Brian Keene: Tequila's Sunrise

On the way home from Doctor Brice’s office, Susan turned to Gary.

“It’s a sign.”

“What is?”

“My due date. It’s like a sign from God.”

Gary kept silent. He thought it might be the exact opposite.

***

Two years later.

On the second anniversary of their son’s death, with Susan’s due date a little more than a week away, they woke up, dressed solemnly, and prepared to visit Jack’s grave. Susan had picked a floral arrangement the night before, and both of them had taken the day off work.

Once again, the August heat and humidity was insufferable. Gary waded through the thick miasma on his way to start the car (so that the air conditioner would have time to cool the interior before Susan came out). He slipped behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition, and turned it. The car sputtered and then something exploded. There was a horrible screech, followed by a wet thump. The engine hissed, and a brief gust of steam or smoke billowed from beneath the hood.

Cursing, Gary yanked on the hood release and jumped out of the car. He ran around to the front, popped the hood, and raised it. The stench was awful. He stumbled backward. Something wet and red had splattered all over the engine. Tufts of brown and white fur stuck to the metal. A disembodied foot lay on top of the battery.

A rabbit’s foot.

Guess he wasn’t so lucky, Gary thought, biting back a giggle. He was horrified, but at the same time, overwhelmed with the bizarre desire to laugh.

The rabbit must have crawled up into the engine block overnight, perhaps seeking warmth or just looking for a place to nest. When Gary had started the car, the animal most likely panicked and scurried for cover, taking a fatal misstep into the whirring fan blades.

He glanced back down at the severed rabbit’s foot again.

A bunny. Same day. Just like last year. With the lawnmower. He’d run over the nest, and then he’d… with the rock…

Susan tapped him on the shoulder and he nearly screamed. When she saw the mess beneath the hood, she almost did the same.

“What happened?”

“A rabbit. It must have crawled inside last night.”

She recoiled, one hand covering her mouth. “Oh, that’s terrible. The poor thing.”

“Yeah. Let me get this cleaned up and then we’ll go.”

Susan began to sob. Gary went to her, and she sagged against him.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“I know,” Gary consoled her. “I know.”

She pushed away. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Susan—”

Turning, she waddled as quickly as she could back to the house. Gary followed her, heard her retching in the bathroom, and after a moment’s hesitation, knocked gently on the door.

“You okay?”

“No,” she choked. “I don’t think I can go. You’ll go without me?”

“But Susan, I…”

She retched again. Gary closed his eyes.

“Please, Gary? I can’t go. Not like this. One of us has to.”

“You’re right, of course.”

Susan heard the reluctance in his voice.

“Please?”

Gary sighed. “Will you be okay?”

The toilet flushed. “Yes. I just need to rest. Remember to take the flowers.”

“I will. Susan?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

He heard her running water in the sink.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

***

The graveyard was empty, except for an elderly couple on their way out as Gary arrived. Despite the heat, he’d decided to walk to the cemetery rather than dealing with the mess beneath the hood of his car. By the time he reached Jack’s grave he was drenched in sweat, his clothing soaked.

Panting, he knelt in front of the grave. Droplets of perspiration ran into his eyes, stinging them. His vision blurred, and then the tears began. They were false tears, crocodile tears, tears of sweat and exertion, rather than grief. Oh, the grief was there. Gary was overwhelmed with grief. Grief was a big lump that sat in his throat. But still, the real tears would not come.

But the memories did.

When he glanced up at the water tower, the memories came full force.

Grief turned to guilt.

“I mean it, Gary. I’m telling Susan.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Leila’s smile was tight-lipped, almost a grimace. “I’ve got her email address.”

Gary paused. Felt fear. “You’re lying.”

“Try me.” Now her smile was genuine again, if cruel. “I looked it up on the internet. From her company’s website.”

Gary sighed. “Why? Why do this to me?”

“Because I’m sick of your bullshit. You said you loved me. You said you’d leave her—”

“I’ve told you, it’s not that simple. I’ve got to think about Jack.”

“She can’t take Jack from you. You’re his father. You’ve got rights.”

“I can’t take that chance. Damn it, Leila, we’ve been through this a million times. I love you, but I—”

“You’re a fucking liar, Gary! Just stop it. If you loved me, you’d tell her.”

“I do love you.”

“Then do it. Tell her. If you don’t have the balls to, I will.”

“Are you threatening me? You gonna blackmail me into continuing this? Is that it?”

“If I have to.”

Gary wasn’t sure what happened next. They’d been naked, sitting side by side on the blanket, their fluids drying on each other’s body, the water tower’s shadow protecting them from the warm afternoon sun, hiding their illicit tryst. He wasn’t aware that he was straddling Leila until his hands curled around her throat.

Choking, she lashed out at him. Her long, red fingernails raked across his naked chest. Flailing blindly, his hand closed around the rock. He raised it over his head and Leila’s eyes grew large.

“Gary…”

The rock smashed into her mouth, cutting off the rest.

He lost all control then, hammering her face and head repeatedly. He blocked out everything; her screams, the frightened birds taking flight, his own nonsensical curses. Everything—until he heard the singing.

“La la la la, lemon. La la la la lullaby…”

Jack. Singing his favorite song.

The boy stepped into the clearing. Believing his father was working that Saturday (because that was the lie Gary had told Susan and Jack so that he could meet up with Leila for an afternoon quickie in the first place—he’d even stayed logged into his computer at work so that if anybody checked, it would look like he was there working), Jack froze in mid-melody, a mixture of puzzlement and terror on his face.

“Daddy?”

“Jack!”

His son turned and ran. Jack sprang to his feet, naked and bloody, and chased after him.

“Jack, stop! Daddy can explain.”

“Mommy…”

Unaware that he was still holding the rock, until he struck his son in the back of the head.

“I said stop!”

Jack toppled face first into the grass. He did not move. Did not breathe.

When Gary checked his pulse, he had none.

Something inside Gary shut itself off at that moment.

The rest of the memories became a blur. He dressed. Wrapped the blanket around Leila and loaded her into the trunk of the car, which he’d parked behind the abandoned strip mall, just beyond the cemetery and the water tower. Her blood hadn’t yet seeped out onto the grass, and he made sure none of her teeth or any shreds of tissue were in sight. He’d thrown her clothes and purse inside the car as well.

Then he picked up the bloody rock, the rock that he’d just bludgeoned his son to death with, and threw it down a nearby rabbit hole.

He drove to the edge of LeHorn’s Hollow, where a sinkhole had opened up the summer before, and dumped Leila’s body. Gary knew that the local farmers sometimes dumped their dead livestock in the same hole, as did hunters after field dressing wild game. The chances were good that she’d never be found.