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

The Good Lord is good enough to give us free will, He also knows I can only lead you to the water.” He shook his head. “I can’t make you sip from the chalice any more than I can keep you from chewing on the apple. And if I’m to pick one of two dreams, either the one where the Good Lord gives us all Salvation, or the one where He gives us Salvation and you’re smart enough to make yourself a part of it, well, I imagine you can see how my choice is clear as a proper Alabama sky. I chose you, Son. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let Satan whisper in my ear long enough to let the other one go.”
    Boricio was still growling, but the old man stepped into it, patting him on the shoulder.
    Boricio wished the man had been fool enough to get within biting range.
    “So I really am truly sorry, but I’d be negligent if I didn’t give my gratitude, both to you and to the Good Lord for sending you to me. Now I know exactly what I need to do, and I’m eternally thankful to you for that, Boricio. While He will recognize my good works, I am sure He will reward you for your part.”
    The Prophet wasn’t just crazy, he was insane. And the Joker’s smile on his face was proof.
    It was the same kind of insanity which had moved Boricio from thinking of himself as a stain on the planet to the possible caretaker of its safety. Boricio didn’t know what the vial would do, but knew it could do something terrible, and he could tell by The Prophet’s dancing eyes that he was ready to find out exactly what that meant.
    Boricio breathed his way to calm. “Please,” he said. “Don’t do anything with the vial. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
    “Well, that may be true, Son. But that’s why I asked you to tell me,” the old man said. “I tried to make you a part of this, Boricio. Truly, I did.” His voice dropped an octave. “There’s nothing I wanted more. But I could tell ‘round about your third cup of Jack that it was time to prepare a different sort of sermon between us.”
    “You can’t do this,” Boricio thrashed against his chains. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know; I’ll help you with your church.” Boricio pleaded. “Whatever you want, as long as I can have that vial back.”
    Boricio flashed back to what the serum had done to Rose. The serum he felt he had somehow tainted. What might it do if The Prophet opened it? Would it turn him into a beast, also? Or would it give him abilities as it had done to Luca?
    Boricio wasn’t willing to sit back and see what might happen. He had to talk sense into The Prophet.
    But how the fuck do you talk sense into the insane?
    “The vial is dangerous,” Boricio said. “It killed my girlfriend!”
    The Prophet smiled and said, “Did you know that the vial thinks?” the old man said. “I mean truly thinking , no different from you or me? Well,” he smiled. “It’s actually quite different from you and me. All I mean to say is that it knows it’s alive, like we do, and it wants to be more alive, and live longer, just like us. I suppose any one of us breathing can relate to that. Well, I’ll tell you Boricio, I was happy to hear its voice, especially speaking to me so clear the way it did. The way He does. It helped me sort through quite a few of my more pressing mysteries, and now I feel like I’m ready for The Good Lord, which I must confess,” he laughed, “is quite a relief on a day like today.”
    The Prophet patted Boricio on the shoulder again, then turned and started toward the stairs.
    “Tonight is the night,” he said as he reached the bottom step. “That has been foretold, and there is nothing I can, or would, do to change it. But as I said, Boricio, I believe you were meant for much greater things.” He pulled a set of keys from the hook by the stairway then dangled them in the air. “If you can prove you have a place for Jesus in your heart, I’d be happy to make your wishes come true the next time I’m down here.”
    Boricio motioned for the old man to come closer. The Prophet smiled and started walking toward the wall. When he was just a few feet away, Boricio shot a giant ball of saliva right into the old man’s face.
    The Prophet lost his smile, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. He said, “Such a shame,” then shook his head like he’d just seen a puppy shot. “We could’ve done something special together.”
    The old man returned the keys to the hook, then creaked his way up