by Max Dune
I take them in my gloved hands, nodding solemnly.
Jack turns around and offers his back to Tiktok, who appears to be having second thoughts about this particular part of the mission. Yet the blond elf brushes away his fear and climbs onto Jack’s back, tight-lipped and tense.
“Don’t drop me,” he warns Jack.
“Don’t vomit on me,” Jack warns him.
Then Jack launches straight up toward the sky, disappearing into the inky blackness.
I immediately crawl up the snow bank and train the binoculars on the village, nervous about what might happen next. No matter how much planning and training we’ve done, I know Santa is a dangerous adversary. Underestimating him would be a mistake.
* * *
Tiktok barely keeps his iron grip on Jack’s shoulders as they soar upward. He doesn’t doubt that Jack enjoys this type of thing, scaring the daylights out of elves who are not blessed with the gift of flight. They must be two hundred feet up before Jack stops his vertical climb and begins moving horizontally across the sky. When they are right over the village, he stops. He peers down, locates the correct building, then realigns their positions so that they nail the landing.
“Ever been skydiving before?” Jack asks.
“Can’t say I have,” the elf replies, adjusting his glasses right before they slide off the tip of his nose.
Jack chuckles throatily. “Then you’re in for a treat.”
“But we can’t just—”
Before Tiktok can finish his complaint, Jack withdraws his power, and they drop. Tiktok gasps. To the young elf, it feels like he left his stomach back up in the sky. The ground flies toward them. Faster and faster. Tiktok calculates that they are at terminal velocity, the highest speed attainable while falling. Tiktok is certain he’s going to die. All he can do is stare at the snow-covered building hurling toward him.
Just as Tiktok is about to bid his life farewell, however, Jack slows abruptly. It feels like he’s crashing into a brick wall in slow motion, and he utters a painful grunt from the deceleration. He’s unused to such gravity-defying aerial maneuvers. For a moment, as the world around him swims, his grip on Jack loosens. But he manages to hang on. He shakes the dizziness away, then looks down. They are hovering a foot over the cafeteria’s roof. On the ground, the guards continue chatting, oblivious to their presence.
Jack sighs in relief. They’re in the clear.
Tiktok climbs down to the icy roof, grateful to be alive but unsure if he’ll be able to walk over—the roof is angled enough that if he’s not careful, he could slide right off and land next to the two guards posted outside the facility. After a moment of calculation, Tiktok ambles down to his hands and knees, then moves toward the edge. Jack smiles at his teammate’s improvisation. When in doubt, crawl it out, he muses.
* * *
“They made it!” I call over my shoulder to the team. Everyone visibly relaxes a bit. “Whew! For a second there, it looked like they were going splatter into the roof.”
“Tsk-tsk, Jack,” Yuriko says. “He can’t resist showing off.”
“Never mind that. What about the guards?” Bullets asks me.
I use the binoculars to inspect the entrance. The guards stand in the same undisturbed manner as before. “They don’t seem to notice anything,” I reply. I shift back to the thin figure edging along the roof. “Tiktok’s on the move. He’s about to set the first one.”
Tiktok crawls to one corner of the building, stops there for a moment, draws a bomb from his pack, then continues along. Every twenty feet or so, he places another on the roof edge. He makes quick work of it.
“Three bombs in,” I announce. “Seventeen more to go.” I sweep my binoculars over the rest of the area. The top of our giant Christmas tree twinkles over the buildings. A group of guards walks by the laboratory, rubbing their hands together for warmth, as a gust of wind sends snow across their legs.
All is calm. All is quiet.
Yet I can’t shake the feeling that something is amiss.
Returning to Tiktok, I’m thrilled to see he’s almost completed the first circuit and is already making his way to the opposite corner of the building. He takes out another bomb, but before he lowers it to the ground, he stops and stands.
What the hell is he doing? He needs to stay down. If a passing guard happens to look skyward, his cover will be blown. “Get down, you idiot!” I whisper as I stare through the binoculars.
“What’s happening?” Bullets asks quickly. “What do you see?”
“I-I’m not sure. Just hang on.” I twist the binoculars to maximum magnification, zeroing in on Tiktok’s face. He seems to be staring at me, but I’m sure he can’t see me from that far away. He starts to mouth something. It looks like...“I’m sorry.” Then, his right hand moves up to his face. He makes a fist and rubs his thumb and index finger together. Money? Is he trying to tell me something about money? Before I can work out the riddle, though, he instantly disappears.
In a panic, I sweep the binoculars over the rooftop. “What the...?” I twist frantically, trying to focus on a wider view. As I do, a sudden stream of dread flows through me. This isn’t part of the plan. Something went wrong. Did they spot him? Was he forced to abort the mission? Is he fleeing back to us?
What I see next stuns me senseless.
Tiktok comes into view, standing right next to the two guards on the ground. The peculiar thing is that they don’t move to arrest him or fight him in any way. In fact, they appear almost chummy. It all becomes horrifyingly clear when Tiktok exchanges a few words with them and the guards raise their guns and start firing in Jack’s direction.
My heart sinks. I understand what happened.
The boy with the bombs betrayed us.
That’s when alarms start screaming all over the village. There goes our element of surprise.
Behind me, Bullets calls out. “Did they spot them?”
I am unable to answer him. My mouth has gone dry as sawdust. Try as I do, not one word will squeeze its way out of my agape lips.
Bullets grabs me and whirls me around, studying my stricken expression. “What happened, Lucian?” he demands angrily. Before I can answer, I hear beeping. The sound is coming from all around. More specifically, from us. The bomb Tiktok gave me—it has been activated. I feel it vibrating in my coat’s front pocket. From the puzzled faces of the other trainees, I can tell theirs have been too. My voice returns. “Get rid of your bombs! They’re going to blow!”
Ignoring the bewildered looks thrown my way, I take off my gloves, dig the bomb out of my pocket, and throw it behind me as hard as I can. Then I’m running in the opposite direction, faster than I’ve ever run before in my life. Even amidst my heart-jolting adrenaline, I’m aware of several heavy footfalls behind. I whirl and take quick peek. Only the rogues are with me. Chance and the others have stayed put, either not fully comprehending what I said or struggling to dislodge their bombs.
Either way, I fear they’re doomed.
The bombs explode in brilliant flash. Multiple peals of thunder fill the air. My body is lifted off the ground by the powerful shockwave. For a few moments, it is as if I can fly. And then everything goes black as I crash into the ground.
Chapter Twenty–Five
I awake to find myself being dragged by someone over the slippery snow. Have the guards captured me? Am I about to be killed? Or, worse, tortured? Opening my eyes, I see Bullets’s muscled arm pulling me along. Of course, it’s him. Who else could be capable of such a feat of strength? I make a groaning sound.
“Wait! He’s awake,” Yuriko calls out.
Bullets stops moving. I look up to find Jack and the Rogues standing around me. Even though I should probably stay down a bit longer, I prop myself up into a sitting position, rubbing my throbbing temples. The explosion felt like it went through my brain and fried every neuron. Everything is muddled. Fuzzy. Disorienting. As the ringing in my ears subsides to a whine, I hear Fuego’s concerned voice. “You doing okay, buddy?�
�� he asks me.
“I think so,” I moan, all raspy.
Bullets growls at Jack. “Can someone explain what happened back there?”
“It was a trap,” Jack explains. “Tiktok sold us out.”
I notice a large patch of red above Jack’s knee. He has been shot. This time, it’s no act.
“I'm gonna pump that little bastard full of lead,” Bullets promises through a vicious snarl.
Yuriko unsheathes her steel blade. “Not if I cut off his head off first.”
Amidst my haze, I remember the others. The explosions. Had the trainees made it? Had Chance? “Where’s everybody else?” I ask.
They all look at each other uncomfortably.
A rip appears in my heart. No, no, no! I refuse to believe it. I turn toward the blast site, searching for my friends, praying for a miracle. Yet I see that the area has been completely decimated. The white ground is now charred black, and the trees crackle as red flames engulf them. It looks like a war zone. There is no way anyone could have survived that. Even though their silence confirms my worst fears, I have to ask, “They didn't make it, did they?” I swallow hard waiting for the answer I don’t want to hear.
Jack’s mouth sets into a grim line. “No. It’s just us now.”
I close my eyes for a moment, mourning my friends. They were all so brave. Yet in the end, they died before they even had a chance to fight.
“What’s the plan now?” Fuego asks.
What new plan could there possibly be? We are clearly outnumbered, and thanks to Tiktok, we have been outmaneuvered. There isn’t much hope of winning at this point in the game.
Jack must realize this, for he hesitates in answering. “We have two choices. We can retreat...or we can fight,” Jack says. “The chances of surviving are slim either way.”
We all take in his words, pondering our current dilemma. I already know what I want. I force myself to my feet and pull out my crossbow. Dizzied as I am, I meet Jack’s eye and firmly say, “Let’s do this.”
Jack studies the others. “Anyone else?”
Yuriko takes a step forward, then sinks the tip of her katana into the hard ground. Her voice is smooth, fearless. “Just lead the way.”
I knew she wouldn’t abandon us. It’s not in her nature to run from a fight. And what about Fuego? What will the flame-wielding pyromaniac do? He has a family waiting for him back in Mexico. If he chooses to retreat, I wouldn’t hold it against him. Yet I see his lips curl into a ferocious smile, and my heart thumps gratefully at the fact.
He rests a scarred hand over his flamethrower. “I want to watch them burn.”
Bullets, for his part, has a hungry look on his face. He is itching for battle. For revenge. “I don’t mind dying, as long as I die well.” His eyes pulse with rage. Woe to the guards who meet the destructive power of his weaponized arm.
“Good,” Jack says, smiling proudly at his warriors. “I have a new plan.”
He outlines the plan. We listen to every word, offer some suggestions, and get to work. Whatever happens, we will have to act fast. We know the guards are on their way, and it won’t be difficult for them to find us given the nearby bonfire.
This time, it is Fuego who climbs on Jack’s back, carrying his flamethrower. As they burst into the sky, Yuriko, Bullets, and I dash toward the village, knowing we have to get as close to the cafeteria as possible. We stop at the edge of the forest. We’re 100 yards from the target. Close enough for Bullets to fire at them with relative precision but still distant enough that the trees will afford us cover.
As we watch through the branches, dozens of heavily armed guards stream out of the building, then assume a solid stance, as if awaiting Santa’s orders. They don’t appear drunk at all. It must have been part of the charade—and we fell for it. My fury heightens. I look over at Bullets. His teeth are bared, like a tiger about to strike. He takes aim with his machine gun. “Let’s dance, boys.”
He fires away. It’s a slaughter.
The guards’ Kevlar body armor is no match for his hollow point barrage. The air is filled with shrill screams and utter chaos. Death comes to many, their bodies exploding into green particles of light. The survivors desperately seek shelter from the barrage of bullets.
But we have other surprises in store.
The moment Bullets stops firing, Jack swoops down with Fuego on his back. Both warriors rain death down. Fuego unleashes a hellish fire, setting many ablaze. The screaming guards run around flailing, screaming, trying to extinguish the flames licking their bodies. In their agony, they forget to stop, drop and roll. But I have no pity for any of them.
Some guards get caught in the stream of ice shooting from Jack’s outstretched hands. I watch with relish as they freeze solid, leaving their immobilized bodies glistening, white statues.
The fire-and-ice duo doesn’t catch everyone though. A handful of unharmed guards crouch down and shoot up at them. Suddenly Jack’s flight pattern turns erratic, and he nearly flies right into the Christmas tree in the center square before vectoring away at the last moment.
Acid churns in my stomach. “I think Jack was hit,” I say.
Bullets swears under his breath.
Yuriko watches as the duo spirals higher and higher, out of range from the firing guards below. “They’re still airborne, though.”
“For now, anyway,” I say.
Bullets has reloaded during the flying duo’s attack, and he takes aim again at the guards. But they have smartened up and retreated into the safety of the cafeteria. Bullets stops, hissing. “No use wasting ammo.”
* * *
As they float over the world, Fuego can’t help but look up and marvel at the majesty before him. Around the silvery orb, millions of stars burn brightly. The whole thing is so surreal. It makes him want to reach up, put the twinkling lights in a jar, and carry them home. When he looks down, he sees the moonlight splashing its water white-silver glow onto the village.
From up there, everything looks so peaceful.
It’s a different world, free of the carnage below.
Am I really doing this? Fuego thinks. Am I really flying?
It has always been Fuego’s biggest fear. In fact, he had avoided boarding a plane his entire life. His boxing manager had loathed that. It made the logistics of his overseas competitions a nightmare. Traveling by ship had been the only option. If only that old man could see Fuego now, hovering over this beautiful, dark world. He probably still wouldn’t believe it.
Jack’s sudden grunt jolts Fuego back to reality. His teammate’s moon-bleached features are twisted with pain. Fuego knows it’s a miracle that he’s still able to hold them up there.
“How bad is it?” he asks Jack.
Jack acts aloof. “Oh, you know, I could use a band-aid.” But then a shudder runs through him and they plunge for several seconds before Jack recovers.
Fuego scoffs at him. “You sure about that?”
“Well, maybe a few stitches too,” Jack admits.
Fuego worries. “Where were you hit?”
“My ribs. It just grazed me though,” he answers, trying to sound strong. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Fuego. Really.”
The pyro doesn’t quite believe him. “Look, if you’re going to die, could you do me a favor and land first?”
The next painful grunt Jack makes almost sounds like a laugh.
* * *
Even though it’s only been a couple of minutes, it feels much longer. My nerves continue increasing with each breath. We have yet to see anyone leave the cafeteria. I suppose even a psychopath like Santa wouldn’t intentionally send his security force just to be slaughtered. My jaw tightens. If he had shown such concern for the worker elves, perhaps we wouldn’t be here. Fighting to the death.
“We need to get those guards out,” I say. “Jack can’t stay up there forever. Especially with God knows how many bullet wounds.”
“I know,” Bullets grinds out. “We could try some sort of distraction.�
��
“Such as?” I ask.
He thinks for a long moment, then sighs exasperatedly at the lack of ideas. It is not a scenario we considered, taking on Santa’s army with just three of us. Otherwise we would have formulated a contingency to help us get through this.
Yuriko clears her throat. Up until now, she has been quiet. “I’ll get them out.”
I turn to her, my eyes wide. “What? How?”
“Just cover me till I reach the building,” she says.
A sudden wave of anxiety rises in my stomach. One against all of them? Despite her formidable speed and strength, I can’t imagine her fighting the entire army that remains. It’s a suicide mission. Especially now that Jack and Fuego seem to be out of commission. “Yuriko—” I start, hoping to change her stubborn mind.
She holds her chin up. “I can make it.”
And looking into her fierce, black eyes, I believe her. I really do.
Bullets believes her too. He nods slowly at her, that hungry expression reappearing on his face. That bloodlust. “Go get them.”
* * *
Yuriko braces herself, shifting her mind and body into the state of attack. Deep breath. Tight fists. Exhale. Then she’s off. She runs straight toward the cafeteria, focusing on the exterior wall’s details. The windows, contours, and cracks—things her feet and hands will be using shortly. Behind her, Bullets’ weapon roars to life. His rounds shatter the front door to pieces, ensuring the guards stay inside until the time is right. Not once does Yuriko flinch amidst the gunfire.
She knows the shooter’s aim is true.
Despite the covering fire, a couple of guards risk exposure and shoot at her, to no avail. In hyper speed, she almost anticipates their actions, dodging right and left and leaping before she takes off in a blur of a run again. She is the wind—and bullets cannot stop wind.
When she reaches the building, she leaps up and scales the outside wall with incredible ease, her fingers and toes grasping slats in the cement, her muscles propelling her upward. To anyone watching, Yuriko appears to be a master of parkour. She lands on the roof and runs for the skylights. Reaching into her backpack, she pulls out two small canisters. Unbeknownst to her team, she’d brought tear gas. An unusual but effective weapon that had saved Yuriko’s life on more than one occasion. She smashes the glass with her foot, then drops the hissing canisters into the cafeteria.