Yesterday's Gone: Season Three (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) Read Free

me to take risks. You taught me to believe in myself. It’s about damned time you listen to your own advice. If this had been some random test subject, cleared through the proper channels, you’d be the first one popping the cork! So stop looking at the red tape and start walking on the red carpet, Dad. This is our time . Three surgeons made a miracle in there today! A miracle that would have never happened if you and your buddies hadn’t found those vials. At some point you’ve gotta start being able to see destiny dancing, Dad, especially when it’s twisting in a tango in front of you!” He shook his head again. “You’ve gotta stop turning your head from what’s supposed to happen.”
    Will took a step back and stared through the door’s window at Luca, lying in bed, smiling and waving. It was a smile Will had been afraid he’d never see again. Boricio was right. Will hadn’t allowed himself to believe in miracles for far too long, even though he had always believed in fate.
    Maybe this was an even blend of both.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 2 — Boricio Wolfe Part 1

    Kingsland, Alabama
    The Sanctuary
    March 28
    sometime after midnight…
    FIVE MONTHS AFTER THE EVENT…

    Well, this is some beer-battered bullshit.
    The second the old fucker pulled the trigger, Luca’s memories started spinning through Boricio’s brain — how Luca and Will had met, how Will had comforted him after his dog died, plus dozens of others — like a bad acid trip, blended with anger, betrayal, and confusion.
    Boricio shook his head, trying to flush the memories so he could deal with the immediacy of the old man with the gun.
    “What the fuck?” Boricio said, raising the shotgun he looted from one of the Sanctu-fairy fucksticks, and drawing aim at Will, pointing the barrel right between his eyes.
    Will acted as if Boricio wasn’t even there, dropping his pistol to the snow and staring down at Luca. “I’m so sorry,” he said, falling to Luca and cradling the man-kid’s head in his hands as blood pooled beneath him, spreading like an angry dark stain in the snow.
    “How do you get off swinging a sack of sorry, you Santa Claus looking pile of shit? You’re the motherfucker who shot him!” Boricio stepped forward to hit the old man, but stopped when he nearly lost his balance.
    His head was still dizzy from Luca being inside, and odd as a smiling bitch who wasn’t asking for crap, Boricio still felt a lingering need to protect the kid. He wasn’t sure what sorta voodoo bullshit Luca had done in his head, but he’d definitely done something.
    Luca had said he’d “fix” Boricio, but what in the fuck all did that even mean? What was there to fix? Ain’t no one ever had any complaints about the way Boricio worked before. At least no one still breathing.
    Boricio took a step closer to Will. “He said he fixed me. You wanna tell me what in the hell that means? I’m guessing by the way you tore in here like Steve McQueen, you have a pretty good goddamn idea.”
    Will looked up at Boricio, eyes watering, as if he were going to break down and cry. “I don’t know. But you’re a killer, aren’t you?”
    Boricio showed Will all his teeth. “I’m a heartbeat adjuster. What in the fuck does that have to do with the price of tea in China?”
    “You haven’t killed me yet,” Will said, an odd smile crossing his face, like one of those fuckers who thinks his IQ has another digit to keep his shit from stinking.
    Boricio stepped forward, craving a pull of the trigger, and barely resisting the urge.
    See how he smiles with half a face.
    “No, not yet ,” Boricio growled.
    Will said nothing, staring down at Luca’s closed eyes. Then he looked up to Boricio and said about the dumbest fucking thing that could’ve come from his mouth, “He’s dying.”
    “No fucking shit!” Boricio said, and this time he couldn’t resist. He swung the barrel of the shotgun and hit Will hard in the forehead, knocking him back to the snow.
    Boricio