The Undead That Saved Christmas

by ed. Lyle Perez-Tinics

  “What won't work baby?”

  “The Christmas magic daddy, it has to work.”

  Bill held back his tears knowing all too well what she was asking Santa to do for her. Should he tell her that Santa cannot do that and break her heart more? Or let her put the note out and deal with what happens tomorrow? Bill decided to put the note out for Santa. He rose to his feet and walked into the kitchen; he grabbed a plate and glass from the cupboard, piled a few cookies on the plate and filled the glass with milk. He set them on the coffee table in the family room.

  Kara placed the note on top of the cookies, and then climbed up into her father’s arms. “Put me to bed before Santa gets here daddy, I've been a good girl all year, Santa has to do this for me.”

  Bill carried her down the hallway and into her bedroom. He gently laid her down on her bed and pulled her blankets up around her chin. He asked her, “Do you want to say a prayer to mommy before you fall asleep Kara?”

  “No daddy, Santa will take care of everything, I know he will and tomorrow you will see.”

  “How do you know Santa will take care of everything baby?”

  “Because mommy told me that Santa was magical and could do anything. My mommy would never lie to me daddy, I believe her, and I believe in Santa.”

  Bill stood upright and walked to the door, pausing momentarily, he looked back at Kara and started to say something to her but he stopped himself. Tonight was not the night for what he wanted to say. He pulled the door shut and headed back out into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from above the refrigerator and walked into the family room. Standing in front of the Christmas tree, he pulled the cork out of the bottle and took a long drink. Raising the bottle as if toasting someone he said, “Yeah, here's to some Merry fricking Christmas magic!”

  ***

  Shortly after Bill passed out drunk in his chair, Santa stepped out of his sleigh that was gently parked on the roof of their home. Stretching his back and popping out a few of the kinks from his long nights work, Santa reached into his sleigh and pulled out his list. “Ah yes, Kara. Nice. In fact, she has been nice for several years running. Don't find many good kids these days. Didn't ask for anything early this year, maybe she left me a note downstairs.”

  Santa grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder before stepping over to the chimney. He then placed a finger alongside his nose and with a wink he was whisked down the chimney and into the living room. Looking around he saw Bill, laid out in his chair with the empty bottle of scotch on the floor. Leaning in carefully over Bill, Santa listened for signs of breathing and immediately smelled the heavy odor of alcohol on his breath. Straightening up Santa whispered, “That's naughty Bill, drunk on Christmas Eve? Tsk-tsk!”

  Then he saw the cookies and milk on the table by the tray. With a smile he slid over to the table and picked up the glass and a cookie. He promptly drank the milk and ate the cookie in one bite. Smiling as he chewed he glanced down and saw the note Kara had written. Unfolding it, he started to read:

  Dear Santa-

  My mommy died tonight. My daddy says it was a drunk driver that hit her car and killed her.

  My daddy and me are very sad and all I want for Christmas is my mommy back. My mommy told me that you have special magic so I believe you can bring her back for me.

  I promise you, I will never ask for anything else if you do this for me. No family should ever be this sad on Christmas Santa.

  So please, just bring my mommy back from the dead. Please Santa!

  Love,

  Kara

  p.s. If you agree to bring her back, eat some of the cookies and drink the milk. That way I will know.

  Santa collapsed on the chair beside him. This was one of many hundreds of similar requests this very night. Fact is, Santa had received thousands of these requests over the years, but had ignored them as there are just some things that should not be done. This request was different though, maybe it was the timing, maybe he was tired of ignoring them, or maybe it was that by eating the cookie and drinking the milk he had entered into a contract with this little girl and now felt obligated to help her.

  Santa quickly stepped back by the fireplace and again placed his finger alongside his nose, winked and was whisked up the chimney and back onto the roof. Pacing around the reindeer and mumbling he cursed himself for having consumed the milk and cookie. This is old magic, I'm not even sure I can remember how to do that anymore, it has been so long. Momma will know what to do.

  Reaching into his sleigh, he picked up his radio and clicked the button on the side, “Claus Two, this is Claus One, come in Claus Two.”

  “This is Elf Control, Claus One; we will get Claus Two on the line in a jiffy. Anything we can do for you until Claus Two is on the line?”

  “Thank you Elf Control, no, I will hold for Claus Two.”

  A moment later Santa heard a familiar voice on the radio, “Is that you poppa?”

  “Yes momma, it's me. I got myself into a little bit of a pickle down here.”

  “What did you do this time poppa?”

  “I ate some cookies and milk before reading a little girl’s note. This girl’s mother died tonight in an accident and she has asked me to bring her back from the dead.”

  “Oh no, you can't do that poppa. It's been how many years since the last time you did it? And do you remember what happened?”

  “I know, I know. But I think I can do it this time; besides, I unknowingly entered into a contract with her when I ate the cookie.”

  “What? How did she?”

  Santa cut her off, “She had a p.s. on the note that said if I agree to do it, then I should eat a cookie.”

  "Oh no poppa, you ate a cookie, didn’t you"

  "It has been a long night momma, and they were my favorite kind!"

  "All cookies are your favorite poppa! Well, it looks like you are going to have to do it then. Please, be more careful this time.”

  “Will do momma. Claus One out.”

  “I love you poppa. Claus Two out.”

  Santa tossed the handset back onto the seat then stood and thought about the magic. It wasn't so much the words he needed to say, it was the amount of magic he needed to use, and the sincerity in his heart. After several minutes Santa stepped back over to the chimney, looked down into the darkness and said the words he needed to say, then clapped his hands together causing an incredible flash of light.

  Climbing into his sleigh and lifting off, he looked back over his shoulder as he flew off into the night, Boy, I sure hope that works!

  * * *

  A series of loud noises outside of his home woke Bill from his stupor. Gunshots? Gunshots on Christmas day? He heard a cop car with its sirens blaring, flying down his street. Suddenly, he heard it come to a screeching halt just a few houses down.

  Reaching over for the remote, he turned on the TV and flipped to a news station. The disheveled looking reporter looked back and forth between the papers on his desk and the camera, “Local law enforcement agencies are asking people to stay in their homes, and allow them to handle the situation at hand. Citizens all over town are reporting seeing people attacking others and eating their flesh. We’ve even had several reports that the recently deceased are coming back to life, walking about and attacking people...”

  Bill changed the channel several times and saw the same reports from all the local news stations. Flipping over to a national channel, he saw that they were reporting the disturbance as well, but were denying that it was anything more than a local problem.

  What the hell? Bill thought to himself, dead people walking around? Attacking and eating the living? How much scotch did I drink?

  That was when Bill heard the noise in the backyard. He jumped over the stool in front of him and ran to the closet beside the front door. Rummaging through the closet, he found a baseball bat. He held the weapon in his grip as he walked quickly through the house. He reached the French doors in the kitchen that led to the backyard. Through the
thin curtains, he could see an object moving slowly around the planters that surrounded their small patio. Reaching out, he slowly turned the handle of the door with his left hand while he held the bat above his shoulder with his right. Opening the door fully he bumped the snow shovel he had left out the day before, sending it clattering to the ground. The figure in the yard bolted upright as Bill took the bat in both hands and prepared to swing it down onto their head.

  “Mommy!” Kara screamed from behind him. She ran passed her father and toward the figure.

  Bill’s eyes widened in disbelief and shock as he dropped the bat and focused on the woman in the yard. It was Lynn; she was dressed in surgical scrubs and slippers. She put her arms around Kara. Lynn looked over Kara’s head, and smiled at Bill. He stepped down the steps and onto the snow, then wrapped his arms around both of them.

  “How did this happen, Lynn? You were...”

  “I don't know Bill, I woke up in the hospital’s morgue a few hours ago. All the bodies in the morgue were sitting up at the same time. ”

  “But, all of your injuries, they are gone. You were dead Lynn!”

  “I know I was, but I'm here and I…”

  “It was Santa daddy! I asked Santa to bring mommy back from the dead and he did it, he really did it!”

  “Yeah, I did it alright!” They all turned around to see Santa standing in the doorway, “I did it but I screwed it up, just like I did back in...”

  “What do you mean you screwed it up?” Bill asked as he stepped back from Lynn, pulling Kara away from her.

  Santa reached and took him by the arm, “Lynn is okay, Bill. The magic worked fine for her, she is completely normal. Where I screwed up was when I used too much magic. It ended up having some collateral damage if you will.”

  “Collateral damage? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “When I brought Lynn back, the magic kind of splashed out. Instead of just waking Lynn, I brought back everyone in the immediate vicinity. However; since the magic was meant for her and her alone, it affected the others differently and it brought the other people back. Well… it brought them back wrong.”

  Bill stared in total shock and disbelief. He looked at Lynn -who was alive and healthy, and as beautiful as she was the day before the accident. “The magic was meant for her?”

  “It was my note to Santa daddy! I asked him to bring mommy back and he did, isn't that right Santa?”

  “That is right Kara, it was the love you have for your mother, combined with my magic that brought her back to life. But now we have a problem, and I need to know if you are willing to help me fix this, Bill.”

  “Fix this? Fix what?”

  “Your wife is here, alive, healthy. Out there,” he pointed towards town, “Out there are people who are not alive and healthy. They are walking around, doing horrible things. They have killed a lot of people already this morning. And all of the people they killed will get up and kill others. Imagine the worst virus possible and how quickly it can spread. That is what we are facing and that is why I need your help, I can't do this alone.”

  “Well just snap your fingers and make it go away!”

  “I can't do that, things don’t work that way. If I tried, with my magic having been weakened, I might end up doing more harm than good. Lynn could easily go away again.”

  Kara screamed, “No! Don't let that happen daddy! Help Santa, you have to help Santa!”

  Bill looked at the bat on the ground, and then looked up at Santa, “I'm not a fighter Santa, I mean, yeah, I was in the military, but I don't own any weapons other than that bat by your feet. I can't help you.”

  Santa stepped back into the house and returned a moment later with his bag. He opened the satchel and reached inside. Santa glanced at Bill, “Military man eh? Marine Corps if memory serves me correctly?”

  “Yeah, I was a Marine, but I was a helicopter mechanic, not an infantryman.”

  Santa chuckled and pulled a Colt M-4 rifle out of the bag and handed it to Bill, “Every Marine is a rifleman, or did you forget that? I have imbued the rounds for this rifle with magic. They will kill the zombies, for lack of a better term, that were brought back with my spell last night. Those killed by the zombies will be whisked back to where they were killed. You will not really be killing anyone Bill, just putting things back where they belong."

  Bill smiled slightly as Santa pulled a tactical vest; full of spare magazines, out of the bag and handed it to him, “Ooo-freaking-rah Santa!”

  "Just make sure to shoot them in the head," Santa said as he looked over at Lynne, “Go get dressed Lynn, and get some warm clothes on Kara, you two will be driving my sleigh, Bill and I, will be on foot.”

  “Are you seriously thinking you can clear out the entire town? I mean, I know you are Santa but, I don't know how to fly your sleigh and don’t you have elves that...”

  Santa cut her off and said, “Don't I have elves? Why yes, yes I do have elves, and they should be arriving....” He looked up into the sky for something, “..now! Here they come.”

  They looked into the sky and saw little flashes of light in a huge circle around the town. Coming out of the light were dozens of elves hanging beneath parachutes.

  “These are my, how should I say this? They are my special elves. Oh, and before I forget,” he reached out and touched Lynn on the tip of her nose, “There you go, now you are ready.”

  “Ready for what, ready to drive your....oh crap, why do I know how to fly your sleigh?”

  “Go Lynn, go get dressed, when you are ready, take Kara by the hand and think about being on the sleigh and the sleigh will take care of the rest.”

  Santa then turned his attention back to his bag and pulled out a bright red and white AK-47 and a red chest rig full of magazines. He turned to see Bill staring at him. “What?”

  “Seriously Santa? A red and white AK?”

  “And what color assault rifle do you think Santa should have?”

  “This is all too surreal, Santa; I don't even know what to think right now.”

  “Look, when this is all over, you guys can come home, have a Christmas ham and move on. Before you know it, you'll never even remember this stuff happened.”

  A few minutes later Lynn and Kara stepped out of the door with winter coats and snow boots on, “We're ready to....” With a flash of light she and Kara were in the sleigh.

  Santa called up to her on the roof, “You weren't quite ready to think about being in the sleigh, were you?”

  “No,” she called down, “I guess not!”

  “Head out to the street, we will be there in a moment.”

  Santa and Bill walked through the house and out the front door. Stopping on the top step he pulled out a fresh magazine for his rifle, inserted it and racked the bolt. “You ready Bill?”

  Bill mimicked Santa’s actions with his own rifle, looked Santa directly in the eye and said, “Now or never I guess, right?”

  “Ooo-freaking-rah Bill, let's go save Christmas!”

  Story Art Cover

  By David Naughton-Shires

  http://www.TheImageDesigns.com

  Dedication

  To Puggy, who tells the Things That Go Bump In The Night that they can run but they'll just die tired

  Author Bio

  Jason Tudor, a San Diego, Calif. native and 21-year military veteran, is a writer and illustrator. His writing is primarily in the science fiction and mystery/thriller genres. Jason also has a large body of nonfiction. As a military journalist and combat correspondent, his nonfiction work has been published in better than 100 printed publications in 41 countries, including the U.S. Air Force's official magazine, Airman, which has a distribution of more than 390,000 copies. Jason is also a published poet and has self published an anthology of poetry entitled "Vibrating Moonlight." He was the designer for the poetry book "Absolute Write, Volume 1," and served as executive producer, co-writer and designer for the self-published cowboy poetry anthology, "Tales of the Gunfighter Holli
s Brown." both available from www.lulu.com. He is currently finishing a Science Fiction satire titled "Galactic Milk" and recently completed a mystery/thriller "Breaking Enigma." He's also drafting a script for a graphic novel. Jason's art and writing are on display at his website, www.JasonTudor.com He also has a Facebook fan page and can be followed on Twitter at @JasonTudor. He attended the University of Maryland University College and the Defense Information School.

  Rudolph The Undead Reindeer

  By Jason Tudor

  Top elf Baker Standish stood watching the last of the toys roll off the rumbling North Pole Workshop assembly line. On schedule and on time, this would be Baker’s third decade without a glitch stopping Santa Claus from getting out the door, up in the air and around the world on time. The error-free performance also meant another opportunity to ride with Santa on the sleigh on the joy-filled, 24-hour worldwide odyssey. A banner year, indeed!

  As he mused on his success and hovered over the clipboard, Baker’s thoughts were broken by a scared, panicked elf racing toward him.

  “Mister Baker! Mister Baker!” Baker turned and saw Myer, one of the elves from the stable, eyes wide and arms flailing.

  “What are you doing on the manufacturing floor, Myer? We’re almost finished here, packing the last bag and readying the sleigh.”

  “It’s Rudolph, sir!” Myer said.

  “What about him, Myer? Is he being temperamental again? Compliment his nose one more time. He loves that,” Baker said, pointing his own nose back down at his clipboard.

  “No, sir,” Myer said. “He’s … dead.”