A few of the elves gasped. Others seemed genuinely shocked. Storm looked stricken. I don’t think any of them had thought of their actions in quite that way before.
‘You accuse Dad and Christmas and the other elves of forcing you to do what they want you to do instead of letting you do what you want to do,’ I spoke furiously. ‘Which is exactly what you’re doing! You think they’ll be happy living just like you. And you’re forcing that down their throats!’
‘That’s not what we meant to do at all!’ Storm wailed. He looked thoroughly upset now. Most of the elves did.
‘So I’m going to repeat my request.’ I took a deep breath. ‘These elves want to work. I would like you to let them.’
Storm shook himself and tried to regain his composure. He then walked up to my troop of elves and lowered his head. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, his voice trembling. ‘I thought I was being a good leader.’
‘We all did,’ Pepper murmured. ‘Noel is right. We’re hypocrites.’
My elves couldn’t believe what they were hearing. They smiled at Storm hesitantly and then turned around to smile at everyone else.
Storm walked back to the big group of elves and addressed a young elf in the corner. ‘Apple, make sure you have the machines ready for them in half an hour. Use all the elves you need.’ Apple nodded and immediately rounded up a group of elves and led them to the machines. They started sorting through the pool of toys they had been jumping in to see which ones were in good condition.
‘Pepper,’ Storm continued. ‘Get some elves to help you move the party outdoors.’
‘Beach parties are more fun anyway.’ Pepper grinned good-naturedly. ‘Have fun, you guys.’ He began organizing a party-moving party.
Storm turned to an elf whose face was gift-wrapped. ‘You with the bow on your nose,’ he said. ‘Go and get the wrapping station ready for service.’
Our guide-elf turned to his own group. ‘We need to gather up the toys inside and get them to the wrapping station,’ he instructed. He divided the elves so half were on toy-transport duties while the rest started collecting the material they needed to produce more toys.
‘What about your post-elves?’ Bean asked. ‘I didn’t spot any in your group. How do you know which toy goes to which child?’
The guide-elf looked dejected. ‘All the post-elves are—’ He looked embarrassed.
Storm understood his problem and walked up to us. ‘I was the best post-elf in service when I was your age. My services are at your command. The parties can wait. It’s the least I can do. The rest of you,’ he said, turning to the remaining elves, ‘clean up duty!’
A group of guilty-looking elves came forward to offer their services too. A few others fell in step with my little troop of elves and tried to get over their guilt by giving them random compliments.
‘Your hair looks great today!’ one of them exclaimed.
‘Your shoes are awesome!’ another elf called out happily.
‘You all look like you could do with some cheering up!’ the guitar-playing elf announced. I guess by cheering up he meant background music because he started playing one Christmas carol after another and followed one of my elves everywhere he went.
The young elf who had accused Gilmore of sounding like her mom walked up to the wrapping station and proudly declared she was the best wrapper in the world. She demonstrated by wrapping Gilmore’s foot in less than a minute and topping his large toe with a bright pink bow.
‘This is too much of a happy ending,’ Coral noted grumpily. ‘I do not like it.’
I was in too good a mood to care about him at the moment.‘Oh cheer up, Coral,’ I said, laughing.‘It’s hardly the end. We’ve barely begun. Maybe we used up all our good luck on our very first stop.’
Gilmore limped his way back to us, his right foot still gift-wrapped. ‘Lunatics,’ he muttered.
‘Welcome to my world.’ I laughed again. The factory was still as noisy as it was when we first got here, but this time we weren’t complaining. I caught our guide-elf’s eye and winked at him. We never did get a chance to exchange names. He waved back at me and mouthed ‘Thank you’. Everything was under control.
‘I think it’s time we made a graceful exit,’ I said. ‘Does anyone know the way back to the sleigh? And can anyone tell me how to get sand out of my hair?’
9
The different modes of elfish communication:
1. Letters delivered to the North Pole via flying reindeer
2. Email that is erratic at the best of times thanks to the dreadful Internet connectivity at the Pole
3. Radio using waves broadcast from a special Santa satellite orbiting the planet
4. Penguin post, used sparingly since penguins have a tendency to build nests out of the letters they are supposed to be delivering
Coral and I slept in the backseat while Gilmore spoke to the reindeer and Bean continued to fiddle with the sleigh radio. But I had only been asleep for a few hours when a well-aimed poke in my ribcage woke me up.
‘Noel!’ Bean’s voice called out excitedly. ‘Avery wants to speak to you!’
‘What?’ I rubbed my eyes groggily.
‘Hello? Is this thing on? Is that flying hazard still in one piece?’
‘Avery?’ I yelped as I turned to look at the panel Bean had been tinkering with. Bean sat back and beamed at me. ‘The sleigh radio is officially on-air.’
I scrambled over to the front seat to sit beside her and ended up squishing Gilmore to the side of the sleigh. He grumbled and made his way to the backseat where Coral still lay fast asleep. I hurriedly told Avery all about our California trip and then sat back impatiently to hear his news.
‘Selena has organized a group of trustworthy Pole and Antarctican elves,’ he said.‘We have several search parties out.’
‘So still no news of Dad?’ I asked, my heart sinking.
‘The GPS device on Dad’s sleigh isn’t working, which means we can’t track him that way,’ Avery said.
‘Does that mean his sleigh crashed?’ I asked.‘That could have broken the device.’
‘Or like that crazy elf Coral thought, Dad could have been kidnapped,’ Avery replied.
‘But who would kidnap Santa?’ Bean demanded.
‘Barbarians!’ Gilmore shrieked. ‘They deserve to be locked up in a cave with only chunks of coal for company!’ ‘Oh, calm down,’ I snapped.‘We don’t know he’s been kidnapped yet.’ I turned my attention to my brother. ‘So how do the elves know where to look?’
‘Since we can’t track him by air, we’re going to track him on the ground,’ Avery explained. ‘We’ve sent out specialist elves who can trace the flying reindeer.’
‘That’s what I should have been doing,’ Gilmore muttered from the back. ‘Instead of flying away on this hopeless quest.’
I chose to ignore him. ‘How can they trace flying reindeer from the ground?’ I asked.
‘Just because humans walk around with a blindfold around all their senses doesn’t mean elves are the same,’ Gilmore said indignantly. ‘I’ll have you know, reindeer elves such as myself can track reindeer to the moon if we need to. It’s all a matter of what you look out for and whom you speak to.’
Before he began training me in reindeer tracking techniques, I turned back to the radio. ‘At least you seem to know what you’re doing,’ I said. ‘We lucked out in California. I don’t even know what the next factory’s going to be like.’
‘It’s not like we haven’t had any problems,’ Avery sighed. ‘So many people are dressed up as Dad this close to Christmas. It’s causing too many false alarms. We’ve had elves hugging random strangers in Santa costumes and then having nervous breakdowns when they find out it’s not Dad. It’s been a nightmare!’
I laughed. I imagined hordes of elves stalking a fake Santa and begging him to come back home.
Avery’s next words were drowned out as a sudden burst of static filled the air. I looked at Bean for an explanation but she lo
oked as surprised as I was. She began to press some buttons on the radio panel when a heavily distorted voice began to say something. Bean turned a few knobs and the voice became much clearer. But it wasn’t Avery who spoke.
‘If you can hear me, please send help!’ a panic-stricken voice squeaked.
Bean lurched back in astonishment.
‘Don’t tell me we’ve stumbled across a human problem now,’ I moaned.‘Don’t we already have enough to deal with?’
Bean shook her head at me.‘This radio only broadcasts messages through the Santa satellite. That’s an elf on the line.’
An elf on the line? Well, that changed everything.
‘Who is this?’ I shouted. ‘Is this a prank call?’
Bean rolled her eyes at me. ‘You’re connected to Red Nose One,’ she spoke into the radio. ‘This is Red Nose One. Go ahead.’
‘Red Nose One?’ the voice shrieked in glee. ‘Is Santa back?’
‘What do you need help with?’ I tried to change the subject.
‘And what’s your current position?’ Bean added. She sounded a lot more formal than I did. Is that what the elves learned in their Effective Communication Skills class? How to sound ridiculous in five easy steps?
‘This is Lost City,’ the elf replied. ‘Lost City to Red Nose One.’
‘Lost City?’ I repeated. ‘Great, now I suppose we have to go find it.’
‘It’s a location code,’ Bean explained impatiently. ‘Red Nose One is a North Pole sleigh. Lost City is the South American factory.’ She turned to the radio.‘Lost City, we’re on our way there now. We should land at the factory in fifteen minutes.’
‘No!’ the elf shrieked. ‘Don’t come to the factory. They’ll see you and then nobody will be able to help us!’
‘Who’ll see us?’ I asked. The fear in the elf’s voice was palpable. What exactly were we flying into?
‘The hooligans who’ve taken over our factory!’ the elf cried in despair.
‘WHAT?’ Gilmore, Bean and I yelled.
‘They’re holding us hostage.’ The elf sounded desperate. ‘I’ve been using my radio to send out SOS signals for three days. Thank goodness someone finally heard me!’
‘Who’s holding you hostage?’ Bean demanded.
‘How did they even find the factory?’ I asked. ‘Aren’t elf factories supposed to be hidden?’
‘We’re doomed!’ Gilmore squawked helpfully.
The elf, however, didn’t seem to have heard any of us. ‘Some of the elves managed to escape capture,’ he said. ‘You’ll find them in the jungle behind the factory. They will tell you everything.’
‘We’re heading to a jungle now,’ Bean said as she keyed in new coordinates into the sleigh’s navigation system. ‘Gilmore, ask the reindeer to slow down.’
Gilmore climbed over my legs and started whispering to the animals. Coral still wasn’t awake, presumably dreaming about being king of the North Pole or something.
‘Hurry!’ the elf’s distressed voice cried out from the radio.
As the sleigh flew over the jungle, Bean, Gilmore and I kept our eyes peeled to spot signs of the escaped elves below. We were surrounded by snowcapped mountains but the tropical rainforest below us looked like it had just seen a heavy bout of rainfall.
Finally, Gilmore spotted what he assured us was a cleverly hidden elf camp. With Bean and Gilmore’s help, the sleigh started descending into the clearing near a thicket of trees. As we got closer to the ground, a few elves came out of hiding and looked up at us. They started waving large black flags and then began running around the camp. The three of us waved wildly back to assure them that help was close at hand. We then sat back as the reindeer pulled the sleigh closer to the elves.
It was all going smoothly right until the moment they gathered in a circle and decided to start shooting at us.
10
What happens when the elves you’re trying to help think you’re the enemy:
1. They will remain out of sight in their hidden camp, hoping you’ll just fly over them.
2. When they realize you’re landing right in the middle of their hideout, they will wave black flags at you to warn you to stay back.
3. When they see that you’re making no effort to change your direction, they will run to their shelters.
4. There they will look for anything that can be used to attack you and your flying vehicle.
5. These are the things that will be used as missiles to cause maximum damage.
The elves had managed to find a bizarre collection of objects that included spoons, brooms, lampshades and bananas, all of which came hurtling towards the sleigh. Luckily for us, the elves had terrible aim so the things whizzed harmlessly past us into the jungle behind.
It was only when we landed that the attackers realized there were fellow elves on board and stopped throwing things at us. Even then, a few of them looked at me suspiciously, with their arms still raised like they wanted to aim another banana at my head.
After a hurried round of introductions and explanations about why we were there, the elves relaxed and looked at us expectantly. Even though there were only seven of them, they were a spirited bunch and looked like they were ready to take on the world.
A young elf stepped forward and walked up to me. ‘My name is Gael,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about your father.’ ‘I thought nobody was supposed to know about that,’
I sighed. I didn’t even try to make up a cover story. These elves already had enough drama in their lives.
‘Elves are not so good at keeping secrets.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Come on.’
He led us to a hollow tree and instructed us to sit in front of it. Three of the elves quickly lit a small campfire as Gael took out some tomatoes and cherries from the hole in the tree. The other three elves appeared from behind a bush armed with potatoes, corn, a large metal pot and some bowls and spoons. Soon we were all eating some hot soup with our backs against the tree trunk. Even Coral brought himself to have some soup. He claimed he was only eating rabbit food because his hungry stomach was making strange noises, but I’m pretty sure it was because the soup smelled scrumptious.
‘So what happened?’ Bean asked. ‘The elf we spoke to didn’t have time to explain.’
‘Last week, we heard that Santa was missing,’ Gael began.‘The news was troubling but with Christmas around the corner, we couldn’t let it affect our job at the factory.’ ‘We decided we were going to keep working, whatever the situation at the Pole was,’ an elf called Lucia added. ‘Christmas wasn’t going to be in trouble because of us South Americans, that’s for sure.’
Gilmore looked at them approvingly.
‘Unfortunately for us, we weren’t the only ones who heard the news,’ continued an elderly elf called Leo. ‘The villagers found out too.’
‘Wait, they know about Santa Claus?’ I exclaimed.
‘Our factory has been in the village of Duende for generations,’ Gael explained. ‘The villagers are simple, superstitious people. They consider themselves lucky that Santa decided to build a factory in their community.’
‘How many people know exactly?’ I asked.‘I thought all the Christmas operations were supposed to be top secret!’ ‘The Duendians have guarded our secret for hundreds of years,’ Leo assured me.
‘Only because they think they’ll be cursed if they spill the beans,’ Lucia snorted.
‘Oh they’re not as bad as that,’ Gael said brightly. ‘Luckily for us, we’re located right near a major tourist destination.’
‘How is that lucky?’ I demanded. ‘Won’t your chances of discovery be higher the more people there are?’
Gael shook his head. ‘Machu Picchu acts as a great distraction,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s too busy admiring the Incan ruins to pay much attention to anything else that goes on around here.’
‘And any accidental elf sightings are credited to mystical Incan magic.’ Lucia laughed. ‘Only the Duendians know what’s really going on.’
‘They’ve always treated us well because we’re Santa’s helpers,’ Gael nodded. ‘We live among them in peace.’
‘Or at least we used to,’ Lucia said darkly. ‘They’ve all gone mad now.’
‘That’s not true, Lucia,’ Leo admonished.‘It’s only some of them who’ve gone a bit nuts,’ he added apologetically.
‘Oh, much better.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘So the villagers have taken over the factory?’
‘Some of them,’ Gael said hesitantly.
‘How did you manage to escape?’ I asked.
‘Three nights ago, a few rogue locals stormed the factory,’ Lucia answered. ‘Most of the elves were sleeping so all those hoodlums had to do was lock them up in the residential wing.’
‘But the seven of us had come to the jungle that evening to get some food,’ Gael continued. ‘When we returned, we found guards everywhere. There were more of them than there were of us so we had to retreat. We’ve essentially lost control of the factory.’
‘But why?’ wailed Gilmore. ‘What are these villagers even doing at the factory?’
‘I went to scout the factory to see what I could find out,’ said one of the elves who was tiny even by elf standards. ‘It’s the toys they’re after. They think that with Santa gone, nobody’s going to come looking for them.’
‘Aren’t there better ways of getting some toys to play with than ambushing a factory?’ I asked.
‘They’re not playing with them,’ Lucia replied.‘They’re selling them.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘They’re taking the toys to Cusco,’ Gael confirmed.
‘It’s the city closest to the ruins at Machu Picchu. Biggest tourist spot in Peru.’
‘They’re transporting all the toys there.’ Lucia looked upset. ‘Their plan is to pretend they’re local handicrafts and sell them to the thousands of visitors that go to Cusco every week.’
‘That is ingenious!’ Coral’s eyes sparkled with interest. ‘The elves make the toys while the villagers pocket all the profits. Their business plan is flawless!’
When Santa Went Missing Page 5
