by Max Dune
I leave Jack in Zeb’s care to check on Yuriko, Bullets, and Fuego.
Their pulses are weak but they’re still alive. Fuego has some nasty burns on his face and arms. As for Yuriko and Bullets, I can’t fathom what injuries they must have sustained from Santa’s plasma blasts. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if they included concussions—they hit the ground pretty hard.
Jack and Zeb amble over to us. Jack crouches down to Yuriko. He is grave. “They need medical attention.”
“We have a doctor and some nurses.” I pause, frowning. “I’m unsure how eager they’ll be to help us though. Didn’t you say they were working with Santa?”
He takes Yuriko’s hand in his, and a deadly note enters his voice. “They will help...or they will die.”
The way he’s gazing down at her makes me wonder. Is there something going on between them? I push the thought away. It’s none of my business.
When I glance up Zeb, a sudden silvery light blocks my view of him. In a few moments, Wintress slowly appears again, all white and luminous.
Jack stands, leaning on Zeb, and bows his head. “Thank you for your help, Wintress.”
Her voice is velvet. “You are welcome, old friend.” She turns her head and sees the rest of our fallen teammates. Concern registers over her beautiful face. “One more gift before I go.” With that, Wintress reaches out a shinning hand towards him. Jack gasps as he starts glowing himself. A startled Zeb backs away, and I worry that Jack’s wobbly legs might give out, but they straighten instead. The gashes on his face disappear before us, and his bullet wounds close up.
After Wintress heals him, she moves her power to the others. It doesn’t take long for the three Rogues to stand, looking brand new. Fuego’s ugly burns are gone, his skin restored to its unblemished state. Yuriko and Bullets, for their part, seem stronger than ever. As they walk over to us, they exchange relieved smiles, and I know I needn’t worry about them any longer.
Wintress’s gaze shifts to me.
I bow respectfully but say nothing.
A smile touches her lips. Then her face tilts up, her eyes close, and she begins to teleport. The remaining bats quickly gather in the sky as the portal begins to close, heading to the white disk before it’s too late. One by one, they fly in, anxious to get back to their tropical home, I’m sure. The last of the bats offers a piercing shriek before disappearing from view.
I hear murmuring around us and realize we’re not alone. Worker elves have emerged from the dormitories. They converge on the square, sleepily looking on. Many of them wear only their pajamas under their coats. Everyone is relatively calm, considering the destruction all around, but that all changes when they spot Jack among us. In an instant, the crowd breaks into a chorus of gasps and frightened cries. Some elves even scurry away, hiding by trees or making their way back to their dorms.
I walk out to them and raise my hands. “It’s okay, everyone. Jack Frost doesn’t mean us any harm. Don’t be afraid.”
“Lucian?” one says, confused but also happy to see me.
“You’re alive!” another cries out.
I nod. “Yes, because Jack saved me.” I hesitate. “In fact, he saved all of us.”
More confused murmurs and whispers break through the dark night, but their panic is obviously weakening. They look about them, with no idea of what just happened or why the cafeteria is in ruins or why I am with the fierce-looking warriors. I know I have a lot of explaining to do, but before I can get to that, I catch sight of her. She is pushing through the crowd.
My Lily.
Her dazzling eyes lock on mine. Her mouth falls open, and she runs to me, stopping about an arm’s length away. She stares at me for a moment, uncertain and scared, as if I might be an illusion or a ghost. “Lucian?” she whispers.
“It’s me,” I say.
Then something in the air between us shatters. I step forward with my arms out, and she leaps into my embrace. She hugs me tightly, sobbing and shaking in my arms while I squeeze her against me, so happy I could burst.
“I-I thought you were gone,” she says. “They said you...” She stops short. She can’t bring herself to say the awful words.
I reach up and pull her face around to give her a kiss. When our lips part, her tears are still flowing, but she’s wearing the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
“They were all lies, Lily,” I say, trembling. “I’m here. I’m right here.” Remembering her condition, I ask, “How do you feel?”
Lily wipes her cheek. “Better, actually.”
“Really? How is that possible?” I can’t help but blurt, especially since I figured she’d be in hospital’s ICU by now.
I feel someone’s slap on my back and turn to find a grinning Zeb. “Oh, you can thank me for that,” he says proudly. “I kept her from drinking that poison.” He gives her a wink. “There was no diet, Lily.”
I smile at Zeb, unsure how I will ever be able to repay him. In spite of his eccentricities, Zeb can always be counted on.
I speak with emotion. “Thank you, Zeb.”
Zeb offers a thumbs-up.
More elves crowd around, taking in the torn guard uniforms strewn about the ground. They ask many questions about the dispatched guards, and Santa’s name comes up many times. One elf dashes away to get him before I can say anything. In spite of my earlier announcement, the presence of Jack Frost causes a fearful stir among the newly arriving elves.
Peter, the chopper I encountered during my first return, draws closer. He glares at Jack. “What’s he doing here?” he demands. “He bombed our village!”
How am I going to explain it to them? I don’t even know where to start, it’s such a complicated story. But I will need to say something to quell the rising hysteria. If he keeps this up, I’m certain a lynch mob will form. Already Jack looks like he wants to bolt skyward. “Jack Frost is not our enemy,” I say clearly and distinctly, wanting them to understand each word. “He never was. And if you give me a chance, I will tell you why.”
Zeb rubs his arms, teeth-chattering. “Can you tell them inside, though? It’s freezing out here!”
I look around and realize his point is valid. Many of the elves are in their thin bedclothes, and none of them are as heated from battle as I am; I’ve been far too busy to notice the dropping temperature. I need them to concentrate on what I have to tell them, so we hurriedly usher everyone into the auditorium. It’s the only building large enough to accommodate the entire village, now that the cafeteria is out of commission. Before I begin, I request that someone retrieve the surveillance tapes and bring them to me.
Jack and the rogues quickly arrest Dr. Billings, the nurses, and the scientists who were on Santa’s payroll. The handcuffed conspirators protest and fight as they’re brought onto the stage. They’re all sweating, nervous—and with good reason.
Dr. Billings is the exception.
The good doctor expresses angry indignation and jerks away from the group to point an accusing finger at us. “My lawyers will have me out by tomorrow! You’ll see!”
Bullets stomps over, picks the doctor up by the neck, and violently throws him back to where he was. He lands in a painful heap, whimpering. “Please remain in your assigned area,” Bullets says in a very reasonable voice.
I don’t expect any further outbursts after that, so I walk up to the podium. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. This tale is so twisted. I’m unsure if they’re ready for it. Then I decide that it makes no difference. It must be told. I sigh heavily and begin to share everything, with my heart hammering in my chest.
At first, I trip over the words, knowing thousands of ears are holding on to everything I say. Fortunately, my nerves settle and I recount all the events that led to tonight. I tell them about my first expedition, Jack’s intervention with the wolves, the soul-crushing discovery at the laboratory, my near-fatal cliff dive, the weeks of training, and the conclusion to our attack.
Once I finish, some protest their doubts.
>
But I anticipated this and play the surveillance tapes—they need to hear what Santa said to Zeb and I on that day. I can tell some elves are struggling to digest my testimony. They would like to pretend that none of this is real, bury their heads in the sand, but Santa’s taped confession will not let them. They must accept the terrible truth. By the end of it, I can see the lingering doubt in their minds wash away. The video makes believers out of them.
It pains me to have to show them though. Like me, these elves devoted years of their life to this place. They had admired Santa, believed in him, believed in his dream, but it turned out to be just that—a dream. And it is time for all of us to wake up. Santa wasn’t a hero. He was a false idol.
Pepper stands from the silent crowd, looking teary-eyed and desolate. “What happens now? Do we all just...go home? Do we just forget about Christmas?” She wipes at the tears spilling down her face. “Forget about the kids?”
I consider her question for several moments. It might be the most logical choice. Go back to our lives. Try to put this nightmare behind us. Leave this place forever. Yet my heart tells me otherwise. “No,” I finally respond, firm and assured. “We keep going. We rebuild what Santa almost destroyed without us knowing.” My gaze sweeps across the giant room. I speak with more confidence, hope. “We restore Christmas to what it used to be—a time of laughter and wishes, presents and family. We make our village great again, forgetting the past and embracing the future. And we do this...together.”
As cheers erupt from the crowd, I step away from the podium and take Lily’s hand. I am not naïve. I realize my impassioned words will not persuade everybody to stay. Some elves will leave, wanting to forget the tragedies and betrayal and deceit they experienced here. And that is fine. They’re entitled to do that. But I am staying. I will work with the elves who do want to start afresh, with a genuine dream of bringing joy to children around the world. Together, we’ll hold on to what Santa couldn’t. We’ll keep hope in our hearts, and our love won’t grow cold. No matter what Santa’s software program says.
The next few hours are a flurry of activity. Knowing there’s no way we’ll be sleeping, we opt for a meeting instead. The first order of business is to choose a new leader.
After what we’ve been through, everyone hesitates to bestow all power to one person, so a council is formed. In the end, democracy wins. To my great surprise, I am chosen as one of the twelve members. The vote is unanimous, and I accept the position, deeply humbled by the nomination. We discuss future plans for the village. There’s nothing we can do this year about the toys, as the drones have already made their rounds, but next year is a different story.
That very thought fills me with excitement.
At last, we finish the proceedings and the time for my teammates’ departure arrives. Zeb goes with me to say goodbye. We all gather outside, near the Christmas tree, which has remarkably survived the battle. Its piney smell glides in the air. A favorite scent of mine. Above us, darkness is surrendering to the light. Golden rays filter down and bring warmth to a new day.
My thoughts shift momentarily, and the faces of our fallen friends flash through my mind. The trainees. Chance. How I wish they could be here. We’re going to need to build some kind of monument for them. Their sacrifice needs to be remembered.
Jack stops walking and faces us. “Guess I better take off.”
I don’t want him to leave. With Santa gone, the whole village is short of a leader like him.
“Or you could stay,” I tell him, raising my eyebrows. “Remember that job I mentioned earlier?”
His head shakes, brushing the idea away. “This village doesn’t need me.” The pride in his voice can’t be disguised. “They already have you.”
I lower my gaze, unsure of what to say, humbled once again.
From beside me, Zeb clears his throat. “And me,” he adds, with much less humility. “Let’s not forget my significant contributions here, folks.” He’s almost giddy.
The whole group chuckles. Even Jack has to smile.
“And...Zeb,” Jack concedes. He turns to the Rogues. “Thank you for fighting alongside me. I won’t soon forget it.” He speaks with real meaning, and I know the others feel it too.
They nod at him, their expressions soft. I don’t miss the way his glacier eyes flick to Yuriko and settle there for moment.
Jack seems to have one more thing to say, yet it gets lost in his throat, and the words never come. Instead, he offers Yuriko the briefest of smiles as he slowly rises. Then he shoots up to the heavens, disappearing in the wink of an eye.
Zeb looks up, with his hand raised to protect his eyes from the bright sun. “You know what? That guy’s not as scary as I expected him to be,” he observes, still in awe of Jack’s liftoff. “You think we’ll ever see him again?”
I smile thoughtfully. “I have a feeling we will.”
We stand there awhile, all five of us, staring at the spot where Jack disappeared. The sun continues to rise. It fills the sky with mighty colors of red and splashes the clouds with endless rays of pink. The dawn is breathtaking. It comes with new possibilities. There are fresh pages yet to be written, and it’s time to pick up the pen. “Come on,” I say, turning to walk back. “We have work to do.”
Epilogue
Slim footsteps in the snow lead up to a cliffside looking down on Santa’s Village. From this vantage point, a red caped figure steps out. She gazes at the activity below. The elves say their goodbyes to Jack Frost and he soars away. She examines the damage caused during their battle and sees that it isn’t much. Good. Production will be able to continue. Working together, the elves should have everything back up and running in a month’s time.
Long enough for her to prepare.
The blonde smiles in the biting wind. The crowfeet on her cheeks suggest age, but her face has a vibrancy to it. Within her is energy and great power. And her briefly bared teeth add a certain wickedness and predatory edge to her features.
Behind her, she can hear two of her skrillers converse in their clicking tongue. One hops and slithers back down to the tree line, while the other tentatively makes its way up to her. It joins the woman and stares at the village with its large, black eyes. “If they only knew what’s coming,” the skriller says, rubbing its scaly green hands together.
Her smile broadens. “Soon enough, pet. Soon enough.” The cruel cackle she lets out gives even the skriller goosebumps. The reptilian creature fidgets at its sound. She opens a portal with her hand, and they both step in, leaving only their footsteps in the snow and the echoes of her laughter in the valley below.
About The Author
Max Dune is a Southern writer who spent most his childhood watching TV, devouring comic books and weaving magical worlds in his head. In his mid-twenties, he decided to follow his true passion. He has since created a number of short stories, novels, screenplays and TV pilots. To be alerted to future books and giveaways, sign up for his newsletter HERE.
www.maxdune.com
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