by Marc Franco
None of this would have happened if I hadn’t been so reckless with the elf tea. I raked my fingers through my hair in frustration, then slammed my hands in my pant pockets. That’s when I felt the tag in my pocket. I’d completely forgotten about it. I pulled it out and examined it.
“Santa’s dog tags,” I said and passed them over to Dancer. She took them silently.
“It’s my fault—I think I know it all, and look at us now. Look at him,” I said as I approached the chamber. Santa’s chest rose and fell with each breath. I leaned in over his head.
“I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’ve made a mess of things. I thought Rick was S.R., I gave you too much tea and did this to you, Tiff’s gone, and now I’ve lost one of my best friends.” I sniffled. “Please,” my voice faltered, “please, wake up. We need you. I need you. You’re supposed to make everything right,” I pleaded.
I noticed that some of my tears had actually permeated the glass tube and pooled on Santa’s forehead. Without thinking and more embarrassed than anything else, I reached through the solid glass and wiped the tears. Logan gasped.
Dancer grabbed my arm, not forcefully. It was more like, take it easy. “Jakob, best you leave him for Benji. You should—”
“You’re not surprised?” I asked. “My arm passing through solid glass?” Dancer let go of my arm then gave me a meaningful look.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m not.” Shig knocked on the glass then gave Logan a shocked look.
“Why can I do all of these things but can’t even wake Santa?” I asked.
Dancer ignored me then did the same thing I’d just done—reached through the glass into the chamber. She untangled the dog tags then put them around Santa’s neck. “Let’s go. We have to stop the Servant before he escapes.” Dancer pushed Santa’s tube back into the APC then motioned for me to lead on.
“Ice-skulls are everywhere, and we have no idea where the Servant is,” Dancer said. “You need to engage your armor! On your frontpack, there are two straps that extend around your waist. Pull them out and snap the clasps together! Hurry Jakob,” she said running ahead.
Logan and Shig trotted up beside me as I was feeling for the straps.
“You okay?” Logan asked. I looked at her mournfully and shook my head.
“It’s Fleep … it’s Santa … it’s everything,” I said, stopping.
“I know. Don’t take this the wrong way, but sulking about our loss isn’t going to solve anything,” Logan said.
“But I’ve made some really bad choices.”
Shig grabbed me. “You know, a friend once gave me wise advice.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
He regarded me. “Cowboy up!”
Any other time I would have grinned. They were true friends and meant well, but the best place for me right now was under a rock. I hated myself and carried the blame for all that had gone wrong.
“Trust me, I wish I could,” I said.
“You can! I mean, seriously, look at you. You can fight S.R.’s smoke and see things we can’t. And do I have to remind you that you just put your hand through solid glass? This is your destiny man, your purpose. You are a Pole! So cowboy up. Let’s get Fleep back … Pole style!”
Shig was right. There was something in his encouraging words that lifted my weary spirit. I was meant to help my friends, meant to fight S.R. and rescue Fleep. He may have been a lump of coal, and was probably safer that way for the time being, but it wasn’t permanent.
“We’re getting Fleep, Rick, Tiff, and that belt of power back. We’re fixing this,” I said, then reached down to engage my armor. Two straps, I thought. I felt around my waist some more as I jogged ahead, but I couldn’t find the straps Dancer was talking about.
“I found them,” Logan announced excitedly, like we were in competition. “Where the frontpack hits your hip—they’re retractable and clip around the back like a belt.”
I found the straps and snapped them in place, then sprinted after Dancer. But I didn’t get far.
Seconds after I engaged the frontpack, it started to vibrate and my legs felt like they were made of lead. The heaviness spread until my entire body felt as stiff as a rail, and all I could move was my eyes. Then I felt something that, if I had been able to move, would have made me jump out of my skin. It felt like a snake was coiling around my legs. I looked down and saw white gooey, marshmallow-like stuff oozing out from the frontpack. I thought I’d accidently hit a wrong button and caused a glitch, till I looked over and saw the same thing happening to Shig and Logan. The white stuff slimed up over my whole body, and was now all the way up to my chin. It was weird because it felt like heavy whip cream and, I kid you not, smelled sweet. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it wasn’t anything bad. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath as it continued up my forehead. Seconds later, after I was completely enveloped, the wetness evaporated and the goo transformed into a hard armor.
Slowly, I peeked, then widened my eyes and blinked. I was in some kind of helmet, looking through a holographic heads-up display, or HUD. The HUD projected a grid about a foot from my face in 3-D. I turned my head. I was free. I could move.
I did a quick self-inspection. I was in a snow-camouflage suit. The whip cream-like stuff had turned out to be some kind of liquid armor that hardened into a protective white shell. Even the frontpack, which was still on my chest, had transformed. I tapped on it—solid metal.
I glanced over at Shig and Logan. Whoa! They looked incredibly high-tech. The helmet followed the contour of the head and slightly bulged over the eyes like bug eyes. That’s when it hit me. My comics. I’d drawn the suits before.
I noticed the J-Ray was missing from my arm. Hesitantly, I opened the frontpack, and my HUD went nuts with data. A bright yellow targeting cursor locked onto an array of gadgets inside the pack, while the HUD scrolled with data identifying each one’s name and usage. Somehow the green candy cane had returned to the frontpack. I grabbed it, shut the case and thought the word Shamira. It instantly transformed into a J-Ray. But something new happened. The hanging part at the end of the J-Ray was plugged into my armored suit. I faced Logan and Shig.
“Let’s roll!” I commanded. Clad in our white armor, we ran toward the front of my house, not prepared in the least for the sight that waited ahead. Ice-skulls covered the vacant house like bees on a beehive. It was an intimidating site considering how outnumbered we really were. For one thing, it made me appreciate my armored suit and J-Ray. A bright red glow from the protective domes colored the snow and everything else in the neighborhood an eerie shade of red. Piles of misshapen ice, once part of the ice-skulls’ anatomy, lay everywhere, also reflecting red. It looked like a sea of red crystal shards. The commandos and dwarves were spread out in teams of two, each blasting trails of plasma bolts at the attacking ice-skulls.
I crouched at the sound of multiple explosions—like fireworks—then felt chunks of ice-skulls clank against my suit. I glanced over at the nearest commandos. They were taking cover behind a pile of ice-skull remains. One saw us and hurried over.
“Jakob, Logan, Shig.” It was Dancer. She fired her blaster up at an ice-skull. “Repeat after me: Armor commo, on.”
We repeated her words. A mechanical voice inside my helmet replied, “Armor communications ready.”
Now that the communications function was engaged, Dasher issued several more commands that turned on several of the suit’s features like auto shield, auto scanning, auto targeting, and 3D touch. The technology was overwhelming, and I wondered why the settings didn’t all just come on automatically by default. Dancer quickly explained that most of the commandos were self-confessed control freaks and preferred to set the HUD settings manually, tweaking each one to their individual preference. In between blasting ice-skulls, she went on to explain how the 3D feature allowed me to select images displayed on the holographic heads-up, sort of like using my finger as a computer mouse to select objects on the grid and zoom in
closer.
Just as I was about to test out the 3D feature, Shig shouted, “There he is!”
I looked in the direction Shig was pointing. My tracking system locked onto the object. I tapped on the 3D image like Dancer showed me and zoomed in on the running figure. Sure enough, it was S.R. and he was running straight to Tiff’s house. We gave chase and sprinted across the street, reaching the driveway just as S.R. stopped and turned around. My suit’s computer system alerted, “WARNING, WARNING … redirecting all shield-energy forward.” S.R. fired a yellow blast from his belt. I didn’t have time to move. The shock of the blast scrambled my HUD and knocked me on my back. But thanks to my shielded armor, I didn’t pass out this time. Shig and Logan’s voices grunted through my speakers. They’d been hit too, but looked fine. I locked my eyes on S.R.; he was on the move again, darting inside Tiff’s house. Enraged with thoughts of what he’d done to Fleep, I gave chase and recklessly stormed through Tiff’s front door, where I was met by a cloud of dust in the shape of a large hand. My targeting system maintained a lock on S.R., tracking him as he disappeared down the steps of Tiff’s book. I fanned at the smoke, dispersing it like a cheap magic trick, and raced on to the kitchen. S.R. had made a huge mistake; I was mad and nothing was going to stop me from following him down into the book.
Boy was I wrong.
I had made it just past the dining room table when the book’s protectors, the skeleton owls, attacked with claws outstretched. I jumped back in fear, remembering how rabid they were, just as Baum and two dwarf commandos brushed past me and effortlessly blasted them to smithereens. Bones clattered to the floor.
“Forget you’re wearing armor, kid?” a bald, gray-bearded commando said. His name plate read Zola.
“Yeah,” I said, noticing that they weren’t in armored suits, just flak jackets and goggles. Show-offs.
Baum stared at me. There was an awkward and uncomfortable moment before I finally got the courage to say what I needed to.
“Baum, I’m sorry. I used too much tea—I should have been more careful,” I said.
Baum regarded me. “We all make mistakes, kid. Just don’t make anymore tonight.”
I nodded then remembered S.R. had escaped.
“S.R.,” I said insistently. “He’s inside the book.” I ran over to the book and pointed down. “Down the stairs.”
Then the same loud roar that Logan and I’d heard a few days ago growled from the book. Baum ran into the kitchen and pulled me out. Something was wrong; the fierce commandos suddenly looked nervous.
Baum locked his eyes on the book, then turned and frowned. “Let’s go, Jakob. We’re not going down there.”
“Why not? It’s just some animal. You guys can take it.”
“That’s not just some animal,” a dwarf named Seif said. He had the most trusting face and looked more like a professor than a commando, with his perfectly round glasses and soft eyes.
I stopped.
“Then what is it?” I asked.
“A traitorous Mar spike dragon,” Baum replied, ushering me through the living room. That’s right, the same Mar dragon I’d read about in my copy of The Kringle Chronicles. They were sworn protectors of man, but S.R. had one working for him. As we got to the door, Logan walked in with Shig on her heels.
Baum released me and used his arms to block the way. “Oh no! You three—out of here now,” Baum said, motioning for Logan and Shig to turn around. “We have to leave, now!” Baum nudged me.
“Wait.” I stopped. “Do you guys hear that?”
It was music. It was coming from inside the book and getting louder. No one moved. “I’ve heard this. I know this song, The Bells something—”
“It’s Carol of the Bells,” Baum corrected me. We listened.
Ding dong ding dong ding,
Ding dong.
Oh how they pound,
raising the sound,
o’er hill and dale,
telling their tale.
Gaily they ring,
while people sing,
songs of good cheer,
Christmas is here.
Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas,
Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas.
At the end of the second chorus of “Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas,” the voices suddenly faded and were replaced by the sound of a man with a Scottish accent chanting, “The Servant becomes the Master,” over and over again. It was creepy, but also infuriated me because I knew it was S.R. chanting.
“I have to seal the book. Get out! NOW!” Baum shouted. Before I could utter a protest, something leaped out of the book. My stomach turned. Two feet from me was an emerald green, scaly dragon with giant webbed feet, silvery claws, and a spiked tail. It was smaller than I expected, no bigger than a large dog. But it was still ferocious. It lunged at Baum. The two commandos instinctively fired at the creature. It stunned the dragon for a second but the creature wasted no time getting up. It seemed to be guarding entrance into the kitchen.
Baum turned to Zola. “Supercharge the plasma cannons. I want one trained on this front door.”
“Roger that,” Zola looked at me, then ran off outside with Seif.
“This house is off limits,” Baum barked, never taking his eyes off of the dragon while herding us outside. Just as he closed Tiff’s front door, something crashed against it on the other side. The dragon was trying to get out. “Now get across the street to Logan’s yard and hide.”
“Wait, what are you doing?” I asked, concerned.
“I going to deal with that dragon, then seal that book before anything else comes through it. Now do as I say and find some place safe.”
“But we don’t want to hide. We—”
Baum grabbed me by the arm, which didn’t seem like him, but I’d obviously made him mad. “Listen, I’m not Dasher and I’m certainly not part of your security detail. All of you will do as I say and you will do it now!” Baum released me with a shove. I don’t know what made us move faster, Baum yelling at us or the fact that Zola was aiming a glimmering, white plasma cannon in our direction. It seemed like a lot of drama for a dragon the size of a dog, but whatever. We sprinted and made it to the edge of Tiff’s yard when something told me to glance over my shoulder. Just as I did, the Mar dragon crashed through Tiff’s front door.
“Get down!” I shouted. We dove into the snow as splintered wood and shards of metal clanked against armor. I rolled over and sat up. Whoa! The dragon was bigger, a lot bigger, now about the size of a horse and growing before my eyes. The beast scanned the group of commandos. He was searching for someone. He locked eyes on Baum.
“Now!” Baum’s voice yelled through my speakers. The cannon erupted on cue, firing a long, multicolored stream of energy. It reminded me of the nuclear gadgets the Ghostbusters used to capture ghosts. The dragon flapped its bat-like wings then sprung, barely avoiding the first stream. But the second stream of plasma found its target, landing a terrible blast to the dragon’s chest. The beast bellowed in pain then fell like a rock, landing on its side. It lay motionless.
I scrutinized the creature and felt uneasy. Was it playing possum in a ploy to lure the commandos closer? Seeing Zola and Seif with their cannon trained on the stiff dragon validated my suspicion. It just didn’t feel right. The fight was too easy. I looked around. The commandos still had their blasters trained on the dragon. I’d feel a lot better once someone confirmed the beast was dead. I started thinking ahead. What if it got back up? They’d need help.
I looked down past Shig’s house at the battle raging between Dasher’s team and the ice-skulls. The commandos were occupied but doing a good job of containing the icy creatures to the area around the vacant house. “Come on guys,” I said, then led Logan and Shig in a sprint to Logan’s yard, happy to put distance between us and the dragon.
Just as I turned around to look back, the dragon leaped up and began spewing softball-sized fireballs out of its mouth. I knew it! A fireball struck the closest plasma ca
nnon—Zola and Seif’s. The cannon exploded into a ball of white and green light, sending the dwarves flying backward. My helmet tracking system locked onto the little commandos; a green assessment bar appeared beside their images, indicating ninety percent health. They’d been hurt, but not badly. Two more dwarf commandos came up from behind me and blasted the dragon.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. The dragon was now the size of a school bus … and still growing.
“Baum to Dasher!” Baum said.
“Vixen here—Dasher is down.”
What? No! My heart sunk.
Baum’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Get me more plasma cannons trained on that dragon. Fire until they drain.”
“You cannot stop me, Baum!” The dragon’s garbled voice growled. “Your weapons will drain, and when they do—”
A swooshing sound followed by colorful flashes of light pelted the dragon. Three of Dasher’s commandos had already repositioned their cannons. They were amazingly quick, but the dragon was amazingly tough. It did a funky shake, kind of like a dog does when it’s wet, then howled a flaming breath that consumed the commandos’ second plasma attack. The beast was agitated. Its eyes glowed red with hatred. Then it tensed its enormous leg muscles, roared, and spat several bowling-ball-sized fireballs. Two laser cannons from Baum’s team exploded on impact. The commandos went flying through the air, but their armored suits saved them. It sure made me appreciate my suit.
Something about the dragon’s behavior bothered me. It wouldn’t leave Tiff’s yard—almost like it was protecting something.
Shig brushed up to my side. “There’s something weird about that dragon.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
We straightened up as an armored Baum approached. “Something’s wrong,” he said.