Claus: The Trilogy

by Tony Bertauski

  A cruel smile touched his lips.

  “So here’s the deal.”

  Jack continued pacing.

  “My brother and I know how to track you. From now on, we’ll know exactly where you are, forever and ever. No matter what you do, we’ll know it. Pick your nose?”

  He pointed into the crowd.

  “We’ll know it. Lie to your wife, that too. Sneeze, fart, burp, I don’t care… we will know when and where and why. So trust me when I say this, stop the running. It’s all over. We’ll be on your heels every day for the rest of your fat little lives and you’ll never rest again, simple as that. Never, ever. We’ll herd you like animals, run you until you collapse. And then, like good predators, we’ll eat your hearts. How’s that sound?”

  He walked the perimeter of the stage while it slowly turned, and wiped the frost from his scalp.

  “If you stop running, we stop hunting. And then, THEN, you get to come home. Think about it,” he whispered. “Hooooooome.”

  He pumped his hands at the crowd.

  “Everyone, say it with me. Home. Home. Home.”

  The crowd fidgeted.

  “Home. Home. Home. Come on, don’t be shy!”

  Jack trotted the stage, pumping his fist.

  “Where’s your spirit? Home!”

  Elven began to squirm.

  “You know you want it! Home!”

  Jack sprinted.

  “Home!”

  Leaped.

  “Home!”

  Stood in front of Jocah, raised his hands to the ceiling, threw his head back.

  “HOOOOME!”

  And when his voice trailed off, when the echo faded, there was a distinct murmur beneath the silence. There were words that escaped the lips of a few.

  Jack heard them and smiled.

  He heard them whisper.

  Home.

  Jocah remained calm, hands folded on her lap.

  He winked, simultaneously clicking his tongue.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in.” Jack turned to the crowd. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to live the rest of their lives running, right? You got more balls than me, I got to hand it to you. I like going to bed every night in a nice comfy bed, feeling safe and sound. I like to wake up with breakfast, maybe a cup of joe, and nowhere to go unless I want to.”

  He shook his head.

  “But if some of you want to call a place home again, if you want to return where you’re loved and wanted…”

  He reached out to Jocah.

  “Just take my hand. It’s that easy. It really is.”

  Jocah did not blink.

  “Here’s the bad news.”

  Jack wiped his face. The smile was gone.

  “If you want to play Follow the Leader” – he gestured to Jocah – “then great, follow the old white-hair. I won’t make you surrender. Not all of you. I have a list of names that I want to meet my scouts at specific coordinates at a specific time. That will be in two days. If they do not report, there will be consequences. Trust me when I say that. CONSEQUENCES. And another thing.”

  He strolled behind Jocah and placed his hands on the back of her chair.

  “I miss my mommy.”

  Several elven stood. They shouted. They protested.

  “Shut up, will ya?” Jack waved at them. “I’m not done, you bunch of hoodlums. Let me finish and then have your little pity party. Cripes, you act like it’s all about you.”

  Jocah’s assistant raised his hands. Restless silence returned.

  “Yeah, so I want your fearless leader, too. She’s my mother and you’ve had her for one hundred fifty years, so stop your whining.”

  He peeked around the chair and spoke into her ear.

  “If I don’t see you in two days, I’ll hunt down this rebel colony and feed them to the polar bears. How does that grab you?”

  His complexion was as dark as his words. The room cooled several degrees.

  “There you have it. Come home, everyone’s happy. Don’t, everyone’s bear food. I don’t know about you, but that’s an easy decision.”

  The coating of frost became so thick that his face turned white. He faced the crowd.

  Flecks of ice fluttered off his lips.

  “Let the healing begin!”

  Gone.

  The assistants shouted, but their words were gobbled up in the chaos. Some were shouting to fight! Some were clinging to each other, and others were wringing their hands.

  Jack stone-cold nailed it.

  Merry and Nog whispered to each other. Tinsel left.

  Jessica never felt so alone.

  “Silence.”

  It was not shouted.

  The word was effortless. It vibrated inside Jessica’s head like Jocah simply spoke it directly into her mind.

  Silence fell. All heads turned.

  Everyone felt it.

  Jocah stood without assistance. When one of her assistants reached out, she gently patted his hand. He stepped away.

  Jessica could feel her own pulse in her throat.

  “If anyone wishes to return home,” she said, softly, firmly, “you may. You will not be judged. This life is not easy and I only ask that you stay of your own choice.”

  A few elven protested, but they soon became quiet.

  The stage turned.

  “We will not surrender.”

  And, just like that, Jack’s message was wiped out of existence.

  The room was filled with shouts. There were hands in the air. Hats and items of clothing flew in celebration. Jocah was unmoved. She stood still while the stage turned, so they could all see her. She embodied courage and certainty. She was committed to what life demanded.

  We will not surrender.

  C L A U S

  30.

  Change.

  Jocah’s courage kept the elven from panicking. It didn’t save them.

  There was less chatter in the hub. Even less laughter. They had a job to do.

  They were doing it.

  Jessica didn’t know if they were leaving or digging in to fight. She knew one thing. Jack looked right at her. He released those pigs and stared right at her.

  I am a problem.

  She couldn’t worry about that. Not yet.

  Jon’s color hadn’t improved.

  He was still unconscious. Tinsel never left his side, her little hand on his forehead.

  She didn’t notice Jessica enter the room, focused on Jon like she could heal him with her thoughts. Get better, Jon. Get better. Get better.

  It wasn’t working.

  The doctor entered the room.

  She wore a long white coat that dragged on the floor. Her wiry hair was tied back, her cheeks puffy with wrinkles. She stopped near Jon’s head and placed a small disc on his chest. Lights danced above it.

  “Come in, Jessica,” the doctor said. “It’s time we had a chat.”

  Jessica struggled to move past the foot of the bed. Somehow, if she felt how cold her son had become, she would lose it. He was living. He couldn’t die. As long as his chest rose and fell, everything would be all right. Everything okay.

  She always thought she’d be better prepared for this moment. They’d decided to explore the Arctic as a family, knowing the chances of one of them dying weren’t half bad. They knew the risks. They accepted them. For some reason, Jessica always assumed she would die first. It would’ve been easier that way.

  “Is he… going to die?” Jessica said.

  “Not if I can help it.” The doctor slipped the disc back into her lab coat. “His organs are functioning at minimum capacity. If he wasn’t in this lab, he wouldn’t be alive. I’ll be honest, his chances are slim.”

  “Is there anything…?”

  “We have options.” The doctor sighed. “Well, I should say an option. I’m afraid that everything we can do would require long-term care. Long term is not something we have anymore, not since the message.”

  She cleared her throat.

  “We
’re going to be on the move every day. I’m afraid that will be too much for most of our treatments.”

  “You said there was an option.” Jessica touched Jon’s foot. Even beneath the covers, so cold. “What is it?”

  “His body hasn’t been responding to treatments. I suppose it’s because he’s younger, his body fighting the changes. It’s why he was injured so badly when the sleigh launched, flash-freezing him.”

  “But you can fix that?”

  Another sigh. The doctor sank her hands into her pockets and stared.

  “Doctor?” Jessica stepped closer. “You can fix it?”

  “We’ll have to be more aggressive. There’s a chance…” She looked at Jessica. “There’s a chance it won’t work. And if it does, he may not recognize you.”

  Jessica stopped and touched her face. There was a sudden chill, like she’d missed the bottom step and started falling.

  “But he’ll live.”

  The doctor nodded. “I wish I had better news, but I’m afraid we’re doing all we can.”

  Jon was so still. His skin so pale. Lips so lifeless.

  He won’t know her. He would forget her, is that what the doctor is saying?

  She would lose her son.

  But he would live.

  He would live. And that’s what mattered.

  That’s all she wanted.

  “Jessica?”

  How long had she been there, nodding like a mental patient? Merry and Nog were behind Tinsel, who was looking at her with concern. The doctor was, too.

  “Do it, please,” Jessica whispered. “Let my son live.”

  The doctor muttered something. Her aides entered the room and began connecting wires, attaching patches to his arms and face and legs. They took his shirt off. His chest was so emaciated, she could count the ribs.

  She forced herself to look at him, to remember her son at this moment. What he looked like. It made her decision easier.

  Now for the next difficult decision.

  “Merry. Nog.” Jessica began to exit. “A word, please.”

  C L A U S

  31.

  Jack licked his lips.

  He tasted the residue of victory. And it tasted so gooooooood.

  One hundred fifty years.

  That’s how long he’d waited to deliver that message.

  He’d stood in front of the mirror at least a hundred times, practicing his speech. He imagined the stupid look on his mother’s face, the looks of horror on the rest of those traitorous vermin.

  The real thing, though, was delicious.

  It melted on his tongue like an after-dinner mint. It buzzed inside his brain, made him woozy with delight.

  His mother was so old.

  She was ancient, sure, but she looked like a reptile with a white braid. There was a slight twist in his delicious buzz – a rotten thud in the pit of his stomach, like the bad side of a peach – when he thought of her all old and decrepit. She would die with those scum, those common folk.

  Like she was one of them.

  Sad.

  Disgusting.

  No wonder he was king.

  He wanted the scientists.

  That was it. Not the rest of those dorks. Those dirty rebels would go for a swim. They’d get dropped fourteen thousand feet to the bottom of the Arctic Ocean.

  They’d get clean down there.

  And once he had the scientists (he hated to admit it, but he needed those brainiacs), there would be no reason to keep Claus. He was slow and Jack always wanted to be rid of him for about ten billion reasons. He only needed one reason, though, and only one reason came to mind.

  I hate him.

  And, really, what other reason did he need?

  Claus was a fat loser. End o’ story.

  Jack would go with the guards to meet the scientists. He anticipated the taste of victory back on his tongue when they arrived, heads down and tails tucked. Oh, it would taste sweeter than sweet.

  Drool fell off his lip.

  He slurped it back.

  Yeah, he would meet them. They knew he was telling the truth about their secrecy. It was over. Thank you, warmbloods.

  How I hate them, but maybe not as much.

  The day was near.

  The rebels had not moved.

  And… AND… they were only sensing one of the warmbloods instead of two, which could only mean one thing – one delicious, mouth-watering thing.

  One of them was dead.

  No monkey-mind meant no monkey.

  Oh, well.

  It was bittersweet, though. If the other kicked the bucket, they wouldn’t be able to track them. Time was running out. They would have to surrender. I mean, the only way they could avoid Jack was to abandon the other one.

  Or kill.

  And they wouldn’t do that.

  Old mother didn’t have it in her to do that. That was why she left.

  Three of his guards entered.

  Jack held out his arms. They removed his coat. They were careful not to touch him.

  They slid a long white robe with blue trim over his arms and buttoned it up the front. It was his formal wear. He would wear it to rule when this silly little Fracture business was all over. And when he returned from the expedition, he would attend a formal gathering to celebrate his victory. And begin a new era.

  They could move forward with climate change so that the world would once again freeze. And then they could begin snuffing out the warmbloods by first sending Santa back with an infectious disease. One that would kill every single one of them.

  And the ones it didn’t, he would finish.

  Until the world belonged to Jack.

  I mean, to the elven.

  C L A U S

  32.

  The wind was fierce.

  Claus pulled his coat together to keep it from flying open. The sun was a hazy disc near the horizon. The night sky was light gray. The white landscape unblemished.

  He had been on the plateau on top of New Jack City long enough to feel the cold. It was bitter and unforgiving, stripping away the emotions snarling inside him.

  He didn’t like these feelings.

  He didn’t like feeling helpless.

  And that’s what he was. Jack was unstoppable now.

  There once was a time when he thought he’d stop Jack, a time when he believed that he could protect the rebels until their scientists developed something to overthrow his tyrant brother. No more. The game was nearing an end.

  Victory goes to the Cold One.

  Once the rebel scientists were back in New Jack City, it would only be a matter of time – a short matter – before they helped Jack find the rest of them. He would tell them that he wanted them back home, that he only wanted to heal the elven.

  And then he would crush them.

  He only had himself to blame.

  When they were ten years old, Claus saw what his brother was becoming.

  That was the year his skin began turning blue and his hair fell out. The elven never made fun of him in front of Claus, but he knew what they were whispering. He knew they thought he was a freak. And Claus was his brother.

  Twin.

  They were right.

  Jack would lurk around by himself when everyone else was playing. When he joined the games, he just fell down and got in the way. And then he’d get angry and his skin would turn dark blue.

  And that didn’t help.

  Where you going? Jack asked. He asked that a lot. Where you going, Claus? Where you going?

  And then he’d follow him. He’d follow him to class or outside or follow his friends. He was always there, just following and staring and that was it. He was Claus’s freak shadow.

  And others were whispering about him.

  Claus had a crush on a girl. He sculpted a rose from ice. He was going to give it to her after class and maybe ask her to the dance. Claus looked in the mirror and straightened his collar–

  Where you going?

  He lost cont
rol. He snapped. He couldn’t stop his hand.

  It hit Jack under the chin and sank into his fleshy neck. He threw open the closet and pushed his brother inside.

  JUST GO AWAY! NOBODY WANTS YOU!

  Claus shook his hand. It was numb.

  Jack had become so cold that just his touch had frozen his fingers.

  He’ll be dangerous one day, he thought.

  But Claus took his ice rose and left his brother in the closet. He could hear the weirdo singing a song.

  Something galloped away from New Jack City.

  The trail left behind looked like a stain.

  Jack’s posse.

  Claus opened his coat to let the subzero air chill his anger and shame that spilled in his stomach.

  I failed you, Mother.

  He watched them until they disappeared in the distant haze. He couldn’t stop them. Not now. But there were still things he could do.

  Claus went inside. He needed to get to his lab.

  He had lost the battle, but perhaps not the war.

  C L A U S

  33.

  The sleighs were loaded.

  The reindeer made their leaps, one by one, arching across the gray sky to find another home, one the Cold One wouldn’t find. Tinsel was in the back of the largest sleigh, next to an enclosed box that contained Jon Santa. It looked too much like a casket. Tinsel rubbed her fist on the clear window. A pink hue had already returned to his face.

  She hoped it was working.

  Please, keep working.

  She rested her arm on the box and refused to look back at the ones the colony left behind. Those two wouldn’t be following them to their new home. They were going to stay back and survive on their own.

  There was a chance they would never see them again.

  And with Jon already fighting for his life, she couldn’t look back at more sacrifices the colony was making. There were just too many. She looked ahead at where they were going, not where they had been.

  What they had done.

  C L A U S