Tequila's Sunrise by Brian Keene Page B

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