The Storm Giants by Pearce Hansen Page B

Amerika before the walls toppled in on him.
    Whenever h e saw a photo of Doctor Dauffenbach, Everett’s tongue would probe one or another of the teeth he’d worked on. And years later as an adult, watching ‘Marathon Man’ on TV, Everett wondered what all the excitement was about when Laurence Olivier had his little fun with Dustin Hoffman – Hoffman’s character was a man after all, and Everett had beaten his dentist as a boy.
    Of course, a t the time of that last canceled appointment of course Everett knew none of this. All that he knew was that Doctor D had lost the game, and Everett had outlasted him.
    Everett laughed in the receptionist's porcelain doll face. In memory he seemed to see a frank interest in her eyes that he rebuffed without knowing at the time, never realizing the narrowness of his escape. He never saw her again after that until she ambushed him at Bambi’s death bed. What would have happened if he hadn’t turned from her that day and run away?
    For he did run , down the office steps and along the sidewalk, skipping and capering like a much younger boy. People in passing cars yelled rude comments at his victory dance but he ignored the taunts, allowed feelings full vent and uncaring for once at the risk this exposure of self entailed.
    Doctor D had fallen. Everett was triumphant!
    His heart was a fortress now, seamless and unassailable. Nothing could hurt anymore, nor anyone touch. And in the years to come, Everett would have the old butcher's unintentional gift to rely upon: Pain and fear would forever be something that happened far, far away to someone else.

Chapter 21 : The Orbit of his Infection
    After recounting the (expurgated) tale of Dr. Dauffenbach, Everett mapped the locations of his cached money stashes. Kerri should have paid rapt attention to his very important words. But his mouth had become no more than a moving hole expelling modulated pulses of air.
    Brother Rick and Everett commenced a meaningless exchange wherein they took turns jabbering nonsense at each other. Their words grew closer to understandable as the ice water drained from her head, and everything became as normal as it was likely to get.
    Death , she thought as he placed the sawed off shotgun in her hands. She stared down at the stubby little killer. Death surrounds us on all sides.
    J ust the sound of this Widow’s voice at the door had made Kerri cringe in her bed. It was just as horrible to hear the predatory rapport between her and Everett, like two estranged relatives discussing an inheritance dispute.
    “Where you going, daddy?” Raymond asked. “Can I come? Do I get a gun like Uncle Rick?”
    “No ,” Everett answered. “I need you to help your uncle and make sure Mom is safe.”
    Raymond commenced staring at Kerri as if he wouldn’t take his eyes off her until Everett returned.
    “It’s going to be all right , Kerri,” Everett said. “Everything’s going to be better than right.”
    He trudged up t he access road to the highway, with each step getting more into character. Letting despair and defeat infuse his body posture and gait. Kerri barely recognized him from behind. He looked like any other homeless piece of human waste, without resources or future.
    He stopped once at a curve in the road and turned to favor the property with a sweeping gaze. He looked past Kerri at the house and its panorama, then at her and Raymond. His eyes glowed at them like the open door of a furnace.
    And then he was gone.
    Kerri went inside to her easel, which held the promise of taking her mind away from all this. She took down at the painting she’d been working on, replacing it with a fresh canvas.
    “I’m hungry ,” Raymond said. “Where’s daddy going? Will he be back before Santa?”
    She stroked his head and rummaged something for him from the fridge, but her eyes were drawn to her virginal new canvas the whole time.
    Rick said something outside on the porch, attempting comfort or strategic advice. She