Free Tequila's Sunrise by Brian Keene Page B

limb. The sound startled him, bringing Gary back to the present. The bird spread its wings and the branch bent under its wings. The leaves rustled as it took flight. Gary watched it go. His spirits plummeted even farther as the bird soared higher.
    He stepped out from underneath the water tower’s shadow, back into the sunlight, and shivered.
    We beat the Martians, Daddy! Me and you, together…
    “Oh Jack,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
    Gary felt eyes upon him, a tickling sensation between his shoulder blades. He glanced around. Through his tears, he noticed a rabbit at the edge of the field, watching him intently.
    He sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
    The rabbit twitched its whiskers and kept staring. Gary felt its black eyes bore into him. He wondered if animals blinked.
    The rabbit didn’t.
    “Scat.” Gary stamped his foot. “Go on! Get out of here.”
    The rabbit scurried into the corn, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Gary studied the patch of grass where it had been sitting. The spot was empty, except for a large rock. Was it his imagination, or was the stone’s surface red?
    Maybe the animal was injured. Or dying.
    His mind threatened to dredge up more of the past, and he bit his lip, drawing blood.
    Gary checked the time on his cell phone. He’d been gone a long while. Susan would be worried. He shouldn’t have left her alone, especially on today, of all days. But she’d insisted that at least one of them should visit Jack’s grave. That was what had brought him here in the first place. He’d been drawn to the water tower without even thinking about it. Susan hadn’t come with him to the cemetery. Said she couldn’t bear it. She’d visited the grave many times over the past year, but not today. It had been left for Gary to do, and so he had.
    He pressed a button, unlocking the keypad, and the phone’s display lit up. It was just after twelve noon, on August fifteenth. But he’d already known the date.
    How could he forget?
    He trudged back the way he’d come, wading through the sweltering afternoon haze. Heat waves shimmered in the corners of his vision.
    He shouldn’t have come here. Not today, on the one year anniversary of his son’s death. This was a bad idea. It was bad enough that he could see this stupid water tower everywhere he went. Why come this close to it? What was he hoping to find? To prove?
    The wind whispered, Daddy.
    Gary turned around, and gasped.
    Jack stood beneath the water tower, watching him go. The boy was dressed in the same clothes the police had found him in.
    Daddy…
    His son reached out. Jack was transparent. Gary could see corn stalks on the other side of him.
    “No. Not real. You’re not real.”
    La la la la, lemon. La la la la, lullaby…
    Gary shivered. Jack’s favorite song from Sesame Street . He’d sung it all the time. All about the letter ‘L’ and words that began with it; a Bert and Ernie classic from Gary’s own childhood.
    “You’re not there,” he told his son.
    ***
    Gary stuck his pinky fingers in his ears and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Jack was gone. He’d never been there. It was just the heat, playing tricks on him. He lowered his hands.
    Something rustled between the rows of swaying corn.
    Gary didn’t believe in ghosts. He didn’t need to. Memories could haunt a man much more than spirits ever could.
    He walked home, passing through the cemetery on the way, and his son’s grave.
    He stopped at Jack’s headstone, knelt in the grass, and wept. He did not see Jack again. He did spot several more rabbits, darting between tombstones, running through the grass. Playing amongst the dead.
    He tried to ignore the fact that they all stopped to watch him pass.
    ***
    By the time he got home, Gary’s melancholy mood had turned into full-fledged depression. He’d been off the medication for months now, ever since he’d stopped seeing the counselor. If he went inside the house, he’d feel