Yesterdays Gone: SEASON TWO (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) (Yesterday's Gone)

change of clothes, then turned on the TV to think. His mom would be in her room for another couple of hours, at least. He had at least six before Joe came home. That gave him at least an hour to think.  
    Boricio watched a rerun of Family Ties and wondered how much of it was bullshit. Sure wasn’t like any family he had ever seen. That, and The Cosby Show . French fried fucking lies , as his mom would say.
    Boricio figured that maybe life could be all happy, funny, and loving like it was on TV, if he could get to a place where it still looked like it did in the old days. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d find a family like that one day. Boricio had a few teachers who told him he was smart. The same teachers who stared at him with big, sad eyes when they asked him what was wrong at home. It was the only question he never answered. The teachers were right, Boricio was smart. He wasn’t about to fink on Joe and wind up six feet under.
    Family Ties ended and Boricio stood from the couch, turned off the TV, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and headed toward the door. Halfway there, he turned back and grabbed the White Pages from beneath the phone that had been disconnected three months earlier. Enough people had used the words child, protective, and services together for Boricio to know that maybe someone there could help him.
    He thumbed through the C pages, found what he was looking for, and then tore the page from the book and shoved it in his pack.  
    The other side of his mom’s door was still silent. Boricio figured it was now or never, then crept toward the front door. Joe opened it before he could.  
    Boricio’s heart nearly exploded in his chest, and the look on his face must’ve been all guilt, because Joe stared at him hard.
    Joe wanted to know where Boricio was headed off to with the backpack, and when he opened it up to a change of clothes and Ramen, plus the paper with hotline numbers for CPS, his eyes went blacker than black, which meant he was about to get meaner than mean.  
    Boricio cried, “NO!” then turned and ran as fast as he could. Joe was faster, grabbing Boricio by the neck and throwing him to the floor.  
    Boricio’s mom opened her bedroom door and even though she threatened punishment, she begged for Joe to stop.  
    But it was too late.  
    It was always too late once you let the monster out.

    * * * *

LUCA HARDING: PART 1

    Kingsland, Alabama
    The Sanctuary
    March 27
    morning
    two days after Will left.

    Luca looked across to Paola, sitting in the back of the room at the desk beside him, obviously uncomfortable in the long, dark blue dress she’d been forced to wear after Mary decided they would stay at The Sanctuary.
    Luca didn’t mind his change in clothes, wearing dark slacks and a long-sleeve light blue shirt with suspenders; it made him feel more like he matched the body life made him wear.
    “This looks like a children’s classroom,” Paola whispered. “I’d rather be washing dishes and cleaning.”
    “It’s all-ages,” Luca said.
    “Shh,” 11-year old Tammy Watson whispered from up front, casting a nasty look back to Paola and Luca, even though the teacher had yet to arrive.
    Paola stuck her tongue out. Tammy’s eyes widened as if Paola had said the F-word.
    Though the classroom was on the bottom floor of the children’s house, the room’s interior looked just like a schoolroom, complete with a chalkboard, chairs with desks attached, and colorful pictures on the wall. There were six kids in the classroom other than Luca and Paola, ranging from ages six to 15. There were 20 chair/desk combos in the room, and though Luca usually sat up front, he followed Paola to the back of the class. It was her first day and he didn’t want her to feel alone.
    “So, what do you do all day? Learn Bible stuff?” Paola whispered.
    “Yeah, and regular math, and English stuff,” Luca said. “It’s not bad.”
    “Ugh, you’re one of those kids who liked school, aren’t you?”
    “Yeah, didn’t you?”
    Paola rolled her eyes, “Um, nooo. ”
    The teacher, Ms. Autumn, a young brunette with a pretty smile and beautiful blue eyes, arrived just after eight, apologizing for being late.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, “I was helping Sister Theresa with something. Good morning, class.”
    “Good morning, Ms. Autumn,” the children said in chorus.
    Paola looked at Luca with narrowed eyes, “ Oooooh , I see why you like school so much; you have a crush on the