Read Yesterday's Gone: Season Three (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) for Free Online Page A

fucking say so, all right?” Lisa yelled, voice cracking right in the middle where it mattered the most.
    Ed nodded, “Oh, I see,” his eyes widened in mock surprise, “You’re not the one in charge, are you? Your commander is out there, eh? And you’re afraid of leaving and getting reamed.”
    He watched her eyes as they pretended not to see him.
    He continued, his confidence growing muscles. “And I’m guessing you’re not moving because you’ve either dropped the ball a few times already and are worried that you’ll make the wrong decision. Or … you’re scared.”
    “I’m not scared,” she said, no hint of emotion.
    “You’d be stupid not to be scared, Lisa,” Ed said, using her name to worm inside her head. “I’ve seen these things do some scary shit. They nearly killed my daughter.”
    She looked up, “You’re with your daughter?”
    It worked. Maybe.
    “Well, I was. And I’m gonna level with you right now. God’s honest truth, because way I see it, there’s no point in lying. The people on Black Island are holding onto her until I do this job for them.”
    “What’s the job?” she asked.
    Ed wasn’t sure if he should continue with his honesty, but if they got a hold of Brent before he and Brent were able to get their stories straight, they’d find out, anyway. Besides, they’d already taken the picture of Boricio from his wallet. And if they were in fact already seeking him, then the jig was already up. May as well consider changing teams, even if only long enough to just get away.
    “They want me to find someone and bring him back to the island.”
    “Who?” Lisa asked.
    “A man named Boricio. The guy in the picture you lifted from me.”
    “Ah, Boricio ,” Lisa said. “Interesting.”
    “You looking for him too?” Ed asked.
    “Not exactly.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    The door in the front of the stockroom crashed open, killing their conversation and drawing their attention. A pint-sized steroid case named Rojas ran inside the warehouse, holding his M-16. He looked — for the first time since Ed had met him — nervous.
    “We’ve got a problem, Sergeant,” Rojas said.
    “What?”
    “The parking lot. There’s a shit-ton of them out there.”
    “A shit-ton?”
    “Hundreds!”
    Ed’s eyes widened. No way he heard Rojas right. He’d never seen more than two dozen together.
    “Hundreds?” she asked, “Are you fucking with me?”
    “No, Sgt. They’re out there, like they’re waiting for us to come outside.”
    Lisa swallowed, visibly shaken.
    A gunshot suddenly echoed from somewhere inside the store.
    “What the hell?!” Lisa shouted, grabbing her shotgun and running out the door behind Rojas, leaving Ed and Brent handcuffed to the shelving.
    “Hey!” Ed screamed to no one.
    Shit!
    More gunshots echoed inside the store, followed by the sound of crashing glass.
    Ed looked down at his cuffed right hand, and pulled as if he’d somehow get loose, despite hours of trying already. Brent frantically tugged at his own cuffs, also without luck. Ed scanned the area searching for anything he could reach with his left hand or feet, but there wasn’t anything that hadn’t been there 10 minutes earlier.
    More automatic gunfire, followed by more shattering glass, then more gunshots again. A man screamed — a quickly fading scream, thick with death and torment, followed by more blasts, rapid fire — the M-16.
    “Shit, they’re inside the store,” Ed said, now looking up at the shelves above him to see if anything was there he could maybe shake down. The only thing he could see above him was more of the same — wrapped pallets of cardboard boxes and neatly stacked cases of soft drinks.
    More gunshots, then another scream. Another Guardsman. Or maybe the same man in even more pain. The scream was chased by the deafening thunder of what sounded like someone throwing cars across the store. Ed could only imagine the hellish chaos on the other side of the warehouse