Authors: Pearce Hansen
Everett
took one more look around, making non-threatening eye contact with each Lost Boy in turn. Making them believe each was considered individually significant. “Relax now. Tobias runs things for me. You give up your usual end to him. He holds my cut until such time as I deem fit.”
He went to the
office and sat at the desk. He tried to stand Larry’s head up on its stump but it squelched over onto its side. He turned it so its face was pointed away, toward the room.
Tobias and
Agnes joined him. The Lost Boys commenced cleanup like a barrel full of monkeys. The bodies rolled up in tarps; the larger puddles scooped up with dust pans, and the clotting blood dumped in a trash can to be bleached and burned. The Boys kept flicking glances at Larry’s head while they worked, or furtively peeping Everett’s way with mingled fear and admiration.
Tobias
put both grips on the desk next to Larry’s head. He pulled a bundle of bills from his satchel and hefted it once before tossing it in Everett’s valise. “Dude, you sure are free and easy about money.”
Everett
grunted, exhausted and numb from the adrenaline crash. “This is America, Tobias. The streets are paved with gold. There’s always someone else to rob.”
Chapter 44
: Martian Tripods & the Walking Dead
Everett
called Kerri and told her he was coming home. He found himself speaking truths to her, words she absorbed in silence. He spoke the things she deserved to hear, that he’d never said in person. Then he drove.
Everett
parked down the block and watched Rolly standing guard outside the community center as his kids arrived. A beautiful woman stood next to him. Today was Christmas Eve; Rolly had replaced the ‘Murderball’ cap with an incongruous red Santa hat.
K
ids in wheelchairs were helped off lift equipped vans by staff. Others were assisted out of various vehicles by parents. Rolly sat by the wall with the attractive woman, ignoring both kids and parents. His attention shuttled between his conversation with the woman, the busy boulevard, and both ways down the sidewalk. Rolly saw him right off but didn’t desert his post.
Everett
sat in the snack truck and had a smoke. As he often did while waiting, he amused himself by envisioning the best tactical response if Martian tripods reared up behind the Oakland skyline, or if hordes of undead zombies thronged his way down the Avenue.
T
he last kid entered the building. The beautiful woman and Rolly exchanged friendly words before she went inside. Everett got out the truck to approach his friend. Rolly assayed a smile, which disappeared when he got a good look at Everett’s expression.
“Had to do it again
,” Everett said.
“Damn
. Did the storm giants come out?”
Everett
nodded.
“All the way out?” Rolly
asked.
Everett
shook his head. “No, kept the muzzle on them. Only had to do three. Well, three and a half.” It felt like bragging, to be able to say he’d kept the body count so low.
“Good
,” Rolly said. “It was always a bad scene when those fuckers showed their faces all the way.”
“Had to make some meat
all right,” Everett said. “Could have used you.”
“
Kerri?” Rolly asked. “Raymond?”
“
Both okay. Larry’s gone though. Finally forced me to do him.”
Rolly raised a brow. "
Larry ever bother telling you he’s the one assigned me that last botched job?”
Everett
shrugged. “He called me at 3AM to let me know the night it happened.”
Rolly
continued studying Everett, sensing the seething behind the mask.
“Am I a bad man
, Rolly?” Everett asked.
Rolly’s eyes widened
. “You and me, we did a lot of damage all right. But you can’t change what’s dead and gone, bro. Like, you can’t wipe out the stains but maybe you can try going toward something better.
“
Everett, my goodest bestest friend – you’re stuck. You’re one of those dinosaur bugs, buried in that amber shit. You’re frozen, petrified like. You got to get past your history, somehow.
“
Are you bad?” Rolly asked. “I ain’t the one to say. What does Kerri think?”
Rolly rol
led his wheel chair at Everett and bumped his shins. “What does Raymond think?”
Everett
chewed on that. “Raymond would probably like to meet you again, Rolly.”
Rolly laughed.
“That your way of saying you miss me, bro?”
“W
as thinking you might want to come up for a couple days. Spend Christmas with us. Watch Raymond open his presents.” Everett gestured toward the handicapped center. “If your kids could spare you.”
Chapter 45
: The End of His Usefulness?
They pulled off the
highway onto the access road and started down the hill’s switchbacks.
“What the hell is that
, Everett?” Rolly asked, getting a look at all Everett’s recent cement work.
They pulled
onto the extra wide concrete driveway Everett had laid in front of the house. Kerri stood in the door.
Everett
pulled the wheelchair out the back and rolled it around to the passenger side. Rolly already had the door open as Everett moved the chair into place. When Everett reached over to help him exit the truck Rolly said “Back the fuck off. I got it.”
Everett
held the chair long enough for Rolly to get his ass settled, then let go.
Rolly
spun the chair round to face Everett. “Sorry, Everett. I get testy.”
“Don’t make no never mind
, bro. Let’s show you around the spread.”
He led Rolly
to the edge of the driveway. From there, flat cement tracks led to every building and landscape feature: to the fire pit, to the outbuildings, down to the river and even uphill on switchbacks to the forest’s edge.
It was
amateurish work as Everett had never done real construction before Mendocino, but it was still useful. Rolly could go anywhere he wanted on the property. He had unrestricted access any time he came up to visit.
“Damn
,” Rolly said.
The fron
t door to the house opened, and Raymond came out. He looked at Rolly. “Who are you?”
“I’m your Uncle Rolly. You don’t remember me because you were too little. I remember you though.”
“Oh,” Raymond said. “Do you want to see the river?”
“Sure
,” Rolly said, and the two headed that way down the access path.
“I almost left
,” Kerri said. “I had us all packed. Then I realized that wasn’t the smart move. The protection here wasn’t too bad. She would’ve just followed us and caught us alone. It would have tipped her off you were up to something anyways. I knew it was important to make her feel safe, so you could get close enough to make sure we never saw her again.”
“
Very smart,” Everett said, letting his pride convey. “Good girl.”
“
Yes. That was part of why I stayed. It wasn’t just her I would’ve been running from. It was you, too.”
There was a ringing in his
ears as he turned to her.
She took his hands.
“This wasn’t your doing, Everett. But when will your past come calling again? I knew who and what you were. I’m neither a fool nor a hypocrite. You’ve kept every promise you’ve made to me. Anything I ask from you, you give. But you’re so busy staying on top of things, you can only give us a fraction of yourself. It’s getting old, Everett.”
She looked sad.
“You’re not the only one who turns away though. I choose my painting over my family often enough.”
“Your art is important
,” Everett said. “People will look at your paintings long after we’re gone. You and Raymond are the ones who’ll be remembered.”
“I unpacked my bags
, Everett,” Kerri said. “But we need to talk soon.”
Down by the river
, Raymond shrieked as Rolly kicked up the front of his chair in a wheelie and spun the chair fast as a gyroscope.
“Don’t give up on me yet
, okay?” he said.
“Y
ou’ve got a few more shots left. We still have time.”
They entered the house. Kerri
’s latest canvas was off the easel leaning against the wall. It had been slashed repeatedly by something sharp, destroyed.
She
said, “I’m going to douse it with gasoline and burn it.”
“That’s galler
y money down the drain. What will you do instead?”
She pulled a cloth off the canvas currently on the easel. It was a painting of
Everett, except . . . He was smiling, a wide goofy mastiff grin threatening to split his face in half. The Everett in the painting seemed to look him right in the eyes. It wasn’t near as ugly as his reflection in the mirror.
Kerri
said, “I’ve done dozens of sketches of you since we’ve been together. I had to do them from memory, you hating cameras so much. I had to hide them from you like dirty secrets. This is my new project. I’m going to paint it openly. You’ll see me doing it. You’ll take it and like it.”
They
stood side by side watching Raymond and Rolly continue the grand tour. Raymond sat on Rolly’s lap as the wheelchair pumped along the access paths.
Everett
’s eyes lit on the snack truck, and his eyes narrowed as he realized the unfinished business it represented. The light bulb went on over his head, hot and bright.
“Share
, dammit,” Kerri said. “Just this once, let me in.”
Everett
gestured at the truck. “Have some more loot to stash.”
“How much this time?”
“At least seven figures. Plus some change.”
“
One more trophy,” she said. “It’ll never be spent, or see the light of day again. It’ll just molder in the ground like the rest of your East Bay blood money.” She snorted. “You didn’t need to tell me where it all was stashed, before. I knew every spot as soon as you buried it. As if I would have touched it even if you didn’t come home.”
Everett
shook his head, impatient. “Doesn’t matter. Have to get the truck to its rightful owner. Someone that can help us.”
“
Who? How?”
“
Guy named Phil. He might have the muscle to oust the storm giants. Well, muzzle them for good at least. He’s a total mind fucker.” Everett searched for the words. “Every session with Phil, I’ll be like a man on the operating table holding a gun to the doctor performing neurosurgery on me.”
“
Everett, that sounds awful. He’s a man to fear. Not someone to voluntarily visit.”
“
Of course I’m afraid of Phil. I’ll just have to stay on my toes and not turn my back. Unless you want to try some kind of couple’s counseling with him?”
She looked embarrassed.
Everett nodded. “You’re not the fixer upper, Kerri.”
H
e
was
guilty of liking Phil. When he drove through the phishermen’s gate it would be openly, with respect. He’d have to defend himself against Phil’s efforts to brainwash him into his little crusade, but never say never. It’d be interesting to have as dangerous a friend as Phil.
The fun and games with the p
hishermen could wait. It was Christmas Eve and Everett was safe in the magic circle among his people. Rolly was at hand and tomorrow Raymond would tear into his Christmas presents. Everett realized he was happy.
“It
’s all right,” he said. “Everything’s going to be better than right.”
And Kerri knew that was true, because Everett would make sure of it.
THE END
A disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance between actual people and events, and the people and events in this story, is coincidental.
Pearce Hansen is an East Bay native who writes about what he knows: the streets of Oakland
and her sister cities where he grew up. His work inspired by his experiences on those blocks, Pearce has been writing 18 years with over 100 publications including three novels, one short story collection (
Gun Sex
), six anthology inclusions and three screenplays.
The Storm Giants
is his third novel to date after
Street Raised
and
Stagger Bay
. Pearce resides up on the Lost Coast behind the Redwood Curtain, chilling it with his wife Pia.