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

the recipe for the best possible life. That’s my recipe, and an agenda worth having.”
    Rose smiled, then laughed and said, “I love your agenda, Boricio.”
    She always smacked her lips when she said his name, like she was tasting it for the first time. After a long second, screaming its silence in his memory’s eternity, Rose added, “And I love you.” It was the first time she had said it, and Boricio didn’t waste a second before he said it right back.
    “I love you, too, Rose.”
    She said, “You’ve never said that before, have you?”
    Boricio wasn’t sure how she knew, she just did. Like she always seemed to know stuff about him that he’d not yet given breath.
    “Not to a girl.” Boricio shook his head. “Just to Will and Luca, and only when they say it first.”
    She rose from the chair beside him, set the copy of Twilight she was using to “see what the big deal was all about” on the small table in front of them, then sat on Boricio’s lap. “Let’s stay here the rest of the night,” she said.
    “Okay, Rose.” He leaned into the back of the couch, then pulled her to his chest and lightly stroked her hair. The rest of the night ended up being nearly 20 minutes. Another twenty minutes after that and the pair of them were spending the remainder of their day in bed.

    Boricio blinked his eyes at Rose, now a shadow of her former self; the tender memory fueling his anger, both at life and at Will. He had to speak with Dr. Williams. Williams would see reason, and that reason would lay the first bricks for the road to Rose’s eventual full recovery.
    But how in the hell was Boricio going to get to Williams?
    He considered stealing an access badge to come back later, but that was stupid. Boricio had a working badge before he threw it on Will’s desk, but that didn’t change the palm problem. It wasn’t like Boricio could cut off someone’s hand.
    He could make up an emergency, perhaps trick Will into getting him onto the floor. Even if that managed to work, it would only show Will the cards he intended to play.
    Boricio got an idea that turned his face into a sudden, wide smile. He stood from his chair, kissed Rose on the cheek, then went into the bathroom and hoisted himself onto the toilet, pulling keys from his pocket and unscrewing the four tiny screws in the corners of the air vent.
    Boricio removed the grate, set it down gently on the floor, and then hoisted himself up and began crawling through the metal network of air ducts on his way to Dr. Williams’ office, four doors down from the bathroom.
    When Boricio reached the vent in Williams’ office, he pulled back his arm and thrust the flat of his hand flush against the grate, popping it from the wall and launching it onto Williams’ office floor.
    The doctor leapt from his desk, clearly startled as he stood staring at the wall and Boricio climbing from nowhere. He reached for the phone. Boricio said, “Wait, Doc! Just one second, please. Hear me out before your fingers finish the dialies.” He dropped to the carpet. “I know of a way we can change the future together.”
    A bit dramatic perhaps, but it got the good doc’s hands to hover somewhere other than above the receiver.
    “What do you want, Boricio?” Dr. Williams said. “You’re not supposed to be here. The fact that you are, and that you came in through the vent,” he pointed up at the wall, then down at the busted grate, “is making me uncomfortable.”
    “Well, Doc,” Boricio said, “I’m only not supposed to be here because Will’s served up a special sort of bullshit for the both of us. I’ve done nothing wrong. And the only reason he doesn’t want me on Level Seven is because he doesn’t want me talking to you. So this right here,” he pointed at the grate on the ground, “is as bad as it’s gonna get.”
    “Make it quick.”
    Boricio said, “Thanks, Dr. Williams, I will. And I appreciate it.” He walked from the wall to the doctor’s desk, but didn’t sit. He stood, looking Williams right in the eyes instead. “I think we should use the vials on Rose.”
    “That’s what I thought you were going to say.” The doctor shook his head. “But that’s not possible, Boricio. I simply cannot agree to do that.”
    “Of course you can!” Boricio cried. “You’re the only one who can. He’ll listen to you. It’s me Will has a problem with. He trusts you, Dr. Williams, and your judgment. Will won’t listen to me, because he thinks