Yesterday's Gone (Season Four): Episodes 19-24

by Sean Platt

  Not missing a beat, he said, “That’s right, Ring Around the Rosie, and I’m sure as shit not about to start. All that stuff that happened to us on the other world, well it’s followed us home, and if we don’t get going right this minute, it’s gonna keep on following, and might just drag us into some fucked up sorta Hades. We’ve gotta go, all four of us, and that means you gotta come, because I can’t bear to think of waking tomorrow and not seeing you with me, okay, Baby?”

  Rose swallowed, nodded and said, “Okay.” It sounded like it took everything inside her to nudge the words from her mouth, but it would have to do.

  “Good girl,” Boricio smiled, then turned so he could see all three girls at once. “OK, we’re outta here in five, take only what’s necessary. If you can’t fit it in the first trip down, it ain’t worth taking.”

  “We only made one trip up,” Mary said. “We’ll be ready in two.”

  Boricio winked. “Blue ribbon with a gold star for Mary!”

  Rose said, “But we can’t leave, Boricio. I’m signing the contract in a few days, and I need to bring the girls to Marina’s. We have to help Paola!”

  “We are helping her, but we can’t get to fixing whatever needs fixing if we don’t get her, and us, to safety first. You understand?”

  Boricio waited for Rose to nod, then added, “And of course we’ll take care of your contracts, we just need to stay in L.A. — that’s not a problem, there are plenty of rooms in this city, and at least half aren’t booked by whores, so we’ll find something post haste. But this hotel right here’s a no-go, which means we’ve gotta relocate A-fucking-SAP. Once we’re safe and in a new spot, I’ll go out and get us some guns.”

  “Guns!” Rose cried out, eyes dilating from scared to terrified.

  Boricio was about to explain to his Morning Rose why guns weren’t a luxury when Mary practically did it for him.

  “No problem,” she said, then disappeared into her room, returning seconds later with a duffel bag.

  Boricio eyed it as she entered, a good idea what he’d see once she unzipped it. “Damn, Girl,” he said, “and you said you only made one trip?”

  “Even if I had two, I wouldn’t have left this one for a second.”

  Mary plopped the duffel onto the bed, then unzipped it to a carnival of pistols, knives, and first aid supplies.

  Boricio whistled. “Da-yum, Mary Mary, that’s enough to take care of your little lamb, and a whole goddamned flock! Though it would’ve been nice if you had one down in the garage!”

  Mary looked at Paola, then back to Boricio, finding a smile on her way. “Yeah, but I figured I was safe with my big guard dog,” she winked at Rose. “As for the guns, Desmond taught me well: Always be prepared.”

  “Ya done good, kid,” he said, laughing as he tousled Mary’s hair.

  “Thanks.”

  Rose was a hazy shade of white.

  Paola said, “When are you gonna tell us what happened downstairs?”

  Boricio promised: “The minute we get the fuck outta here.”

  They gathered their things, left the room, then went downstairs and crossed the lobby, pausing for seconds at a story on the TV about some mass shooting at a school. Boricio felt a flash of memory, as if it, too, had something to do with the bullshit going on tonight.

  They walked by the Faggot Mobile, then the Tahoe — which had no attention on it — and over to Mary’s Volvo.

  Despite Boricio’s promise to tell Rose everything the second they got in the car, they drove for 15 minutes before anyone whispered a word.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 2 — Luca Harding

  Luca sat on the bleachers staring at his gym classmates as they were having fun playing soccer. He wanted to play, too, but yesterday Johnny Thomas threatened to “kill him” in today’s game.

  While Luca didn’t think the bully would actually murder him, he did think it highly likely, if not certain, that Johnny Thomas would use soccer as an excuse to hurt him. He could plead to the coach, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to break Luca’s arm. It was an accident.”

  So, Luca lied to the coach and said he’d left his gym shorts and shirt at home, when in truth he had hidden them in his locker. Luca felt bad lying, suffering a knot in his throat that got thick as he told it, so big he was sure the coach could probably see it.

  Coach Carmichael was a heavyset, sunburned man in his 40s with thick, sun-bleached blond hair, who, depending on the day, could either be the most intimidating man in school, or the funniest. He was always nice to Luca, which made him feel even guiltier every time the coach looked over at him in the bleachers.

  The only other people in the bleachers were Andy Daniels and Trevor Banks, polar opposites on the popularity scale. Andy was the quiet, fat kid who never dressed out, and who didn’t seem to care if he failed the class. He was lost in his own world, reading books and drawing pictures of monsters in his spiral notebook. Trevor was one of the more popular kids in school, tall and athletic, but also super-laid back. Cool. Trevor was one of those kids who everyone — from the jocks to the rich kids to the comic book geeks — seemed to like, especially girls.

  Trevor also said he’d forgotten his gym clothes, which had made Luca’s fib seem all the more obvious, like the two had concocted the lie together, even though Trevor had barely ever spoken to Luca, except for one time when he asked if Luca minded him cutting in the lunch line.

  Though three of them sat in the bleachers, they couldn’t have been sitting farther apart if they’d tried.

  Andy sat on the bottom row, Luca in the middle, and Trevor up top, leaning back against the rails, staring up at the clouds and thinking about whatever it was cool kids thought about. Luca glanced at the field and saw Johnny Thomas staring at him. Luca quickly found his feet, not wanting to make eye contact.

  Luca had so far managed to avoid whatever Johnny had planned on doing to him, but he couldn’t avoid it forever. He couldn’t “forget” his gym clothes every class. And there were still several other times during the school day when Johnny could hurt him, even if it wasn’t a sanctioned “accidental hit” during soccer. Eventually, Luca would have to do what his father said: end the torment by standing up to the bully.

  In theory, it made sense. Fight back. Don’t be a wimp. But in practice, Luca was terrified. Bullies didn’t play by the rules. When Luca was younger, the most he had to worry about was someone pushing him off a slide or something. But Johnny was crazy, and there was no telling what he was capable of. Johnny was the same kid who, last summer, found a rabbit on the side of the road and started stomping it, laughing the entire time like it was a skit on Incredible Crew. Though Luca hadn’t seen the rabbit incident, he’d heard the story from enough people to know it was true.

  Something was seriously wrong with Johnny Thomas, and whatever that seriously something was, it scared Luca inside out.

  He heard footsteps on the metal planks behind him, and turned, surprised to see Trevor standing over him, looking down.

  “This seat taken?” Trevor pointed to the empty spot beside Luca.

  Luca was confused, both by Trevor’s question, and that the cool kid was asking to sit beside him. He shook his head, “Um, no.”

  “Cool,” Trevor said, dropping down beside Luca and landing on the empty seat. “So, forgot your shorts, eh?”

  “Yeah,” Luca said, the lie back to swelling in his throat.

  “Bullshit,” Trevor said.

  Luca was stunned. “Huh?”

  “I said bullshit, you didn’t ‘forget’ your shorts. I know why you’re sitting here.”

  Luca gulped, not sure where this conversation was going, nor whose side Trevor was on. Luca had seen him hang around with Johnny Thomas, but Trevor was one of those kids who hung around everyone. Luca didn’t know if Trevor was one of the usual jerks and bullies that Johnny hung out with. The only kids Luca knew for sure were in that group were Gus and Kiyor, but it was always possible that Johnny had found a new recruit.

/>   Trevor pointed at the field, and straight at Johnny Thomas. Johnny wasn’t looking in their direction, but Luca was terrified that the bully would turn and see them, then think Luca was talking about him.

  “Don’t point,” Luca said, almost desperately. “He’ll see you.”

  Trevor laughed. “Let him, I don’t give a shit what he thinks. Fuck Johnny Thomas.”

  Luca was both shocked by Trevor’s cursing, and also relieved that he didn’t seem to like Johnny Thomas at all. He’d never seen Trevor have a problem with anyone.

  Trevor kept pointing at Johnny, and Luca was sure that at any moment he would turn around and see him. Fortunately, Johnny was in the center of the pitch with his eyes on Gus, who was on the opposite team and trying to get the ball to Johnny.

  Gus lost the ball out of bounds, and everyone on the field turned toward the sideline. Just then, Johnny looked up and saw Luca and Trevor sitting on the bench, Trevor’s finger still wagging toward him.

  Oh no!

  Trevor smiled, and waved at Johnny. Under his breath he said, “Hey, bitch. Yeah, we’re talking about you … about what a small dick you have, and how you jerk off with tweezers … to pictures of your sister. You fucking pussy.”

  Luca couldn’t help but laugh, even though he was certain that Johnny would know Luca was laughing at him.

  He looked down, trying to wipe the smile from his face, whispering, “Stop, you’re going to get me killed.”

  “He ain’t gonna do shit,” Trevor said.

  “Apparently, you don’t know Johnny Thomas,” Luca said, risking a look back at the field to see that the bully was no longer paying attention to them, Johnny’s eyes back on the action, following the ball.

  Thank God!

  Trevor looked at Luca. “Why you so afraid of him?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because he’s bigger than me, stronger than me, and totally crazy? Those all seem like good reasons. He also likes to pick on me, just because, and a lot more than most kids.”

  “He’s just a bully, man, you stand up to him once, maybe twice, he’ll turn and run away like a little bitch, trust me!”

  “Easy for you to say!”

  “What do you mean?”

  Luca shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to say the wrong thing and accidentally insult Trevor. “Well, you’re big and strong, and everybody likes you. You don’t have to deal with bullies.”

  Trevor laughed. “Well, yeah, I don’t have to deal with bullies now. But last year, when I lived in Chino, I didn’t fit in either. And some assholes decided they’d make my life hell.”

  Luca leaned forward, surprised that there was ever a time when Trevor didn’t fit in, especially if that time was just one year ago.

  “It wasn’t until my brother taught me to fight, and I stood up for myself, that things finally changed.”

  “I don’t have a brother,” Luca said. “Just a little sister.”

  “Well, what about your dad? Can’t he teach you?”

  “I don’t know,” Luca said, not bothering to explain that his dad did teach him a bit. “I don’t even know why I have to learn how to fight! Can’t people just get along? What happened to everyone leaving everyone else alone? I feel like if I start fighting, it’ll never end. Like I’ll always have to fight someone trying to mess with me.”

  Trevor shook his head, “No, no, no. It doesn’t work that way, not for people like me and you. It’s not like you’re in a gang and need to prove yourself, or playing a video game where you have to fight mini-boss after mini-boss until you get to the big, bad boss. You just stand up to a guy like Johnny Thomas once, or, like I said, twice, since some thick fucks don’t get the message first time around, and you clock that bitch right in his face and he’ll leave you alone for good.”

  “I don’t know,” Luca said, looking back at the field, watching as Johnny ran fast and knocked into Hector Esposito hard, then yanked the ball from his hands. As Hector fell to the dirt, Johnny laughed too loud. Coach didn’t even blow the whistle.

  Trevor said, “You might not believe this, but most bullies are just secretly scared, little cowards. Usually they’re being bullied by someone themselves, and are looking for victims weaker than them so that they can take out their frustrations, and maybe feel a little stronger. If you stand up to them, then you’re taking their fuel away. If you’re not scared, then they’ll find someone who is.”

  Luca was impressed by how much Trevor seemed to know. He was so much smarter than Luca expected. While he certainly didn’t think Trevor would be dumb, he hadn’t expected him to sound like his dad, saying so many things that made so much such sense.

  “What you’re saying makes sense,” Luca said. “And even my dad said I should stand up to Johnny. But I don’t know … I get scared whenever I think about it.”

  Trevor looked Luca up and down, then smacked a hand on his back like they were longtime pals. “How would you like it if I taught you how to fight?”

  “Huh?”

  “Since you don’t have a brother, and your dad is probably old like mine and forgot what it was like to be a kid. Let me teach you.”

  “I don’t know,” Luca said, even as his mind trailed off imagining a few dreams coming true: Trevor training him, Luca beating Johnny up, him finally being left alone. Then Luca saw the nightmare that dared to ruin his dreams: him getting in over his head, overconfident and unprepared for a real, actual fight with Johnny. The kind that left him bloodied and scared, humiliated.

  “Or … ” Trevor said, laughing, “You can keep being Johnny’s personal punching bag. I doubt he’ll get bored, not if you just keep on standing there and taking it. Admit it, man, that’s got to be getting pretty old, right?”

  “Yeah,” Luca agreed. Daring to dream, he turned to Trevor. “So, how would you teach me? And when would we do it?”

  “Wanna meet after school, at Barker Park?”

  Barker Park was across the street from the school, a fairly large park with a nature trail and several bike paths. It was also on the way home for Luca, who rode his bike to school on Wednesdays because his sister stayed late and Luca didn’t like waiting around for Mom to come pick them both up.

  “I wouldn’t have long. I told my mom I was going to run by the comic book shop, and I’d be home by 4:30. Would 20 minutes be enough?”

  “Oh yeah, I could teach you some basics in 20 minutes, no problem. Then we can meet again another day, if you want. And I can teach you some more.”

  “Thank you,” Luca said, then risked asking something he thought might anger Trevor. “Why are you doing this? I mean, why help me?”

  “I don’t know, maybe I see a little of myself from last year in you, and want to help. But also, I’d just love to see the surprised look on that fucker’s face when you punch him in the nads. That, my friend, will be priceless!”

  Luca laughed, feeling an oddly confident swell in his spirits.

  Maybe he would stand up to Johnny Thomas after all; he could end the bullying, impress his new friend, and make his father proud.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 3 — Michael Blackmore

  Mike sat outside of Mary Olson’s house, watching for any sign of the killer … or anybody.

  It was morning, and the house, along with the tree-lined street in the gated community, was quiet.

  From his research, Mike knew Mary was a greeting card designer and worked from home. She had a 13-year-old daughter named Paola, probably in school. Mary was separated from a man named Ryan Olson, declared missing in 2012. Mike wondered if the man he was looking for might be somehow responsible for Ryan’s “disappearance.” Maybe she shacked up with the killer after he took care of her ex.

  Mike had long ago stopped being surprised by murderers conniving their way into the lives of normal women, even having long-term relationships and starting families. He wondered how broken someone had to be if they were willing to let such evil into their lives, because there was no way at least a part of you wou
ldn’t know. Human instincts were too strong, even if most people chose to ignore them. It could be that the woman had no idea her new man was a cold-blooded killer until after she’d fallen for him, but at any rate, she probably would’ve suspected that something was up.

  While movies and the media liked to play up how serial killers managed to blend into families and neighborhoods, with the tired phrasing, “He was a quiet man, we never suspected anything,” that was rarely the case, at least in Mike’s ample experience. When it came to serial killers, the only people who didn’t know something was wrong were those who didn’t really know the murderer. Anyone who spent any amount of time with a serial killer usually knew something was off with them. They might not suspect the person’s pure evil, but if they were paying any attention they had to know something was wrong.

  So, it confused Mike that decent people could allow themselves to ignore those warning bells so often, and made him wonder if it was a different sort of instinct, stronger than the first: an instinct to turn their eyes from the truth, to stay alive and maybe safe, thinking that one monster might help them to keep others away. Mike also wondered if Mary was just such a woman.

  Of course, it was possible that Mary Olson was ignorant of this particular monster, or that she didn’t know the killer at all, and he was following a dead end. The only way to know for sure was to get out of his car and knock on her door. He reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed a bouquet of roses and lilies he bought from the grocery store for the ruse he planned to use if any neighbors happened to see him.

  Mike approached Mary’s house, eyes on her windows as he mentally prepared himself to drop the flowers and reach into his jacket for his gun if necessary.

  He looked up and down the street and saw an older woman two doors down, pretending to check her mailbox. Mike knew she was scoping him out. He smiled and waved, she quickly looked away as if she hadn’t been watching.

  He continued up the stone path and knocked on Mary’s large front door. There were windows on either side, displaying the spacious interior. Mike could see clear to the back of the house and into the kitchen, but saw no sign of anyone home. The TV wasn’t on, and the house was silent.