Yesterday's Gone: Seasons 1-6 Complete Saga

by Sean Platt

  “Rebecca!”

  Luca heard her think in a giggle. “Yay! I found you,” she thought.

  “How long have you been looking?”

  There was a moment of silence, then Luca heard, “All morning.” There was another moment of silence then she added, “How was the funeral?”

  “Terrible. I left at the beginning. I was crying like a big baby. Everyone probably thought I was stupid.”

  “That’s not true,” Rebecca thought. “No one thought you were stupid. They understand that you’re just a kid.”

  Luca thought. “They didn’t understand that you are just a kid.”

  Rebecca went quiet.

  He said, “I’m sorry” in his head.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Where did you go last night?” Luca wondered.

  “I’m not sure. I think I went into a different part of the dream. I looked for you but I didn’t see you anywhere. I kept looking, but I couldn’t find you. I was lost for a while. And I couldn’t escape from the man who was watching me. He was watching both of us, actually. At the same time, too. Like he had eyes all around him. I wanted to follow him because I thought he might show me where you were. But I was too scared. I ran away when he saw me behind him.”

  “That’s The Man in the Middle,” Luca thought. “Did he say anything to you?”

  “He said, ‘You can’t watch the watcher, unless your eyes are made of sky.’ He disappeared into the snow after that. Is The Man in the Middle bad?”

  Luca had to think before he thought his answer. “Yes, I think he is. But since I’m not scared of him, I don’t think he can hurt me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the voices didn’t say anything bad was going to happen. I think The Man in the Middle has to stay inside the Terrible Scary.” Luca didn’t want to think about The Man in the Middle or the Terrible Scary anymore, so he wondered if Rebecca wanted to go on another trip. She said yes, and the next thing they knew, Luca was back in Las Orillas, in the middle of a freshly mowed lawn, looking at his old house with Rebecca beside him.

  “Is that where you used to live?”

  Luca nodded.

  “It’s really nice,” she said. “We didn’t have anything like that. What did your parents do?”

  Luca thought about it, but then felt bad that he couldn’t remember. Then he wondered if he’d ever known. Was 8 old enough to know what your parents did for work? Yes, of course it was. It had to be. Did he not know, or could he not remember? Luca finally said, “I’m not sure,” though saying it out loud made him feel like he lost something important.

  He said, “Come on!” then took Rebecca by the hand and ran inside the house. No one was home, but that was fine. Luca wanted to show Rebecca his toys, not his family. He showed her his Lego collection, including his TIE-Fighter and his newest prize, the Ninjago Fire Temple.

  “Isn’t it awe-awe-awe-awesome?” Luca sang, just like he did all through late September and early October of the previous fall, back when the Lego Ninjago Fire Temple was the pride of his bedroom.

  Luca caught his reflection in his closet mirror, then dropped his Lego dragon on the floor where it shattered to pieces.

  He had expected to see his 8-year-old self. They were in his house and his dream, after all. But the young man looking back at him hadn’t been a boy for some time.

  “It’s okay,” Rebecca said. “You can still like Legos.”

  Luca smiled, then showed Rebecca his favorite books, his light saber collection, and his three favorite Nerf guns. She even watched him play the Zelda video game and sat beside him while he beat his favorite boss. When the boss was dead, Rebecca told Luca he was cute. He turned from the screen, dropped his controller, and told her she looked pretty, even without her hair.

  Rebecca touched the top of her head, as though she had forgotten, then lost her happy face to a sad one. “I’m so ugly now!” she said.

  “You’re not ugly at all.” Luca shook his head. “You’re awe-awe-awe-awesome.”

  Rebecca laughed and told Luca he was nice. She said she hadn’t really known too many boys, especially nice ones. And though she had thought Carl was nice, she was wrong. “Have you seen Carl?” she asked.

  Luca shook his head. “I haven’t seen him since the day they took him away. I know they’re keeping him somewhere else. Linc told me it’s a place called The Hole. Do you know where that is?”

  Rebecca nodded. “I’ve never seen it, but it’s in the basement of the women’s house. That’s where they put people when they’re really bad.”

  “Oh.”

  Luca was silent for a while, and didn’t really know what else to show his friend since she was way too old for any of his sister Anna’s toys, and too young for anything in his mom’s room.

  “Do you miss your house?” Rebecca asked.

  Luca scrunched his nose. “I’m not sure. I guess I do. I miss my mom and dad and Anna. And I miss my toys. But I’m forgetting what I really miss, instead of what I’m supposed to miss.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Luca shook his head. “I don’t know how to tell it.” He sighed, “I don’t know where I put the memories. It’s crowded in here.” Luca pointed to his head. “And I think I might be running out of space because there’s new stuff I don’t understand, and the old stuff that I do understand is getting harder to find.”

  Before Rebecca could ask Luca to explain, there was a knock at the door.

  “Who is that?” Rebecca said, startled.

  “I don’t know,” Luca was already on his feet and on his way to the front door. He opened the door and was instantly shocked to see Will, though it was barely Will at all.

  Almost Will stepped inside the house, not formed like Luca or Rebecca.

  “Hi Will,” Luca said.

  “Who are you talking to?” Rebecca asked.

  Luca turned to Rebecca. “My friend, Will. You can’t see him?”

  Rebecca shook her head.

  Luca turned to Will. “Are you really here?”

  He had to ask since he could barely see Will, a semi-invisible shadow with Will’s wild hair and beard and general shape, but none of his skin and little of his coloring.

  “Good, you can see me,” Will said, “I needed to tell you something, but I haven’t got long. Brother Rei is asking me to leave the compound tonight, after dinner.”

  “What?” Luca said, upset, “Why?”

  “Because he knows I’m on to him for being a bad guy,” Will said. “I don’t have time to get into it now. I’m not sleeping like you are, and this isn’t exactly easy for me, but I needed to reach you privately since they’ve got people watching me. Please, Luca, I need you to be brave; for me and you, and everyone else, including Rebecca.” The ghost Will nodded toward Rebecca, even though she couldn’t see him. He turned back to Luca. “I need you to lie low, and convince the others to lie low with you. Be discreet, and trust no one but Desmond, Mary, and Paola. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

  “But, but . . . Where are you going?” Luca was trying hard not to cry, but wasn’t doing very well.

  “Not far,” Will said. “And I’ll stay safe; I promise. I need you to do me a favor. Are you up for it?” He put his hand beneath Luca’s chin and raised his face to meet his eyes.

  Luca nodded.

  “I need you to let Desmond know there’s a gun in the tank in the bathroom at the end of his hall, along with a set of keys to a BWM parked in the woods on the south side of The Sanctuary, beneath a white tarp. Got that so far?”

  Luca nodded.

  “Great job.” Will smiled and Luca smiled back. “There’s also a bag of guns behind a cluster of trees on the outside of the south wall, at the back of the compound.”

  “What’s happening?” Luca said, afraid, but still trying not to cry. “Are you gonna be okay? Will I see you again?”

  “Yes, you’ll see me tonight at dinner. After that, I have to leave. But I promise I’ll be ba
ck soon. Just swear you’ll do what I said; tell Desmond and Mary everything the next time you’re all alone, okay?”

  Luca agreed. Will told him not to be afraid, but he had already faded away before he finished his sentence.

  Luca blinked his eyes open, somehow knowing what he’d find.

  Even though he was in the real world and away from the dream, the Terrible Scary was everywhere around him, covering him like a blanket.

  Luca had never felt so close to the middle of it all.

  Fifty

  Charlie Wilkens

  Somewhere in Alabama

  March 25

  Mid-morning

  “You sure you’re gonna be able to find this place?” Adam asked as the morning sun beat a glare into the windshield.

  “I’ll find it,” Charlie said, for the hundredth time in the past hour.

  “I sure hope so,” Adam said, “Because I think we’re lost.”

  “Do you have anything productive to say?” Charlie snapped, no longer able to bury his irritation. Adam said nothing.

  Sometimes, Adam seemed like two different people. At times, he was the nice, overly friendly dude who knew exactly what to do in a moment, like when he saved Charlie from freezing to death from the killer storm or shot the monster Vic seconds before Charlie would’ve been a dead man. But other times, like now, he behaved like a semi-retarded man-child who didn’t know anything about anything, and was full of doubt and annoying questions. It was a wonder to Charlie how this Adam managed to even dress himself in the morning. If Charlie could find a way to split Annoying Adam from Cool Adam, he’d do it in a heartbeat and drop that other fucker off at a rest stop somewhere on the highway, tie a big, red bow around him, leave him for the monsters and never look back.

  Of course, Charlie couldn’t do that. He was stuck with both Adams, like it or not. He watched as Adam shoved an entire pack of gum in his mouth, a stick at a time, while laughing like an idiot. Charlie rolled his eyes, turned his attention back to the road, and tried to figure out where in the fuck he was.

  “Check the glove compartment; see if Harry left any maps in there.”

  Adam leaned forward, then said, in a voice muddled by a mouth full of gum, “Mo-thwing in here.”

  “Of course,” Charlie said, slapping the steering wheel with his palm. Pain shot through his arm. He remembered doing the same thing in the car after the storm, and how badly it hurt.

  I have to stop doing that!

  “So?” Adam asked, mouth full of marbles.

  Charlie turned slowly, “What?”

  “Wha we gon . . . do?” he said, barely able to talk around the gum.

  Fucking idiot.

  “I don’t fucking know! Don’t ask me again, or I’m gonna shove one of these shotguns up your ass!”

  “Je-bus,” Adam said.

  “And spit out that fucking gum; you sound like a retard!” Charlie said.

  “Sowwy,” Adam said, then pulled the gum from his mouth, in a big sticky, saliva-coated wad, rolled down the window, and threw it outside. “Sorry,” he said, mouth now free of gum.

  Charlie didn’t say anything. He knew he should apologize to Adam, that he was only snapping at him because he was stressed, but he was far too annoyed to fake an apology. So he kept driving, eyes peeled for anything familiar, anything that might lead him to the compound where they’d been held captive five months earlier.

  “What if Boricio’s not there? And what if those people remember us?” Adam asked.

  “I dunno,” Charlie said, not snapping, and actually considering the question. He reached into his jacket pocket, then ran his fingers over the cross that Callie had made for him.

  “It’s for good luck,” she’d said. “I figured we could use that more than anything right now, right?”

  “Yeah,” he had said, and hugged her.

  Now, as he thought back on Callie’s gift, Charlie wished he’d hugged her harder, showed more appreciation than he had. He wasn’t used to getting gifts, particularly from girls, so he thanked her, said it was awesome, but felt maybe he should’ve said more, talked about how well it was carved, or something! He loved the cross enough to hide it so Vic, or anyone else, wouldn’t steal it. But he hadn’t explained that to Callie, nor did he even tell her he was hiding it. One day, for some reason, he simply thought to do so. Callie never mentioned the fact that Charlie had hidden the cross. He wondered if she had wondered where he’d put it. Maybe she thought he didn’t like it and threw it away. He hoped that wasn’t the case. He considered her now, prisoner of whoever took her, alone and thinking that Charlie didn’t like her gift. That image made his eyes water.

  He blinked, refocusing on the task at hand — figuring out where the hell they were.

  “She’s gonna be okay,” Adam said. Dumb as he sometimes was, he was intuitive enough to know what was plaguing Charlie’s mind.

  “What is that?” Adam asked, pointing to a black van about a quarter mile ahead, pulled to the side of the road.

  “Is that like the one that took Callie?” Charlie asked, heart racing.

  “Hard to tell from here, but could be.”

  “Get the guns ready,” Charlie ordered.

  Adam grabbed a shotgun from the bag behind their seats. He made sure it was loaded, even though he’d done so at the beginning of the ride, then grabbed a rifle for Charlie.

  As they drew closer, they noticed the back doors of the van were wide open. Snow piled and flowed into thick forest on either side of the road. Charlie wasn’t sure if the van on the side of the road with open doors was a good sign or not. He wasn’t sure if Callie would have fled into the snow-dense woods. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if this was the van used to abduct Callie. But it was a black van and there was no snow piled on it, so it was likely recently used.

  Charlie eased off the gas as they pulled up behind the van, coming to a full stop about five car lengths back. Charlie analyzed the scene — the van, the road, the woods, everything. The back of the van was empty. A black wall with a sliding window separated the back of the van from the front. Charlie figured it made the perfect prisoner transport vehicle.

  The distance made it impossible to tell if anyone was in the front of the van. He considered driving around to the front, but decided he’d rather be on foot so he could get a better shot off, if needed.

  “See anything?” Charlie asked Adam.

  “No, nothing. What should we do?”

  “Let’s investigate,” Charlie said. He stepped from the van and onto the road. “I’ll take the driver’s side; you take the passenger’s. And check the snow over there for footprints.”

  Adam stepped out and walked along the side of the highway, eyes alternating between the passenger door and the snow, approaching the truck directly opposite Charlie.

  They walked together in tandem, guns raised. “Don’t shoot unless you’re sure it’s not Callie,” Charlie warned, voice low. “You understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Adam said, eyes bolted on the van ahead.

  Say what you want about Adam; in times like this, he was pretty fucking intense, and kept his eyes on the task at hand.

  They were maybe 10 feet away. Charlie strained to see the mirrors on the side of the truck, to get a look at the driver’s side. The windows were tinted, almost black, making it impossible to see inside.

  “See anything?” Charlie asked Adam.

  “Nothing,” Adam said.

  “OK, let’s go for the front. Remember, do not shoot until you’re sure.”

  “Got it,” Adam said.

  They reached the back of the van, then fell from one another’s sight, each on one side of the van. Charlie kept his eye on the door as he closed in, gun aimed straight at the window. He hoped he wouldn’t accidentally shoot if Callie was in the front seat.

  He was about five steps from the front passenger door when Adam screamed from the other side, and then fell quiet, his scream muffled.

  “Adam?!” Charlie called out.r />
  No answer.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Charlie backed away from the van, rifle raised squarely at it, hands shaking, waiting for someone to run from Adam’s side and hoping like hell he didn’t accidentally shoot Adam or Callie.

  He never saw the shooter that hit him from behind.

  Fifty-One

  Desmond Armstrong

  The Sanctuary

  March 25

  5:47 p.m.

  Desmond stared in the mirror. It was hard to believe it had been just months since he left his home in Warson Woods forever. He looked like he’d aged a half decade, if not the full 10 times around the sun.

  Desmond was fine living life without luxury. He’d lived plenty of his early years going without. But he’d be a liar if he didn’t admit to missing some of the finer things from the yesterday now gone forever. From the scalding shower in his finely tiled bath, to the L’Occitaine shaving bar and brush, to the ridiculously thick towels.

  Hell, he’d gladly settle for the wine cellar and nothing else. Looking like shit was fine; feeling like shit, not so much. And he’d love nothing more than a bottle of Pinot.

  Desmond combed his hair back, which was longer than it had been in forever, put on some fresh clothes for dinner, then, like clockwork, raced downstairs and joined up with Mary, Paola, and Luca, as they walked toward the main house for dinner. Linc was a few paces ahead, walking beside two brothers from the congregation.

  Before Desmond had a chance to wish the group a good evening, Linc broke rank with the brothers, then fell back and into step with the Drury Crew. “Did you hear?” he said, addressing them all at once.

  “Hear what?” Mary asked.

  “Will is leaving tonight. Not sure what’s going down, but apparently he talked with Brother Rei, and words were said, I dunno.”

  Desmond said, “Who told you that?”

  “Brother Reginald. But Brother Mark told him.” Linc’s voice dropped to a whisper. “If Will leaves, does that mean we’re leaving, too?”