Christmas Carol & the Shimmering Elf

by Robert L. Fouch

  As we navigated the maze that was Downtown Manhattan, I saw my uncle. Again and again and again. On ads in bus stops: THE SUPREME LEADER LOVES YOU. On a billboard that towered over a government-looking building: TOGETHER WE WILL BUILD A PROSPEROUS FUTURE. Even on a TV screen that flickered inside a storefront, his floating face seeming to stare right through me.

  He took a page right out of Orwell, Grandmother said.

  What do you mean?

  I haven’t made you read 1984 yet?

  No.

  Pity. Your uncle is like Big Brother, this terrible ruler in Orwell’s book. The government watches your every move, and if you speak out against them, you’re a traitor.

  That’s horrible.

  Yes, dear. When we undo all of this, you need to read the book.

  I appreciated the fact that Grandmother said “when,” not “if,” but looking around at the world my uncle had created, it was hard to believe we could undo so much damage.

  Ahead of us, Ray raised his hand again, pointing above. Another camera. Thank goodness he was with us. I never would have spotted it. We would have been captured already, or in a fight for our lives, men in black aiming their power-nullifying machines at us. We waited in the shadows for the camera to pan past and then sprinted across the street. “One more block,” Ray whispered, and I felt a surge of affection for this boy who was little more than a stranger. He was risking his life for us. Ivan-I-Am-Not, too. How incredibly brave they were.

  Grandmother elbowed me and pointed. Rising above a drab-looking box of a building was most certainly our destination. A huge castle-like structure loomed, taking up nearly an entire block. At the corners of the building were turrets, round with blackened areas that had to be windows. No light came from the structure, at least not from the upper floors. “That’s it,” Grandmother whispered, though we’d all pretty much figured that out. No wonder she could remember it so clearly!

  “Beautiful,” Ivan-I-Am-Not said, gawking up at the building. I started to ask Grandmother how the elf could afford such extravagance. Surely a building like that, smack dab in the middle of Manhattan, would cost millions. Then the answer occurred to me. If you had the ability to travel through time, imagine the advantages that would give you. The elf could get the lottery number and travel back and play it. He could pick out the best stocks and travel back and buy them when they were cheap. He could bet on Super Bowls and horse races and World Series games. He could seek out people like Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, Steve Jobs, and Bill Gates and invest in their inventions. Becoming fabulously wealthy would take no time at all.

  “Come on,” Ray hissed. He was several yards ahead as we stared dumbly at the castle.

  My blood ran cold when a voice in the distance shouted, “Halt!” I should have run, but I instinctively turned to look. A man, dressed in black so that he blended into the night, hurried up the street. He carried something that looked like a weapon. As he drew closer, I recognized it as being similar to the machine Ray and Ivan-I-Am-Not had used on me. He aimed the weapon our way and I felt that strange paralyzing sensation. My head felt fuzzy, my skin clammy. I fought with all my might, but my arms and legs seemed to weigh a hundred pounds each. Grandmother dragged me toward the castle. Though farther from the machine, Ray and Ivan-I-Am-Not staggered like they’d been drugged. “I said halt!” the man shouted.

  The machine made me feel like I was running through neck-high water. I needed to fight it, to use my powers. Though I knew doing so would alert the authorities that a Defender had penetrated their defenses. I fought with everything I had to form a North Pulse. This little man, with his little weapon, was not going to stop me. I circled my hand and held out my cane to direct the blast. Ray and Ivan-I-Am-Not stood paralyzed. The man approached swiftly. Grandmother stepped forward, unaffected by the machine. I wondered vaguely if she was going to try and fight him off herself. I couldn’t allow that. She would get hurt. The man was fifty feet away now. My North Pulse was ready. There was no other choice.

  No, Carol, Grandmother said. They’ll come for us.

  But I drew back my cane. The man hesitated. So did I. We stared at each other, neither sure what to do. The man looked around, as if hoping for backup. He edged forward and light from a streetlamp illuminated his face. I recognized him! Toby Wise, one of the Defenders I’d fought alongside protecting Santa. He was from Australia and a nice enough guy. He’d spoken only a few words to me, though they’d been nothing but kind. So in this world he was working with the enemy? How depressing that good people could be so easily corrupted.

  I was about to fire my North Pulse, regardless of the consequences, when from out of nowhere, a man wearing a mask slammed into Toby, tackling him around the waist. The two of them toppled to the sidewalk. Toby grunted in pain. The weapon went flying and broke into pieces. Ray, Ivan-I-Am-Not, and I were now free of its effects, but we stood frozen, watching the two men grapple. Our rescuer got the upper hand, using his legs to pin Toby across the chest. He reared back and walloped him. Toby lay still. The mystery man stood and turned to us. He took a step forward. We took a step back. The man pulled off his mask.

  I gasped. “Mr. Winters.”

  He waved us toward him. “Help me,” he hissed. Mr. Winters grabbed Toby’s arms and pulled him toward the alley from which he’d sprung. We rushed over. Grandmother picked up the remains of the weapon. Ray checked for more cameras. Ivan-I-Am-Not and I helped Mr. Winters drag the unconscious man.

  “You came,” I said. I wanted to hug him.

  “To protect my boys,” he said gruffly. “I don’t care what you people do.”

  I smiled. My uncle’s world had hardened this version of Mr. Winters, but I suspected he did care what happened to us. “Well, thank you anyway.”

  Mr. Winters grunted and pulled out a rope, tying Toby’s hands behind his back. He took a piece of cloth from his pocket and gagged him. “You found the place you’re looking for?” Mr. Winters asked.

  “A block away,” Grandmother said. “The big house.”

  Mr. Winters nodded. “Let’s go then.”

  Down the street we crept, sticking to the shadows, avoiding the ever-present cameras. Mr. Winters led the way now. We saw no more men in black and we reached the castle within a couple of minutes. We hid across the street from the massive structure, which was even more awe-inspiring up close. An imposing iron fence ringed the elf’s home. A huge metal chain with an equally huge padlock hung from the front gate. “Now what?” I whispered.

  “Leave it to me,” Ivan-I-Am-Not answered, and before any of us could object, he dashed across the street.

  Mr. Winters started to chase after him, but Ray grabbed his arm. “Let him do it.” Mr. Winters sighed and sank back down, and we watched Ivan-I-Am-Not pull a thin object from his pocket and go to work on the lock. The elf’s castle was so large that the front gate was left in dark shadows, which concealed Ivan-I-Am-Not. Within seconds, the lock clicked open. Ivan-I-Am-Not pulled the chain slowly out of the iron gate, lifting it carefully so metal didn’t clang against metal. He gently placed it on the sidewalk and waved us over.

  “How did you do that?” I whispered as we reached our grinning lockpicker.

  “When a person lives in the street, he learns many things.” I gave him a hug. If we were able to change things back, I hoped I would find these two boys in my world. As briefly as we’d known each other, I’d already come to think of them as friends.

  Mr. Winters grabbed the iron gate and swung it open. It creaked softly, but no one came. The street was deserted. Ray was looking this way and that, up and down, searching for cameras. Mr. Winters, hands on his hips, stared at the castle. Grandmother breathed heavily beside me. Without giving it a second thought (a bad habit of mine), I stepped through the open gate.

  “Wait, m’lady!” Mr. Winters whispered.

  But it was too late. The moment my foot stepped onto the elf’s property, the building exploded in light. Sirens wailed. Windows up and down the b
lock lit up. An engine roared to life in the distance. A crash came from inside the castle. Mr. Winters looked around in panic. He turned to Grandmother and me. “You two, hide on the grounds. The three of us will draw them away.”

  “No!” I shouted over the din. “They’ll capture you. Come with us.”

  Mr. Winters stared hard at me. There was a glimmer of something in his eye, a spark that hadn’t been there before. “You’re sure you can save us?” He spoke so softly I could barely hear him over the alarms. He looked more like the Mr. Winters I knew than he ever had.

  I took a deep breath. Shouts could be heard in the distance. A door slammed inside the castle. “I’m sure.”

  He bowed grandly, as he had so many times before, a knight before the queen. “Then we will trust you to do so, m’lady.”

  He and the two boys started to take off. But Grandmother grabbed Ray’s arm. He looked surprised. “We need him,” she said sternly.

  “What? Why?” Mr. Winters asked. He looked up and down the street. More engines roared to life.

  “I can’t explain now,” Grandmother said. “Please, just trust me. Carol will keep him safe.”

  Mr. Winters hesitated. He looked at Ray with a mix of desperation and uncertainty. My heart panged for him. He clearly loved these boys. “OK,” he finally said. Ray looked stunned and Mr. Winters pulled him into a quick, violent hug. Ivan-I-Am-Not hugged Ray, too. He hugged me next, flashing an ornery grin. “I wish you the best of luck.” Then they were off, sprinting down the street, toward the sound of the shouting.

  “Quickly, children,” Grandmother said. “We must hide.” We ran onto the grounds. I turned to give Mr. Winters and Ivan-I-Am-Not one final look. As I watched them vanish, I wondered if I’d ever see them again. In this world or any other.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Shimmering Elf

  That’s him? I asked Grandmother. We hid in thick shrubbery near the corner of the castle, about twenty-five feet from the front door. A small man stood at the front gate talking to one of the security personnel who came running after I’d triggered the alarm. We caught snippets of their conversation.

  “A man and a boy. We got them three blocks from here.” I felt sick to my stomach.

  “What were they doing?”

  “We don’t know . . .” They moved farther into the street and the conversation was lost to the night.

  Does that look like an elf, dear? I tried hard not to be hurt by her tone, which came through even telepathically.

  I can’t see him very well.

  You’ll know the moment you see him.

  Why?

  No time to explain. She spoke aloud to include Ray. “We need to get inside.”

  I studied the house. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” Grandmother said. “Maybe climb a gutter and enter through the roof somehow?”

  We looked for handholds, but I didn’t think that was such a hot idea. How would the Ancient One climb up the side of a building at her age? “We don’t know if there’s even an entrance up there,” I responded. “You’re sure you can’t use a portal?”

  “He would vanish at the sight of me. Let’s just say we weren’t friends.”

  I wondered again why on Earth he would help us if he hated Grandmother so much. But I kept that to myself. I had to pick my battles with her. “We could create another distraction and run through the front door,” I suggested.

  “Maybe,” Grandmother said. “Or perhaps there’s a basement or cellar we could get in through.”

  “Or maybe I could freeze time for a few seconds. They might think it’s Mr. Winters if they detect it.”

  “Too risky,” Grandmother answered. “Maybe . . .”

  “Maybe . . .” Ray interrupted. He’d been so silent, crouching behind us, that the sound of his voice made me jump. “Maybe,” he repeated, “we could go through this open window.” He stood next to a large window that swung inward. He pushed it in farther to emphasize his point. His grin was clear, even in the shadows.

  “Yeah, I guess we could do that,” I said, grinning back.

  Ray pulled himself into the window and tumbled to the floor inside. He scrambled to his feet and his face appeared above the windowsill. He reached for Grandmother. “You’re next, ma’am.”

  Grandmother smiled. “Such a gentleman.” Ray pulled her up and I lifted from behind. Then the two of them helped me. We stood in a dark room. My eyes had yet to adjust. The air seemed stale, like a musty basement. Ray closed the window and pulled the curtains shut. Now it was pitch-black, but he flipped on a small flashlight he pulled from his pocket.

  Grandmother gasped, and I followed the track of her eyes through the gloom. Ray directed the light in the same direction. Two mannequin-like figures, wearing crowns and the long robes of elven royalty, stared back at us. The mannequins looked so real I suspected they weren’t mannequins at all but wax figures like the ones at Madame Tussaud’s famous museum. Their regal faces took me back to my first encounters with the king and queen and how much their beauty and power had intimidated me. “That weasel,” Grandmother muttered.

  “What?” I asked.

  “He must have betrayed them.” Grandmother stroked the plush material of the royal robes. “How else would he get these?” She took the light from Ray and scanned the room, revealing more artifacts. There were old wooden trains, baby dolls, blocks and all kinds of playthings. On the wall hung a reindeer harness, which made my blood boil. What had happened to Santa’s poor reindeer and what did the elf have to do with it?

  But that was nothing. In a glass case in the center of the room sat something that made me want to scream. Santa’s hat, bright red and snow white, glowed in the beam of Ray’s flashlight. “He took Santa’s cap?” I asked, hardly able to process how horrible that was. What kind of monster were we asking for help? Ray had moved close to the case. “It’s real,” he muttered. “I can’t believe it’s actually real.”

  “Why would he even want these things?” I asked, wishing we could be anywhere but this room.

  “He was bitter and angry when we expelled him from the kingdom,” Grandmother answered. “A perfect candidate for your uncle to manipulate.” Grandmother handed the light back to Ray. “Come on, let’s find him,” she huffed. Her face was bright red, so much so that she looked possessed, like an elven demon. “You go first. If I see him, I’m not sure what I’ll do.” I’d never seen Grandmother so angry. It scared me.

  Ray took one last yearning look at Santa’s hat. We snuck out of the artifact room and crept down a long hallway. Paintings and pieces of weird-looking art lined the walls. In our studies, Grandmother had forced me to read art history books and I recognized the style of a painting of a woman. She had geometric shapes for a face and eyes that were off-center yet somehow made perfect sense. Is that a Picasso? I asked.

  I believe so.

  I guess not everything’s changed if he’s a famous artist here, too, I said, comforted by the thought.

  It’s hard to know what stayed the same and what was altered. The ripples of time are unpredictable. That’s why it’s incredibly dangerous to travel back. When I get my hands on that little skunk . . .

  But couldn’t we mess things up even worse going back?

  Maybe. But we don’t have a choice after what your uncle did.

  I felt bad talking to Grandmother and not including Ray in the conversation, but we needed to stay as quiet as possible. And he didn’t seem to say a whole lot anyway, unlike his chatty friend. Thinking of Ivan-I-Am-Not made me cringe. Where were they? And what sort of punishment awaited them? I hoped my uncle didn’t hurt them, but that was probably a futile wish.

  At the end of the long hall, we came to a set of huge double doors. We paused to study them and peer behind us to make sure we weren’t being followed. “Open it?” Ray whispered, and Grandmother nodded. She hung back in case the elf waited on the other side. Ray pulled the door open slowly, the creaking hinges making us wince. A blast of frigid air
enveloped us, and what the opening door revealed made our jaws drop.

  Grandmother forgot herself and stepped forward. I was too mesmerized to think of pushing her back. Before us was a grand ballroom, with high ceilings and an enormous chandelier hanging in the center. But where a dance floor or banquet tables should have been was instead a winter wonderland. There were benches, slides, igloo-like houses and sculptures, all made of ice. Not the beautiful blue ice of the North Pole, but close enough to make me homesick for the lost kingdom. A large tree stood in the center, around which the ice flowed this way and that. The room was the elf kingdom in miniature. A tear trickled down Grandmother’s cheek and she wiped it away. Ray stared silently. I wished he could see the real elf kingdom in all its glory, not this pale imitation.

  Then I noticed a hunched-over figure on the other side of the icescape, sitting on a bench and looking up at a sculpture of a female elf with a child at her side. The woman was young and beautiful, the boy resembling her, and the bent figure kept his focus locked on the sculpture, as if he expected the woman and child to spring to life. My eyes must have been playing tricks on me because the seated figure suddenly shimmered. He rose up straight and tall on the bench. Then he shimmered again and sat back down. Grandmother pulled us out of sight of the figure. The artificial snow crunched under my feet. Our breath puffed like steam engines.

  “That’s him?” I whispered.

  Grandmother nodded. I peeked around and the elf shimmered again, almost as if he were fading away and then back again. It definitely wasn’t my eyes playing tricks. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked.