by Marc Franco
“Logan, this is really cool,” I whispered. “Just look around and pretend you’re on a carnival ride or something.” Logan peeked around hesitantly and, as she did, seemed to relax a bit.
Baum began to explain. “From the outside, yes, the shop looks like a one-floor building. But once you go through that second green door, you are in Santa’s Western Hemisphere Command Center. We call this the Crystal Palace. I’m sure Benji told you all about the Palace and my team.”
I cut my gaze over to Baum. “No, he didn’t,” I said slowly, wondering if I’d just gotten Benji in trouble. Baum shook his head.
“Typical. Benji is always downplaying the importance of the team. My team, DT6, almost caught that thing you kids are calling S.R.” Baum stroked his crystal handlebar mustache and thought some more. “Well, maybe now that we have the help of a Pole, this will be the year we finally capture that filthy animal.”
“Ooh, he really hates S.R.—” I whispered to Logan.
“You bet I do,” Baum said, shaking his head with disgust. “I’ve spent centuries trying to catch him, laying traps and counter-traps, planting tracers and trackers, but nothing. This plan is the only way. It has its risks, but I think it will work. It has to. That’s why you are here. I’m going to prepare you for just about anything.” Baum motioned for me to lean down. “You just do your part. S.R. has to believe you caught Santa! It will lure the freak out into the open. He won’t resist the opportunity.”
“I will,” I said, straightening. “I’ll do my part.”
“Good. Let’s get your supplies and equipment so you can catch Santa—and I can catch S.R.”
The elevator stopped.
“Forty-fourth floor. Now follow me, and don’t touch anything,” Baum ordered as he exited. “Oh, and don’t look down if you have a fear of heights. Messy!”
Follow? Touch? I could barely see the outline of his clear body. The last one off the elevator, I stepped out. Baum and Logan, the little of them that was visible, looked like they were walking on air. The entire floor, everything, was crystal clear: no walls, doors, nothing. Walking took some getting used to, but I managed by keeping my head down. Looking down, and being able to see through the floor past my transparent shoes, made me a little queasy, but it passed once I encouraged my brain to ignore the see-through world and get moving.
As I followed behind Logan, wondering how she was faring, I saw activity below us, under her feet: the slight appearance and quick disappearance of silhouettes. They had to be workers. As we continued on, my eyes adjusted and I began to see the faint outlines of tables, chairs, and even rows of bookcases. Bookcases? I wondered. Were we walking through a library? Just imagine being surrounded by bookcases as tall and long as a school bus. Then imagine a crystal forest of stacked books as tall as a bus. Regretfully, I didn’t slowdown long enough to read the titles, but I did count fifteen long rows of books before we finally turned right and walked down a long hallway, then turned left at another stack of books and stopped. Actually, I clanked into Logan then stopped.
“What’s up?” I asked, secretly hoping we hadn’t chipped each other. Was that even possible?
Logan pointed ahead then continued eavesdropping. Baum was in deep conversation with someone.
I took the opportunity to look around some more. That’s when I saw the offices. They ran along the far edge, or at least what would have been the edge of the floor, if it were visible. A large emerald plaque hanging outside an office door caught my eye. It was green, not clear. I had to have a closer look.
I reached the door and completely forgot about the plaque when I saw what was in the office. It was the largest pyramid-shaped display case I’d ever seen. It took up most of the office and reached up to the ceiling. Whatever required a case that big was definitely worth a look-see. I walked straight to the massive glass enclosure. Inside the glass was a giant book. Again, I asked myself what kind of book required a case this grand. I took a closer look. The book was massively oversized. Forget inches. This thing had to be measured in feet. It was easily the size of my kitchen table, and it was closed … and, oddly enough, familiar. It kind of resembled the book in Tiff’s kitchen. There was an image of a man carrying a sack over his left shoulder on the cover. I read the title, The Kringle Chronicles, like the Web site. Just then, I heard footsteps running toward me. I looked up and accidentally head-butted the display, causing a clanking noise.
I felt my forehead for cracks. None. Whew!
That’s when I heard Baum shout, “No!” then a screeching alarm sounded. I reached up and covered my ears, clanking my elbow against the glass.
A swooshing sound came from my left. Then I saw them. Stone-faced, fierce, icy-looking dwarves dressed like Baum materialized from the floor below, carrying transparent science fiction-looking blasters. Wow, those guys were fast.
“Stand down,” Baum ordered, walking between me and the assault team, and smacking down their barrels. “Good work, men. Unit dismissed.” The team saluted and dropped back down to the floor below. Baum gripped onto my wrist and forcefully led me out of the office and over to Logan. She quickly ditched a crystal book.
“What were you guys doing over there?” Logan asked as Baum stopped and looked up at me. His face was flush. He was mad.
“Let’s make one more thing clear.”
I nodded, looking down at Baum.
“Do not leave my side, and do not touch anything. Got it?”
“Got it.”
He turned to Logan. “Understand?”
“Yeah, but I don’t see …” Logan said. She stopped short as Baum gave me another disapproving glare. I looked away to the office with the giant Kringle Chronicles book, the one I’d just been escorted from.
“What in the world?” I asked, tapping Baum on the shoulder and pointing to the office. Shreds of glass flew from the book, like its pages were being etched. Then a page fanned, and more glass and shavings.
“What are you two staring at?” Logan asked, frustrated.
“Nothing, now follow me. And you …” he pointed to me, “by my side.” Like a submissive dog, I stepped up and parked myself at Baum’s side. He was quiet as he led us down a hall. I was dying to know more.
“What was the book doing?” I asked.
“Writing a new chapter.”
“About what?” I asked.
“Not about what … about whom.”
“About whom?” I asked.
“About you!” Baum said then fell silent, seemingly lost in thought. Again chills ran down my back. Something told me not to ask any more questions. Instead I pondered Baum’s words. The book was writing all by itself, and about me. What was it writing about me? I glanced back at Logan. She forced a fake smile. What was that for? We passed more offices on our walk to wherever Baum was leading us, but none of the offices looked like the one that had the giant Kringle Chronicles book. Then as we turned left at yet another crystal tower of books, Baum broke his silence.
“Great responsibility comes with being a Pole. You can see and do things others can’t,” he said softly.
I didn’t respond at first. I was too busy looking down past my feet to the floor below. The armed dwarves were still keeping an eye on us.
“I know, like I saw the room,” I said.
“What room? What are you two talking about?” Logan asked. “Will someone answer me?”
I was about to answer Logan when Baum took me aside.
“It’s not a good idea to let the Flickers know what you can see.”
“Flickers?”
“Someone like her, a human. They’re Flickers because, unlike us, they’re only here for a short time … like the flicker of a light.” I looked at Logan. Our eyes met. Flicker or not, I couldn’t lie to my best friend. I walked over to her then glanced over my shoulder at Baum. His eyes warned me not to tell, but I had to.
“There’s an invisible office over there. I was just in it looking at a book titled The Kringle Chronicles,” I said
pointing. “Looks kind of like Tiff’s book.”
Baum shook his head disapprovingly. I could see the anger in his eyes. “You’re not ready for your own book—too young and immature, too prideful and overconfident.” Baum sighed. “But it’s not my decision.”
“What’s not your decision? What book?” I asked, confused.
“Nothing,” Baum said angrily then started walking again. We walked for a few more seconds, then turned left again and walked past another room that caught my eye. I stopped short, backing up in astonishment at all of the equipment. I assumed it was a tech and communications room. The big surprise was that it was in full color: there was no icy silhouette or concealment. Two dwarves were working the equipment. The closest one sat in front of a huge LCD with a lot of open computer screens. The second dwarf sat in front of another LCD that displayed a map of Earth. The second dwarf wore a small listening device in his ear and had sophisticated-looking equipment neatly organized around the desk. Just as I stepped into the room, Baum’s small but strong hand gripped onto my arm and jerked me back.
“Oh no you don’t,” Baum said. “It’s just an empty room.” Logan was right behind him.
“Yeah, Jakob, where are you going? There’s nothing to see. Come on, remember my mom will be back soon.”
“But I can see them,” I insisted, pointing over my shoulder to the room. “And they’re not transparent like us,” I said.
“What room? Why can’t I see the room?” Logan asked, sounding a little perturbed. “You seriously see a room?” she demanded.
I glanced over at Baum. He was shaking his head. He definitely didn’t want me to say anything.
“Yeah, it’s right there,” I pointed. Looking through the room’s window, I also saw a large radio tower outside—even taller than the forty-fourth floor. It undoubtedly had something to do with that tech room and most definitely kept low-flying aircraft from crashing into the Crystal Palace.
“Where? I still don’t see anything.”
“Do you see the radio tower?” I pointed toward it.
“Okay, yeah, I see the tower. It’s outside.”
“Well, the room’s in that direction,” I said then turned to Baum.
Shaking his head, Baum walked off.
Logan looked at me crossly then said, “Why are you messing with me?” She walked away before I could defend myself. Great, now they were both mad at me.
I skipped ahead and caught up with them. Just as I reached out to grab Baum’s shoulder, the polar bear on the back of his shirt reached out and almost clawed me. Needless to say, I left Baum alone. I followed a little farther until we stopped beside a stack of red and white candy canes lying on a glass table. We were in some sort of a laboratory. The candy canes were interesting—about the length of my arm and the width of a hotdog. They were red and white, and completely visible … to me anyways.
“Can you … see them?” I asked Logan hesitantly. She nodded. Our eyes begged to touch the candy canes and Baum saw it.
“Go ahead, these you can touch,” he said.
“They’re candy canes,” Logan said, picking one up. “Long, fat, plain old candy canes.”
“Old, yes. But plain, no! And certainly not edible,” Baum said, shaking his head. “These sweet sticks are called J-Rays, candy canes that transform into plasma emitters and shoot red plasma bolts.”
“Plasma bolts?” Logan said nervously. “But we’re just kids.”
“Relax. The red forgives,” Baum said.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“One bolt will knock any breathing creature unconscious for thirty minutes. It’s not like the green ones.”
“What’s up with the green ones?” Logan asked. Baum seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the red J-Ray. “Baum, the green J-Rays … what do they do?” Logan asked again.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. The green ones … they’re very destructive,” Baum said nonchalantly.
“Whoa, we are not destroying anything,” Logan said, putting the candy cane back like it had germs.
“Relax, only a pole can operate a green plasma emitter. Besides, they’re smart weapons—they know who, or what, wants to hurt you. And you’re right; you are not destroying anything anyway. That’s our job. So just stick with the red and remember this: as soon as the red stripe drains you’ll need to recharge. So make sure you have a lot of extras with you, which reminds me …” Baum began counting on his fingers.
“What do you mean by recharge?” I asked. He held his index finger up to me, signaling me to wait, then reached under a table and opened a clear cabinet door.
“One … two … and one more makes three,” he said, head half inside the cabinet. I’m not a thief, but something was telling me I’d need the green candy cane, so when I saw that no one was watching, well, I swiped it and hid it inside my crystal pant leg.
“You’ll need a couple of these … some of these … and, oh yeah, a pack of discs just in case,” Baum finished.
When he stood back up, he was holding three army-green backpacks and a handful of what looked like miniature Frisbees along with several bags of marbles.
“Backpacks,” I murmured.
“No! They’re frontpacks—so wear them that way. In fact, wear them to bed just to be safe. And if for some reason you find yourself outside, do not take them off—no matter what.” He opened the packs and dumped the discs and marbles in, then handed me my pack, then Shig’s and then handed Logan hers. The packs were surprisingly feather light, considering they looked filled.
Baum continued. “Ok, here’s how to recharge. A transformed J-Ray is a solid white plasma emitter, and the three red spiral stripes are its tubes of energy. Every time you zap out a bolt it requires energy, and the red color drains some. So keep track of your red levels, and be ready with another candy cane if you run out. They provide energy to your J-Ray; just smash one anywhere on the emitter and it will get absorbed. Got it?”
“Okay, I got the recharge part but how do you make it transform in the first place?” I asked.
“Say the word ‘Shamira’ while holding the hooked part. Likewise, do the same thing to the J-Ray and it will transform back into a candy cane.”
Shamira, what does it mean?”
“It’s from an ancient language. It means protector.”
“Okay,” I said.
“If everything goes as planned, my team and I will insert, take over, and clear any tangos.”
“Tangos?” I asked, baffled.
“Enemy targets,” Baum said confidently.
Baum cracked a devious smile then gestured for us to wait one second. He grabbed his ear, listened, then touched his throat. I could barely see a clear strip of tape on his throat, no doubt some high-tech microphone of some sort. “Roger that.” He spoke hurriedly then turned to us. “We have to go.”
We followed him back around the way we had come, retracing our steps. We continued on, passing the towers of books and walking through the library. The elevator still wasn’t visible, but I knew we were close. Baum trotted ahead, then turned around and spoke, trotting backward.
“Jakob, toss me your frontpack.”
I threw one. He caught it then unzipped it.
“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time to go over all the contents and their proper uses,” he slowed down and rummaged around in the pack, forcing us to slow.
“The most important thing is this cup.” He held up a shiny, ceramic-looking cup with a snow-covered, hilly landscape painted on it. He dropped the cup into the pack with a loud clank then snickered at our alarmed expressions. “It will take a lot more than that to break that cup,” he said. He continued rummaging around. “And this is the ancient elvish herbal tea.” Baum removed a white parchment from the frontpack, carefully unwrapped it, and showed it to me.
“It looks like dried-up leaves my dad uses to make tea,” I said.
“Well, it isn’t,” he said gruffly, then wrapped it up and dropped it back into the pack. He zippe
d up the pack and tossed it back to me. “Use seven pinches of tea. No more, no less. See my finger.” Baum made a pinching gesture. “Then mix the tea with some water. Once it touches water, it will dissolve. And remember, you have to use the cup. It will conceal the tea.”
We entered the elevator. Baum pressed the invisible button pad to return us to the first floor, then cupped his ear again as the door closed. He was receiving another message. He touched his throat to answer whoever it was that called him.
Baum finished his conversation just as we returned to our normal full-color, visible selves and came to a stop on the first floor. The trip down had seemed quicker than the trip up. Baum turned to Logan.
“Your mother just entered the shop.” Logan nodded, then the door opened and we exited the elevator with Baum trailing behind us.
Mrs. Raffo spotted us a minute later behind the counter, sitting on the bench and holding the three frontpacks.
“Oh, that’s some package you’ve got there,” Mrs. Raffo said while trying to peer inside Logan’s pack. “What did you guys buy, army backpacks?”
Logan pulled away. “Mom!” she whined. “It’s a surprise.” Good cover.
“Okay, okay,” Mrs. Raffo said. I glanced over at the door behind the counter. Baum was looking at me, his arms crossed. I half-waved good-bye. He returned a slow nod.
Logan and I were so preoccupied with everything we’d just learned that we barely spoke on the drive home. There was so much to absorb. I stared out the window. Fleep popped in my head. He was so angry with his parents and Santa. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Mission time was just over thirteen hours away. I had to make Fleep believe in Santa before it was too late.
“Good timing, mister,” my mom’s voice startled me as I closed the front door. She was filling plastic baggies with her cinnamon roasted almonds—no doubt for me to deliver to the neighbors. It was another one of my mom’s Christmas traditions.
I took off my jacket and threw it on the sofa.
“What do you have there?” She asked, staring at the frontpacks.
“Oh, these, just some gifts,” I said, walking to the closet under the stairs.