Santa's Gift for Dr Peter Daszak
Copyright© 2021 by Kim Cancer
Chapter 7
Milky air, in a patina, thickened around the shape of the vehicle. The lions, kangaroos, and Jim Breuer disappearing, drowning in swirls; the animals becoming stuffed animals, toys for fat kids in Kansas. The animals becoming lost faces in heavy cream, the animals amassing with the miasma.
” ... things you do really make me mad I must confess.”
Santa smashed his left elbow, like a cage-fighter, jabbing at the car’s driver side control panel. The Caddy’s windows creaked upwards, pathetically warbling. The pangolin rested back on its haunches, had the defeated look of a whipped child.
“Goin’ a million miles an hour headed out...”
“We’re fixing to find Patient Zero. We’re fixing to find God. We’re fixing to find the culture dish, the mice, the missing millions, the urns, and the grant network. I’m making my list...
“It’ll be the New Normal at the New Nuremberg Trials ... It’s Daszak first, then the Bat Lady, the doyenne, then the Wuhan body snatchers. Then the Snakeheads and organ thieves and graverobbing bureaucrats. It’ll be those whose actions spoke louder than words...”
Santa spoke softly through his clenched white teeth. Santa spoke without moving his lips. Santa will always be a ventriloquist.
“And there will be justice for the elves ... No more just saying ‘Candyman’ into a mirror...”
The air curdled and tossed droplets, bits of icy spray. The Caddy was getting moist. Its windows misty and slick. The air’s viscous composition further greasing.
But the Caddy was undeterred, kept cutting forward. The Caddy barreling, nose first, veering off the highway, roaring onto a bamboo path.
Santa brushed his hands over his bloodshot eyes, struggled to summon a smile.
“Crazy Train” then came on the Caddy’s speakers, and Santa cranked the stereo up louder than a jackhammer ... Randy Rhoads’ guitar riffs rattling the car...
Breaking through a flimsy cardboard barrier, the Caddy swerved into the mouth of a white-water lake. Santa squinted, tried to recognize a ridge in the surf, where dark, curving humps were rising to the water’s surface.
The Caddy’s engine screamed. The vehicle pushing further, digging deeper into the ivory depths.