Death By Christmas: Be Kind Or It May Kill You

by Dorian Scott Cole

  Chapter 3

  Unnerved, Fenrick fled to his car and began driving. He needed a drink. But he didn’t want to drink alone. Certainly not people from his office. Investment buddies – no way. Maybe just some casual conversation to kind of unwind.

  Fenrick passed a sign for a familiar street. He used to live on that street. He turned into the street and slowly drove past the minimalist homes. Drab little neighborhood, he thought, as the less than attractive homes passed by one by one. Why bother with the Christmas lights, he thought. They didn’t make the houses look any better.

  There it was. The place looked worse than when he lived in it. This was where he separated from his ex-wife. He pulled to the curb and looked the place over. He could see by the street light that the cement walks were badly cracked and chipped. The old siding was sagging in places, and completely off in other places. It was too dark to see the sides. His Ex probably didn't live there anymore anyway. Surely she had moved on. It was bad when he lived there. No one would live there.

  Fenrick glanced at his watch. It was beginning to sleet and looked like it might get messy. He turned on his wipers and drove off. His cell phone began to play Journey’s Who’s Crying Now? It meant an investor was calling. He reached in his pocket and turned it off. No point talking to investors tonight. After Christmas things might turn around and there would be nothing to talk about.

  He saw a lounge and pulled in. He recognized it – this had been one of his haunts when he and Pam were together.

  He didn’t recognize any of the lounge staff, and he chose an out of the way table. The server walked up from behind and asked what he was having. He seemed familiar. “Whiskey sour, and spare the rocks.” He wanted to feel the full un-iced flavor on his tongue before it went down, and he would sip it for a half hour and chill out.

  “Hey, don’t I know you?” the server asked. Thankfully the guy looked happy about it, not accusing.

  “I used to come here.”

  “Been a few years hasn’t it. You been off fighting a war?” He sounded like he was ready to praise Fenrick.

  “Nah, I moved away. I was in the area and just stopped in for a drink.”

  “I own this place now.” Fenrick gave him a puzzled look. Server? “Short staff tonight – I gave them time off for Christmas shopping, you know how it is.”

  Fenrick ignored the comment. He wondered what the guy was getting in return for his philanthropy. “Congratulations on buying the business.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get your drink.”

  The drink was half finished when two people stopped at his table. “Fenrick?” the man asked.

  “If it isn’t a Ghost from Christmas past,” Sharon quipped.

  Fenrick looked up and recognized them both - neighbors at his old house, and sometimes party friends. He stumbled to remember their names. “…Sharon… Troy, have a seat.”

  “Merry Christmas,” they both said as they sat down. Fenrick nodded in return. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Have you seen Pam?”

  “I was just over past the old house. Glad she left that dump. She OK?” The sharp edge of guilt was pricking his conscience.

  “She's still there," Sharon replied. "Things are tough for her.”

  “If she had contacted me, I could have helped her,” he said magnanimously.

  “Why didn’t she call me, Sharon? I thought everything was just fine.”

  “How could it be fine? She never had the income to support that place, and - well... anyway.“ Sharon stopped herself. “People helped her out.”

  Fenrick gave her a piercing look. He got the feeling Sharon wasn't telling him something. But he didn't need any more shocks, so he let it go. Sharon smiled at him noncommittally.

  The two looked uncomfortable. “OK,” Troy segued. “So what are you doing this Christmas?”

  “Just doing a little Christmas shopping. The crowds are a nightmare. Why aren't people staying home and ordering online?”

  “Nothing stops Christmas, Fenrick, the crowds ignite the Christmas Spirit,” Sharon said with a smile that was on the verge of becoming a giggly laugh. Fenrick thought she had already had too much Christmas spirits.

  "Yeah. Nooooo." Fenrick shuddered, recalling his experience of an hour ago in the mall.

  “Maybe not,” Troy retorted wryly. “Excuse me just a minute, I need to visit the restroom.” Troy slid out like he was eager to get away from Fenrick.

  “I'm not heartless. But how was I to know? She locked me out - obviously she didn't want to see me again. Why didn’t she just call me when she was having hard times?”

  “Maybe she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.”

  “Women! I just don’t understand them.”

  Sharon laughed aloud at that, then said, “We’re a very mysterious tribe. All I really want is to be loved, to make a home, to be supported when I'm having children, go dancing occasionally, get an appreciative gift once in a while, and work at something interesting to support my kids. I really care deeply about what my kids do. That’s a deep one, all right.” She gave him a sardonic smile.

  “Then where does it all go so damned wrong?!”

  “Men!” she replied with a laugh.

  Fenrick couldn’t help but laugh. “What did I do that was so wrong?”

  “I don’t have time to write you a book,” She said without sympathy.

  “Was I that bad? I mean, she was hard to live with, and one day she just threw me out.”

  “I don’t remember, honestly. But have you acted like you care? A woman doesn’t know that you care if you don’t show her.”

  “I haven’t talked to her in six years.”

  Sharon concluded, “'What we have here is a failure to communicate.'”

  Troy strode up to the table. “Time to go, honey, back to Christmas shopping.” Troy looked at Fenrick. “See you in few years, Fenrick. Have a merry Christmas.”

  Fenrick smiled back and lifted his glass to them. Sharon waved to a group of other friends who all waved back at them.

  Fenrick looked at his glass – it was empty. He ordered another. As he sipped it, he wondered if any of the separation was actually his fault. Pam had always been on him about this or that – she was relentless. It was almost a relief when she forced him to leave. Suddenly he had had freedom to do whatever he wanted. And he did, and never gave it a second thought.

  Well, he couldn’t be blamed – you're not really culpable if you aren't capable of understanding the law. It wasn’t his fault. He looked at his watch. He had an entire afternoon to waste somewhere before going home and packing.

  QQQQQQ

  As he walked through the lounge door, a winter blast caught him and he pulled up his collar. The rain was turning to sleet and snow. The streets were full of slush. It was ugly.

  Fenrick headed toward his car when a cab hit a pothole and splashed slushy water all over him. Every inch of him was wet with slushy water. Immediately he was freezing, and his car would be cold. He could die of hyperthermia. He turned toward the lounge. The red Closed sign was prominently displayed. He went to the door and pounded on it. Then again. And again. No one came. He had never been so cold.

  He turned around and the Grim Reaper was walking down the sidewalk. No one else was on the street. Mesmerized he watched him through the dim snowstorm and fat falling flakes. Was this his time? Would he freeze to death? Christmas Eve. December 24. December 24?! 12 24. This must be it. But when the figure came close, it was a man dressed as an elf, with an elf hat that looked like the blade of a scythe.

  "Hey! Hey, you! I got splashed by a cab, and I'm freezing. I need warm clothes." The elf looked at him like he was crazy, then walked on.

  "Hey, elf! I'll give you money for your clothes! You can have mine!"

  The man half turned toward him. "How much?"

  "Fifty dollars." The man started to walk on. "A hundred!"

  "The costume is worth Fifty, let alone the inconvenience. I'll ha
ve to go get another costume for the party."

  "OK, two hundred plus the clothes. I'm freezing, I'm not going to bargain."

  "Two fifty and they are yours." Fenrick nodded approval, handed him the money from his wallet, and quickly stripped, as did the man. "Gimme' the shoes," the man said.

  "The shoes are worth two hundred!"

  "You got took. C'mon, a deal is a deal."

  Fenrick scooted the shoes over to the elf. They quickly exchanged clothes then the man walked to the door next door and went in. "Jack ass," Fenrick shouted at him. The guy gave him the finger and slammed the door. Fenrick looked down as his pointy green elf shoes and sighed. "I look like an idiot, but at least I'm warm." He pulled the elf hat down over his ears and went to his car.

  His car was a mess. He started it and turned on the defrosters to warm the windows, then chiseled the stuff off the windshield with the scraper. His hands were freezing, but his gloves were nowhere to be found.

  He dove into the car, shivering from the arctic blast of wind and wet, and tried to warm his frozen hands inside his coat. The winter mess clung tenaciously to the windshield and refused to budge at the wiper’s clawing. It would take all night to unfreeze and it was peppering down faster than it could melt. Impatiently he pulled out into the street. He could see well enough through the six inch slit in front, even if his rear window was completely covered. He would just be careful.

  His cell phone began to play, Hey Soul Sister, by Train. His sister was calling. “Answer phone,” he said aloud. “Hey Sis, how are you?”

  “Busy. What do you want for Christmas?” she said, as if checking off her to do list. With three kids, she had a lot to do.

  “I thought we agreed not to exchange gifts, just like we agree every year.”

  “Yeah, that’s what we always say, and then we ignore it. So just tell me, what do you want?” Every year she sent him a gift, so then he would run out and get her one. Why didn’t she just abide by the agreement. She would never make it in business if she treated agreements like just so many useless words on a paper.

  “Oh, you know, a bottle of Johnny Walker Red would be good. Or maybe a vodka this year. Or the old standby, a whisky sour mix.”

  “Don’t you have any hobbies, or like to do anything? Brother, you need to get a life. You know, investing might not have much of a future if the years keep going like these.”

  “The stock market always goes up.” He hoped.

  “So does the number of lunatics. But that doesn’t mean they’re going to dominate the land. How would you like an erector set. Men like engineering stuff.”

  “Lucy, I’m fighting crazy wind and snow and ice here. Can we talk later?”

  “Last chance to get something special.”

  Fenrick spotted something in the road ahead. It was a light beam. The crap falling from the sky and sticking on his windshield was blinding. No, there was something else there. “Shit. It’s Darth Vader in the road. No, damn, it’s the Grim Reaper. What the - I gotta' -” Fenrick swerved sharply left and struck another car that he had no idea was beside him, sending it careening into the oncoming traffic lane of the intersection. It smashed into a sitting car with a woman and kids. He swerved back toward the Grim Reaper, who was just standing there in the middle of the intersection as if waiting for him, sliding on the slick pavement. Damn it was slick! There was no face in the hood – it was a dark cavern – and the cape nearly reached the ground. He swerved wildly left again to avoid hitting the Reaper, passed him, and slid into the light pole across the street.

  After a few moments, the Grim Reaper came to his driver’s side window. Fenrick shrank away, farther into the seat and floor. A light beam probed the vehicle, and then a fist began banging on the window. “Please, don’t hurt me! Don’t take me now!” Fenrick pleaded loudly.

  “Hey, are you all right in there?” The voice didn’t sound like the Grim Reaper.

  “What’s going on?” his sister’s frantic voice came from the cell phone.

  “I’m OK, I’m OK,” Fenrick said quickly. The fist cleaned away some of the snow from the window, and he could see skin under the hood... a yellow jacket. He rolled down the window. A police officer peered in at him, taking in the interior of the car and examining Fenrick.

  The cop shined the flashlight up and down his clothing, including the hat on his head pulled over his ears, with a tuft hanging off the curved end. The mist made the flashlight beam look like a light saber. The officer wore a black hood and a full length yellow rain slick over his overcoat, to protect him from the weather. How could he have mistaken yellow for black?

  “What the hell were you doing standing in the middle of the street?” Fenrick asked.

  “Sir, there was a water main break and the street is covered with ice. I was directing traffic.” The officer looked at his flashlight, which also checks for alcohol. “Sir, I’m showing alcohol in the car. Here blow in this field tester.” The officer handed him a tube to blow in.

  “Those things aren't accurate. I’m calling my lawyer,” Fenrick said, and waved away the tester.

  “Please yourself. The law says you have to go to the hospital get tested, and that will take a while. When the blue and white gets here, you’re getting a ticket for this mess. It may be a while – there are a lot of accidents tonight, so make yourself comfortable... sir.”

  “My insurance will cover it,” Fenrick said as the officer walked away.

  “Fenrick!” his sister demanded from the cell phone.

  “I just had a wreck.”

  “What was all that Grim Reaper stuff? Are you drunk?”

  “Mistaken identity. I have to call my lawyer now.”

  “People see what they need to see. You didn’t see the Grim Reaper for no reason. Pay attention – maybe it’s a message.”

  “It was snowing and dark! I have to call my lawyer now!”

  Fenrick reached for his cell phone and called Sledge.

  "Sledge. I'm in a jam. I need you to meet me at the hospital."

  "Are you OK?" Sledge asked.

  "Yeah, I had a wreck and no one was hurt. But I had a couple of drinks, which was irrelevant, but they are sending me to the hospital for blood alcohol testing."

  "Don't worry about it. Nothing will stick."

  "I need you here. I'm in a hurry."

  "You're a lawyer. You can handle it."

  "They hate lawyers. Anyway, they won't take my word for anything, I'm the perpetrator. I need you here."

  "Yeah, well you don't need me very much. You're letting me go. So, no."

  "Look, I'll pay you."

  "How much do you charge an hour? That's what you're going to pay me."

  "Alright, alright. Just get here, would you?"

  Fenrick sat, and before the police could get there a tow truck showed up. The driver, Jim, was friendly, and waited for the police. He helped him arrange for a rental car. He took his mind off his problems. They laughed about mistaking the police officer for the Grim Reaper. It must have been the snow, poor lighting, and shadows.

  But seriously, Jim admonished, maybe the Grim Reaper theme in his life was hitting him at a subconscious level. Everyone needs a wakeup call now and then. Fenrick laughed. "I have a few minor problems, but life didn't get much better than his."

  QQQQQQ

  Sledge arrived and sat in a plastic chair next to Fenrick in the hospital waiting room, a police officer by his side. The room was full of people, and they were all coughing, sneezing, pouring snot, and filling the air with poison. A baby cried, and so did her mother. The officer accompanying him stood far away from the miserable mess of humanity.

  Fenrick looked around with disgust. "I'm in Hell. Get me out of here."

  "How much did you have to drink, really?"

  "Two whiskey, two hours. Over two hours ago. I got to get out of here. I leave for Cancun tonight. "

  Sledge turned to the cop. "This is a farce. You can't hold this man. He's goi
ng to come up clean on the blood test for any substance. He's a respected member of society. Don't make a travesty of justice here. Let him go."

  The cop blew his nose. “It’s a busy night. My orders are to get a blood test,” the officer stated flatly.

  Fenrick saw the cop wasn't going to budge. He went to the admissions desk, where a nurse was busy with paperwork, and said to her, "I need to get seen right away," he asserted.

  The admitting nurse looked pointedly at the other people in the waiting room. "So do they."

  "Look, I'm an attorney. I work hard for a living. I can't afford to get all these diseases floating around out there. Get my blood test now," he demanded.

  The admitting nurse again looked pointedly at the other people in the waiting room. "They work just as hard, and they need the money a lot worse."

  "I'm just here for a blood test! It's just a lab! How long can it take?!" Fenrick said angrily.

  The nurse ignored him and turned back to her papers.

  "I demand to be seen right now. I'm not going to sit here and collect a hundred diseases!" Fenrick shouted.

  The nurse picked up her desk phone receiver and dialed a number. "Security," she said, and put the receiver back in the cradle. A guard immediately walked over. "Take this man to the morgue where it's quiet and there are no diseases floating around. He can wait there." She turned to Fenrick. "I'll call you on the P.A. when it's your time."

  The security guard and the police officer escorted Fenrick out of the waiting area, with Sledge following. They started to take the stairs.

  Fenrick eyed the stairs door warily. "No, no, no, no, no, no stairs." No more stairs until the Christmas season was over.

  They turned to the service elevator, got on, then pressed B. At the last moment, an orderly pushed a gurney on with a green sheet covering a body. Fenrick stared at the body, uncomfortable.

  The elevator began to move with a jolt. The body raised an arm under the sheet and pointed at Fenrick. "uuuuurrrrr eeeext," the corpse moaned. Fenrick jumped backward and tried to hide in the corner behind Sledge.

  The orderly laughed. "That's just the Lazarus Sign. New corpses do it all the time."

  Clearly frightened, Fenrick said, "I don't care what kind of sign it is. It's a sign! He pointed at me and spoke."

  "He didn't speak. The jolt just made gas come up." The corpse put his arm back on his chest.

  "Oh, no. He said, "'You're next!' No way I'm going down to that morgue." Fenrick turned to the guard. "Up. Up! We're going back up!"

  "Where all those diseases are?!" the guard said, feigning disbelief.

  As soon as the corpse was off the elevator, Fenrick jumped to the panel and stabbed the M button repeatedly like a jittery squirrel. The elevator didn't move. He started to stab the button again, but the guard gently put his arm on his. "It's on a timer."

  "What's it waiting on? Another death?" Fenrick's fear and desperation bled through into his voice. Sledge shook his head behind him.

  QQQQQQ

  As they entered the waiting room, Fenrick spotted the woman with the boy in the Grim Reaper costume, from the store, sitting where he had sat. The mother wiped her nose furiously with a tissue. Fenrick said loudly to her, "You again!"

  "You again!" The mother said loudly back to him. Are you trying to ruin my Christmas?"

  "You're not going to Cancun, are you?"

  "If I can find the time, I'm going to bed! I didn't have this cold a few hours ago. Now look at me."

  Fenrick shook his head and turned to Sledge. "Do something, Sledge. Get me out of here. Pull one of your jailhouse legal moves."

  The kid in the Grim Reaper costume, working on a sucker, came over to Fenrick. Fenrick groaned. "Are you sick, mister?"

  "Yeah, kid. Sick of being in here."

  "My Mom can give you some aspirin to make the pain go away."

  "Will it make that cop go away?"

  The kid turned and looked at the cop studiously, sliding the sucker along Fenrick's green leg as he turned. "I can't make people disappear yet. Did he bring you here?"

  "Yes, he thinks I might have been driving under the influence."

  "Influence?"

  "I mean like driving after drinking alcohol."

  "My Dad says they can put you in jail. He makes my Mom drive. Once a cop stopped us, and he made my Mom take a breath... liar test. Are you going to jail?"

  Fenrick sighed. "No, for some insane reason I decided it would be better to come here. I might have been wrong."

  The kid looked at the cop. "Can't you let him go? He's a nice person, even if he doesn't like Santa Claus."

  Everyone in the room gave Fenrick a surprised look.

  "You don't like Santa Claus?" the cop asked. "I suppose you don't like dogs either. What kind of person are you? I was ready to let you go until I found that out."

  Fenrick gave Sledge a pleading look.

  Sledge gave both Fenrick and the cop an evil glare. “You’re wasting the taxpayers time and money. Aren’t you needed at some accident site?”

  “It’s warmer in here,” the officer retorted.

  “You’ll get the flu in here,” Sledge countered.

  “I already have the flu, thank-you for your concern. He’s getting a blood test. Who knows, he may be on drugs.” The officer sniffed and took another tissue from his pocket, and sneezed.

  "Cold and flu are going with me to Cancun. I am in Hell," Fenrick fumed.

  "Get a field tester in here," Sledge ordered.

  "Your client refused the field breathalyzer test."

  "I don't care. He'll take one. Now get a cop in here with a tester."

  The cop got on his radio and requested a breathalyzer. No one responded. He glanced out the window at the snow. With despair he said, "I'm going to my car and get a breathalyzer. Don't move. Don't even go pee or I'll arrest you and hold you for two days."

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