Yesterday's Gone: Seasons 1-6 Complete Saga

by Sean Platt

  “Amen!” answered Brother Peter.

  “So, I don’t wanna hear none of your gums flapping, unless you’re ready for Boricio to punch your ticket to knock, knock, knock on Heaven’s Door tonight.”

  As Desmond and Linc shut their mouths, defeated, Luca closed his eyes, and reached out into the world, searching again for Will. Each time he’d gone out, he came up empty. Will was nowhere to be found, and Luca started to wonder if the monsters had gotten him.

  “Please, Will, you have to get here now! Something really bad is about to happen.”

  Luca waited in the darkness for a response, but heard nothing.

  Then he heard the sound of gulls.

  Luca opened his eyes and found himself on the warm sands of Las Orillas beach, standing on the boardwalk, the hot sun on his skin, the smell of salt in the air, and the sound of gulls squawking over the crashing surf. He was 8 years old again, and wearing his red Spiderman swimming shorts, which made him smile. He’d forgotten he even owned them.

  “Luca?” a voice called.

  Will?

  Luca looked up to see the lobster taco stand, with Will in his bright-green T-shirt, smiling and handing a taco to a teenage girl in a red bikini. She took it and joined her friends, a group of surfers carrying their boards toward the showers. Luca ran toward Will, smiling, and calling out, “You’re here!”

  “Hey, Luca, how can I help you?” Will asked, oblivious to what was going on in the real world.

  “It’s happening! Brother Rei has locked us in a dungeon beneath the women’s house. He’s gonna kill us all, I know it.”

  “I know,” Will said, the smile vanishing from his face. “I saw it in the dream.”

  Luca stared at him, confused.

  “What do you mean you knew? Why didn’t you warn anyone?”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. We can’t change what’s meant to be, no matter how much we might want to. Even when it’s what you want more than anything else in the world. There are no loopholes to get around fate.”

  “Am I going to die?” Luca asked, tears in his eyes. “Who else? Is Rebecca going to die? Paola? Mary or Desmond?”

  Will shook his head, “Don’t ask, Luca. Just do what you feel is right when the time comes. You’ll do the right thing. I know it. I’m coming back now, and I’ll do what I can. But I’ve seen what’s next, and I can’t say it’s going to end well. But you have to trust yourself.”

  “Are you going to die?” Luca asked.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Will said, reaching out and tussling Luca’s hair. “I’m coming as soon as I get past these monsters.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m holed up in a shop about a mile away. I ran into some monsters, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. I promise,” Will said, then vanished like a broken transmission, as did the world around Luca.

  He was again in darkness, death looming on the horizon.

  He heard a sound ahead in the darkness, and realized he wasn’t back in the dungeon, but in a hallway. Light bled through cracks around a door at the end of the hall. Luca approached the bleed and found himself in a bedroom he’d never seen before, a room with gray walls and a tattered New York Jets poster on the wall. A boy, about his age, 8, was curled up in his bed, crying.

  “What’s wrong?” Luca asked.

  The boy yanked his covers aside, surprised to find someone in his room, “Who the hell are you?”

  The boy had dark hair and intense eyes. It took Luca a moment to recognize where he’d seen them before, but there was no mistaking the child.

  “Is your name Boricio?”

  “Who the hell’s asking? How did you get in here?” the kid asked, getting out of his bed and stepping toward Luca, fists balled and ready to strike.

  “Get out of my room, kid, or I’ll slit your fucking throat!” Boricio said, grabbing a box cutter from his nightstand and waving it at Luca.

  “You won’t do that,” Luca said.

  “Oh really, why not?”

  “Because now I see the real you. You’re not the Man in the Middle. You’re the Man with Broken Pieces.”

  Boricio turned his head sideways, recognition spreading across his face. “You’re that kid,” Boricio said, but in his adult voice, “You’re Luca.”

  Luca nodded.

  “Get outta my head!” Boricio screamed, throwing his fists back and leaning toward Luca, as if his scream alone would send Luca flying back into the door.

  “We need you to help us,” Luca said. “Please. You have to kill Brother Rei before he hurts anyone.”

  “Why the hell would I do that?” Boricio spoke, still an adult voice coming from the child’s body.

  “Because I know you’re good,” Luca said. “I can see it.”

  Boricio looked down, his hair falling in his face, and his head and shoulders convulsed as if he were crying.

  “You couldn’t be more wrong, kid,” Boricio said, laughing as he looked up. He was now adult Boricio, eyes bright with rage.

  “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!”

  Fear flooded Luca’s body as Boricio took a swing with the box-cutter, and came inches from Luca’s face. Luca wasn’t sure how he knew, but some part of him did — if he were hurt in this place, he might never wake up.

  Luca turned, opened the door, and fled into the darkness of another, longer, nightmarish hallway.

  Luca heard footsteps behind him as Boricio chased him fast into the blackness.

  Ahead, Luca saw a door slightly ajar, light coming from just beyond. He didn’t even stop, instead, threw his body into the door, then crashed through and found himself in his own bedroom. Footsteps grew faster and louder. Luca slammed the door and locked it, just as Boricio’s footsteps stopped sharply outside.

  “You think it’s funny to invade people’s heads? Do you, you little fuck?!” Boricio screamed from the other side of the door.

  “No, I was just trying to ask you to help us,” Luca whined.

  “Boricio don’t help anybody but Boricio. Ah, this is a nice house you’ve got here, kid.” Luca could feel the hallway outside his doorway changing into his house, even if he couldn’t see the change taking place.

  Boricio was now in his head. Luca could feel him like an itch in the back of his brain. Now it was he who wanted Boricio out of his head.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got lurking in here, eh? Ah, is this your sister’s room? Ooh, lookee, lookee a picture. She is a sweet little thing, ain’t she? How do you think she’d like it if old Uncle Boricio paid her a visit?”

  “Get out!” Luca screamed, trying to wake up and return to the dungeon. But the world he’d so easily crafted with Rebecca was now refusing to cooperate.

  “What’s that Nietzsche quote? ‘Be careful when you look into Boricio, because Boricio also looks into you.’” Boricio laughed.

  Luca heard Boricio stomping around the house, slamming doors, seemingly searching for something which Luca couldn’t even guess at. Luca became certain that if Boricio wanted, he could use one of the doors to ravel back to Luca’s real house and even back through time, to kill Luca and his family.

  He had to get Boricio out of his house, and his head.

  “What secrets does little Luca hide in here?” Boricio asked. The sound of glass crashed in the living room.

  The walls of Luca’s room began to shake violently, like they might fall in on him, or fly away at any moment.

  “Show me your memories!!” Boricio screamed, his voice echoing in Luca’s head like some sick funhouse trick.

  “No!” Luca screamed opening and closing his eyes fast, as if it that might bring him back to the real world.

  “Show me!” Boricio screamed, and ran, slamming into the door hard.

  Luca was shaking, unable to move, cold sweat and warm piss running from his body. He was certain that if he let Boricio see his memories, the Man with the Broken Pieces would somehow take over.

  “Ah, I see, you don’t want to show me. That’s
not very hospitable of you, Luca.”

  Luca heard Boricio’s footsteps, then the sound of a door slamming. The garage door.

  What’s he doing in the garage?

  Moments later, footsteps again, and Boricio clearing his throat.

  “One more chance, Luca. Open the door. Let me in.”

  Luca couldn’t move.

  “Little pig, little pig, let me in,” Boricio sang as he began shaking a container. Luca listened, trying to figure out what the splashing sound in the hallway was. Then he smelled it — gasoline.

  He’s gonna start a fire!

  “I’m gonna huff, and I’m gonna puff, and I’m gonna burn your fucking house down!”

  Flames erupted in the hallway along with the sound of Boricio’s laughter. “Roast, little piggy! Roast!”

  Luca screamed. He was trapped.

  Suddenly, he heard a sound outside the window. Scratching.

  He turned and saw Dog Vader outside clawing at his window.

  “Dog Vader!” Luca exclaimed, rushing to the window. He unlocked it and began to pull the window open, when the door behind him burst open and Boricio walked through, entirely engulfed in flames, but unharmed.

  “Come here, lil’ pig.”

  Luca lifted the window and shoved the screen forward, crumpling it as he dove through the window, and landed not outside, but in another hallway.

  Dog Vader was gone, much to Luca’s sadness.

  And another door appeared at the end of the hall.

  Luca walked to the door, praying this would be the one leading back to reality. The door creaked open before his hand even touched the knob.

  He was in a church, light pouring through stained glass windows, casting the church in a rich sea of colors. The pews were empty, and a boy stood at the front before an open coffin. The boy was Boricio, but a bit younger than the last version Luca had seen.

  Luca walked to the front of the room, and stared inside the casket. A skeleton of a woman was tucked within the velvet. She looked like she might have been pretty once, but the years had not been kind to her.

  “Is that your mother?” Luca asked.

  Boricio turned, this time not hostile, but staring, emotionless. “Yes, I should have stopped Joe. She might still be alive.”

  “I’m sorry,” Luca said. “Are you sad?”

  “I don’t feel anything. I know I’m supposed to. It’s not like I want her to be dead, but I just don’t care. Not anymore.”

  “Why not?” Luca asked.

  “Because I’m a monster. The shrinks all say I should be locked away.”

  Boricio turned to Luca, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Do you think I’m a monster? Are you scared?”

  Luca stared at him, “You’re not a monster. You’re just . . . broken.”

  “Broken?” Boricio asked, confused.

  “Yes, something is not quite right in your head. Something that should have been different, but it’s not. I can feel it.”

  “So, I can’t help it?”

  “Help what?” Luca asked.

  “Being a monster.”

  “Maybe I can,” Luca said, and reached out.

  “What are you doin’, ya queer?” Boricio said, pushing Luca away, but too late.

  Luca grabbed his hand, and their fingers locked as bright-blue light flashed between their palms, warm at first, then burning hot, growing so bright it quickly eclipsed the room.

  “What did you do?!” Boricio cried out as the blue light engulfed them completely.

  “I have to show you something,” Luca said, even though he wasn’t sure where they were going.

  They were suddenly in the living room of a large, spacious house overlooking the sea.

  “Where are we?” Boricio asked, still a child, eyes wide in amazement. “This is some house! This yours?”

  Luca shook his head, “No. But I feel like I should know where we are.”

  Boricio’s brow furrowed, “Me, too. I feel like I’ve been here before.”

  The sound of keys came from the other side of the front door.

  “Uh-oh,” Boricio said, “Someone’s home. They’re gonna bust us.”

  The door opened and a young dark-haired boy, around 12 or so, came in holding four plastic shopping bags stuffed with groceries. He walked right through Boricio as if he weren’t even there.

  “He can’t see us,” Luca said.

  Boricio looked at the kid as they followed him into the kitchen, watching him set the sacks down on the black granite counters. The kid looked up and called out to someone who was still outside, “You got it all?”

  “Yeah,” a man’s voice said from outside, “Just getting the mail.”

  “OK,” the boy said as he began to unpack the groceries.

  “He looks so familiar,” Boricio said, stepping just inches away from the kid. “Holy shit! Is this me?”

  Luca’s eyes widened. It was Boricio, a 12-year-old version.

  “It is me! He’s got the same scars on his arm,” Boricio said, pointing to two circle scars on his left forearm, identical to those on his own arm.

  “Joe gave me these when I was six,” Boricio said. “So, is this the future me? I’m a happy kid in this nice house?”

  “I dunno,” Luca said, confused. Something was different about this dream, and this Boricio, than the others, but Luca wasn’t sure what.

  Suddenly, the 12-year-old Boricio was joined by a second Boricio, an adult version.

  “No, this shit never happened,” the adult Boricio said, staring at the house. “This isn’t my past or my future.”

  The 12-year-old Boricio finished unpacking and looked toward the living room. “Any mail for me, Dad?”

  “Dad?” adult Boricio said, his brow knotted in confusion. “I got a Dad who owns a rich bitch pad like this?”

  “No, it’s just junk mail,” a man said, still out of sight.

  His voice is so familiar.

  Something weird was happening. Weirder than any of the dreams or mind trips Luca had been on. Luca racked his brain trying to figure out what his brain was only sensing.

  Boricio’s dad emerged from outside and closed the front door, “Just junk mail,” he said, throwing the junk mail on the counter. “Thanks for putting the groceries away.”

  Luca stared in disbelief at Boricio’s dad. It can’t be!

  But it was — Will.

  Adult Boricio’s eyes stared in disbelief, “What the beer-battered bullshit?”

  Twelve-year-old Boricio looked at both versions of himself, now seeing them.

  “What the ... ?” they all said in unison.

  The blue light that had engulfed Luca and Boricio erupted like lightning, buzzing and crackling, then struck all of them at once, including Luca.

  And in a flash, they were back in the dungeon.

  Luca opened his eyes, his body alive with electricity flowing like fire. He looked down. The wounds on his chest were gone.

  “What the . . . ?” Desmond said.

  Everyone was staring at Luca and Boricio in a daze of confusion, or awe, or both.

  Boricio stared back, eyes wide and frightened. “What did you do?” he said to Luca.

  “What happened?” Brother Peter asked.

  Boricio turned to Brother Peter, and shook his head, then looked back at Luca, staring as though his gaze could solve the puzzle.

  Suddenly the door swung open, footsteps clopped down the steps, and Mary and Paola appeared, with Brother Rei behind them, holding them at gunpoint. “This shit ends now,” he said. “You are all going to tell me who is planning what, or I start shooting, starting with the children.”

  Sixty-Six

  Ryan Olson

  Ryan stared at his arm, watching the worm-like shapes swimming beneath his flesh.

  He pressed hard, trying to squish one of the fuckers, but it was too quick, or his skin too fleshy, to do anything but force the worm to redirect its path. There were maybe 15 or more shapes writhing beneath his skin, on his
left arm alone.

  God knows how many are inside the rest of my body.

  Panicked, Ryan moved closer to the mirror, flashing a light across his face, searching for movement. Nothing there.

  Yet.

  He pulled his shirt up to check his chest, and nearly vomited when he saw hundreds of tiny shapes moving beneath his chest, stomach, and sides.

  “Fuck!” he screamed, feeling invaded and disgusted.

  He felt a burning need to find something sharp to tear them from his body. Now!

  Seconds after Ryan screamed, Carmine knocked on the door, “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just go!” Ryan said, unable to keep the escalating panic, revulsion, and rage from his voice.

  He had to do something to get these things out of his body.

  Ryan’s disgust of insects, and anything else that slithered through dirt, was borderline phobic. The thought that these things, now splashing in the toilet, were also inside him, was too much to bear. If they were beneath his skin, and in his stomach, where else had they migrated to? His brain, his heart?

  How long until they inflicted permanent damage?

  His body shook, and cold sweat coated his hair and flesh as Ryan racked his brain in search of a plan. He could make himself puke, but that wouldn’t get rid of the ones under his skin. These parasites, whatever they were, wouldn’t surface on their own. They would either multiply and turn his body into a festering host, or they’d die out, in time.

  But he couldn’t wait that long. He had to get them out now!

  Another knock on the door, Ryan turned to the door, angry, “What?!”

  “You okay?” Gramps said from the other side. “Carmine said he thought something was wrong.”

  “Go away!” Ryan screamed, staring in the mirror at his sickening reflection.

  Ryan bent over and retched into the toilet again, more black bile and worms spilling into the bowl, and all over the floor.

  “Fuuuuuck!” he screamed while puking more of the living bile from his body.

  He wiped his mouth with the towel, then looked in the mirror again and saw a slight flash of movement beneath the flesh of his right cheek.