The Undead That Saved Christmas Vol. 2 (15 page)

I slammed the key into the ignition and turned it.

Nothing.

I tried again and again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I slammed my fist on the dashboard.

“Switch places,” Danny said, jumping out the passenger door of the truck and running around the front. I jumped out my side and ran around to the passenger side, stopping on the running board as I heard the final triumphant strains of the song.

Oh night divine, oh night divine…

In the cab Danny was playing with the ignition. Across the lawn, faces turned skyward in song now suddenly began to rotate, looking for the source of the coughing, sputtering engine sounds.

The nearest of the zombies turned towards the truck; the brake lights illuminated their faces in an enraged red glow. I saw a ripple of movement.

Danny cranked the ignition again.

Still nothing.

Belle handed me the rifle and I took a bead on the nearest one. I took the shot, slamming a round into his forehead and dropping him among his fellows. They fell on him like starving wolves.

I took out another one and another one, picking my targets to create the most commotion among the ambling carolers, but there were too many of them and they were coming too fast. A wall of rotting flesh advanced in our direction.

In the distance I heard a frantic barking.

I looked up and saw a small brown and black dog—hackles raised, teeth bared in fierce defiance—standing on skinny legs about two hundred yards away and barking at the top of her lungs. The zombies faltered, looking from the glow of the brake lights in all directions, seeking out the source of the barking.

And then I felt the wind shift.

There was a moment of silence and then the mass of festering bodies turned as one in the direction of the madly barking dog.

They smelled her. And they were going after her.

I pumped round after round into the crowd, effectively slowing their advance towards our canine protector and then I finally heard the engine turn over.

“Got it. Hold on,” Danny shouted. He slammed the truck into reverse, plowing into a pair of disoriented carolers and peeling out into the street.

I looked in the mirror and saw the dog, running a zigzag pattern through the staggering carolers and chasing the truck as fast as her legs would carry her.

“Stop the truck!” I screamed. “Danny, stop the truck!”

“What?!”

“Stop the truck!” I screamed, jumping onto the running board and into the street even before the truck had come to a stop.

The nearest zombies were less than ten yards away, coming towards me at a steady, loping pace. The dog ran past them, her ears plastered to her head, tongue lolling, chest heaving. She leapt into my arms, licking my face, paws scrabbling to hold on as I jumped back into the cab of the truck.

“Go! Go! Go!” I shouted. Hands raked the sides of the truck, fists banging on the metal siding as we rocketed beneath the strings of solar-powered twinkle lights and careened out of town.

Epilogue

I heard A.J. singing Christmas carols well before dawn on Christmas morning. He was switching back and forth between “Angels We Have Heard On High” and “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” The sound was truly horrible.

I threw a shoe at the wall that separated our bedrooms. “Shut up, A.J.!” I shouted. “You’re killing Christmas!”

I heard him laugh and then heard him running across his room, throwing open his door, and pounding down the hallway to my door.

“Don’t you come in here!” I shouted, but he already had the door open, peeking in and laughing.

Samantha stirred at the foot of my bed, sniffing the air and stretching her long skinny legs.

“We wish you a merry Christmas,” A.J. said.

“Merry Christmas, A.J.” I said.

“Do you think Santa Claus came?” he asked.

“I’m pretty sure he did. Do you wanna go downstairs and see?”

“Do I have to wait for you?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said, tugging on a sweatshirt and scratching Samantha’s scruffy, brindled fur.

“She saved your lives,” A.J. said, coming into the room and putting out his hand for Samantha to sniff. I had not told him any of the details of our trip down the mountain.

“Yes. She did.”

“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,” he said. “For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”

“Let’s go, buddy,” I said. I threw my arm around his shoulder and steered him towards the hallway. There were stockings and boxes of Broadway cast albums downstairs waiting for him.

Story Art Cover

By Scott Cole

www.13visions.com

Dedication

To wife Tracey - my partner, my friend and personal eggnog squad.

Author Bio

Scott Morris
, a.k.a. Need a Nickname Scott, lives with his wife Tracey in West Lafayette, Indiana. Scott's story "Santa's Helpers" appeared in the first volume of "The Undead That Saved Christmas" in 2010. He is the host of the Zombie Beat new section of the Mail Order Zombie podcast (
www.mailorderzombie.com
). Besides manning the newsdesk, Scott has provided several book and movie reviews on this podcast and was voted "Voice of the Mail Order Zombie Family" in February 2010.
Scott's passions extend beyond the world of the undead. He and his wife Tracey host a bi-weekly podcast entitled Disney, Indiana (
www.disneyindiana.com
). They love all aspects of the mouse and talk about books, music, theme parks, video games and whatever else Disney related they wish. They have also visited both Disneyland and Walt Disney World over 17 times in their 18 years together.

You Better Watch Out

By Scott Morris

The sunlight streamed through the windows outside of Elfenship Hall. It felt very warm on Barthy's face as he approached the main auditorium, but he wouldn't need the sun's warmth to feel good today. After ten long years of study, quizzes, finals and projects, Barthy had made it - today was graduation day, today he was going to be one of Santa's elves!

Barthy was an exceptional student - graduating as this year’s valedictorian with a 4.5 on a 4.0 scale. He enjoyed school, but he was really looking forward to being a part of the team here at the North Pole - helping the big guy bring joy and good will to everyone.

Secretly, Barthy hoped to be named part of the advanced toy design team - he loved designing new and exciting toys, but he had already shown a knack for building tools and machines to help the production of the toys.

If not toy design, Barthy wanted to work in intelligence. This was another area he excelled in at school. Early on, his assignments included watching test subjects - other elves - and report back if they were naughty or nice. Barthy performed this task so well and with such speed not seen by the instructors before, that he was the first student who was actually given real boys and girls to study and profile.

If a role in the CIA didn’t present itself, Barthy had the skills in other areas as well and wouldn't be disappointed with any the roles, even as a toy maker, a member of the reindeer team or even a public relations elf. He enjoyed answering kids’ letters to Santa and helping to make their wishes come true.

A hush fell over Elfenship Hall as the dean of the academy, Grandal, began his speech by welcoming everyone to the ceremonies and congratulating the graduates. Grandal continued telling the graduates that today is an exciting time in a young elf's life, moving from the class room to the work force as they would be given their initial assignments at today's graduation.

Barthy was only half listening to Dean Grandal. Instead, he was day dreaming about doing something really important for Santa and the boys and girls of the world.

Grandal then began to read the names of each of Santa's departments and which elves were assigned to those teams. As each department's new recruits’ names were read, those elves gathered around a representative of that department. Once all names were read for that department, the representative led the group away from the hall.

Grandal finished reading all the departments and graduates’ names and every elf had left the room. Every elf but Barthy, that is. Barthy sat alone in the front of the auditorium as he came out of his daydreams.

Confused, Barthy said, "Dean Grandal, is there some mistake? I wasn't assigned a role today."

"My boy, there is no mistake, “explained Grandal. "You have been assigned a role, but I don't know all the specifics. You have been one of the finest to pass through these halls, Barthy, “continued Grandal, "and it's been an honor to have you in the academy. I wish you good luck in your new role. Someone will be along shortly to explain everything."

With that, Grandal left Barthy alone in the hall.

Three elves entered the room. Two of them took up positions at the door as the third approached the lectern where Grandal stood just a few minutes ago. There was an air of superiority about this third elf - Barthy was taken aback by the elf’s demeanor as he'd never run across this type of behavior at the North Pole.

"Barthy Elf I presume", the elf on stage said as he locked eyes with Barthy.

"Yes, sir", Barthy said, a little weakly.

"My name is Conor, but everyone calls me Nightshade. I've been reviewing your records, son, and we at Santa’s SAC have been most impressed," continued Nightshade.

"I'm sorry; did you say Santa’s SAC?"

"I'm not authorized to give you specific information at this time. Let's just say that it's the most important department here at the North Pole. In fact, Christmas would not be Christmas without our involvement. We are here to talk to you about an opening on our team, " explained Nightshare, "but before we can get into any more details, I need to move you to a more secure location and have you sign some paperwork. If you'd like to learn more you can leave with us or I can get Grandal back in here and you'll have the pick of the other departments.”

Barthy considered Nightshade's offer. He always thought he was destined for something greater and the thought of being a part of a team that was so important to Christmas really spoke to Barthy.

 “Come on kid, I’ve got to visit the two other schools to make offers to other recruits. What’s it going to be?”

"I'd like to learn more about Santa’s SAC and what you guys do. So what's next? "

No sooner had Barthy finished his question, he felt a needle prick in his arm and then the entire world faded to black.

* * *

Reality faded in slowly for Barthy; at first it was just lights and shadows. He was disoriented and concerned for his safety. The room slowly came into focus. He did not recognize where he was, but he was alone. There was no sign of Nightshade or the other two elves. Barthy wanted to have a few words with the one that stuck him, if he ever saw him again.

Barthy was lying in what looked like a hospital bed which matched the rest of the decor of the room. Several small chairs were at the end of the bed, with a small table to his left, a large window overlooking a snow field on one wall and a door on the opposite wall. The elf moved slowly on his wobbly legs to the door and attempted to open it, but it was locked. He heard a voice coming from a speaker near the window. It asked him to have a seat and they'd be with him soon. Barthy meekly returned to the bed.

A few minutes later, an elf entered the room and delivered a tray of food for Barthy - he hadn't been hungry until he saw the food but the smell of the steak and lobster awoke his hunger. Exactly how long had he been knocked out?

"Where's Nightshade?" Barthy asked the elf who brought in the food.

"I'm sorry, but I do not know - he'll be here soon. Please be patient," responded the elf and exited the room.

Barthy was enjoying his meal when the door opened and Nightshade returned alone.

"So, what do you think of the grub around here, Barthy?"

"I thought you just got bread and water when you were a prisoner," responded Barthy.

Nightshare let out a hearty belly laugh, "You are far from being a prisoner, son. In fact you can still leave if you like - but I hope you will listen a little more. We can use elves like you around here."

 “Where exactly is ’here’?” Barthy responded.

 “Welcome to Santa’s SAC, Barthy. We’re in the new recruit center to be exact. We are a top secret support staff for the big guy, but before I tell you any more, I need to stress that what you are about to hear is top secret and any leaks of information will be met with a disinformation campaign against your entire family and capital punishment for you. Do you understand what I just said, Barthy?” Nightshade firmly questioned.

 “Yes, sir, Nightshade. I want to help bring joy to the world each Christmas,” Barthy said as strongly as he could, even with Nightshade’s previous words hanging over his head.

 “Great!“ Nightshade beamed, “You are going to make a fine team member. Welcome to Santa’s Stability and Control team or as we call it, Santa’s SAC!”

 “Stability and Control - for Santa?” Barthy responded.