Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Santa is Coming

A gift to you all for your support and readership! See the conclusion on Thursday!


“Ho, Ho, Hi!”

“Shut Up.”

Santa was ready. There wasn't much use for him after it all ended, when the world turned to ash. Without children there was no reason to go on. The elves parted ways, Mrs. Clause died of smoke inhalation, but Santa knew what must be done. A year ago that day he received a letter from Avery, nothing more than a hazy scrawl in charcoal across a piece of paper. He received the thought in the early morning, suddenly feeling the rage and sadness permeate his dream consciousness. He raised up in bed, gripping the cold iron gurney with sweaty hands and salt in his eyes. His scars burned that night, thirsting to seek vengeance for the wrongs that he could not make right. That night he vowed to change, to rise from the shadows one last time. For Avery, for the world. 

His armory was naughty, and his patience was gone. There was a time when the world was young, already ancient and eternal, when he would come down from the north to set things right. Those were darker times. Now there would be a new way of doing things. As the cigar burned down to the nub in his mouth he grabbed Prancer, his Benelli 12 gauge, waving it in the air like a sacred talisman. The crimson Kevlar vest no longer fit him, but it's snug feel around his belly felt reassuring and deadly.

When the volcanoes erupted, so did the bombs, and the world was laid waste to ashes. The reindeer died quickly, and after much grieving, Santa knew what had to be done.The dwarfs of Valinor owed him a favor and sent their crack team of technicians and artisans to his aid. The sled never flew again after Rudolf died. As Saint Nick held him in his arms, looking into the dopey eyes he wept, thumbing the Ruger in his holster. "Take the Shot," he thought. "It's the only way."

When Avery sent his note it was different. times had changed. Most of the zombified mobs had decayed into nothingness, giving the world back to the hands of nature and the animals. But they were still there, deep in the holds of the Earth. That was what Prancer was for. Turning behind him, Golfang was waiting for him. Time to turn on the sled.

"Ho, Ho, Hi"

"Shut up!"

The dwarf grinned and held up the keys, mischievously  as if it were a monkeys paw and something awful was going to happen.

"Bring it back in one piece," he said in a stern, cautionary tone. "Last time I had to change the fuel pump. Awful business that was."

"What do you think I pay you for?"

"You don't pay me a cent, even a gold bit or a jewel. No, you rip me off, all of us."

Santa, shook his head, frustrated and beside himself. He had no idea where to start. New York City burned in his mind. That was the place to look  first. He felt it in his gut. He brushed past Golfang and walked into the showroom. Varnished and immaculately displayed the first sled was tucked away in the corner. He didn't need air to ground missiles for that sled. Nor did he need riot gas, or turpentine, or even barbed sled treads. Pulling out the keys Santa walked past it, and unlocked the doors. He drove a charger now. the gas millage was awful, but he figured that he wasn't hurting anyone. Humanity was an endangered species now. Going out with a bang was the next best thing.

"Don't be gone too long," Golfang said lifting a pack into the back trunk, "this isn't a tank. In and out, flare, and you come back. Understand?"

Pulling the goggled over his face, Santa tossed the cigar out of the side window and threw his Ruger, Benelli, and M1 Garand onto the seat next to him. There was no time for talk. Avery was waiting.

"Don't wait up Golfang. Leave the cookies out for me. Christmas is coming to town."



To be Continued...

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