Sometimes the Best Presents Can’t Be Wrapped

by B. G. Thomas

  “But your presents are burning!” Father said, and his hair started to smoke.

  “Burning?” Perry asked.

  “Burning,” Father repeated as his short dark hair began to fill with little licks of blue flame. He pointed toward the tree and….

  Oh no!

  The tree was on fire! Leaping and raging on fire. The curtains were catching, and the pounding was getting louder, and Patricia jumped to her feet and opened her mouth ridiculously wide and shouted in a voice way too low and deep, “Boy! Wake up! Wake up!”

  And Ned bolted awake to a room filled with black smoke.

  “Boy!” Jake yelled. “Quick! The building’s on fire!”

  20

  JAKE WAS shrugging into a pair of jeans, and he was coughing and choking.

  Ned started barking. Fire? The building is on fire?

  Jake dropped to the floor and began crawling out of the room. Ned followed him close, unable to stop barking. He was ramping up to near hysteria.

  “Boy. Stop.” Cough, cough. “We need to keep low to the floor!”

  The pounding from the dream continued. Except it wasn’t the dream. It wasn’t his heart. It was….

  They reached the living room just as the door was smashed open. A man stood there, silhouetted by blazing yellow and black. God! It was fire, wasn’t it? Fire like he’d never seen before, but fire all the same. He could feel the blasting heat of it. The whole lobby was full of flames!

  “Hurry!” the man at the door cried. He was the big burly guy from the second floor.

  Jake stopped only for his shoes and jacket by the door, and then they were surrounded by fire. It was beyond believing. The heat was tremendous, yet Ned shivered anyway. People were coming down the stairs, shouting, moaning, screaming. A baby cried. Ned watched as the floor of the lobby leapt into flames, the fire shooting up the wall as if someone had splashed gasoline on them. But Ned would have known if there was gas. He would have smelled it.

  The front door of the building was wide open, and through it the people flowed, pushing, shoving, forcing their way out. Ned turned, feeling the heat beating against his fur. Jake was standing there, shoulders crouched, arms above his head.

  Jake! He barked furiously. Come on! We’ve got to get out of here!

  As if understanding, Jake said, “It’s okay. I’m coming.”

  The big man who’d knocked down the door—he was wearing only a thin tank top and shorts—shouted, “It’s a good thing I heard your dog barking. I’d given up pounding on your door.”

  “Thank you,” Jake cried, and they headed after the small mob wrestling to escape. Suddenly the path was free, the door open to the street. There were sirens in the distance. “Go, Boy! I’m coming! Go! Fast as you can!”

  So Ned went. He spun around and flew like the wind. He went through what felt like an invisible wall, an outward expanding pressure, and then he was running down the steps and over the sidewalk and into the street. Once there, he turned around quickly to find out where Jake was.

  Except….

  Except he didn’t see him. Where is he?

  Ned began to bark again. Panic was setting in. Ned looked all around him. But Jake was nowhere to be seen.

  The building….

  The apartment building was an inferno now. The doorway was crawling with wild and leaping flames.

  Jake?

  Jake!

  He began to bark furiously. Jake! He started forward. Stopped. Started forward. Stopped.

  Behind him the sirens filled the air, there were shouts, and he felt the fire truck arrive. He didn’t turn to look, though. All he could see was the blazing hall before him. He cried. He whined.

  Jake!

  He knew in that moment he had to go back. And he knew he was most likely going to die. But Jake was in there. And that was all that mattered.

  Ned launched himself forward. He didn’t think about what he was doing. There was only Jake. Sweet, wonderful, wondrous Jake. He had to get Jake!

  “Stop that dog!” someone shouted, but by then he was already up the steps and diving full speed through the door.

  Ned felt his fur singeing. The heat was immense. It burned his throat more than the billowing smoke. The world was heat and fire and black, black smoke.

  Ned tried to bark, but drawing in a breath to do so was hell. He was in hell. The walls were on fire. The floor was on fire. He could actually see the varnish popping up in bubbles. He could see all of that, but not Jake!

  Then he saw something else, and that was when he knew. Knew.

  Wilma’s door was open. They’d forgotten about Wilma, or at least muscleman and Ned had. But not Jake. Not Jake, who put everyone else first. Jake had gone in to save Wilma.

  And now it was time for Ned to save Jake.

  He crouched back, tensed the muscles in his legs, and hurled himself over the lake of fire and through the open door to Wilma’s apartment.

  The inside was a conflagration. Ned saw instantly what had happened. Wilma’s tree. The cheap extension cord. That’s what had started this. What had started this firestorm. And there was no way to comprehend the heat. And no time to think about it. There was only Jake. Only Jake, even though he could feel his tail was on fire, his belly badly burned. He could smell burning flesh and fur. His flesh and fur.

  It didn’t matter.

  Ned found them both lying on the floor in the short hallway to Wilma’s bedroom, and Ned ran to Jake’s side. Barked. Licked his face. Barked more.

  But Jake wasn’t moving. He didn’t seem to be breathing. Not at all!

  No! God no! No please! Please, please no! Not Jake!

  He sat, arched his back, raised his head. Howled in horror and desperate grief and pain. Please! he cried to the raging holocaust. Take me! Not Jake. Not Jake! Take me!

  And then….

  And then the world went silent. No sound at all.

  And more. There was the impossible. There was snow. Had a wall fallen?

  But no. Not that. The snow was whooshing and swirling through the room and the fire was falling back. It was as if the blaze were made of streamers of tissue paper instead of flames. And they were being… pushed. Pushed back as if great sheets of glass had moved in and pressed them tight against the walls.

  The snow was a storm around them, and in that frigid cold, Ned heard—thank God he heard—coughing! Jake and Wilma were coughing.

  In some tiny part of his mind, he was aware that the torch of his tail had gone out, although the blaze of pain was still there, even as trickles of blue flame ran up and down his shoulders.

  He went to Jake again and licked at his face, barked, smacked at him with his paws, licked again.

  Jake’s eyes opened. He opened his beautiful eyes.

  “Boy?” Jake said and began coughing again. “I told… told you… you to go!”

  Ned barked, howled once more—long and clear and from his soul—and Jake nodded and—yes!—got up on his knees. Jake turned to Wilma. She somehow was still wearing an almost B-52-sized wig (it was smoldering), and he grabbed her arm, shook her, and….

  Suddenly, there were two firemen there in full regalia with helmets and masks and tanks.

  Ned went near crazy barking, and they helped Jake and Wilma to their feet (and still the wig stayed in place) and began to half carry them out of the apartment and into the lobby. Ned followed quietly at their heels and….

  FWOOM!

  The fire was back. It pushed the firemen and their charges out the front door but then closed tightly behind them.

  Ned was trapped.

  And then an explosion! Ned found himself lifted, fire racing up one side of his body—the pain!—and then he was hurtling, head over tail, through the doorway and into the night.

  21

  NED AWOKE in a haze of pain, and when he opened his eyes, he was looking up into Jake’s face. Jake, who seemed to be okay. His face was black with ashes and soot, but God—could it be?—Ned saw no burns.

  Ther
e were streaks of tears on Jake’s face, and Ned could hear people talking around them.

  “Did you see that?”

  “That dog!”

  “I’ve never seen anything like….”

  “He went right into that building!”

  There was a man next to Jake, and Ned realized he was an EMT. He was talking to Jake, but the words were unclear.

  But then… then the man was looking at Ned, touching him, and it hurt so badly. Ned bared his teeth but that was all. He couldn’t move.

  “God, kid,” the man said. “Your dog… I’m s-sorry but—” He put a hand on Jake’s arm. Squeezed. “—there’s no way he’s going to make it.”

  “No!” cried Jake. “I’m his caregiver! I’m supposed to be watching out for him.”

  “Well… in this case he watched out for you.”

  “Please,” Jake sobbed. “There’s got to be something you can do.”

  The EMT looked at Jake long and hard and then said, “There’s only one thing I can do. I’m not supposed to. I could get in trouble. But there’s no vet getting here anytime soon. I-I can give him something to make him sleep.”

  “Yes!” Jake shouted.

  “But you need to understand… he won’t wake up.”

  Jake turned to the man, face a mask of confusion. “He won’t wake up? Wh-why not?”

  Comprehension struck then, and Jake sighed. His shoulders fell, and he closed those dark eyes and shook with silent tears.

  After a moment, the EMT said, “I’m going to do it unless you say no.”

  Jake said nothing.

  “Do you hear me?”

  A pause. And Jake nodded.

  Jake opened his eyes again—thank you, Jake. I can go now, it’s fine, but I just wanted to see you look at me one more time—and then leaned in, gathered Ned into his arms, and whispered, “I love you, Boy.”

  I love you, Jake, Ned thought back. And knew it was true.

  Then while the EMT prepared, Ned simply looked into Jake’s face and knew no fear. He knew little regret. Wished only that he had been the one to bring Patricia into the company. That he’d offered Perry a job too. With someone like Jake to help him, Ned’s brother very well could have changed his life.

  He wished only that he could touch Jake. Maybe kiss him once.

  That was not to be.

  But it was all right! Because he had received so much these last weeks. Memories. Reminders. Bit by bit, he’d been finding himself. And while it was too late to fix all that he had messed up in his life, while this was the end, he wouldn’t trade any of the blessings he’d been given for a lifetime of what he used to be.

  He closed his eyes. Waited for it to be over.

  22

  BUT THEN… silence filled the world again. A profound silence. Ned could hear only Jake’s soft sobs. That and….

  Something….

  Else.

  “Gentlemen. Stand back. Your intentions are good, but tonight is not this one’s time.”

  The… the words. The… Voice… was deep. A rumble. Like it was coming from subterranean depths of earth and rock and stone.

  Ned opened his eyes to see something coming out of the dark behind Jake and the other man.

  Something huge.

  Easily six and a half feet tall, and wide—oh, so wide—It came into the light. Something with a vast white beard, thick and full, covering Its face and tumbling down over Its chest. Above were shining eyes the color of ice, and a crown of holly rested on a mane of white. It was wearing a dark garnet-red robe and a collar of thick fur with runners of ermine falling to either side.

  Red? He was seeing red? How…?

  Jake gasped, and the EMT fell to his side, and the being—Ned could feel It was… ancient—kept coming. It filled the night above Ned, looked down at him, smiled. There was a pipe sticking from the corner of that mouth, with a stem easily a foot long and a bowl deep and wide.

  “Good evening, Ned Balding,” said the being. “This is quite a predicament you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?”

  Me? Ned thought. Hardly me.

  “Throwing yourself into the fire. I did that?”

  Well… I guess not.

  “No” came the reply. “I guess not.”

  But I didn’t have a choice….

  “Of course you had a choice. Everyone has a choice. Every single day. Tonight, you simply chose well. You sacrificed your life for someone you love.”

  Love, thought Ned.

  And felt the joy of it.

  The ancient Father smiled.

  Thank you, Ned thought. Thank you.

  “Thank you?”

  For everything. For another chance.

  The smile broadened ever so slightly. Eyes of ice twinkled. “You took the chance.”

  Ned sighed. He didn’t know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing to say.

  Then one more step. The ancient one spread his arms. “Stand back,” he said, and this time it was aloud, and it was the sound of deep snow and trees and wind.

  With a cry, the EMT pushed back, crab-walked on heels and elbows.

  “Jake,” It said, looking down. “Can you hold him? Birth—rebirth—is painful.”

  Jake looked up in awe, mouth open. He nodded.

  “Then behold!”

  The earth seemed to rumble, and then it did. There was a sudden shaking. The sidewalk cracked, a branch on the tree across the street broke off and fell, a window shattered, a car horn began to blast.

  And… oh… pain!

  Good God! Pain!

  Ned arched upward in Jake’s arms, his shoulders wrenched back, his legs splayed out. He kicked. Kicked again. Bone snapped and cracked.

  And stretching.

  Oh God! The stretching. Oh God!

  Rebirth is painful.

  Ned’s back arched swiftly back again into a prolonged pulling and winding and twisting and dislodging.

  His forelegs… lengthened. His back legs kicked out three times, popped in and out by themselves… and changed. His vision went black, and then came back. But not in the weird blues and yellows he’d come to know—true color once more.

  Ned doubled over suddenly, bent, and to his astonishment, watched as his arms and legs seemed to soak up his fur. The pads on his front feet seemed to unfold, and thick dog nails changed and flattened. His feet gave crazy pops and grew longer. He threw back his head and gave his last howl, which turned into a mighty “Aaarggh!”

  Then there was one last wrenching at his body, and….

  The pain was gone.

  He fell back in Jake’s arms, and Ned heard him say, “Oh. Oh my God,” and heard the EMT say, “Mary, Mother of God…,” and darkness started to come back then, but before it did, Ned held up his hand and that is just what he saw.

  A hand.

  A human hand.

  The man in red was stepping back, back into shadow. And the last thing Ned heard him say was “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

  AFTER

  1

  NED WOKE up to the smell of coffee and bacon. He didn’t need dog senses to know that both were the good stuff. He didn’t know which coffee Jake had made, but he was willing to bet it was the Yirgacheffe.

  He stretched, his back popped, and it felt good. It always did since… well, that night. Since that experience, because how had he never known before just how good really stretching felt after a nap?

  The scent of the bacon got stronger, and Ned couldn’t resist any longer. He got out of bed, brushed his teeth quickly, slipped into a robe (and nothing more), and made his way to the kitchen. Jake was standing at the stove, wearing a pair of those flannel pajama bottoms that clung to his sweet little rear end and drove Ned nearly crazy. Along with a black thermal long-john-style shirt that showed off his ever-growing pecs, and the black socks Lillian had knitted for him, he looked adorable.

  “You’re staring,” Jake said without turning around.

  Sometimes Ned thought Jake had d
og senses.

  “Can’t help it,” Ned replied.

  Jake looked at Ned over his shoulder, eyes sparkling. “You better not.”

  Ned grinned. “Not planning on it.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Jake said and turned back to breakfast.

  “Merry Christmas,” Ned replied and came up behind him and pressed close.

  “Now stop that,” Jake said. “Or we won’t get to breakfast.”

  “That’s okay with me if it is with you.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” Jake said, laughing.

  “I’m in love,” Ned said.

  “Me too,” Jake said. “Now why don’t you be a good boy and set the table.”

  Boy.

  It would be Jake’s forever nickname for him. That was okay. Ned just liked the sound of the word “forever.”

  2

  THEY WENT home to Ned’s place that night, the night of the fire. Because, after all, Jake didn’t have a place anymore, did he?

  Ned’s extra key was still under the statue of the naked boy checking his foot for a thorn, and they let themselves in. There was a scary moment when Ned couldn’t remember the alarm code, but it came to him at the last second.

  Nothing had really been touched in the house. Someone had made his bed, and it looked like the toilet had been cleaned from that first morning when Ned had tried to pee standing up and gotten the tank instead of the bowl. The refrigerator had been cleared of perishables. Jake said he’d make them something to eat after taking a shower. When the shower took a long time, Ned checked on him, let himself into the bathroom and found Jake sitting on the floor of the shower crying. He took off his clothes and got in with him, and they held each other and they both cried. It was so completely unsexual, and when their tears diminished, lost in the beating spray of the shower, they looked into each other’s eyes, and Jake gave a little gasp and said, “Your eyes. It was your eyes. I knew I knew them. It really happened, didn’t it?”

  Ned nodded. Then, after a moment, he got up—the water was getting cold—and turned the shower off. It wasn’t until they dried each other that he allowed himself to look at Jake—he couldn’t help it—and saw he was more beautiful than ever before. He’d always averted his eyes before. Did he still need to?