by Sean Platt
Brent glared as if Luca was about to pull some phony bullshit psychic reading routine to exploit the child’s tragedy. For all Boricio knew, he was. The boy had clearly lost his marbles. Before Mary could gently pull Luca away without making a scene, Emily slipped her hands onto his.
Every eye was turned to the four clasped hands.
Paola looked at Mary and Boricio, then whispered, “He knows what he’s doing.”
“Shut your eyes,” Luca said, closing his own.
Emily did.
As she did, Boricio felt something shifting inside him, some force or energy was the only way to describe it, swelling so much it felt like it might pop from his body. Then he saw the light bleeding from Luca’s hands — from his fingers and into the girl’s.
“Oh my God,” Mary whispered.
The same soft glow was wrapped like a blanket around Mary and Paola — the two other people Luca had brought back from the dead.
“You’re glowing,” Mary said to Boricio, her eyes wide as she looked at him, then at her daughter, and then herself.
Boricio looked down, but couldn’t see the aura around himself like he could see it around Luca and the girls.
Emily said, “Mommy?” then a wide smile spread across her face.
Boricio saw a slight Asian woman in his mind a moment before he heard her voice.
“Emily,” she said.
Whoa, what the fuck?
“Mommy, are you alive?”
The woman was suddenly sitting there, right where Luca was, like a ghost superimposed over his body.
“Oh, Baby,” she said, reaching out, her spectral hand grazing Emily’s cheek. “You’re okay.”
Judging from the stone on Brent’s face, he wasn’t seeing dick of what Boricio, Mary, Paola, and Emily were seeing. But he did nothing to interrupt.
“Are you alive?” Emily asked.
“No,” the specter shook her head. “That doesn’t mean I’m not here, or that I can’t see you, though. I’ll be watching out for you, Baby.”
The woman started to fade as Luca’s body began to shake. Sweat plastered his head, and it seemed like he was suffering from the strain of whatever it was he was doing. Boricio was about to shake Luca out of it, but then the woman looked at Brent, and said, “Brent, you made it back! Please take care of my baby girl.”
Brent didn’t seem to hear her.
Emily said, “Mommy wants you to take care of me, Mr. Brent.”
“What?” Brent said, staring at the girl, then up at Mary and Paola, both of them nodding.
“We can see her,” they said together, creeping Boricio way the fuck out, especially since he said the same shit at the same time, as if the same voice was speaking through all three of them at once.
What the fuck?
“Please take care of my baby,” they said together again, even though Boricio had no knowledge of thinking the words before they fled his mouth.
“I love you, Emily. Please don’t be sad. We’ll be together again,” they said in unison.
Emily reached out to touch the specter, her eyes wide and filled with tears.
Their hands touched, and a sad smile broke across the little girl’s face.
Luca slumped forward, as if someone took the batteries out of him, and the ghost was gone.
Brent reached forward and helped Luca sit up. “You okay?”
Luca shook his head, “Yeah,” he said, then looked up at Emily, who smiled up at him, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said.
Boricio turned to Mary and Paola and said, “What kinda Touched By An Angel shit was that?”
Before Mary came up with a theory or Luca could respond, Boricio’s attention was pulled away by Charlie who approached him, walking beside Callie.
“Is he okay?” Charlie said, looking at Luca about as weird as Luca had been looking at Emily before he went and played Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost.
“I think so,” Mary said, her hand on Luca’s shoulder as Emily told Brent what she’d seen.
“I think we’re gonna have a problem getting to the island,” Charlie said.
“Why’s that?”
“Someone just told Ed that they’re not making any trips over until they get things sealed on the island or something. They said it’s too dangerous.”
“Bullshit,” Boricio said, as he marched over to where Ed, Pirate Boricio, and two Guardsmen were standing in a circle with Ed trying to persuade someone to get the ferry in motion.
Boricio slid between them, then grabbed the radio from Ed before he could say dick. “Don’t mean to break up the circle jerk,” Boricio said to whoever was on the other side of the radio. “But we got something you want.”
“Who is this?” a man’s voice asked.
“Boricio Fucking Wolfe, who the hell is this?”
“This is Acting Ed Keenan; give the radio back to Captain Keenan,”
“No,” Boricio said. “Is there a Will Bishop in your room?”
A moment passed before Keenan said, “Yes. Why?”
“Because Will’s lil’ Luca paid us a visit with a very special message.”
Six seconds passed, then Will Bishop was suddenly on the radio. “What? You saw him? Where is he?”
“I dunno where he went. He came and went like a ghost. But your Luca came to our Will just before he died and said we had to get a message to Black Island, that it might get us back home and save the world and all that happy horse shit. Now I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to take long-ass trips across the country, then get kept waitin’ in the middle of Shitsville. So, you better get your bumper boat back here, pronto.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Will said. “There are aliens on the docks, and our manpower is limited.”
“Well, lucky for you, Team Boricio just drafted a buncha new soldiers, so you get your ferry over here and let us worry about the E-Fucking-T’s.”
“Please, just give us the message now,” Will said, his voice desperate.
“No, no, I’m not sayin’ shit until we’re standing on the other side of the goddamned water.”
After a long pause, Will said, “We’ll send the ferry to you, but you have to give me the message before it docks. I can’t guarantee you safe passage once you get off the boat.”
“Fine by me,” Boricio said, then handed the phone to Ed and walked away.
He returned to Charlie and said, “They’ll be sending the Love Boat before the next commercial break.”
“Good,” Charlie said, smiling a bit too wide for Boricio’s liking.
Sixty
Boricio Bishop
Black Island, New York
April 2, 2012
SIX MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT …
They had practically flown from Georgia to New York, taking turns behind the wheel and flooring the pedal the entire way. The trip could only be described as eerie, not for what happened, but for everything that didn’t.
Even when they had to find alternate routes and take back roads because entire chunks of highway had simply vanished, which easily doubled their trip time, nothing got in their way or attacked them along the way. It was as if every alien, mutant, and bandit had decided to take the day off.
And while Boricio was grateful to fly through the omnipresent danger all the way to Black Island, it felt wrong.
When they hit New York, it seemed even worse, the empty seemed somehow emptier, like a red carpet rolled before them. Once Will finally cleared the ferry, and they were standing at the docks ready to cross, Boricio could almost feel the waiting army of eyes behind, watching from the shadows, but not striking for reasons he could only imagine.
Even on the ferry, in the middle of the water and away from any chance of attack, Boricio bristled with unease. The two Guardsmen on the ferry eyed him with suspicion, looking like the men from Black Mountain, though somehow softer. They were definitely new, and didn’t recognize him at all.
Before they were allowed off the fer
ry, Will radioed them and asked what the message was. Luca stepped forward and told them about the vial — the last vial — tucked away in a moon globe. Boricio wasn’t sure why his brother had hid the vial away, but hoped like hell the kid knew something that he didn’t.
Their walk across the island grounds was as uneventful as their drive into the city, terrifying because of its thousand-pound silence. When they arrived at the Facility gates, Ed stepped to the front of the group, then hit the intercom button and identified himself. There was a long silence, then another try from Ed before they heard a crackling response from Will.
“Let me speak to my son,” he said.
Boricio stepped to the front. “I’m here.”
Will said, “A.D. Keenan will let you inside, but one wrong move and the Guardsmen have been instructed to shoot. I don’t know all of what you’ve done, Boricio. But I know enough. You have no margin for error. Understand?”
“I understand.”
The outer doors parted, and the group stepped into the Facility’s reception area — a sprawling lobby with a welcome desk in the front and a high tiled wall behind, more like a posh hotel than a research center, spilling into a long, wide hallway with a bank of eight elevators leading down to the lower levels.
They were halfway to the elevators when Boricio realized that bringing Charlie down to Level 8 would violate every instinct inside him. Charlie was dangerous; Boricio could feel it. Not being able to see inside Charlie’s mind fueled his rising worry.
Boricio pulled Ed back toward him, and into a conspiratorial whisper. “I need you to knock Charlie out, now. He isn’t safe.” Boricio didn’t even have to add, “Trust me.” Ed winked, then nodded. He may as well have said, “Glad you asked.”
Ed brought the flat of his palm against the back of Charlie’s skull, sending him into a silent collapse. Ed hit him a second time when he was halfway to the floor, where he lay like an empty bag of skin and bones.
Callie screamed, “What the fuck?!”
Her yell was louder, but Asshole Boricio’s was meaner.
“What the fuck you trying to do?” Asshole Boricio screamed, getting in Boricio’s face, pistol out and aimed at him. Ed and Brent immediately responded, guns trained on Asshole Boricio.
His asshole twin laughed as he looked around at the Mexican standoff and seemed to almost relish the situation.
“You wanna take us out one by one, and your adopted daddy taught you to hit people on the back of the head like a yellow-bellied candy ass? I knew you were a tiny-pricked fucker without a ball in his sack, but this is some goddamned bullshit!”
Boricio ignored the asshole’s anger and calmly said, “Ed, Brent, put your guns down. You all need to understand that we can’t take Charlie where we’re going. He’s infected, and if we bring an infected person into Level 8 right now, we will be jeopardizing everything. I never would have allowed that at Black Mountain, and I’m certainly not going to do it here. Besides, we head down there with an infected, and we’ll all get shot the minute those elevator doors open.”
Asshole Boricio kept his gun on Boricio. Ed and Brent looked at Boricio for instruction, but he simply kept his eyes on the asshole in front of him.
Boricio added, “We’ll leave him in this elevator bay, then lock it down. He’ll be safe until we get everything settled. Okay?”
Boricio stared down Asshole Boricio’s gun, figuring the chances of the asshole firing were about 50/50. Clearly, the other Boricio wasn’t a guy who really thought through things like consequences of his actions. At the moment, Boricio almost didn’t care whether he lived or died. He did his job — he delivered the message. Let his father and the others save the world. He was tired.
Asshole Boricio must’ve seen the resignation in his eyes and lowered his gun, saying, “Fine,” then turned from Boricio as though he couldn’t be bothered to finish his sentence.
Boricio looked down at Charlie and then nodded at Ed and Brent, who dragged Charlie’s body to an open elevator and then closed the door. Brent placed his hand on the panel beside the door and said, “Lockdown Elevator Bay Three.”
“Confirmed lockdown,” a computerized woman’s voice said.
Boricio was glad that his security was reinstated enough to lock the elevator down. If Charlie woke up and got loose, things could get ugly. Things could get ugly anyway, however, given how Charlie had broken at least one containment cell, perhaps more if he’d broken out of Black Mountain. Fortunately, the elevators were also equipped with sleeping gas, which could be administered if Charlie woke and started causing a scene.
Boricio then opened the elevator two down from Charlie’s, and the group stepped inside. As the doors closed and the elevator began its descent, Boricio’s stomach followed suit, imagining his reunion with Will. He wondered if Will believed him responsible for releasing the vial. Did he think him capable of such an act? He also wondered what Will would think about the old Luca and the other Boricio.
The elevator whirred, along with the subtle drop in his stomach, then chimed and settled as the doors opened to Will waiting on the other side.
Boricio expected Will to be angry, but thought that he’d at least hear a hello before the growling, “What in the hell have you done, Boricio?” slapping him in the face before the elevator doors were halfway open.
Boricio fell into immediate apology.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I never meant for any of this to happen. I met a man, and I was foolish enough to let him steal the vial from me.” He shook his head, staring at the glossy white floor, trying not to let his guilty torment and undiluted rage push the welling tears from inside him. “I’m so, so sorry,” he kept shaking his head. “It’s all my fault. I wish I could take it all back.”
Boricio felt every eye burning his back with the many questions that no one dared ask. Of all the eyes, Boricio only cared about Will’s.
As angry as Will was, something about Boricio’s sorrow softened the old man. His eyes were nearly as wet as Boricio’s when he said, “It’s okay, Son. Everything will turn out okay.”
It was Will’s nature to say it, but Boricio knew the truth: Nothing was okay. He had helped The Prophet murder their world, whether the old fucker had meant to or not. So no, it wasn’t okay, and would never be again. At least now Boricio had a chance to do whatever he could to right the wrongs he’d invited into the world.
Boricio raised his gaze from the floor, then tried to index the thousand expressions etched into his father’s face. Will broke his son’s stare, then moved his eyes across the rest of the group. Most of Will’s reaction seemed stuck between horror and fascination when his eyes settled on the other Boricio.
Then he saw the other, significantly older, Luca.
Will gasped, struggling to stay standing. His eyes flashed to Boricio, before flying back to Luca where they held their study for another several seconds.
“This is Luca,” Boricio said, patting the old boy on the shoulder, then nudging him a step forward toward the old man.
The skin on Luca’s face was so brittle; his smile looked like it came with a deep ravine of pain. Will probably didn’t mean to shake his head slowly back and forth any more than he meant to retreat the three small steps that he did.
Luca said, “Your Luca is in my world, with my family. When I got pulled over here, he took my place.”
Will’s palm was suddenly over his mouth. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “That’s horrible.” He shook his head. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Luca said, his voice hoarse. “I understand. I probably would have done the same thing. He didn’t bring me here. The Light did. It told me. It brought us all here.”
“What are you talking about?” Will asked.
Luca met his eyes. “I’ll tell you on the way, but first we have to get to your house and get the vial.” He choked and coughed, then caught his breath before he said, “By the way, thank you for taking care of me.”
Will’s eyes were blank.
“What do you mean?”
“When the other Luca’s parents died,” he said, “you took care of him. And when I was lost, the other you took care of me here. You and the other Will were always there for us, and I never really had a chance to fully say thank you.”
Will blushed. “Of course,” he said, then put his hand on old Luca’s shoulder.
“Now,” Luca said. “You have to bring me to the vial. I am the only one who can open it. If anyone else opens it, bad things will happen.”
“How do you know?” Will asked.
“Dog Vader, the Indian, the Light,” Luca said. Then, he pointed to his head and said, “It’s okay, you can come inside. See for yourself.”
Will looked baffled, but then Boricio watched his father’s face flicker with the same vacancy it always did when he entered another’s mind. A second later, Will’s face went white. “Oh my … ”
Sixty-One
Ed Keenan
Black Island, New York
April 2012
SIX MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT …
“They’d better be okay,” Ed said to Sullivan as they crossed the long hallway. “I did my job and brought Boricio back. You all had better of kept them safe.”
“Yes, and as I think you will now see, we’re not the bad guys. We held our word.”
Sullivan waved his hand on a panel outside the final door on the right, then stood back as it slid open to a small, dorm-like room, similar to the one where he’d stayed before heading south to find Boricio, except this one had two beds. Jade was sitting on one, with Teagan beside her, holding a baby girl.
Ed stepped inside, then Sullivan nodded and left them alone.
Ed’s heart swelled the moment he saw them — not just Jade, but Teagan and her baby as well. It felt like an eternity since he last saw either one smile. Jade’s eyes widened in shock as she leapt from her bed, squealing with more enthusiasm than he’d seen from her in years.
She hugged him tight while crying, “Dad! Oh God, I never thought I’d see you again!”
