where could she have gone? Could she have left with one of the others?”

Mary was thinking about someone. Now inside her head, he pulled at the frayed edges of that thought, hoping to unravel it and see for himself.

There was a man, Boricio. Mary’s lover, also a sociopath. He’d taken a shining to Emily. He wasn’t the male prisoner Paul had seen on the earlier video, which meant he was still down there, in The Wastelands — maybe with Emily.

“Where are they?” Paul asked, both hopeful and afraid.

“I don’t know, but I do know one thing, Paul.”

“What’s that?”

“You better hope that nothing happens to me or Paola.”

“Why is that?”
 

“Because you haven’t seen anything when it comes to Boricio.”

The second vault creaked open. From the other side, Paul heard screaming. Not just one or two bellows, but what felt like the anguished cries from thousands.
 

A fiery-orange glow painted the inside of their vault, as if this doorway led to Hell itself.

“W-what’s that?” Paul’s voice trembled.
 

“Why don’t you have a look?”

Mary was now inches away. She spun him around then shoved Paul toward the open door.

As Mary pushed him closer, screams grew louder, men and women enduring things Paul’s mind dared not imagine. He’d seen many atrocities since The Fall, but nothing was preparation enough for whatever waited inside the other vault.
 

Just when Paul thought the sounds couldn’t get worse, something sent ice through his veins: the sound of a man laughing and … singing whimsically.

As they drew closer to the threshold, every fiber in Paul’s being resisted.

He threw his hands out, pressing on the door, trying to keep Mary from shoving him inside.

“You wanted to see inside my head, right? Well, why don’t you take a look into the mind of the man holding your daughter?”

“No!” Paul screamed, closing his eyes and throwing himself to the ground, making it harder for Mary to push him into the vault.

“Fine!” She slammed the door and silenced the screams.

Their vault was again dark and silent.

Paul looked up. “What was that?”

“That was a peek inside the head of the man with your daughter. I swear to God and all you hold holy, if anything happens to me or Paola, he’ll make that seem like a children’s birthday party in comparison.”

Paul stood, trembling, staring at Mary, uncertain how to respond.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I can help you.”

“You’re going to find a way, Paul.”

**

Paul left Mary’s cell, afraid and shaking. What kind of monster was this Boricio? And how long could Emily possibly stay safe with him near? Further, what the hell did she expect him to do? Betray Desmond?
 

And do what, exactly?

It wasn’t as if he could just set her, or her friends, free. Even if they did somehow get away, they were on a mothership with no less than one hundred armed Guardsmen aboard. And nearly a thousand aliens. The rebels were outgunned and outnumbered. It would be suicide to join them.

As he walked down the hall to the observation room where Desmond waited, Paul’s fear gave way to indignation.

She wants to threaten my daughter? I’ll show her. I’ll find her precious Boricio and kill him in front of her.
 

Paul stepped into the cell.'

“So, what happened, Mr. Roberts?”

“I got inside her head.”

“And?”

“A man has my daughter. His name is Boricio Wolfe, and he’s very dangerous.”

Desmond smiled. “I know this man well.”

* * * *

CHAPTER 4 — Boricio Wolfe

The girls were sitting with Boricio at the rectangular kitchen table, waiting for him to answer their question:
What do we do now?

Boricio sat there, shoulders slumped, head in his hands, feeling
Fucked
with a capital F, bold, italicized,
and
highlighted.
 

It was the bottom of the ninth, and Team Fucking Boricio’s entire squad was dead, wounded, or captured.

Mary was still missing, hopefully not gone forever.

Keenan was already rotting.

Marina had turned on them, likely hijacked by an alien.

Jazz was now just a body.

Barrow and Jevonne were both presumed dead.

And the alien cocksuckers had Luca, Brent, Teagan, and the kids.

The benches were clear, with zero pinch hitters on deck.
 

Boricio thought about putting a distress call to the other rebel teams, any who might answer, but all the best people were already dead or taken by the aliens. Only scrubs were left, and fuck a duck and watch it waddle if Boricio was going to war with scrubs at his back.

Lisa was a warrior, but she was also wounded, and Boricio wasn’t sure how much she could take without ripping her fresh stitches and bleeding out all over the place.

He had to do this himself.
 

He had an awful idea, but you took what you had when you got it.