Read Online Yesterdays Gone: SEASON TWO (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) (Yesterday's Gone) by Sean Platt, David Wright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sean Platt, David Wright
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expected: Agrams and Bruggers and Hecklers; expensive foreign shit Boricio hadn’t expected to see in the sticks.
Boricio gunned the engine and rolled down the ravine, smashing through the chain link fence surrounding the warehouse before plowing into the warehouse door, which crumpled like a beer can beneath a boot.
“Well, how about that,” Boricio screamed, “they sure don’t build shit like they used to.” Boricio laughed to himself, slapped his knee, then revved the engine in reverse, running down a pair of the monsters, tearing their leather with a sickening THWTHWIIIPSH.
“The fuck you pureed pussy meat waiting for?” Boricio yelled. “Shoot some fuckers!”
Vic and Charlie lowered their windows and fired their guns, barely taking aim. Monsters and soldiers dropped into piles while Boricio continued to laugh, firing the side machine guns until they were empty, then launching a missile into an adjoining garage just because he could. He would’ve sent the missile sailing straight into the warehouse, but he didn’t know if there was a prize inside the box and didn’t want to ruin it if there was.
“Stop!” Charlie yelled, pointing out the window to a huddle of three women and several more children hunched low and moving fast behind the smoke to count. They were headed toward the tree-line. “There are children out there,” he said. “We don’t kill kids. We can’t kill kids.”
“Kids ain’t nothing but future adults waiting for pubes. That makes them early bird fucking specials.”
Charlie said nothing. Boricio ignored the huddle, parked the truck, and jumped from the cabin of the Boriciomobile. The three of them stood, guns raised, waiting for more men to come pouring out of the warehouse, which was now burning. Dark smoke began to billow out and Boricio smiled, “That ought to drive the rats out.”
A figure appeared in the smoke, then rushed out of it and toward them.
It was an eight year old boy, rushing the three of them, waving a Beretta in the air. Boricio, without hesitation, pulled the trigger on his .45 and sent the eight year old into a bloody skid along the cement floor. He turned to Charlie. “See that shit? He was gonna shoot me! There’s your fucking kids for ya.”
Boricio went back to the car, fished out his megaphone, turned it on and spoke into it.
“Bring me One-Eyed Willy or I’m gonna shoot every one of you fuckers in there. And I ain’t gonna save you a trip to the Pearlies just because you ain’t voted or you happen to be wearing a pussy in your panties. My bullets will fuck your shit up with equal opportunity, and that’s as real as the cousins you think about while fucking your brothers.”
Flames licked the warehouse walls, causing many of the monsters to flee the warehouse and run back into the woods.
“You’re running shy on time,” Boricio said. “There’s only one way out that ain’t got monsters waiting, and that’s the front door. And I’m gonna shoot every last one of you fuckers unless you send One-Eye out. You got to the count of three! One . . . Two . . .”
A bald guy in his late 40‘s, with an eyepatch, came out of the smoke, hesitantly.
“And circle gets the square!” Boricio said, smiling.
One-Eyed Willy stood in front of Boricio, shaking. Boricio kicked his feet from under him, sending the bald man to his knees. Vic and Charlie tied the man’s ankles and arms while Boricio sang nursery rhymes, starting with Itsy Bitsy Spider .
Boricio threw One-Eyed Willy into the back of the van while flames spread and smoke billowed out of the warehouse.
“Okay, we got what we came for,” Boricio said into the megaphone, “Olly-olly oxen free, you can all come out now. If I see any guns, I’m gonna assume you’re hostile and will shoot you. So come out, with your hands up, if you want to live.”
Men, women, and children poured from the warehouse, hands up.
Boricio, Charlie, and Vic kept their guns aimed and
Boricio gunned the engine and rolled down the ravine, smashing through the chain link fence surrounding the warehouse before plowing into the warehouse door, which crumpled like a beer can beneath a boot.
“Well, how about that,” Boricio screamed, “they sure don’t build shit like they used to.” Boricio laughed to himself, slapped his knee, then revved the engine in reverse, running down a pair of the monsters, tearing their leather with a sickening THWTHWIIIPSH.
“The fuck you pureed pussy meat waiting for?” Boricio yelled. “Shoot some fuckers!”
Vic and Charlie lowered their windows and fired their guns, barely taking aim. Monsters and soldiers dropped into piles while Boricio continued to laugh, firing the side machine guns until they were empty, then launching a missile into an adjoining garage just because he could. He would’ve sent the missile sailing straight into the warehouse, but he didn’t know if there was a prize inside the box and didn’t want to ruin it if there was.
“Stop!” Charlie yelled, pointing out the window to a huddle of three women and several more children hunched low and moving fast behind the smoke to count. They were headed toward the tree-line. “There are children out there,” he said. “We don’t kill kids. We can’t kill kids.”
“Kids ain’t nothing but future adults waiting for pubes. That makes them early bird fucking specials.”
Charlie said nothing. Boricio ignored the huddle, parked the truck, and jumped from the cabin of the Boriciomobile. The three of them stood, guns raised, waiting for more men to come pouring out of the warehouse, which was now burning. Dark smoke began to billow out and Boricio smiled, “That ought to drive the rats out.”
A figure appeared in the smoke, then rushed out of it and toward them.
It was an eight year old boy, rushing the three of them, waving a Beretta in the air. Boricio, without hesitation, pulled the trigger on his .45 and sent the eight year old into a bloody skid along the cement floor. He turned to Charlie. “See that shit? He was gonna shoot me! There’s your fucking kids for ya.”
Boricio went back to the car, fished out his megaphone, turned it on and spoke into it.
“Bring me One-Eyed Willy or I’m gonna shoot every one of you fuckers in there. And I ain’t gonna save you a trip to the Pearlies just because you ain’t voted or you happen to be wearing a pussy in your panties. My bullets will fuck your shit up with equal opportunity, and that’s as real as the cousins you think about while fucking your brothers.”
Flames licked the warehouse walls, causing many of the monsters to flee the warehouse and run back into the woods.
“You’re running shy on time,” Boricio said. “There’s only one way out that ain’t got monsters waiting, and that’s the front door. And I’m gonna shoot every last one of you fuckers unless you send One-Eye out. You got to the count of three! One . . . Two . . .”
A bald guy in his late 40‘s, with an eyepatch, came out of the smoke, hesitantly.
“And circle gets the square!” Boricio said, smiling.
One-Eyed Willy stood in front of Boricio, shaking. Boricio kicked his feet from under him, sending the bald man to his knees. Vic and Charlie tied the man’s ankles and arms while Boricio sang nursery rhymes, starting with Itsy Bitsy Spider .
Boricio threw One-Eyed Willy into the back of the van while flames spread and smoke billowed out of the warehouse.
“Okay, we got what we came for,” Boricio said into the megaphone, “Olly-olly oxen free, you can all come out now. If I see any guns, I’m gonna assume you’re hostile and will shoot you. So come out, with your hands up, if you want to live.”
Men, women, and children poured from the warehouse, hands up.
Boricio, Charlie, and Vic kept their guns aimed and
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