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

and made his tummy growl loud enough for his dad to hear. His dad turned to him, almost laughing. “Hungry?” he said, smiling.
    Luca nodded. He wished Boricio was home, but was happy to see his dad almost laugh.
    “Dad,” Luca said. “Why are you mad at me?”
    His father was facing the stove, back to Luca. He flicked off the burner, then turned to his son. He walked to the bar and put his hands around Luca’s waist, then lifted him from the barstool, set his bare feet on the hardwood floor, and dropped to one knee to look him in the eye.
    Both of his dad’s eyes were welling with tears when he said, “I’m not mad, son. I’m scared.”
    “Why?”
    “I don’t know exactly,” he shook his head, his colors agreeing that the words from his mouth were true. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You did great today, and I don’t want you to think for a second that I’m not proud of you, because I am.” His dad took a moment to think, then said, “Sometimes people are so awesome that everyone in the world wants to share them. You might be that awesome. And if that’s true, I’m not ready to share you.”
    The colors weren’t all the way true, but they were mostly there. Luca figured his dad was trying to explain one of those grownup things where he could only use most of the color. Luca tried to see beyond the words his dad was saying, and see the ones he was thinking. However, his dad was good at keeping Luca out of his head when he wanted to.
    His dad pulled him into a giant hug, the kind Luca liked best, then said, “How are you, Luca? That’s the most important thing to me. How are you feeling right now?”
    Luca thought about it, then told the truth. “I’ve never felt better in my life.”
    Will broke into a laugh, some of it funny and some of it sad, but almost all of it white like relief.

    **

    nighttime…

    Luca thrashed in his bed, trying to wake up, prisoner of the Terrible Scary like he sometimes was in his sleep.
    Luca could see the scary man, the Man in the Middle, the man who used to be there before Mom and Dad and Anna died in the car accident. He had disappeared for a bit, not long enough to make Luca forget, but enough to let him believe he might not come back.
    The Man in the Middle was after Luca, laughing and cursing and growling like a dog, saying all the bad words he liked to say, the words that made Luca’s stomach sick, pulling him by his hair and dragging Luca kicking and screaming into the depths of the Terrible Scary.
    Luca screamed, trying to wake up, wanting to force himself back into the bright light and true colors of his bedroom.
    The scream died in his throat as he opened his eyes.
    Luca wanted Boricio. Boricio, even more than his dad, would be able to help him feel safe from the Man in the Middle. Would teach him how to kick the Man in the Middle out of his dreams.
    When Luca opened his eyes, he realized he wasn’t in bed, but standing on carpet in his bedroom, lit by the blue nightlight on his dresser.
    But he didn’t have any carpet in his bedroom, only hardwood floor. And the dresser wasn’t his dresser. At least not anymore. It was his old dresser — the one he had in California, before the accident that killed his family.
    He also didn’t have any Ninjago Legos even though he had been wanting them forever. The Lego table that wasn’t his had them in piles. Luca walked to the table, dropped to both knees and started picking up the Ninjagos one by one, examining each before setting each back down, trying to figure out whether his memories of putting them together were actually his.
    No, they weren’t.
    Except they sort of were.
    Like everything in the room. This was his old room, and he was somehow standing in it.
    This must be another weird dream.
    Luca stood from the table and looked around the rest of the bedroom, his heart freezing in his chest at the sight of the lumped covers on the bed, rising and falling under the breath of the sleeping child.
    Luca crept toward the sleeping boy, then peeled the blanket from his face, knowing what he’d see before he did — himself.
    No. This is unpossible. It has to be a dream.
    Luca wanted to shake the other Luca awake and start asking him questions, but then he spotted something on the nightstand next to the bed. A blue wood framed photo which had the words “Family” written in white cartoonish letters.
    He picked up the picture, tears welling inside him.
    Luca was in the picture, looking the