Acknowledgements
For this new edition of
OTHER DEADITE PRESS BOOKS BY BRIAN KEENE
Urban Gothic
Jack’s Magic Beans
Clickers II (with J.F. Gonzalez)
Take The Long Way Home
A Gathering of Crows
Darkness on the Edge of Town
CONTENTS
Tequila’s Sunrise
Burying Betsy
Dust
Fade to Null
Bunnies in August
That Which Lingers
Two-Headed Alien Love Child
Golden Boy
TEQUILA’S SUNRISE
(A FABLE)
—Alvaro Mutis
—Traditional Aztec funeral chant
—Daemonolateria
Once upon a time, which is how most fables begin, there was a land known as Oaxaca. The people who lived in Oaxaca called themselves the Tenochas, but history would call them the Aztecs. Oaxaca was a deadly place, a country full of extremes—in its people, creatures, and the landscape itself. Although it offered much beauty and wonder, there were myriad dangers lurking there, as well.
Atop one of Oaxaca’s snow-covered, treeless mountains, a thousand feet above the sea and overlooking a wide, fertile valley, sat the city of Monte Alban. It was a large city (though not the biggest) and many people lived there. In the morning, the sun glinted off the frescoed temples and buildings in its plaza. At night, the moon reflected on its ceremonial pools.
Before the Spaniards arrived in Oaxaca, a young boy named Chalco could often be found on Monte Alban’s expansive ball courts playing tlachtli and patolli with his friends. But when Cortes’s army landed on their shores, Lord Moctezuma issued a war summons. The invaders’ intentions were unclear. They said they came in peace, but they brought a new god and drove the people of Oaxaca before them like cattle.
Most of the able-bodied men in Monte Alban answered Moctezuma’s call to arms, and traveled to the capital city of Tenochtitlan. Chalco and the other boys had to assume their place and were now responsible for farming, hunting, and all the other tasks. There was no more time for play or fun—only for the everyday drudgery of life. Childhood ended early and there was no time to miss it or weep for its passing. There were no more games and no more play, and the ball courts sat empty and silent, their stones dusty.
Some people said it was the end of the world.
Perhaps they were right.
***
The day Chalco met the worm began like any other.
It began in darkness.
***
Before dawn, the call to rise echoed across the city, as it did every day. Inside the pyramid temples, the priests blew conch shell trumpets while their acolytes beat on wooden drums. The noise disturbed the birds roosting on the temple peaks. Shrieking, they flew into the sky, adding to the cacophony. The music throbbed through the streets and alleys, waking the residents.
Chalco stared up at the thatched roof of his family’s adobe hut and rubbed sleep dust from the corners of his eyes. He was still tired. After working in the fields all day long, he’d gone to bed late the night before. Today would offer a welcome change. He planned on going hunting. His clan’s larder grew empty.
The drumming continued and the trumpets sounded again. Around him, Chalco’s mother, sisters, and younger brother stirred. The adobe had two rooms, partitioned down the middle. On one side were the sleeping quarters. The other side held the kitchen and dining area. As Chalco stumbled out of bed, his mother tended to the fire, which
