Dying Time

by Clarke, Daniel

  They walked in silence, too hungry to bother talking. Just concentrating on walking. Mattie kept feeling the communicator, making sure it was still there and okay. Occasionally he would turn it on and ask Robin to hurry. They didn’t see anything as they walked, normal people or bad people.

  They came across one car wreck later in the day. It had gone off the road and hit a tree. Sarah walked up to it, she didn’t see anyone inside. She and Mattie searched the car looking for food, and anything they could use. They found a chocolate bar, and a jacket. Sarah split the chocolate bar, and they both gobbled it down. Sarah threw the jacket over her shoulder. It would make a good blanket. Feeling better they headed down to a creek beside the road and drank the cold water.

  Sarah splashed some water at her brother. “Mattie just think of the stories we’ll be able to tell Mom and Dad when we get to the Cabin. They’ll never believe everything we’ve done.”

  Mattie laughed and jumped in the creek soaking them both. “I bet they’ll throw a party for us, and give us all the chocolate cake we can eat!”

  “And there will be presents. All the toys you could want, and the finest clothes for me.”

  “And we’ll be able to watch Peter Pan again, and again, and again.”

  “And I bet I’ll get a dog. A great big Labrador Retriever.”

  “Well I’ll get a St. Bernard.”

  Forgetting their problems they played in the water until they were exhausted, and fell asleep on the bank.

  Sarah woke Mattie up sometime in the afternoon. Getting a last drink of water, they picked up the coat and began walking down the highway again.

  **

  That night Sarah and Mattie were hungry, but at least with the coat they were warm. Sarah kept waking up every time she heard a noise, hoping it was a car. But it was always just her imagination.

  The next morning they walked down the highway again. Sarah tried to figure out how far away the Cabin was. If they walked ten miles yesterday they had to walk thirty more miles. She beat on her head lightly trying to remember how far it had been to the Cabin from Mom’s car. Her stomach kept growling keeping her from remember properly. She finally got it.

  “Mattie do you think you can walk for two more day?” she asked.

  Mattie looked at her his eyes were unfocused from lack of food and tiredness. “I don’t know. I can try.”

  “Well the Cabin is probably only two days away from here. I know its hard but if we can keep walking we’ll make it,” she tried to sound cheerful.

  “I’m going to call the Commander again. I know why he hasn't come yet. The Zombies are all over, so he has his hands full fighting them off. But he’ll have to come get us soon. He's a hero, heroesalways save the day.” He pulled out the communicator again and turned it on. “Commander how is the fighting going?”

  The communicator spoke “I have a plan.”

  Mattie looked at the communicator, “But when will you show up?”

  “Let's Go!”

  Mattie smiled, “See the Commander's on the way.”

  Sarah didn’t know what to say, she just hugged him and kept walking.

  **

  The sun was almost down when Sarah stopped finally. They walked to the woods and saw some soft moss. Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Mattie look! Blackberries! Lots of them,” she squealed.

  Mattie ran up to Sarah and fell to his knees to look at the berries. They each grabbed a handful, and bit into them. The juice was sweet, and ran down their faces as they stuffed themselves. They didn’t talk, they just ate until there were no berries left. Sarah looked at their clothes for the first time in days.

  “Mom won’t recognize us with all this dirt and stains,” she laughed.

  Mattie smiled and burped. He and Sarah began laughing. Two days in a row they had found food. They would make it to the Cabin after all.

  “Lets go down to the river I saw by the highway,” Sarah said

  Mattie nodded and followed her. Sarah walked to the road and walked up to the bridge that spanned a small, rocky, brown river. There were some big rocks they had to climb down, but Sarah saw a small path between them. She led the way holding out her hand to Mattie at the more difficult parts. She was almost at the bottom when a rock shifted under her foot.

  Sarah screamed and desperately tried to grab hold of something, her fingers scraped against the smooth rocks. Mattie heard a loud thunk, as she fell and her head bounced off a rock.

  “SARAH!” Mattie screamed. He ran down to his sister, crying her name. He cradled her head, and felt blood on his fingers. She didn’t say anything, or even open her eyes.

  Mattie did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his communicator.

  “Commander! Commander! I need your help!” he shrieked.

  “I have a plan,” was the only response.

  “Commander my sister is hurt bad, I need you to get over here now!”

  “Commander here.”

  “NO! Don’t just say that, I need you.”

  “Team Now!.”

  “HELP ME PLEASE! ANYONE!”

  Mattie continued screaming into his one hope. His little voice unheard in the empty wilderness.

  Santa Vs. The Zombies

  “Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!” Santa yelled out encouragement to his reindeer as he flew through the cold North Pole sky.

  His favourite night of the year lay before him. After all the hard work of making toys, baking candies, keeping lists, and preparing the sleigh and reindeer, it was almost over. Even with the last minute breakdown of the candy cane mixer, and the dolly machine making all the dolls say ’Eeek A Mouse!”, things were on schedule. Only a fairly easy toy run, lay between him and his January vacation.

  “Santa, aren’t you worried? You didn’t get to read the list over twice,” Twinkle Toes said holding a bright red and white palm pilot up for Santa.

  “Twinkle, I spent centuries delivering toys to all the good little boys and girls without a list, or your fancy little gadgets,” Santa laughed. “If I can’t tell who’s naughty and nice by my instincts. Why, why I don’t deserve to be Santa.” He saw Twinkle bite his lip and fidget. “Believe me Twinkle, if I hadn’t been forced to help fix the candy can mixer, and get the technician elves to fix the dolly maker, we would have looked it over twice. But then we wouldn’t have all the toys ready. We only had one week left, and there simply wasn’t time.”

  Twinkle sat down, “I know Santa. Its just that the system list crashed four times in the last week. Some of the information looks jumbled. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Santa patted the sad little elf on the head, “I know it is worrisome. But the backup disks will make sure we reach all the houses we need to. After that it will be up to me. And when have I ever failed?”

  “Well, there was 1969 when you-” he began.

  “I thought I told you we would never, ever discuss that incident again,” Santa said, his narrowed eyes looked down at Twinkle. “Anyways it wasn’t my fault,” Santa mumbled. “They left me brownies instead of cookies. You know how much I like brownies.”

  They rode on in silence.

  ****

  They came to the first city of the night, nervously wondering what would greet them. The towns they had visited on the way weren’t the quiet little places he remembered. The first few had been wide awake and brightly lit. He’d seen cars piled up along the roads with grown ups huddled behind them. He had never seen anything like it. In the houses the children and grown-ups were huddled together in a single room.

  He’d seen families sleeping together many times in the past, but that was when houses were small and cold. Almost no one slept like that now. It was very difficult to put candy canes into the hands of little children, when he had to lean over their much larger parents. They simply had no respect for his work anymore.

 
In the other towns the buildings were all dark. So dark he could barely make out the houses from the sky. When he’d finally found the few houses with good little children, he had a most difficult time getting in. Couches and chairs, bricks and wood, filing cabinets and fridges blocked all the doors and windows. Just trying to find the children was putting him further and further behind. Hiding in closets, sleeping under beds, behind boxes in the attic, and the furnace downstairs. By Mistletoe, it looked like they were hiding from him.

  Now Twinkle and Santa flew far overhead, looking for the usual street lights and sounds. But as the city should have been unfolding below, they saw only darkness.

  “Twinkle check the GPS, make sure we’re on course,” Santa told his helper.

  “We should be on course, straight down is the first apartment building on the list,” Twinkle replied in confusion.

  “Well I can’t see a single thing. Rudolph would have trouble finding his way with all of this darkness. I haven’t seen such blackness since the 1700’s. At least back then I didn’t have to worry about sky scrapers, jets, and satellite dishes.

  “Donner and Blitzen!” Santa shouted to his lead reindeer. “We’re making an old fashion landing. Be careful up there.”

  They started going down, circling the building to make sure they would land properly. Finally they landed with a soft thud on the snowy rooftop. Santa grabbed his large sack from the back of the sled. Only two children had been good in this building. He shook his head. It was always so sad to see good children turn bad. Well he had some coal that would hopefully set them straight.

  “Um, Santa,” Twinkle said nervously.

  “Yes Twinkle?”

  “Uh, I think I can hear something,” his large ears twitched nervously. “It sounds like moaning.”

  “Well I know I can’t hear nearly as well as you. But don’t worry, I’m sure nothing will happen. I just have to make a quick run and we’ll be back in the air in no time.” Santa headed to the furnace’s exhaust pipe. “Just stay with the sled Twinkle, and find out where we need to go next,” Santa waved good bye.

  He looked at the pipe, and crossed his eyes. Placing his hand on the opening he tapped the side of his nose. Once, twice, three times, and vanished down the pipe. He travelled too quickly for the eye to see as he went down each floor of the building. Sensing where the good little boy was he made a detour, and ended up inside the cramped apartment.

  Santa shook himself once, and then he did it again. He looked around a little dizzy from his travel. The house was a mess, the tree had been knocked down, and most of the presents where smushed. For some reason the couch was placed against the door.

  This would not do, he thought shaking his head. He pointed at the tree, and twirled his wrist. The broken ornaments pulled themselves together, and the tree heaved back up into position. He glared at the broken presents and shook his finger at them, like he was scolding them for being bad. The wrapping paper rewrapped itself, and the boxes became square. Finally they formed themselves under the tree as neatly as toy soldiers at attention.

  He rubbed his hands together. Much better, just like they should be. Now time for the presents. He reached into the bag, and thought what would be the best toy, for a good little boy. A present appeared in his hand, a baseball bat with a bright blue ribbon. This would be a fine present.

  He put it under the tree, making sure it would be seen, as soon as a little boy walked into the room. His hand was halfway in the bag a second time when he heard a noise behind him.

  A child, or a parent? He liked either one. The adults would stand open mouth; not believing what they were seeing. That always gave him a good laugh, sometimes he gave them a chocolate just to see them squirm. If it was a child, they’d look at him, wide eyed with awe and joy. He’d give them a candy cane, or small toy; pat them on the head, and send them to bed.

  He turned smiling, ready to give them a kindly chuckle and tell them they should be asleep. His smile dropped from his face when he saw the person.

  It was a woman, dressed liked she had just gotten home from a work. A white blouse that was stained a dark red. Black pants ripped and shredded below the knees. Santa couldn’t see any rosy cheeks, unless you counted the blood that covered her face. She screamed at him, he screamed back.

  Santa didn’t know what to do. This had never happened before. She slammed into him, throwing him into the tree he had just repaired. Santa yelled for help, as she bit his arm. He felt the teeth and panicked. Using all of his strength, that lay hidden just under a thick layer of fat, he threw her off of him.

  She landed on her back, but jumped up quickly. Santa reached desperately for anything he could use. His fingers circled around the bat. The woman charged him screaming again. Santa swung the bat one handed. There was a terrific thwack, as her head connected with the bat.

  She fell like a rock to the floor.

  “Eggnog and Mistletoe,” Santa swore. “What has happened here?”

  The door shook as someone or something hit it. More thumps, and bangs, and moans came from behind the door. A much smaller thump was heard, coming from the hallway leading to the good little boys room.

  Santa grabbed his sack, and headed for the heat register. He hurriedly crossed his eyes, and tapped his nose, heading back to the roof at top speed. Feeling the cold air once more against his face, he didn’t give himself a chance to let the dizziness pass. He opened his eyes and headed for the sleigh.

  Where was the sleigh?

  He looked around the rooftop. The door was ripped open. He heard a groan coming from his left. Santa turned and saw a man kneeling beside the prone Twinkle. A pool of blood surrounded them.

  The man paid no attention as Santa snuck up behind him still holding the bat. A loud thump, and the man fell over.

  Santa knelt beside Twinkle Toes. “Oh my poor friend. I should have listened to you,” he moaned. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

  Even as Santa mourned, Twinkles body and his gaudy green, red, white, yellow, and blue clothes, slowly evaporated, turning into bright golden light. It circled Santa, once, and then again before vanishing into the sky.

  Santa pulled a whistle out of his pocket, and blew it as hard as he could. He could just hear the faint sound of bells as his sled came towards him, from wherever the reindeer had fled. They came into sight as the moans of the zombies erupted from the stairwell.

  Santa ran to the edge of the roof. “Boys we’re doing a fiery exit here!” he shouted. “You know the drill, DON’T STOP!”

  He jumped just as the reindeer flew by at top speed, with the zombies only a few feet behind him. Santa looked back to see at least three zombies fall all five stories, and landing with a thud far below.

  “TAKE THAT YOU ELF EATING SCROOGES!” Santa yelled, raising his fist triumphantly in the air.

  As Santa flew, he remembered all those Zombie movies he had watched back in 1992, when he‘d caught the flu. Except for the speed of the zombies, they looked and acted exactly like the movies. And as his trusty bat had shown a good, hard hit to the head worked wonders, just like the movies. He must remember to congratulate Twinkly Bells for crafting such a fine bat.

  That reminded him, he slipped his sleeve back to check his arm. It wouldn’t do for Santa Clause to become a zombie. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was only bruised. His thick seal skin coat had kept the teeth from breaking through. Take that, Animal Liberation Front.

  Now what could he do? Passing out presents wasn’t much good if all the little children were eaten. But he couldn’t just use a bat all night. He’d never really enjoyed baseball. A gleam appeared in his eye as he thought of a plan.

  He reached into his bag, and did something he had never done before. He thought of a present for himself.

  A bright light came from the bags opening, bathing Santa in its brilliance. A choir of angels sang a single wordless note as he withdrew his hand. He raised his hand high over his head, and stood up letting the wind blow his hat off as his
long hair flowed out behind him. The sheer awesomeness of the present burned his mitten off, but left his hand untouched. Muscles bulged as he tightened his gripped, and roared a challenge to the Gods themselves.

  The Katana of Tank Killing was revealed.

  With his other hand he reached once more into the bag.

  No angels sang as his fingers encircled the cold, hard, metal. His mitten had disappeared, destroyed by the ferocity that was engulfing his hand. Devilish metal guitars echoed across the sky. Lightening struck the sleigh again and again. The God’s tried in vain to prevent the perfect weapon from entering the world. Santa laughed at their pathetic attempts, even as the ever present soot from the chimneys was blasted from his body.

  He pulled forth the .50 calibre Desert Eagle of Lightening.