Free If All Else Fails by Craig Strete

something the old man would always regret.
    But the deer, the
young boy, these were things he would never regret.
     
    Dr. Amber was
hostile. "Damn it! Now look—I can't sign the commitment papers if I've never seen
him."
    Sheila tried to
smile pleasantly. "He'll show up. His hotel room is just across the street. Frank will find him.
Don't worry."
    "I have other
patients! I can't be held up by some dodder­ing old man," snapped Dr. Amber.
    "Just a few more
minutes," Sheila pleaded.
    "You'll have to pay
for two visits. I can't run this place for free. Every minute I'm not working, I'm losing
money."
    "We'll pay," said
Sheila grimly. "We'll pay."
     
    The world was big
and the deer had to take her beauty through the world. She had been beautiful in one place for
one boy on one morning of this world. It was time to be someplace else. The deer turned and fled
into the woods, pushing her beauty before her into the world.
    The young boy
jumped to his feet. His heart racing, his feet pounding, he ran after her with the abandon of
youth that is caring. He chased beauty
through the world and disappeared from the old man's sight in the depths of the
forest.
    And the old man
began dreaming that-
     
    Frank Strong Bull's
hand closed on his shoulder and his son shook him, none too gently.
    The old man looked
into the face of his son and did not like what he saw. He allowed himself to be led to the
doc­tor's office.
    "Finally," said
Sheila. "Where the hell was he?"
    Dr. Amber came into
the room with a phony smile. "Ah! The elusive one appears! And how are we today?"
    "We are fine," said
the old man, bitterly. He pushed the outstretched stethoscope away from his chest.
    "Feisty, isn't he?"
observed Dr. Amber.
    "Let's just get
this over with," said Sheila. "It's been drawn out long enough as it is."
    "Not sick," said
the old man. "You leave me alone." He made two fists and backed away from the doctor.
    "How old is he?"
asked Dr. Amber, looking at the old man's wrinkled face and white hair.
    "Past eighty, at
least," said his son. "The records aren't available and he can't remember himself."
    "Over eighty, you
say. Well, that's reason enough then," said Dr. Amber. "Let me give him a cursory examination,
just a formality, and then I'll sign the papers."
    The old man
unclenched his fists. He looked at his son. His eyes burned. He felt neither betrayed nor
wronged. He felt only sorrow. He allowed one tear, only one tear, to fall. It was for his son who
could not meet his eyes.
    And for the first
time since his son had married her, his eyes fell upon his son's wife's eyes. She seemed to
shrivel under his gaze, but she met his gaze and he read the dark things in her eyes.
    They were
insignificant, not truly a part of his life. He had seen the things of importance. He had watched
the boy. The boy had watched the deer. And the deer had been watched by all and the Great Being
above.
    The old man backed
away from them until his back was against a wall. He put his hand to his chest and smiled. He was
dead before his body hit the floor.
     
    "A massive
coronary," said Dr. Amber to the ambulance attendant. "I just signed the death
certificate."
    "They the
relatives?" asked the attendant, jerking a thumb at the couple sitting silently in chairs by the
wall.
    Dr. Amber
nodded.
    The attendant
approached them.
    "It's better this
way," said Sheila. "An old man like that, no reason to live, no—"
    "Where you want I
should take the body?" asked the at­tendant.
    "Vale's Funeral
Home," said Sheila.
    Frank Strong Bull
stared straight ahead. He heard noth­ing. His eyes were empty of things, light and
dark.
    "Where is it?"
asked the attendant.
    "Where is what?"
asked Dr. Amber.
    "The body? Where's
the body?"
    "It's in the next
room. On the table," said Dr. Amber, coming around his desk. He took the attendant's arm and led
him away from the couple.
    "I'll help you put
it on the stretcher."
     
    The old man