by Platt, Sean
“What was that?” Keenan asked sharply.
“The rest of the vials,” Will said. “I’m ending this now.”
Both Keenan and Sullivan’s mouths were agape.
Keenan screamed at Will, “Why?!”
Will got in Keenan’s face and screamed, “We should’ve done this from the start!”
Rose’s screams died with the flames a moment later.
In the center of the room, the love of his life, along with the vials, had been reduced to a smoldering pile of ashes.
Boricio fell to the ground, screaming, his world shattered.
He noticed Will approaching his cell.
Boricio looked up at him, barely able to quell the rage simmering inside.
“I’m sorry, Son,” Will said.
Boricio slowly stood up and met his father’s red eyes.
Whatever love and light that the man had ignited in Boricio’s life so many years earlier had been snuffed out and replaced with cold, unending darkness.
* * * *
CHAPTER 11 — Boricio Bishop
Somewhere in Alabama
September 2011
ONE MONTH BEFORE THE EVENT…
Fuck Black Island, Boricio thought as he hopped out of the truck that had driven him the last stretch of miles and thanked the man who’d given him a lift.
Boricio had been gone from New York for two weeks, slowly making his way down south to New Orleans, where he planned to get a job as a chef in a restaurant, and hopefully disappear in his work.
He would be thrilled if he never thought of Rose again, or if Will could never find him, and he never had to look at the murdering fuck’s face.
Boricio would happily settle for one of the two.
He wandered south for several days, alone and desolate, with nothing but the pack on his back, caretaker of the last vial left, which he’d managed to sneak off the island thanks to Luca. Boricio was surprised that Luca had helped him, and was certain that Luca would be in huge trouble. When Boricio asked Luca if there had been another vial, as Will suggested another had been taken, Luca pleaded ignorance — which either meant the boy was lying, which Boricio doubted, or someone else had taken a vial. Boricio wondered for a while, but then stopped caring.
Not my problem.
Boricio wasn’t sure why he had taken the last vial, other than he felt he had to protect it. Will wanted to destroy them all. And while the vials had turned Rose into a monster, Boricio knew that they were also capable of incredible good.
Someday, Boricio would find a way to start a new project. Perhaps he’d go to Black Mountain, which was run by a more daring group of scientists who often found themselves at odds with the Black Island faction.
But for now, Boricio just wanted to get lost.
Without a car, he hitched his way south until he found himself in Alabama.
He was walking along a road in the middle of nowhere, wondering if he’d even see another car to hitch a ride from, or if he should look for someplace to sleep for the night. He had a decent stash of cash to last him a while, so all he needed was to find a hotel.
Searching the horizon, he looked up and happened to see a sprawling cross standing tall and proud against the bruised purple sky.
Boricio stared up at the cross feeling an odd sort of promise, an oath strong enough to pull him from the road, through an ornate gate opening, where he met a smiling woman in a long blue dress, and past some houses and through the church’s wide open wooden doors on the rear of the sprawling property.
Boricio sat in a pew at the back of the church, listening to the pastor as he paced the pulpit, hands raised in the air as he delivered a sermon.
“Ours is not to question His will. He works in mysterious ways, as the saying goes. Ways that we mere mortals cannot even hope to understand. Most of human misery comes from us trying to make sense of God’s will, to put a human face on divine reason, rather than just accepting His gifts.”
The pastor found Boricio’s eye, and in that moment, it felt as if the pastor was speaking directly to him, offering a light in the dark nightmare that had become Boricio’s life.
The pastor continued, “There will come a time in this earthly life when The Good Lord will see fit to take someone you love, someone you simply cannot bear to live without. And when that happens, it will feel as though your heart can no longer beat, and your head can no longer think, and the breath inside you feels more like a curse than a gift.”
The pastor took a moment to pause, casting his eyes across the room, his soft stare settling again on Boricio’s, as his hands continued to hover. He finally dropped both arms to his side, then started to pace the pulpit again.
“I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that you will likely never get over your loss, not all the way, anyhow. It simply hurts too much, and our hearts are too tender and loving. But the good news is that The Good Lord loves you, and if you let him live forever in your broken heart, you will be mended! You will be enlightened, because you understand that He only asks us to suffer through the sour of this world so that we may fully appreciate the eternal sweet of His Kingdom. For even though death leaves a heartache that no one and nothing will ever be able to heal, at least not in this life, The Good Lord offers a salvation and everlasting eternal joy that no one can ever steal.”
Boricio was in no way religious, yet he found an odd comfort in the pastor’s words, and felt surprisingly at home with his back resting against the freshly polished pew. Boricio didn’t move an inch for the remainder of the sermon, or even after it was finished. He sat safely out of sight in the back of the church until the pastor finally stopped shaking hands of the men, women, and children who filed out. The pastor looked up at Boricio and walked over and took a seat next to him.
Normally, that would have been Boricio’s cue to leave.
But he stayed.
“It looks like you could use a bit of the Good Lord’s light,” the pastor said, slapping his hand on the back of Boricio’s shoulder. “Welcome to the New Unity Church.” The pastor smiled kindly at Boricio, then added, “We’re here for you, Son. You can call me The Prophet.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
YESTERDAY’S GONE
EPISODE 17
“a priori”
* * * *
Yesterday’s Gone: Episode 17 “a priori”
CHAPTER 1 — Luca Bishop
Our Earth
Las Orillas, California
April 2, 2012
SIX MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT…
Luca’s life before October 15 was only a shadow.
He could easily ignore the day’s shadows. But at night . . . at night, they demanded his attention.
Luca and Anna were lying together on their L-shaped couch watching The Incredibles. Neither had picked the movie, since no one seemed to agree on whose turn it was to choose. Luca was certain it was his turn, and he wanted to watch Return of the Jedi again. Anna said it was her turn — she wanted to watch Tangled for the bajillionth time. Mom had a headache and didn’t feel like hearing another argument, so she compromised with The Incredibles, which both Luca and Anna loudly complained about, even though they both loved the movie, and it was even one of Luca’s three favorite Pixars.
As the movie was ending, and the clock on the cable box was nearing 9 p.m., Luca knew their mom would be in the living room any minute to pick up a few stray kernels of popcorn from the carpet and announce bedtime. Luca glanced over at Anna, lightly snoring above the pool of fresh drool on her pillow. He closed his eyes and pretended to be sleeping too, hoping their mom might leave them there for the night.
Ever since arriving in the other Luca’s world, and claiming his spot in Luca’s family, he had grown to hate bedtime. Sometimes, when he and Anna fell asleep together on the couch, their mom would leave them through the night. It was these nights, lying beside his sister, when Luca felt the most safe, comfortable, and, oddly enough, most loved.
When he had to sleep in
his bedroom, all alone, he felt like the impostor he was.
“Time for bed,” Mom said, spoiling Luca’s hope.
Luca rose from the couch, dejected, hoping to win some sympathy and be allowed to maybe sleep in the living room. Anna was already standing, and hugging their mom goodnight, resigned to her fate — and resigning Luca to his.
Luca hugged his mom goodnight, but pushed his face into her harder than usual.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.
“Just sad,” he said.
“Sad? You can watch Return of the Jedi another night, maybe even tomorrow.” She patted him on the shoulders.
Luca was going to tell her that it wasn’t The Incredibles that had made him sad, but decided not to. Because what could he say? That he was sad because he’d taken her real son’s place? That he left his family behind as monsters tore through his home world?
Luca couldn’t even start to explain what he only sort of understood. So he said the only thing he could.
“Thank you, Mom.”
His mom hugged him harder before Luca trudged off to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and went pee, then headed to his father’s office.
His dad was tapping away at a thin aluminum keyboard, his eyes centered on the screen. It took him a moment to notice Luca. Once he did, Luca’s dad looked up, without smiling. He seemed more distracted than happy to see him. Luca figured he must be working on something extra special important.
“Goodnight, Buddy,” his dad said, hugging him goodnight.
“Goodnight, Dad,” Luca said, head down as he shuffled to his bedroom where his mom came inside to tuck him in a few minutes later.
As his mom closed the door, the shadows returned.
Outside his window, through the parted curtains, Luca could see the moon peering through the thousand-fingered trees, its soft glow twisting those fingers into scary shadows on Luca’s far wall.
He turned from the window and then turned back, choosing to lie facing the window and its glow instead of the wall and its shadows. Luca closed his eyes and thought about his family — his real family, back on the world he’d abandoned.
Luca had tried to return several times since October so that he could see how they were doing, but was only successful a few times. He hadn’t been able to control where he went, however. And each time, he’d gone to the other world, he’d wound up with the other Luca. Only that Luca had changed. He was older. And the other Luca couldn’t see him. Nobody could see him — as if he were some kind of ghost.
Luca’s only success was last month when he saw the other version of his new dad, Will. He was surprised the other Will had been able to see him, and didn’t know how long he would be able to do so, so he delivered his message so urgently that he wasn’t even sure Will understood what he was saying.
Even if Will had understood, he was bleeding so much, he looked like he was just minutes from dying. If Will was dead, then he couldn’t have given the message to anyone. And if that were the case, then perhaps all hope was lost — for Luca and his world. Perhaps all hope was lost, anyway, though. Because Luca wasn’t even sure that the message would help. He was only giving that message because of the dream he’d had — the dream where people were looking for the vial Luca had hidden.
Luca had tried to go back a few times after he saw Will, but nothing was working. Luca wasn’t sure why getting to the other world now was so much harder. He’d been able to do it so easily before October 15.
But then something had happened.
Perhaps it had to do with the thing that pulled the others to his world. It wasn’t the Darkness that he’d seen taking over his world. It was something else — a brightness that Luca felt more than saw.
He closed his eyes and tried to go back, just as he had tried to do nearly every night since October.
And then he was gone.
**
Luca was suddenly floating in darkness, salt water splashing his face and into his eyes and mouth as he struggled to keep his nose and mouth above the surface. Luca’s arms thrashed in the water as he struggled to see anything. But he couldn’t drink his surroundings without also drinking salt.
Luca swallowed a mouthful of sea and went underwater.
He panicked, then somehow managed to come back up, spitting out water as he paddled to stay above the churning waves.
Where am I?
Something splashed loud behind him, hitting the water so hard it caused a giant wave to plunge him back beneath the surface. He could hear the muffled splashes of more things falling around him. Confused, he opened his eyes underwater, despite the burning, to see what was making so much noise.
Are there other people here?
Luca saw several dozen faint orange somethings glowing above him.
Pretty.
What are they?
He surfaced for air, wiping water from his eyes as he looked up, peering into the black to see what the orange lights were made of. As he squeezed his eyes in concentration, Luca felt fear like fingers wrapping tightly around his heart.
Above him, dozens of burning chunks of something were raining from the sky, splashing the water all around him. He couldn’t tell what they were, but there were dozens or more orange spots coming at him, some of them huge.
Luca screamed as he desperately paddled, trying to swim free from the falling fire, with no idea where to go.
He swam in blind fear as flaming debris continued to rain around him, smashing tall waves against his body, sometimes hard enough to bury him beneath another choking wave.
Where is this stuff coming from? And what is it?
From what Luca could tell, the something was made from all sorts of stuff — wood, chunks of trees, pieces of cars, clothing, books, and food.
Something splashed beside him, confusing him at first, until he realized it was a person’s head, ripped from their body and burned on over half of their face.
Luca screamed, went under, then surfaced again, spitting and gagging on the harsh salt water as he gasped for air.
Keep swimming!
Luca kept going, faster than he’d ever swum in his life, trying to find a way to go back to the other world, where he’d been safe in the other Luca’s bed.
But he couldn’t get back if he wasn’t able to concentrate.
Luca swam for what felt like forever, his entire body in pain and his arms and legs about to turn rubber, unable to float any longer, until he found himself at a safe distance from the falling stuff.
That’s when he saw the source of the falling stuff in the distance — two of the largest tornadoes Luca had ever seen. While Luca had only seen tornadoes on TV, he was sure they didn’t usually have balls of lightning and fire in the middle, though.
Luca couldn’t tell how far away the tornadoes were from one another, but they seemed close, like they were about to collide. He’d never seen two at once, even on TV. It was like the tornados were fighting to see which one could gather then spit the most terrible stuff into the sky as they moved closer to one another.
Luca finally realized that it wasn’t just stuff they were spitting into the sky. The tornados were spitting what was left of Black Island.
His eyes widened as he screamed.
Luca woke in his bed, soaking wet, and screeching.
No one could hear his scream, however, because someone’s hand was covering his mouth.
* * * *
CHAPTER 2 — Brent Foster
Other Earth
Somewhere in Georgia…
March 31, 2012
FIVE MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT…
The black van barreled down the two-lane highway beneath the bright morning sun toward Dunn, Georgia as if on a mission from God.
Boricio was behind the wheel, with Callie in the front seat. Jung, the tall muscular Swiss super soldier sat behind them, while Ed and Brent took the rear. Ed was resting his eyes, though Brent could never be certain if he were really napping — in which case, the dude was able t
o sleep anywhere — or if he were just laying low to appear like less of a threat in case he needed to bolt into action.
Brent’s mind wandered to their next destination — after they went to the other Boricio’s compound — Black Island.
He wondered how Jane and her daughter, Emily, were doing.
It had been a couple of weeks since he’d seen them, but it felt like months. He was surprised how much he missed them both. He thought of their last dinner, and how Emily had hugged him, filled with sudden sadness when he told her that he had to go on a special trip.
Emily made him promise to return home, safe. Of course he said he would, even though he wasn’t sure at the time. Now it looked like he might make good on his promise. Just one more stop, then back to Black Island they’d go, carrying their lingering questions behind them:
Would they be returning with both Boricios? And what had the bald Boricio done that had banished him to Black Mountain? Yes, they might make it back to Black Island in one piece, but Brent wondered what sort of reception would be waiting.
Before the trip, Boricio said Black Island might hold the key to them going home. But he said nothing about how that would happen, and Brent was afraid to ask for specifics, in the same way he’d been afraid to ask Ed for particulars when Ed said they might be able to get home somehow.
Brent was still clinging to the hope that they might get home, and that he would see his wife and son again. He’d not allowed himself more than a few stray thoughts surrounding Ben and Gina during the previous week, particularly when it seemed like they might not make it back to Black Island, let alone home. Now, as they drew closer to Black Island, he found himself daring to hope again.