FFP#10 – The Commute
That night, I counted six dead rabbits as I drove over the bridge. The car’s headlights lit their battered bodies, revealing broken jaws and red eyes. Blood dripped from their mouths, steaming as it hit the frozen ground.
And then I saw him: a man, naked and bent, huddled in the middle of the empty road, hands pressed against the slick pavement. I slowed down, not stopping until he was directly in front of me, the headlamps bathing him in a cold, white glow.
I honked my horn to see if he would move. And he did, but slowly. His head lifted up in a jerking motion, the skin of his face blanching in the direct light. Oh, that rotted face! Those sharp and uneven teeth crowded in his blistered mouth! I knew those features all too well. I was shaken, but I couldn’t say that I was surprised. Just as a guilt-ridden murderer is always waiting for the police to take him away, a man who makes a deal with the devil is always waiting for the demon to stake its claim.
For a moment, I considered running him over. “I didn’t see him until it was too late,” I imagined telling the police, even though I knew he’d be gone by the time they arrived. Even though getting hit by a car wouldn’t really hurt him. But maybe he’d take it as a warning, a show of strength and determination on my part. Just as I was about to press down on the gas, the demon jumped onto the hood of my car.
The car swayed back and forth under his weight. He crawled toward the windshield and scratched at the glass, his fingernails chipped and ragged, his clawlike hands purple and red and scabbed, smearing grease and dirt and melting ice across my view.
“Not enough! Not enough! Not enough!” he cried.
I didn’t wait to see what he’d do next. I hit the gas and he rolled off the car. I drove on, not looking back, realizing that I couldn’t hide from him anymore. For a brief moment, I considered crashing the car into a tree, killing myself just so all this would end. But I didn’t crash. I couldn’t do it. I gripped onto the steering wheel and sped home.
As soon as I parked in the driveway, I jumped from the car and rushed into my house. In the living room, the babysitter was watching television. She startled when I slammed the door behind me.
“Mr. Aguilar? Are you okay?” she asked.
I pressed a handful of bills into her hand. “Thanks for watching him tonight. Now get home quick. A storm is coming.”
She stared at me, confused, her lips parting in question. “What?”
“Go,” I said. “Just get the hell out of here. Go!”
She grabbed her coat. “Miguel’s sleeping,” was all she said, before running from the house.
I hurried to my son’s room, where I found him sound asleep on his small race car bed. It was red and blue with matching bedding and pillows, something I bought him on his last birthday. Sometimes I’d get in there with him and let him take me on an imaginary drive, but tonight I watched him sleep. The nightlight illuminated his snub nose and round cheeks. One foot stuck out from under the covers. His chest rose and fell with each tender breath. Black hair framed his tan baby face, and I wasn’t even sure if he looked more like me or his mother. I kissed him gently on the forehead, careful not to awaken him, and then I left.
I left him there, my beautiful angel, in his room, alone and helpless while I hid in the basement. Beneath a small window, we kept four rabbits, now nestled together, inside a wire cage. I pulled one out and kneaded its furry scruff with my fingers. “Too bad you guys weren’t enough,” I heard myself saying. “Too bad for all of us.” I froze as I heard the steady raps of someone knocking on the front door. I listened. Weak with fear, armed only with cowardice, I waited, continuing to stroke the stupid animal I still held in my hands.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Upstairs, the front door groaned opened. Hard footsteps stomped along the hallway above me. The house was small, my idea, so that I would always be near my son, so that I could easily hear if he needed my help. Now I could hear the demon breathing, his shallow breaths like dry leaves scraping against concrete.
My son called for me. “Daddy?”
And then the demon, laughing, mimicking, “Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?” I could hear his claws dragging along the walls. Scritch-scritch, scritch-scritch.
“I’ll run upstairs, attack him with a bat,” I thought to myself. “I’ll grab the boy and we’ll leave. We can drive to another state and start over. We can hide.” But I knew I couldn’t stop the demon, just as I knew I couldn’t save the child, just as I couldn’t save my wife.
I had already failed.
For years I’d been trying to appease the demon, trying to keep what I thought was mine. But the child had never really been mine. Not really. Now the demon wanted what was his, and there was nothing I could do. I was a coward. That’s all. Nothing more, and nothing less. A brave man doesn’t make deals or promises he can’t keep. A real father doesn’t sacrifice his only child. A real man deals with the blows life brings his way, accepts an early death in order to save his soul.
“Please, God,” I prayed because that’s all I could do. Because then I could blame God rather than myself. I held the rabbit close to my face, its soft, white fur brushing against my wet cheeks.
“Daddy!”
I wrapped my hand around the rabbit’s neck.
“Daddy!”
Was that my son crying out for me? Or the demon?
Miguel wouldn’t die, at least that much I knew. He’d be forced to become a monster. Not a monster like his father, but a monster nonetheless. He would become demon. He would become my demon’s son. My demon son.
“Miguel,” I said.
“Daddy!”
And then I was alone. I thought I would feel empty and cold. Thought if I ever lost my son I’d wither from grief. Instead, I felt like a ball of fire, ready to explode, ready to destruct. My heart, my lungs, my bowels burned with hate. There was no reason to be brave now, nothing left to lose, nothing left to fear, and so I decided to be hate.
I tightened my grip on the rabbit neck. Tightened the grip until the animal’s mouth, long and red and wet, opened wide and swallowed me whole.
Tags: flash fiction project, regis st. george
Uncategorized | 
March 1, 2010 12:05 am
Subscribe
