Burnt Black Suns: A Collection of Weird Tales (37 page)

“But we met Father Manillo yesterday and—”

Muñoz spat again.

“The man makes lies. Lies and half-truths. Do not listen!
El anda con el Tletliztlii y
—”

“Wait. ‘The Tletliztlii’? Does he know them? He told us—he told me and Rachel that . . . He knew where they were
the whole time?
Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Noah paced the room faster, hands running through hair.

“I have to do something. I can’t just—I mean, I have to go. I—I have to find Eli.”

“But your girlfriend,” Muñoz said, eyes darting back and forth, jaw trembling to speak.

Noah had no idea if Rachel was okay. But his son needed him. His kidnapped son. How could he know what to do? No matter what his choice, he might never forgive himself. But he had to choose.

“I can’t leave him there. I can’t let him slip through my fingers.”

Muñoz nodded solemnly and stood.

“Then I will take you. You cannot go there alone.”

As he spoke, the wooden door of the waiting room opened. The small nurse entered, her stony, harelipped face long and craggy.

“Ya puedes verla.”
Her voice was like gravel, slightly sibilant.

“What?”

“She says it’s okay to see your wife now. She is calling for you.”

“I told you she’s not—I can go see her?”

The nurse nodded, her tired eyes already bored.

“But—”

“Go, señor. I will wait out here. I do not think the Tletliztlii will go anywhere at the moment. Unless they find out you are here . . .” He trailed off, looking at the silent couple in the room with them. They seemed oblivious to Muñoz’s attention, yet Noah felt everything slipping as he was drawn further apart by opposite poles and did not know which direction he desired more.

“Señor?”
The nurse, impatient.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

It took too long for Rachel’s room to appear at the end of the unfinished hallway, but when it did Noah was startled. There was little equipment, and what was there appeared far too old. Light slipped past the blind slats and bisected the room, creating a staggered line across the unfinished floor. On the opposite side of the divide were a pair of single beds, but only one was occupied. Rachel sat up, her hands fidgeting absently with a small, colorful toy. It was clear from her flushed wet face she had been crying before he entered, and perhaps would continue afterward.

“They finally let you in,” she said. “I was worried they wouldn’t.”

“I don’t think they could have stopped me.”

“The doctor’s had a look, but he isn’t worried.” She sniffled, then tried to hide it behind the sleeve of her gown. “It’s a bit of hysterical labor, probably caused by the stress of the trip, and maybe from some dehydration. I felt a lot better once I got some water in me.”

“The baby?”

“The baby is fine, too.”

“Good, good,” he said, and checked the time on his watch. Rachel went quiet.

“Can’t you stop looking at that thing for a second to see how I am?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I have a lead on Eli. I think he—”

“You have a
lead?
Wait, were you going to
leave
me alone here?”

“You’re safe. There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

“It has nothing to do with if something’s wrong or not. I’m in the hospital. Me. The woman you supposedly love. And the child I’m carrying.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Are you? I know you, Noah. I’ve been living with that look in your eyes for years. The last thing you want is to be here with me. Sometimes I wonder if you care about me and the baby at all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

She scoffed.

“Where are you going? To meet that bitch, Sonia? Do you think she’s going to tell you anything?”

“She’d better.”

“I love you, but you’re fucking naive if you think it’s going to be that easy. After everything she’s done to keep you from Eli, you think she’s just going to
give
him back to you? She has no intention of giving you anything. There’s something
wrong
with that woman, Noah, something that scares me, and I don’t want you going anywhere near her. Especially when I’m laid up in here with no idea what’s going on. I
need
you, Noah. Your child needs you.”

“Eli is my child, Rachel. He needs me too.”

“I hate to tell you this, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t need you at all. He’s got Sonia.”

“You just told me you don’t trust her. But you trust her enough to care for my child?”

Rachel was starting to cry again. Noah wanted to back off, but suddenly understood she had never wanted anything to do with Eli, didn’t even want him in her life, and she was using any weapon she could to turn Noah against his own son. The realization made him angrier than he thought possible.

“Eli is a part of me, Rachel, and nothing you say can make that different. He’s my son, and he means more than the world to me. He means more to me than my own life.”

“Does he mean more to you than me? Does he mean more to you than your
other
child? The one I’m carrying?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Answer me!”

“You want me to
choose?”

“Yes, exactly. I want you to choose between your fucking crazy ex-wife and a child who has no idea who the fuck you are; and me, the woman who loves you, the woman who came down here on this crazy mission with you even though she is carrying your future child, one whom you’ll know and grow close to and will love you forever. Choose, Noah. If you’re half the man you believe you are, it should be easy. Choose.”

Noah took a breath, but had no idea what words were going to come out of his mouth. The anger and resentment had built up to such intolerable levels they confounded him. The pressure in his head was building, struggling for release.

Who was she? Who was she to tell Noah that Eli was nothing? That he should be forgotten? Who was this woman? Not the demure girl he’d meet what seemed like only months before, the girl who once didn’t know the meaning of the word “relationship.” He had only been with her because her commitment to being noncommittal was so different from his that she seemed exciting, good for him. When had she become the yoke around his neck, telling him that he should no longer care about the only thing he’d ever cared about? Who was she? And who was the unborn child she said was his? Did it smile like Eli? Did it laugh like him? Was it as smart, as friendly, and perfect as his little son? It was nothing to him, nothing but a lump of flesh buried deep in a woman he didn’t know, didn’t recognize. She wanted him to choose between that and his perfect little boy? There was no choice. There had never been a choice.

Rachel’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Noah. His skull filled with opaque fuses and felt as though it were burning. He touched his forehead; it was strangely cold.

“I have to go, Rachel. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she said, and threw the brightly colored toy at him. It bounced off his temple, catalyzing his anger before it smashed to the ground.

“With pleasure,” he bellowed, then stormed out.

Muñoz was sitting in the waiting room, speaking quietly with the strange staring couple. It was clear by the look of guilt on his face that he’d heard part of the argument. Noah didn’t stop. Full of burning embers, he stormed outside. Muñoz followed close behind.

“Is she okay?” Muñoz dared.

“You don’t need to worry about it. Just get me to the church and to Sonia. Nothing else is going to come between me and Eli.”

The sharp shadow of the steeple lay across the front of the church, cutting the path to its door like a giant razor. Noah had been anxious on the journey there from the doctor’s office, still carrying his burning anger over what Rachel had said, and his nervous anticipation at seeing Eli again. He and Muñoz passed the rundown houses and saw few people outside. Most moved as if they were still asleep, staring off into space. On the stoop of a house, a woman sat surrounded by broken toys and the half-formed piñata she was building. Her hands were caked in pink plaster, and they covered her face as she wept uncontrollably.

Muñoz led Noah on without comment, along the dirt road to the towering church. Heat warped its height until the spire climbed forever into the sky. Out front, a shirtless man was working the arid ground, planting grass and flowers where it was clear nothing could grow. His back was tanned and broad, his muscles tight along his barrel chest, and it wasn’t until the two men were almost upon him that Noah realized it was Father Manillo.

“You came back!” he said, his grin wide, lenses reflecting the sun into Noah’s eyes. “Did you find everything you needed?”

Noah hesitated. “Almost.”

“Good, good!” he said. Not once did he look at Muñoz.

“And your wife? How is she?”

“My girlfriend is fine,” Noah said curtly. “But you know why I’m here, don’t you?”

“My wife. My
ex
-wife. She’s here, isn’t she?”

Noah watched the priest’s eyes, hoping the revelation would shake the man, but instead the older man dug his shovel into the ground and leaned on the handle. Then he laughed.

“What do you think is going on here? This is a place of God.”

“I don’t know about that, but I know you’ve been sheltering the Tletliztlii here. It’s probably why we didn’t find them up on the heath. Were they ever there?”

The priest laughed again, the sound as paternal as it was cold.

“Oh, they come and go. They come and go.” Then his face grew still, the laugh lines fading back into tanned leather skin, and he grabbed Noah’s arm and pulled. Noah tried to resist, but the sudden snatch had unbalanced him.

“You want to go inside, yes? I will not stop you—everyone is free to worship at Ometéotlitztl’s altar—but no matter what you find you must respect the sanctity of the church. There is no anger among the Tletliztlii, only shared purpose. Do you accept?”

He held out his hand for Noah to take. Noah shook it, but his own hand felt inadequate inside Manillo’s giant paw. When the priest let go, Noah wiped his fingers across his chest, trying to erase the feel of Manillo’s sweat and calluses. Noah turned to Muñoz, but the teacher remained cautiously and infuriatingly mute.

Though its windows were pointed away from the sun and let only indirect light inside, the interior of the church was an oven. There were more people in the pews, more people praying than ever before, many with plaster-covered hands, working on piñatas of various sizes and shapes; each was a colorful reminder of all the children Noah had not seen, had not held in so long. Each was a painful memory of what he had lost. He wondered about Rachel, about how she was, about whether what she’d said was true, but the thought was interrupted by the sight of the woman kneeling before the church’s towering black altar.

Her auburn hair was pinned back, but wisps of it fell over her apple face. Lines had been carved where he had never seen them, and dressed in meager clothes she bore little resemblance to the woman he’d known. But the way she hung her head, the awkward turn of her nose, made it all too clear who she was. He would never forget her. Not the woman who had stolen his son from him.

“Sonia!”

Everyone stopped to look at him. A hundred eyes all staring. All eyes but two. Those remained transfixed on the altar.

“Sonia! Where is he? Where is Eli?”

The kneeling woman did not answer, did not turn. A shadow from the door spread across the room, and Noah saw Manillo standing there, filling the frame. The priest slowly wiped his hands on the cloth hanging from his belt. The church shrank to half its size. Muñoz stepped back, but Noah did not. He would not back down until he found Eli. He had come too far, travelled too long.

“Sonia! Where?”

The crowd became agitated as Noah’s anger intensified. Manillo took a few steps forward, and Noah glared at him in warning. Manillo paused, but the smirk on his face was disconcerting. The shirtless old man looked more than capable of snapping Noah in two. Nevertheless, Noah carried on undeterred, his voice increasing in volume with every step he took toward his ex-wife.

“Sonia!”

She stood slowly as he stalked toward her, and her expression looked both irritated and bored.

“Hello, Noah.”

He was momentarily startled. Her eyes—her eyes were bloodshot and circled with red, as though she’d been crying, but it was clear she hadn’t. It had only been a few years, but the changes were immense. She’d been beaten by the sun until her face creased, and by something else that had bruised her across the side of her body.

“What are they doing to you here? Are they keeping you here? Are they keeping
Eli
here?”

“Of course not. Nobody’s being ‘kept’ anywhere. I need you to calm down. I have to talk to you.”

“Calm down?
Calm down?
You kidnap my son from me, take him to another country where you hide in case I come looking, and when after three years I find you, all you can tell me to do it ‘calm down’? I ought to—” Flustered, the anger welled up inside of him, like a geyser of flame waiting to erupt. His muscles twitched; he was desperate to throttle her, but before he could act Manillo was there, chest glistening with sweat, jaw set with concrete. He stared into Noah’s eyes until the younger man grudgingly backed down.

Noah sighed.

“I just want to know where Eli is, Sonia. I just want to take him home. He has no place here.”

Sonia sat in an empty pew, pushing aside a crude elephant-shaped piñata, and looked down at her plastered and wrinkled hands. Noah felt a twinge of confusion, then he saw the flicker of a smile. It reignited his rage, but Manillo would not tolerate it.