Wreck

Hole in the earth.

   Connor Gordon was a hardworking man. He worked three jobs, once, and worked his way up to his current, fairly high, position. That process took years but Connor didn't fret. He was the patient sort, after all. He had fought tooth-and-nail for everything he had and that didn't bother him, either. He liked to toil of hard, honest work and the taste of the rewards and luxuries that was earned by it. And for the past year and a half, he was abroad, working afar on business trip after business trip, to ensure his family remained comfortable. Now, Connor Gordon was coming home.
   He had thought of his wife, a Lisa Gordon, for every single day of the year and a half he was gone. He kept a photo of her in his wallet; her golden hair, her warm, welcoming smile and her eyes..... my God, those eyes! The prettiest eyes you'd ever seen. She was the light and joy of his life, his most treasured thing, ever. It was for her that he worked, to make sure that she enjoyed a comfortable life, that she did not have to work and struggle like he had in the past. It was for her that he spent a year and a half away from home....
   Led Zeppelin's "Fool in the Rain" flooded out of the radio's speakers and he cranked it as he continued along Interstate 95. There was little to no traffic and despite it being a grey day, it was a nice one, no rain. Sorry, Jimmy Page! It was his coming home that it finally hit Connor; Rhode Island wasn't a bad place to live. He liked the life here, if a little slow for his tastes, but he shrugged it off, considering it quaint. Nice areas to see the ocean, he supposed. For some reason, Lisa really loved the place but she never indulged him the details, not even after convincing him to move to Rhode Island from Chicago. But he didn't mind, Connor Gordon was the understanding sort.
   The sun was beginning to set, so he hurried the pace to get home. It was dark when he swerved the Toyota into the driveway, flicked off the ignition and pulled the key free from it's brackets. He stepped out and to the front door and then frowned. He had hoped - expected, perhaps - Lisa to be waiting on him, door thrown open the minute he entered the driveway. Instead, he was greeted by shut wood and latched steel. He retrieved the key from his pocket and opened the door, stepping inside. Things were neat, tidy, they haven't changed for nearly two years and this pleased Connor greatly. But Lisa was nowhere to be seen....
    There came a bump from upstairs. Connor, frightened and curious, immediately made his way up the stairs. The bump came again and he found himself staring at his bedroom door.
   Oh, God, no. Please, no....
   Hesitantly, and filled with trepidation and dread, Connor opened the door. There was Lisa. In bed. With a man that Connor didn't know. He stopped dead in his tracks and then came the wave of numbness, a faint tingling feeling in his toes that stretched upward, leaping from nerve to nerve.
    "Lisa?"
    "Connor!" Lisa said fairly calmly, pulling the covers up to hide her naked breasts. "I thought you wouldn't be home for another hour or two."
    "I decided to hurry up and come home and see you," Connor said flatly, the numbness seeping into his response. "Who is this?" he gestures to the other man.
    "This.... this is Geoffrey,"
    "Uh, look. I don't mean any harm. I should just go."
    "Hold up a second, Geoff. We can talk this out like civilized people," Connor said, walking over to the side of the bed Geoffrey was on. His side of the bed. After all, Connor was the patient, understanding sort.
    He opened the drawer of the wooden end table there, praying that the contents were left untouched from when he last saw them, a year and a half ago. Upon opening, he saw that they were, reached inside and pulled out a gun, made of black plastic and evil metal screws. He cocked it and a vile click! broke the silence. Without another word, he pointed it at Geoffrey and squeezed the trigger, setting off a loud bang! and sent Geoffrey, bleeding like a pig, slumping to the floor.
     "Oh my God! Geoffrey!"
     "I work my a*s off in a foreign country for a year and a half, Lisa, missing you every day. This is how you repay me? For busting my a*s to ensure that you don't have to work? That's not very nice."
     Lisa was weeping now, trying to beg for her life between hiccups and tears. But Connor was the understanding sort and he understood the situation very well. It was clearly defined; black and white. He leveled the gun to Lisa and looked her square in the eyes. He squeezed the trigger and a hole popped open in her head. He sighed and shook his head and made his way back downstairs and sat on the couch. The police would be here soon, no doubt the neighbors heard the shots and phoned in. He turned on the television, got a local news program. He grimaced. He would be on the news either later tonight or tomorrow, surely. The police were already on their way. But he could wait. Connor was the patient sort.
     Once the red and blue lights of police sirens painted his walls, Connor turned off the television and sat there momentarily, pausing a moment. Then came the knocking at the door, then the pounding and he lifted the gun and pressed it against his left temple. Connor was the understanding sort and he understood the jail time he would face. He set the gun off with a bang.