It took a couple of minutes for Willard to slip on his winter jacket, rummage through his suit pants for his wallet, convince the three children still seated around the jigsaw puzzle that they really would have more fun staying at home this time rather than tagging along to the store, and finally step into the garage.
Almost instantly, he felt a surge of anger flood through him.
He knew that he had lowered the double-sized garage door when he got home earlier. He distinctly remembered thumbing the remote and watching in the rear-view mirror as the heavy wooden panel slid down, then grabbing his briefcase from the passenger seat and climbing out.
He knew he had.
But now the door stood gaping open. Again. For the past few days, the automatic opener had been malfunctioning, erratically closing when the door was half open, opening unexpectedly when the door seemed firmly closed.
He’d have to get the motor fixed. And the back part of the foundation, he reminded himself furiously. The door was just one more thing to do. Shit.
He slid into the front seat of the car, buckled himself in, and turned the key.
At least the car started smoothly. No troubles there.
He began rolling out of the garage and down the driveway, gaining speed on the slight incline from the house to the street.
And suddenly slammed on the brake, jerking to a halt and jamming his chest painfully against the webbing of his seatbelt. For an instant he could not breathe and his vision went black.
Something red and silver had winked into sight in his side-view mirror, abruptly emerging from behind the dense, head-high shrubs that filled a small triangle between the driveway, the front sidewalk, and the side fence-virtually the only landscaping on the property that didn’t look newly planted. Whatever it was had winked into sight, glimmered for an instant, and disappeared.
Behind the car!
Before he could even consciously register what he had seen, he knew-he knew — what it was.
Sams’ new toy…with Sams’ driving!
He had thrust the car into park, twisted the key in the ignition, released his seatbelt, and was halfway along the length of the car before his mind truly began functioning.
Those damned bushes. I knew they were too tall. I knew someone was going to get hurt some day. And now Sams!
Each beat of his heart clarified in his mind what he would see-what he must see…the small body lying crushed on the cracked concrete of the sidewalk, blood streaming from broken flesh to flow, dark and thick and cloying, into the crevices, into the earth beneath, sinking in deeper and deeper, to contaminate and corrupt…
As he reached the back fender and could see clearly behind the car-the empty sidewalk behind the car-he heard a long, high giggle from the passenger side, then saw Sams putting up the driveway and into the darkened garage. The boy executed a perfect circle with his tiny car, sliding with practiced ease into a spot next to the three parked bicycles.
As he climbed out, he lifted a small plastic bucket-his sand-castle bucket, Willard realized-now filled with half a dozen large, glossy oranges. He was grinning widely, proud of himself for helping.
“See, Daddy! I picked up dessert, too!”