Yesterday's Gone: Season Six (26 page)

“My hero,” she said sarcastically.

“Go fuck yourself, Lisa,” Boricio said with a wink back at her.

“I could carry him for a bit,” Barrow offered.
 

“It’s cool,” Boricio said.
 

Boricio wished Barrow had stepped up and offered in the first place. Dude was a fucking house, and dumb as the dirt it was built on. If anyone should be carrying Luca, it should’ve been the ox. Hell, the fucker could probably carry Luca the whole way without breaking a sweat. Except that the dude constantly sweated, like a politician on trial. Despite his sweatiness, he was good for lifting and brawling. But Barrow had failed to step up, so Boricio had taken the lead. Now Boricio wasn’t about to let everyone think he wasn’t leader of his fucking pack by being a bitch.

Despite his internal whining and groaning muscles, Boricio didn’t mind carrying Luca. He’d never had a family worth a fuck, but in a lot of ways, Luca felt like the kid brother he never had. Opie Cunningham looked like
Cocoon
, but still, Boricio would do anything for the little man — even carry his scrawny bones through The Catacombs.

As they continued onward, Boricio noticed that Emily wasn’t saying much at all. She’d gone from being an annoying, overly apologetic kid, to giving everyone the silent treatment, walking with a permanent scowl. That made Boricio think that Keenan was right when he said they needed to get her on their side. That meant an apology.

At exactly twenty minutes, which Boricio knew without needing a watch to tell him, he set Luca down and looked up at Keenan. “Okay, Agent Double O’ Keenan, he’s all yours.”

“No, I got it,” Barrow said, scooping Luca into his arms without a hint of effort.

Boricio scowled.
 

Keenan glanced over at Boricio and winked.

Boricio grinned and nodded. “Motherfucker.”

Keenan laughed.

Boricio slowed to walk beside Emily then asked if he could talk to her.

Lisa looked back and exchanged a glance with Boricio as if she wanted to say “Don’t be mean.” Boricio rolled his eyes. Lisa and Jevonne picked up their pace, walking closer to Keenan, Barrow, and Luca.
 

Boricio licked his lips, ready for crow.

“You all right?”
 

“Yeah,” Emily said.

Boricio looked at the bandage covering the neck wound Lisa had created and stitched — nothing compared to the gash Mary had put in the girl’s throat, but Luca had healed that. This one Luca wouldn’t be able to heal given his current condition of being passed the fuck out.
 

“That hurt?”

“It’ll be okay.”

Her short responses and inability to meet his gaze wouldn’t make this easy. But Boricio was nowhere near surrender. There wasn’t a woman alive who didn’t eventually succumb to the charms of his gentlemanly side, and this moody little tween wasn’t about to be first. He’d find a way to make peace whether she wanted to or not.

“Listen, I wanna apologize for how I acted back there.”

“It’s okay,” Emily said, still looking down. Boricio didn’t think her avoidance of his gaze was a guilt trip so much as her not wanting to invest any more into a relationship that had already been abandoned in her head. Best not to get friendly with the people you plan to fuck over first chance you get.

“No, I was a major dick.”

She laughed. Emily was probably still young enough that she wasn’t used to an adult using such language in front of her. Her laugh reminded him of how Paola responded when he’d say things in her company that made Mary wince, while Paola and Boricio giggled like naughty kids.

“That lady, Mary, the one who did the — ” Boricio stopped talking to make Emily look at him, another way to force a connection, then ran a finger across his throat and stuck out his tongue. Emily smiled. “Anyway, Mary wasn’t always so … ”

He paused, trying to think of the right word.

“Bitchy?” she offered.

Emily’s smile turned uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d offended Boricio by trashing his friend, or if everything was cool between the naughty kids.

“Yeah, that’s one word.” Boricio laughed.
 

Emily laughed, too. He could feel her warming up. Could see it in her body language, her smile, and how she was now looking at him again.

“She wasn’t always like that, though. When I met Miss Mary, she was Wonder Woman. A single momma raising a girl about your age. Mary was smart and funny. Creative, too. She used to draw greeting cards, if you can believe it. An’ they didn’t even drop F bombs or have dead people on ‘em. They also made a shit-ton of money without her forced to draw Garfield. You could see how much she loved her daughter. Mary wasn’t one of these parents fucking their kid over because they’re so busy chasing bullshit career goals. She always made time. She was the girl’s momma, and her best friend. Now, I never had that kinda family, so seeing Lorelei and Rory was touching.”

“Lorelei and Rory?”
 

“
Gilmore Girls?
”
 

No recognition in Emily’s eyes.

“Shit, didn’t you watch
any
TV? Anyway, then that fuck, Desmond, came after us. One of his men shot Mary’s little girl, killed her right there on the spot. And I’m afraid that also killed Mary. She’s not been the same since.”

Emily stared ahead, processing Boricio’s story.

“What was her name?” she finally said.
 

“Her daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“Paola. She was a great kid. A lot like her mother but different in a lot of ways, too. You two would’ve been peas and carrots. I mean, I
think
you would’ve; I can’t say for sure since I don’t really know you all that well. But I’m trying to say I hope you don’t hate Mary for what she did.”

“I don’t.”

“I think part of the reason she did it was because you reminded Mary of Paola — well, the fact that Desmond had taken her — so she wanted to take something from the enemy.”

“I understand.”

“As for me, well, I love Mary, and I hate to see her in pain. So you being here, and seeing how it messed with her head even more, well, I got stupid. And, well, I’m sorry.”

“What about the others? Do they hate me?”

“I don’t think so. If they did, believe me, you wouldn’t be with us now. That Keenan guy, and Lisa too, they’re Terminators. If they didn’t want you here, they’d tell you to get lost.”

“So, do you think Mary’s okay? I heard you say you wanted to go look for her.”

“Mary’s a big girl. We’ll get her back, then I’ll sit with both of you, and we’ll have a heart to heart to heart. Trust me, everything will be fine.”

Boricio thought about asking the girl if she missed her father. Maybe ask about her mom, but figured if he made her think too much about her family, she might miss them more and want to get back on The Island.

They walked in silence.

But the quiet was different. Boricio felt that Emily had come around, and was back on their side.

He hoped his intuition was right because once they reached the house, Boricio was heading out to look for Mary, no matter what.

* * * *

CHAPTER 2 — Emily Roberts

As the group marched toward their destination, Emily tried to telepathically find her father. While she no longer felt in danger, at least from the group, she couldn’t stop thinking about her dad. She’d been trying to reach him for what felt like hundreds of times. At first, frantically for help, then to explain that she’d been rescued and was safe.

He had to be losing it by now, maybe even thinking her dead. Though the memories were fading, Emily could still remember a time when he thought he was going to lose her to the plague. He’d sit next to her bed, crying, praying to God. Losing his wife — her mother — had nearly killed him. If the plague had taken her, too, he would’ve been lost. He’d told her so many times.

She had to let him know that she was safe.

But at the same time, she knew there was no way he’d understand that she wasn’t in a rush to come home. A part of her wanted to stay here, in The Wastelands.

Though there had been a point where Emily was scheming an exit from her captors, it wasn’t a very practical plan. For one, she knew nothing of The Wastelands, or its many threats. As they toured the area in the shuttle before it crashed, their instructor —
God rest his soul
— had warned them of both the Ferals roaming The Wastelands and the deadly bandits. He’d not spoken of rebels like Boricio and his group specifically, but rather barbaric men and women who were reduced to animals in their savagery.
If they catch you, you’ll wish you were dead.

At the time, she’d wondered if the threat had been propaganda, something her father had taught her about in discussions of the Old Days. Propaganda designed to make the teens untrusting of others, to stay within the safe confines of The Island’s community and never yearn to know what lay beyond — to never search for freedom, as freedom was too scary.
 

However, she’d seen enough in Luca’s memories to know there were horrible people — and aliens — preying on the weak. So, yeah, Emily could probably escape the group, but she’d have nowhere to go.

Also, she didn’t
want
to go.

Emily felt a connection to Luca that she yearned to understand. It wasn’t romantic, or even familial, but it felt as strong as either of those, if not more so. It was as if their souls had touched in some transcendent way and were now forever linked.

Emily wondered if the alien in him — The Light — had burrowed its way inside her. Maybe this wasn’t a magically heartwarming thing so much as a parasite working to compromise her.

Panic began to swell within.

Am I infected?

The thought of one of the aliens being inside her,
controlling her
, sent Emily’s thoughts in a downward spiral. She’d rather die than be a host to the things.
 

But Luca’s alien was different. In her brief glimpse of its true nature, she saw it wasn’t this festering dark thing like the aliens on The Island or the ship. The Light was bright whites and blues, ethereal, intoxicatingly beautiful. Warm and welcoming, not cold and sinister.

Still, the thought of something inside her sent chills to Emily’s core.

I don’t
think
it’s inside me.

She had a fairly good feel for her own mind. She could feel when her father was attempting to pick through her thoughts. She could feel when the aliens tried, too, though they’d been unable to do so with her or her father, or so she thought. Emily figured she’d know if there was someone, or
something
, hijacking her headspace. And she didn’t feel anything in there.

And yet she felt
different.

“We’re here,” Keenan said as they reached a set of concrete steps leading up to a strong-looking black metal door.

Keenan had his pistol ready as he knocked on the door, a series of raps separated by silence. She memorized the pattern, just in case she’d need to someday use it to gain access.

A metal panel in the door at eye level slid open, and a pair of eyes appeared cloaked in shadows.

The panel slid shut, then the door opened.

They were greeted by an old dark-skinned woman with long white hair. She wore a black trench coat over dark-red leather pants, a matching tunic and knee-high black boots, which made Emily think of her as some kind of kick-ass granny gunfighter or something. At her side was a black lab.

For a brief moment, Emily got a deadly vibe off the woman — that she’d been through a lot to survive, and didn’t suffer fools.
 

She smiled, big and warm, completely changing her gruff appearance.

“Boricio!” She opened her arms and went right to him.

“Hey, Jazz, what’s shakin’?” He lifted the woman into a hug. She gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Not much; you come to cook us up something good?”

“You got the fixings, I’ll melt your mouth, baby.”

Jazz smiled slyly, “You’re so bad.”

“That’s why you love me.”

Emily stared in disbelief at the exchange. She’d not seen Boricio be this giddy with anyone, and yet here he was, putting on the charm for this old woman. Emily searched her memories, the ones Luca had given her, but only caught glimpses of Jazz, not enough to piece together a narrative, or a past relationship with Boricio.

Jazz went from flirty to worried at the sight of Barrow holding Luca.

“Wait a second … is that …
Luca?
”

Barrow nodded.

Boricio said, “Some bad shit went down, Jazz, and we need to lie low for a bit. Got room?”

“Got nothin’
but
room. The rest of the team is on a supply run outside The City, and I’m not expecting them back for another few days.”

Jazz went up to Luca, still in Barrow’s arms, and ran a hand gently over his cheek, saying, “Poor thing.”

Jazz looked at Emily, her smile returning.