“It’s called sacrifice, boy.” Mr. Flood sneered. “Giving up something important, something you want more than anything. It’s what you’re supposed to do, to keep people like us happy.”
“But you’re not happy now?” Jack pointed at Bub. “You don’t want what he has anymore?”
“Now you’re catching on,” said Mr. Flood. “Grampa’s all used up. He’s circling the drain.”
Jack fell silent. As crazy as the situation was, he thought he understood it.
A great flood would strike Johnstown in 1976, killing hundreds or thousands of people. Bub, who’d always managed to put it off before, couldn’t stop it this time. It looked as if no one else could...but maybe it was just that no one else had tried.
An idea was forming in Jack’s mind. He knew Bub wouldn’t like it; Jack didn’t like it much himself. But Jack and Bub weren’t the ones who mattered, were they?
The thousands of people in the path of the flood were the ones who mattered.
“Well, Jack?” asked Joe. “Have we answered your questions?”
“Why don’t you come down from there and have a proper visit then?” said Rachel.
“I’ve got some crazy mill stories you’re gonna love,” said Steel Toe.
The longer Jack considered his idea, the more frightening it became...and the more real. He trembled at the thought of it, shivered fiercely from the inside out.
“Come on down, Jack,” said Joe. “Just walk down the wall.”
“But don’t knock off any of the pictures, of course,” said Rachel.
Mr. Flood chortled. “Unless you’d rather we come up after you?”
Jack opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He knew he was about to make a huge mistake.
But he also knew one other thing. When he asked himself what Colonel Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man, would do in this situation, he only came up with one answer.
Anything he could.
“Wait.” The word sprang out of Jack before he could call it back in. “What about me?”
“What about you, you ugly little urchin?” asked Mr. Flood.
Jack’s voice shook. The enormity of what he was doing left him quaking in his sneakers. “What if I sacrificed something?”
For a moment, the room was dead silent. All eyes were glued to Jack again...though only Bub’s were wide with horror.
Finally, Joe spoke up. “What do you have in mind?”
*****
Jack swallowed hard. “What if I stay here like Bub did? What if I put Johnstown first like you said?”
“That’s a nice thought, dear,” said Rachel. “But didn’t you hear what we said about events being set in motion?”
“This has already been decided,” said Joe. “We’ve made up our minds.”
“No, wait.” Jack’s mind raced. “What about my youth and energy? I’ve got plenty of both.”
“Jack, stop,” blurted Bub. “You don’t know what you’re saying!”
“Doesn’t matter.” Joe adjusted his Alpine hat. “The cycle of death and rebirth must continue.”
“We’ve put it off long enough,” agreed Rachel.
“You heard the lady.” Mr. Flood hiked a thumb in her direction. “Take your youth and energy and stick ‘em where the sun don’t shine.”
Jack felt like he was losing ground fast...but like Colonel Steve Austin, he had to do everything in his power to save innocent lives. “Dreams.” The word shot out of him like a cannonball.
“Jack, no!” shouted Bub.
“I’ll give you my dreams, too,” said Jack.
“They’re using you,” said Bub. “They’ll take everything, if you let them!”
“Why don’t you put a sock in it?” snapped Mr. Flood. “You’re dead wrong, anyway. There’s nothing he or anyone could offer to delay this glorious flood!”
“Actually...,” said Joe. “Let’s not be hasty.”
“What?” Mr. Flood’s eyes bugged out of his knobby skull.
“I’m just saying.” Joe shrugged. “Now that I think about it, an infusion of new dreams and vitality might not be such a bad thing, would it?”
“Yes!” said Mr. Flood. “If it means putting off the flood of the century again, then yes it would be.”
“You might be onto something, Joe,” said Rachel.
Mr. Flood leaped out of his chair. “You’re not actually considering this, are you?”
“What else could you give us, Jack?” asked Rachel. “If our minds weren’t already made up, that is.”
“Nothing!” said Bub. “Don’t listen to him! He’s just a child!”
“I can’t believe I actually agree with Benny about something,” said Mr. Flood. “Don’t listen to that kid!”
Joe ignored him. “What else could you offer us, Jack? What else could you offer for a new covenant?”
Jack thought hard, trying to block out Bub and Mr. Flood, who were both yelling. What could he, an eleven-year-old kid, possibly have to offer to save hundreds or thousands of lives?
He could think of nothing on the same scale, nothing that might be worth trading for all those lives. But then he remembered what Mr. Flood had said about sacrifice...how it had to be something important, something you wanted more than anything.
“The 12-inch Six Million Dollar Man doll,” said Jack. “With rocket capsule and engine block.” Even as he said it, he hated the thought of doing without it. “I asked for it for Christmas this year.”
“And you want it that badly, Jack?” asked Joe. “It means that much to you?”
Jack nodded emphatically. “Oh, yeah.” He didn’t have to exaggerate his sincerity at all. “It means everything.” That toy was at the top of his Christmas list; it had dominated his dreams and daydreams for months, ever since he’d first seen it in the Sears Christmas catalogue.
“Hmm.” Joe looked at Rachel. “What do you think?”
Rachel shrugged. “We already agreed not to postpone the flood any longer.”
“Damn skippy!” hollered Mr. Flood. “’76 is set in stone!”
“On the other hand,” said Rachel, “I suppose I’m not averse to spicing things up.” She turned her misaligned eyes on Joe. “What about that wild card we talked about?”
“Hollywood.” Joe nodded. “The hockey movie.”
“I loved that idea!” Steel Toe pounded the table and grinned. “Lots of opportunities for union work!”
“A new local legend,” said Rachel. “One that ripples around the world and far into the future. Some will call it one of the greatest sports movies of all time.”
“Yes!” Steel Toe slammed the table again.
“No!” wailed Mr. Flood.
“But the patterns are clear,” said Rachel. “It can only happen in 1976. If there’s a flood, there will be no Slapshot, or any of the movies that come after.”
Joe stared into space with eyes narrowed. “It’s a different approach, that’s for sure.”
“A stupid approach!” said Mr. Flood.
“But surprises can jump-start evolution,” said Rachel. “And this movie will certainly be a great surprise.”
“You want a surprise?” snapped Mr. Flood. “How ‘bout a couple million gallons of water roaring through town at once?”
Joe ran a finger back and forth along the brim of his Alpine hat. “I don’t like changing course once a decision has been made...”
“You tell ‘em!” said Mr. Flood.
“But in this case, it might be worth exploring the permutations.” Joe smiled up at Jack. “The deal you’ve proposed has merit.”
“No, please,” said Bub. “He’s a child, he doesn’t know...”
Joe looked around at the other occupants of the table. “All in favor of making this deal?”
Everyone but Mr. Flood and Bub raised their right hands.
“Wait!” shouted Bub. “Stop!”
All eyes turned to him.
Bub’s shoulders heaved, and his face was flushed with stress. For a moment, he s
aid nothing, just stared up at Jack.
“If you insist on doing this, I suppose I can’t stop you,” said Bub. “But you need to know something.” He looked down at the people around the table. “He needs to know something.”
Joe made a sweeping gesture with one arm, giving him permission to continue.
Bub looked back up at Jack. “Before you sign anything, you can ask for something else. Something for yourself, Jack, to sweeten the deal.”
“I can?” said Jack.
“But you don’t have to,” said Joe. “Isn’t another year’s reprieve from a devastating flood enough for you?”
“No,” snapped Bub. “Jack, no. Listen to me. Ask for something else. You won’t get another chance.”
Jack thought about it. “Anything? I can ask for anything?”
“What do you have in mind, child?” asked Rachel.
“Put off the flood longer,” said Jack. “How about that? Make it ten or five years instead of one.”
“Never!” howled Mr. Flood. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t even get five minutes!”
“Sorry, but no,” said Joe. “The contract is for one year. That’s non-negotiable.”
Jack looked at Bub, who shrugged and nodded. “Can I warn people, at least? Tell them to move away before it hits?”
“Warn whomever you like,” said Rachel. “They won’t believe you without some kind of proof.”
“Jack,” said Bub. “You’re a good boy, wanting to buy more time and save people’s lives...but you need to ask for something for yourself.”
Jack frowned.
“You’re paying a steep price for this deal,” said Bub. “Much steeper than you know.” He nodded gravely. “Isn’t there something you’ve always wished for? Something that could make up for all the things you’re giving away?”
“I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There must be something,” said Bub. “Something that could make your life better in spite of the burden you’re taking on.”
Jack wracked his brain...and then he found it. “Wait...yes.” He came up with the one thing he wanted more than the Colonel Steve Austin doll. “I know what I want.”
When he said it out loud, he knew it was right. It was perfect. It was what he’d always wanted most in his deepest heart of hearts.
And everyone at the table, except Mr. Flood, agreed to it.
“It’s a deal.” Smiling, Joe plucked the white feather from his Alpine hat. “Now just hold still a moment, young man.”
“Why?” Jack asked with a frown.
“Our covenant can only be sealed one way.” Joe held up the feather, quill first, and pitched it at Jack like a paper airplane. The feather spiraled its way up to him in lazy loops, white tufts fluttering along its length. “In blood.”
Jack’s eyes widened. Before he could back away or defend himself, the feather suddenly shot toward him. The tip of its quill punctured his left thumb, shocking him with a pinprick of pain...then popped free and zipped back down to Joe.
“Very good.” Joe reached up and snagged the feather from the air, then turned to Rachel. “Contract, please?”
Rachel snapped her fingers, and a parchment scroll appeared on the table between them. “Sign here.” She unrolled the scroll and pointed to a line on the bottom with a big black “X” beside it.
Joe positioned the bloody feather above the line, then let go of it. The feather stayed hovering in place, its bloody tip just above the start of the line. “Jack? Pretend you’re signing your name, won’t you? The feather will do the rest.”
Hesitantly, Jack raised his right hand, pinching his thumb and forefinger together as if he were holding a pen. Then, he scribbled an imaginary signature in thin air.
Glancing down below, he saw the feather scratch across the scroll in exactly the same way, leaving a bright red scrawl on the line beside the “X.”
“Done.” Joe grabbed the feather, pricked his own left thumb, and signed on the line below Jack’s name. “And done.”
Rachel waved her right hand in a circle, leaving a trail of glittering sparks that hung in midair. “Now this next part might feel a little uncomfortable.”
“What next part?” asked Jack.
“Tough it out, li’l guy!” said Steel Toe. “It’ll be over before you know it!”
“But what part are you talking about?” asked Jack.
“When you make a deal with us, you’re reborn,” said Rachel. “But you can’t be reborn if you don’t die first.” With that, she leaned forward and blew out a big gust of breath.
It sent the sparks flashing toward Jack, expanding as they went. By the time they reached him, they’d become a cloud big enough to engulf him...which they did.
Instantly, Jack’s feet left the floor. As he floated upward in the grip of the glittering cloud--or downward, from the point of view of those around the table--he became paralyzed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move a muscle.
Drifting further, Jack felt his body stiffen and go cold. His breathing stopped, and so did his heart.
Am I dying? As the thought came to him, Jack saw a fresh burst of sparks which might have been in his head. Then, a curtain of blackness fell over his vision, and he couldn’t see outside himself anymore.
A rush of memories rushed up to take the place of Jack’s darkened sight. He remembered the first time he’d gone to a Pirates baseball game at Forbes Field in Pittsburgh. He remembered the first time he’d gone camping in a tent at Prince Gallitzin State Park. He remembered getting his tonsils out and eating Rocky Road ice cream in his hospital bed while watching cartoons.
With his father. In every one of the memories that came to him, his father was there.
He was part of lots more, too...so many moments that Jack hadn’t thought about in ages. Going grocery shopping at the supermarket; skinning a knee on a gravel driveway; sitting in church on a Sunday morning; crying on a shoulder over something unimportant. Dad was there every time, his face and voice and presence woven through the fabric of Jack’s life in ways Jack had forgotten.
Then Dad was gone, too, and so were those moments. And so was Jack.
He had a distant awareness of touching down, settling onto the floor that had been his ceiling. Then that, too, faded, as did his awareness of himself.
All was dark and silent and still, a vacuum. Nothing remained of Jack or anything he knew or thought or wanted, not even the faintest impression of an absence in the void, like a wisp of perfume left behind in a room.
*****
The first thing Jack saw when he opened his eyes was the giant Christmas tree decoration on the corner of the Glosser Bros. building. It was made up of V-shaped rows of white lights, broad at the bottom and narrower further up. An eight-pointed star perched atop the peak, glowing softly in the falling snow.
Watching that tree, which had towered over Christmas for as long as Jack could remember, he felt completely at peace. He didn’t have a single worry, didn’t have a single need.
He smelled the icy air of a winter’s night, felt snowflakes gently falling on his face. His body bobbed up and down, carried away from Glosser’s glowing tree in someone’s strong and steady arms.
The only thing he heard was the soft buzz of Glosser’s lights and the labored breathing of whoever was carrying him. Turning his head, he looked up and saw a familiar face staring straight ahead--eyes squinting against the snow, cheeks and forehead flushed and glistening with sweat, silver hair fluttering in the wind.
“Bub?” Jack’s voice was a squeak.
Bub looked down at him, his smile as warm as the air was cold. “Welcome back, Jack.” A familiar parchment scroll brushed his cheek; the scroll was sticking up from his shirt pocket under his jacket, rolled up and tied with a shiny red ribbon.
Seeing that scroll started bringing back Jack’s memories of what had happened in the secret chamber under Glosser’s. “I’m...alive?”
Bub nodd
ed. “Alive and kicking, Fauntleroy.” It was a nickname he sometimes used for Jack. “On your way home in time for Santy Claus to come.”
Jack heard church bells in the distance and frowned. He felt exhausted, as if he might drift off at any moment. “Bub?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“Did it really happen?”
Bub’s expression turned grim. “You shouldn’t have followed me, Jack. You shouldn’t have been there.”
Jack yawned loudly. “But did it really happen?”
Bub didn’t say anything for a long moment. He kept his eyes focused ahead, blinking away snowflakes.
“Yes, Jack.” Bub nodded toward the rolled-up scroll in his pocket. “The contract with your signature on it is right there.”
“Huh.” Jack’s eyes fluttered shut. He wanted to stay awake but couldn’t seem to make it happen. “I could’ve sworn it was all a crazy dream.”
“No, Jack.” Bub’s voice sounded sad as well as strained from carrying his grandson. “I’m sorry to say it wasn’t a dream at all.”
*****
Jack woke the next morning to the sound of “Step Into Christmas” by Elton John playing on his clock radio. Though he’d slept like a rock through the night, he was still so exhausted that he let the song play through to the end.
When he finally managed to reach over and switch it off, he dropped right back into a deep sleep. His experiences of the night before had left him so drained, he couldn’t even drag himself out of bed on Christmas morning.
A knock on the door nearly woke him up again, but Jack ignored it. He was lost in a dream about Penn Traffic, the other department store in downtown Johnstown; Colonel Steve Austin was there playing Santa, fighting reindeer terrorists with laser-emitting noses.
But then the knock at the door repeated, followed by a voice. “Jack?” It was Bub. “Jack, can I come in?”
Jack groaned and rolled over on his side, wishing Bub would leave him alone. He wasn’t ready to deal with human contact yet, not until he’d slept a while longer and sorted out his bizarre memories from last night.
But Bub wasn’t ready to give up. “Jack?” He knocked louder. “Are you okay in there?”
Christmas at Glosser's Page 4