Before the Rooster Crows

Lorenzo shuddered as blood trickled down the side of his face from a deep gash in his brow.

"He’s had enough," Luigi said. The beating stopped. They had him tied to a chair in a cellar where the salted hind legs of pigs hung in rows like trophies. The dry air smelled like meat and salty wounds. "Untie him."

Lorenzo collapsed to the floor.

Luigi crouched down in front of Lorenzo as his henchmen stepped away. "Look at me, nephew."

Lorenzo could only see out of one eye. The other was swollen shut.

"The family doesn’t want you gone, Lorenzo. You’re a good kid. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you."

Lorenzo was afraid to show relief. He didn’t think he’d live out the night. But it wasn’t that simple. It never is.

"So, let’s call this what it is: a lapse in judgment. Everybody makes mistakes. I mean, c’mon. You know how many times Peter denied the Son of God?" Luigi looked around at his goons, and they nodded in affirmation. "You see, I want to put this behind us. We just need to settle something first."

Luigi held out a hand and one of his men handed him a revolver, grip first. "Bring in the other one," he commanded.

The door to the basement opened and a boy Lorenzo’s age was dragged in, bruised and beaten even worse than Lorenzo. His shirt was soaked in his own blood. To his horror, Lorenzo saw that it was Antonio.

"Look at me, Lorenzo," Luigi said. Luigi opened the revolver and removed all the bullets except for one, then slapped the cold, heavy weapon into Lorenzo’s hand. “We don’t need his kind around here, and I’d like someone to get rid of him for me. You do me this favor? All is forgiven."

"Please," Antonio sobbed. Blood and tears mingled on his cheeks. "Please, Lorenzo."

"Do the right thing, Lorenzo."

Lorenzo’s hand shook with sobs as he lifted the gun, pointing the weapon at Antonio.

#

Lorenzo woke up with a start in the small, third-class cabin he shared with three other men on the RMS Titanic. His heart pounded and his breath came in short gasps. After several long moments of calming himself down, he felt along his brow for the scar. He found it easily, that ridge of raised skin. It had been years since he last dreamt of that night.

"I’m sorry, Antonio," he whispered to the dark, and went back to sleep.

#

Lorenzo shadowed the man he was sent to kill. The man had reportedly fingered a member of the family for a crime, and was now fleeing to New York in the guise of a vegetable cook for one of the high-end restaurants aboard. The man was skittish, always looking over his shoulder. It would be hard to find a chance to kill him on a crowded ship like the Titanic. But Lorenzo was good at making people disappear. He’d made a long career of it. The family trusted him to do it right.

Lorenzo waited for his prey to get off his shift in the kitchens and descend down the stairs to the crew’s cabins. He waited by the stairs, ready to rush him at the landing and make it look like an accident.

At long last, he heard the man approach. Standing at the landing just beneath him, ready to make his move, he heard something that made him pause.

"Lorenzo," someone said.

The sound was whispered, but far away. Like the first sound of ocean waves on a walk toward the beach.

"Hello?" he said.

No one responded. Cursing himself for getting distracted, Lorenzo rushed up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, he nearly ran headlong into two men holding each other and kissing. When they saw him, they pushed apart. One of them was Massimo, the man he was sent to kill.

"Sorry, I—" Lorenzo stuttered. "Excuse me." Flustered at things not going to plan, and embarrassed at what he just saw, Lorenzo abruptly turned and walked away.

#

"Please," Antonio sobbed. Blood and tears mingled on his cheeks. "Please, Lorenzo."

"Do the right thing, Lorenzo," uncle Luigi said behind him.

Lorenzo’s hand shook with sobs as he lifted the gun, pointing the weapon at Antonio, pulling back the hammer, and squeezing the trigger.

#

Lorenzo woke up. There were shadows standing over him. Lorenzo swung wildly with his arms, attacking the phantasms. He spring to his feet and shoved the nearest one to the wall, closing his hands around its throat. Hands and arms grasped at him from all sides, closing in.

A light came on in the room, and Lorenzo could see that he was choking one of the passengers that shared his rooms. His bulging eyes stared back at him in horror. The other two men were trying to pry him off. He let go immediately. The man collapsed to the floor, coughing.

"I'm sorry," Lorenzo said. "I'm sorry, you startled me."

"You were screaming in your sleep, mate," another man said. "We were just trying to wake you."

"It was just a nightmare. I’m sorry."

#

Lorenzo knew he had to be careful now that Massimo had seen him. If he was spotted again, Massimo might get too nervous and suspect something. The last thing he needed was someone reporting him to the ship’s constabulary.

One thing that bothered Lorenzo now that he’d seen Massimo up close was how young the kid was. Lorenzo walked along the promenade deck, breathing deep of the frigid, ocean air. The cold drove most of the passengers inside. This was one of the few places one could go to be alone. As he walked, Lorenzo wondered why now, of all times, the dreams were back. Then it seemed obvious. Massimo was the same age that he and Antonio were. And, it seems, Massimo loved men. Like Antonio did. That’s all this was, he convinced himself. Something had reminded him of that night, and now he couldn’t get Antonio out of his head. Like an old wound that still hurts when the weather turns.

Lorenzo rubbed at the scar on his brow. A lifetime ago he’d made a promise to Antonio that he couldn’t keep. He carried that betrayal with him everyday of his life. Now he was a made man. The family trusted him. He didn’t want to betray them, either.

"I didn’t betray you, Antonio," he said aloud. "I did what I had to do to survive!"

The wind itself seemed to protest, whistling its indignant screams on the salty air.

"It’s not my fault," he said, unsure of who he was trying to convince.

After a long time, he retreated from the cold.

#

Lorenzo pulled a garrote from his coat and held the cord tight between his fists. The sun had set. Massimo was the only man on a smoking break on the deck. The crow’s nest crew were between shifts. No witnesses. It was now or never. A quick job and a body thrown overboard.

Lorenzo crept up behind Massimo, stepping softly like a cat. He was close enough to smell the cloves of Massimo’s cigarette.

"Lorenzo."

In the glass of a fogged window, Lorenzo saw him: Antonio. As youthful as the day he died. Blood from his empty eye socket where the bullet tore through his head wept tears of gore down his face.

"Lorenzo," Antonio said again.

Lorenzo froze. His hands shook. His heart sank. He let out an involuntary moan. Hearing the sound, Massimo turned to see Lorenzo. He saw the wire garotte in his hands. Fogged breath and smoke shot from Massimo’s mouth as he shouted for help.

Lorenzo was transfixed by the specter of Antonio in the glass. He broke from his shock when he heard shouts approaching. When he looked again, Antonio was gone.

#

"Please," Antonio cried. "Please, Lorenzo."

"Do the right thing, Lorenzo."

Lorenzo’s hand shook with sobs as he lifted the gun, pointed it at Antonio, and squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot rattled his arm and the nerves in his hand tingled with pinpricks. Antonio’s cries were silenced. The gun slipped from Lorenzo’s hand. It hit the cellar floor with the finality of a gavel.

Antonio would never cry again. He would never do anything again.

#

Lorenzo woke up in his hiding place. He hid from the crew in a place by a bulkhead in the lower decks where no one would look. But the heat in this chamber was sweltering. He surmised that there must be a furnace of some kind on the other side of the bulkhead. The heat of it had even warped and damaged the metal wall. Sweating to the point of delirium, Lorenzo tried, and failed, to get any rest. In addition to the heat, whenever he closed his eyes, the nightmare returned.

In a state of anger and heat exhaustion, he struck the wall with a closed fist.

"What do you want from me?" he hissed. "What did you expect me to do? I had no choice!"

The door to the room opened. Fearing he’d been caught, Lorenzo sprung to his feet with his fists up, ready for a fight. But standing in the doorway was Antonio.

Lorenzo stared, wide-eyed at the apparition. He fell to his knees. He swallowed hard and his throat clicked and constricted as tears welled in his eyes. "Antonio."

Antonio said nothing.

Antonio, please—"

Before he could say more, Lorenzo was thrown to the side by a lurching crash. His head struck something hard and he blacked out.

#

Just before sunrise, on a clear summer day, the chickens had only begun to stir in the nearby coop. Lorenzo had thrust Antonio to the wall of the shed. They kissed hungrily. Tongues and lips, hands and skin. Nothing reserved, as though the secret to eternal life lay in each other’s breath. They were young enough to believe in ideals.

"Run away with me," Antonio said suddenly.

"And do what?" Lorenzo laughed.

"I’m not joking. Promise me."

Antonio’s eyes glistened with sincerity. He seemed so fragile at that moment. Like the smallest breeze could carry him away. And as Lorenzo stared back into his eyes, he found that all he wanted—all he could ever want—is to fly away with him.

"Alright, I promise."

"Wake up, Lorenzo."

"What?" Lorenzo said, confused.

Antonio looked up at him, but now it was with a lifeless face. His eye was gone where the bullet destroyed it. Cuts and bruises covered his mouth and cheeks.

"Wake up."

#

Lorenzo woke up and coughed salt water from his mouth. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but water was flooding around him at an alarming rate. He reached back to feel a large lump at the base of his skull where he’d hit his head. Sloshing through the rising water, Lorenzo waded to the corridor. The hallway was empty except for a figure at the far end. They turned, and Lorenzo could see that it was Antonio.

"Antonio? Wait!"

Antonio climbed the stairs.

"Antonio, wait!"

Lorenzo chased after him, climbing the stairs. He chased Antonio through the ship, but he was always turning a corner or climbing a set of stairs. Passengers crowded the hallways, hauling trunks or abandoning their possessions to flee to the upper decks. Lorenzo’s head throbbed with pain, but he pushed past it and heaved his way through obstacles. At long last, Lorenzo rounded a corner to see Antonio standing about 30 yards away. Antonio stopped and turned his head towards Lorenzo before disappearing into an adjacent room.

"Antonio, please!"

Lorenzo ran to find, not Antonio, but Massimo. Massimo was trying desperately to free another young man—the one he’d seen him with in the stairwell—from a fallen cabinet. It had him pinned at the knee.

When Massimo saw him, he stopped, reached to the side for a kitchen knife, and stood protectively over his lover. "Get back!"

With hands raised, Lorenzo slowly stepped into the room. "I can help."

"Like hell!"

"It’s okay." Lorenzo moved forward. "It’s okay."

Massimo stabbed forward with the knife. Disarming him was easy. Once he had the knife, Lorenzo tossed it across the room then immediately squatted down to lift the fallen cabinet. "I’ll need your help."

Somewhat bemused, Massimo bent down next to him.

"Use your legs. Come on!"

Together, they freed Massimo’s lover from the debris, but his leg was badly wounded.

"I’ll carry him," Lorenzo said. He lifted the young man in his arms and stepped back into the hallway. Abandoned luggage littered the floors and a crowd of passengers clogged the stairwell. Glancing the opposite direction, Lorenzo saw Antonio again.

"This way," he said.

Massimo looked shocked, but followed. "Where are you taking us?

"I’m getting us out of here."

Antonio led them to another stairwell that was less bogged down with traffic at the other side of the ship. Lorenzo couldn’t see him any longer once they reached the promenade deck. Instead they found a long queue of passengers waiting to board the lifeboats. Pushing past them, Lorenzo could see that the certain crew members were in charge of manning the boats. Looking down, he could see that Massimo’s lover wore a sailor’s uniform.

"Hey!" he shouted to a crew member who was trying to keep the passengers calm. "These two are crew members. They’re assigned to that boat."

The man held his hands up to bar them, but saw their uniforms. Massimo’s friend winced and clutched his leg in pain. "It’s true," he said. "I’m supposed to be on that boat."

The man barring their way, quickly assessed the situation. "Alright, they can get on, but you have to wait your turn at the back of the line."

"That’s fine. Just let me help him onto the boat."

The sailor nodded and waved them forward. Lorenzo lowered the young man into the boat. Despite his injury, he took his place at the oars.

"How did you know which boat to take us to?" Massimo asked after climbing into the boat.

Lorenzo ignored the question and seized Massimo tightly by the arm. "Listen! Don’t ever let go of each other. Promise me."

"What are you—"

"Promise me!"

Massimo looked back at Lorenzo with the bright and puzzled eyes of youth. "Alright. I promise."

Lorenzo let go and stepped back. He watched as their lifeboat was lowered into the sea. Moving against a tide of panic, Lorenzo walked past a quartet of musicians playing a solemn melody.

Lorenzo rubbed at the scar on his brow.

When he looked up, Antonio stood before him. He was exactly as he remembered the last day they were together. He wore the same hat, the same shoes and vest.

As he stepped forward, the edges of Lorenzo’s vision grew bleary as though looking through a fogged mirror.

"Antonio," he said. "I’m sorry. I should’ve run away with you like we promised. They made me kill you—

"It’s okay." Antonio held out his hand.

Lorenzo closed the distance between them. When they embraced, Lorenzo felt weightless. He shut his eyes tight and held Antonio like he used to. People screamed around him, the ship careened, but Lorenzo was in another time, many years ago, in a secret place where he and Antonio arranged to meet.