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

him in the back of the alley, then surprised the fuck out of his holy spirit. Shit dick was always talking about his apartment, ‘just two blocks away,’ so I made him take me there. He wasn’t too drunk to realize he didn’t have much of a choice. Once we got inside, I spent the next few hours emptying the fucker’s fridge and making him meal after meal of shit that made those nachos taste like sweet ambrosia. He kept crying like a bitch with every bite, but swallowed every mouthful like a good boy, anyway. When the fridge was empty and his belly was full of all sorts of shit you ain’t ever supposed to put in your mouth, I made him some new meals with some fresh meat. When he was finished with that, I silenced the fucker forever.”
    Mary could barely speak, but still managed to half-whisper, “Then what did you do?”
    “Got the fuck out of Dodge. Left town early the next day, right after I saw the news, in fact. No Bob’s Big Boy of a deal; I was ready to leave, anyway.”
    “And that was the first person you ever killed?” Mary also wanted to ask Boricio how many people he had killed since, but didn’t want to know an answer that might keep her from sleeping at night.
    Boricio barked a broken hiccup of a laugh. “No, I guess if we’re talking Honest Injun, then no, I suppose it wasn’t. First was my dear ole fucking stepdad, but that ain’t a story I wanna tell right now, ya dig?” He smiled. “But it was the first fucker who ever got his shit premeditated, and no doubt the biggest goddamn mess I ever made.”
    Boricio looked at Mary, his bottle hovering in the air a few inches from his lips. “You know what the kitchen looks like around Thanksgiving with all the pots and pans and bullshit before you get to setting the table, right? Well, this looked like that, but with about six or seven gallons of blood.”
    Mary felt like she was about to vomit, and wondered if she’d be half as patient with Boricio’s macabre recital if she wasn’t so thoroughly drunk.
    “How can you be so honest about everything?” she asked. “Don’t you ever feel bad, at all?”
    Boricio sucked on the nozzle of his bottle for a while, and Mary wondered if he had any intention of answering the question. She couldn’t quite decipher the something on his face, though if she had to give it a name, she’d call it “almost thoughtful.” Mary had no idea how long Boricio took to open his mouth again, just that she had time to open one final near beer, just like her last two, and nurse it to a third empty.
    “Before a few days ago, no, never,” Boricio said. “Not even for a fucking minute. But ever since Luca broke me, I’ve been seeing shit upside down, and yeah, that’s had me wrestling with some of the shit I’ve done.”
    “Does that mean you regret it?”
    “I don’t know if it’s that exactly,” he said. “I don’t think I’d be here talking to you today if I wasn’t that Boricio, you know?” He took a final swig then threw the bottle into the woods, chasing the handfuls he’d already thrown.
    Mary didn’t agree, but wasn’t brave enough to challenge Boricio out loud. But she did ask, “How can you talk so openly about it?”
    Boricio shrugged. “Because what happened, happened. Life’s too short for regrets. Shit is what it is; you may as well be honest and give it an NC-17 instead of drowning it in lies and dressing it in a PG-13.” He winked.
    Mary wasn’t sure if it was the placebo buzz of the near beer or the frank conversation with Boricio that gave her the confidence, but she said, “How do I know you won’t ever hurt me, or Paola?”
    “Because you’re safe with me,” he said, without pause. “Now I’m not saying it’s the sort of safe where you’re never gonna hear the boogeyman howling outside your window, because here at the end of the world, I think that’s the special of the day. But you can feel safe knowing that Boricio isn’t the big bad wolf, huffing and puffing and waiting to get in. He’s the one who’ll protect you three little piggies and blow all the other houses down.”
    Mary wanted to say more, but didn’t want to push it, or him. So she went back to her earlier question. “So, there’s nothing you regret?”
    Boricio shook his head and looked like he was about to say no, then paused and said, “Yeah, I’ve got regrets.”
    He went silent after that, so Mary said, “Like?”
    “I had this one lady named Sissy, tried taking care of me back