Yesterday's Gone: Season Three (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) (16 page)

Will swallowed. Luca had vanished twice in his sleep, including the first time a few weeks ago, when Will saw him appear before him on his return trip. Both times had been during the boy’s sleep and Luca had been unable to stop himself from leaving.
 

Last week, Will was able to get Luca to do it again, that time in a controlled setting while the boy was awake.

An uneasy knot returned to his throat, and he hoped he wasn’t putting Luca in harm’s way. At the same time, he had to figure out what was happening and help Luca learn to control it — if that were even possible. The last thing they needed was for Luca to teleport in the middle of a crowded room and draw attention to himself. He’d be in a room on Level Seven within an hour, and there would be nothing Will could do to keep it from his bosses.

They would learn to control it together. But for now Will had to know where Luca was going. A parallel world? Back in time? Or was he even
really
going somewhere else? Perhaps, Will speculated, Luca was removing himself temporarily from their dimension but not really
going
anywhere, outside of a mental trip.

Will told himself that this test was best for Luca and said, “Yes. Go now. I’ll be waiting right here.”

“Okay,” Luca said, squeezing his eyes shut. He went blurry for a moment, as if two images of Luca’s had merged into one and were trying to separate from one another before both of them vanished.

Will stared, stunned, and put his hand on the bed where Luca had been.

Will waited through 20 minutes of silence until Luca finally appeared, standing in the bedroom, cradling a framed photograph of his family. As Luca held it out, Will could clearly see this the boy in the photo was the same age as Luca now — an impossibility if he’d time traveled.
That
Luca would have been six years old or younger, not eight.

Will gasped. “Oh my,” he said, nearly leaping from his chair. “This can’t be.”
 

Luca looked down at the photo and a tear splashed onto the glass.
 
Will dropped to his knees beside the boy. “It’s okay, buddy,” he said. “You don’t have to be sad.” Will ignored the impossible to focus on the reality of Luca’s obvious pain.
 

“But they’re all still alive,” he said. “All of them, even Anna.”
 

“I know,” Will said, patting Luca’s head.

“I miss them so much.” He started to sob.
 

“I know,” Will repeated, now rocking Luca back and forth.
 

“I don’t want to go back there,” he sobbed into Will’s shirt. “Ever again. It hurts too much.”
 

“Okay, you don’t have to go back,” Will said, scooping Luca up in his arms and carrying him to the living room where they plopped down on the long L-shaped black sofa. Will wanted to ask him questions about the trip, what he’d seen, but Will had the only answer he needed at the moment — the framed photo that Will sat on the floor, just out of Luca’s sight.

“Goodness,” Will said, rubbing his aching lower back. “We’re both getting too old, too fast.” He smiled. “Difference is, you’re getting bigger and I’m getting smaller, or at least a whole lot weaker.” He laughed. “I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to keep that up! So you better enjoy it while it lasts.”

The maybe of a smile flickered on Luca’s face, the first chink in the armor of his sorrow.
 

Will said, “Wanna watch TV? We can watch whatever you want — something you’ve never seen before, or something saved on the DVR.”

“Something I’ve never seen before!”
 

“Okay,” Will said, heading to the DVD cabinet, where he opened his extensive selection and moved his finger along the bottom row of flicks that Luca had never seen before. The bottom row was the most often studied and requested. Will chose from the row wisely, a masterpiece at a time.

 
“
Indiana Jones, Indiana Jones!
” Luca said, a smile threatening to take over his face.

“I’m not sure.” Will frowned and shook his head. “It’s kind of violent.”

“I’m old enough.”

Will said, “Oh, all right, I’m easy to convince tonight. Let’s start with the first one. The second is too dark to watch without Boricio on the other side of the safety sandwich. Maybe he’ll come over for movie night and we’ll watch it then.”

“Yay!” Luca said.

Will smiled, then slipped the disc into the player and pressed play.
 

Will went to the kitchen to make popcorn, dumped the bag into a bowl for the two of them to share, and was digging in beside Luca before the boulder was rolling toward Indy.
 

Luca loved
Raiders of the Lost Ark
, just as he loved
The Temple of Doom
, which they watched even though Boricio wasn’t there to be the other side of the safety sandwich. He also seemed to love what he saw of
The Last Crusade
, but that wasn’t much, since Luca was asleep before Indiana even got to Vienna.

Will brushed the hair from his son’s face, petting his head as Harrison Ford outsmarted the Nazis, Will smiling through every one of Sean Connery’s one liners and Luca’s long bouts of snoring. He wondered what Luca was dreaming almost the entire time, but wasn’t willing to step inside his mind as an intruder. Finally, Indy chose life over immortality and the credits started to roll. Will pulled Luca into his arms, then stood from the couch and carried him to his room and tucked him into bed.
 

It was almost morning outside, and Will was pretty sure he’d regret his decision to stay up so late.

Ah, what the hell, it’s Sunday. I’ll take a nap.

Will was halfway to the door when Luca turned from the wall, clutched his pillow tightly to his chest, and mumbled, “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too,” Will said, closing the door quietly behind him, feeling bad for hoping that Luca was speaking to him instead the father still alive in his dreams.

Will pissed, brushed his teeth, and then went to his room and climbed into bed with his iPad, figuring he’d run through his email until his eyes were too tired to stay awake any longer.

Fourteen emails, and two were from Barry, a guy he had met at The Red Herring, an indie bookstore in New York, two months earlier. They’d gone out just once, but the spark wasn’t there. Will had tried to let him down easy, but Barry wasn’t getting the hint, or figured he’d go with the persistent approach.

Will had liked Barry well enough, but even if Will wanted a relationship — which he wasn’t even sure he did — he didn’t have the time. Will’s responsibilities lay firmly with his research, and with Luca. Reading Barry’s first email made Will wonder if he’d made a mistake in shutting others out. Staring at Barry’s second email, and all the kind things he’d said, made Will feel lonely, like he was missing out on a life he should’ve had.

 
There was a time — decades ago — when Will thought he would settle down, find the right guy and settle down. But that time had passed. He had never met the right guy, then life and circumstance conspired to keep him on life’s treadmill, from his time in the Air Force and the Alaskan discovery which changed everything, to Boricio, to his work at Black Island with the Remedy Project, and now Luca.
 

Will wasn’t incapable of a relationship. He’d had several, with men and women, though ironically his best relationship had been with a woman, back when he dated women to douse his internal doubt.
 

Sissy Braddock was a social worker, as haunted by her work as Will was by his. They dated for nine months, and nearly moved in together.
 
Sissy introduced Will to Boricio, an nine-year-old boy who had sat front row for more suffering than any child Will had ever known. Of course, Will hadn’t known too many, but Sissy agreed.
 

Will had just left the Air Force the year he met Boricio, and hadn’t been looking to raise a family. But something about the lost boy in himself connected with the broken kid inside Boricio.
 

The boy’s mother had died, and his stepfather, Joe, had been thrown in jail for 14 counts of being a monster. Boricio was sent to live with his aunt in New York. He stayed with her for a short while, but ended up being nothing but trouble. He was suspended from school twice before finally getting expelled for creating a cardboard gambling shack in the park across the street from the school. Boricio’s fledgling, but already thriving, business catered to anyone K-5 willing to pay for a play, but also to any passerby in the park. Authorities confiscated $211 from Boricio when they broke up the game and took him into custody.
 

Boricio was passed from home to broken home, until he became a file on Sissy’s desk. She said that Boricio was the scariest and most fascinating kid she had ever seen. Will thought she was grossly understating both.
 

Boricio was highly verbal with off-the-charts intelligence. But he needed roots and stability, someone to encourage him, tell him how good he was so that he would learn to slay the demons that would otherwise eat him alive.
 

Boricio was placed with a family, and Will was content to let the boy fade from his thoughts. Then, on a lark, Will did a background check on Tom Chambers, the patriarch of Boricio’s new family. Will didn’t like what he saw, so he dug deeper. The next layer of dirt had Will tailing Chambers, for two weeks straight until the monster killed again. Or almost killed until Will caught him in the act.
 

Boricio lived with Will from then forward, even though Sissy never did.

Will managed to pull Boricio from the depths of darkness, and spared no expense in finding him the finest therapists, teachers, and support systems. Will was there for Boricio every day, teaching him to channel his anger, or at least bury it in a safe place.
 

Then, a couple of years ago, Boricio and Will were kicking back some beers watching a baseball game when a news story flashed on the TV: A family visiting New York died in a freak car accident, killing everyone, including the cabbie, except for six year old, Luca Harding.
 

The boy had miraculously survived the crash, though he shouldn't have, and no one could explain why he had. He was found 50 feet from the crash site, without a bruise on his body. Just one paper cut, barely visible on his pinky.

Boricio felt drawn to the boy in the hospital, like sun to morning.
 

Luca lay in the hospital for two weeks, comatose, off the front page for 11 days and under the fold for 13, before Boricio finally decided to have Will call someone at the hospital to get him permission. He wanted to sit a spell inside the child’s room, though he didn’t know why. When Will insisted he needed a reason before he could make the call, Boricio said, “Instinct is the nose of the mind, Dad,” then added, “just make something up. Please!”

Will did, then the two of them went to the hospital together. Boricio sat in the boy’s room for 15 minutes of nothing, then stood to leave, not quite sure how he should be feeling. He was one step toward the door when the monitor beside Luca switched rhythm and the boy slowly opened his eyes.
 

Boricio had wanted a son forever, to help him heal from the thousand lashes across the broken body of his childhood. Will had never considered adopting another child, but Boricio wasn’t ready to be a custodian on his own, not without a wife, and Will couldn’t bear to refuse Boricio when he had the chance to finally close the painful loop. So he adopted Luca, though it was as much to help Boricio as it was to help Luca recover.

Will shook his head, staring at Barry’s email, wondering what life would have been like if he had met someone when he was younger, or maybe taken a chance on love. Perhaps, Will figured, fate hadn’t meant for him to fall in love. Fortunately, fate had allowed him to find the love of family, and not a day went by that Will regretted adopting either Boricio or Luca.

 
Will leaned back, then lightly shifted left to right in bed before leaning forward to read Barry’s email again.
 

“Hey there Will. Would love to get to know you better. Had a great time at dinner, but I feel like there’s so much more Will to see. And I’d love to see it! So take a chance. Call me. Or hit reply. :)”

Will deleted the email.
 

**

Will fell asleep and was woken just a few hours later by the shrill sound of his house phone.

What in the hell?

The sound was especially startling since Will couldn’t even remember the last time he’d heard it. When someone called Will, they called his cell. He usually thought about his landline once a month, each time he was stupid enough to sign another check to the phone company.

The phone rang three times before he managed to grab the phone from his nightstand.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Sir. Is this William Bishop?”

“Yes.”

“Are you the father of a Mr. Boricio Bishop?”

The lump in Will’s throat was as big as a golf ball. “Yes.”
 

“Were sorry to inform you, sir, but there’s been an accident.”