The Ghost of Christmas Present and Other Stories

by Angel Nichols

  Charlie had died in a car accident on his eighteenth birthday.

  “Daniel! Daniel!” His mother called in the distance, and relief surged through him. His mother would save him.

  “Daniel, wake up!” Her cries came again, but something was wrong. The voice, clearer now, wasn’t his mother’s.

  “Daniel, please, you’ve got to wake up!” The strange woman screamed.

  All at once, he was no longer seven years old. He was twenty-three, and Becky was calling his name!

  Daniel opened his eyes to the darkness around him. His chest hurt. His arms felt like lead weights His head ached. Slowly his eyes adjusted, and he realized that he hung upside down. The plane’s safety harness pressed against his chest, not sand as he had thought.

  “Daniel, thank God!” His wife cried from beside him where she, too, hung suspended from her seat. Her blonde hair cascaded toward the ground, and her face was red from crying. Still, she looked more or less intact to his relief.

  “Yeah, Beck, I’m okay.” He worked to send her a smile, as the pain in his chest became ever more unbearable. He had to get out of this harness.

  Behind them, passengers moaned and groaned – signs that others had survived only to be thrust into this nightmare.

  Reaching toward the harness’s latch, he pulled, finding that it loosened easier than he had expected. He fell with a thud and received another surprise. He had landed in a thin layer of sand.

  His throbbing chest told him he was still in reality. Pushing himself to his knees, he waited for the dizziness to pass before he stood and helped Becky out of her harness. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.

  “Shhhh, Beck, it’s okay. We’re okay,” he consoled her as best as he could - not easy as he was practically in the same state that she was, at least on the inside.

  Years of dealing with his brother’s death had taught him control over his emotions, though. Small favors, he thought.

  Coughing and movement reminded him that there were others trapped in the wreckage, and the lip curling scent of fuel spurred him into action.

  “Come on, we have to get out of here.” He looked around the dim surroundings, as wind howled from somewhere to the rear of what had once been the plane.

  Thinking it was the emergency hatch that had blown during the crash, he pulled Becky towards the opening, thankful that the ceiling of the plane had not caved in when the aircraft flipped, thus leaving them room to maneuver. The wind noise, it turned out, was coming from a gaping hole that had once been the rear of the plane.

  Hurrying outside, he walked Becky away from the plane as he gently pried her fingers loose from his wrists.

  “Wha-what are you doing?” She whimpered.

  “Can you make it to that big rock over there?” He pointed to an outcropping a small distance away. “I have to help the others.” He instructed.

  She nodded that she understood, and he kissed her on the forehead, before watching her limp slowly away.

  Turning towards the plane, he felt his heart sink. From inside, the extent of the damage hadn’t been obvious, but even in the darkness of night, he could see that a huge chunk was missing. As he started forward, others crawled from the wreckage, just as something else caught his eye. Tiny orange tongues of flame were licking their way to the fuselage.

  He sprinted back to the open end, ducked inside and yelled, “Hurry! You have to get out of the plane!”

  He had passed a man and his son, as well as the girl with the pink hair on his way in. Hearing a plea for help, he hurried to the aid of a woman trapped under debris.

  “My leg.” She grimaced as he uncovered her bent limb, just as the man and his son moved passed him again, heading towards the front of the wreckage.

  “The pilot and co-pilot,” the younger man called over his shoulder.

  Using what strength he had left, Daniel lifted the injured woman over his shoulder and returned the way he had come.

  She cried out in pain as he set her down on the other side of the rock outcrop, where an older man hobbled over. “I’m a doctor. I’ll take care of this. See if there’s anyone else on board.”

  Daniel nodded and took a quick head count. Including himself, seven people had survived and were now safe. That left the flight attendant, the pilot, and the co-pilot still trapped inside.

  The flames at the wreckage were now twice as high as they had been. Soon they would reach the fuselage, and the whole thing would blow.

  With a sinking feeling, he remembered where the attendant had been stationed before the crash. Her seat had been attached to the rear wall of the plane - the rear wall, which was no longer there.

  “Oh, God…” He whispered into the chill air.

  *

  Derek Mills and his father yanked away at the twisted pile of metal debris and luggage that blocked the door to the cockpit.

  “Listen!” Derek bent close to the door. Sure enough, he could hear banging on the other side. Someone was alive!

  “Hang on in there. We’ll get you out!” His father called, slinging debris aside.

  Finding the latch, the two men quickly realized that the frame was bent around it.

  “It’s stuck!” Derek pushed on it as hard as he could, even as the burning smell of an electrical fire stung his nose.

  “Get out of here. I’ll get them out.” Robert Mills thrust his son towards the rear of the wreckage.

  “No, we can do this!” Derek shrugged his father’s hand away.

  “Don’t start with me. Just get out of here!”

  “We don’t have time for this!” Derek spotted a fire extinguisher protruding from the rubble and pulled it out.

  “The flames are too big. We need to leave!” His father moved toward the exit.

  “It’s not for the fire, it’s for this.” Derek rammed the butt end of the extinguisher into the door as hard as he could. The seal cracked, and a pair of fingers slipped through from the other side.

  “Why can’t you ever just do what you’re told?” His father hurried back.

  Working together, they pried the door open. Inside, the pilot knelt beside the co-pilot, who appeared to be unconscious.

  “The plane is about to blow!” Robert coughed as thick smoke stung his eyes.

  “I can’t leave him.” the pilot grabbed his friend under the arms and dragged him toward the small opening. “Take him!” he shouted.

  Derek reached through and dragged the unconscious man out by the collar. Together, he and his father hoisted the man up and then stumbled through the growing haze towards the exit.

  Once clear of the wreckage, they shuffled through the sand as fast as possible toward the rest of the survivors. Reaching the group huddled behind the rock outcropping, they set the unconscious man down.

  “Is this the pilot?” the doctor asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Derek choked out between coughs.

  “Where is he then?” the old man asked.

  “Right behind…“ Robert’s words were cut short by a bone jarring boom as a massive ball of white-hot flame lit up the dunes.

  Derek felt the explosion’s heat, as flaming bits of debris rained down around them. Meeting his father’s gaze, he realized they both shared the same thought.

  No one could’ve survived that.

  *

  Amelia watched as bright flaming light slowly gave way to dark blue of the night sky, thankful the throbbing in her leg had eased somewhat since Edward had set it and given her something for pain. They were stuck here now, in the middle of the desert, and as far as she knew, no one was coming for them.

  “Ngh…uhhh, my head…” The co-pilot groaned as he came to not too far from her.

  “Easy, you had a nasty bump on the way down.” Ed helped the man to sit up.

  “Wh-what happened?” The copilot seemed unable to focus his thoughts.

  “You tell us!” Kirsten snapped, “You guys were the ones flying the darn thing!”

  �
�She’s right,” Robert chimed in. “What the hell happened up there?”

  “Stop!” Edward barked. “This could’ve happened to anyone. The fact is it has happened to us, and we’re all still here, probably thanks to the pilot and this man!”

  “Where’s Alex?” The co-pilot’s voice rose.

  “Who’s Alex?” Edward asked gently.

  “Alex...Captain Renfroe…the pilot. Where is he?” The co-pilot looked around frantically.

  Edward placed a hand on his shoulder, “He didn’t make it.”

  “No, that’s not possible.” The man tried to stand, but immediately sank down and put a hand to the crude bandage that Edward had made from strips of clothing that was now soaked with blood.

  “Sit still.” Edward ordered. “You may have a concussion.”

  “But Alex…” A tear rolled down the co-pilot’s cheek. “I don’t know what happened. We just… We were in the wrong place, and the wind took us down. There was nothing we could do,” he whispered the last word.

  “What’s your name, son?” Ed asked.

  “Calvin,” he answered. “Calvin Dulaine.”

  “Calvin, I’m sorry about your friend.” Edward held the co-pilot’s gaze. “It seems to me you’re the only one who might know how to get us out of this mess.”

  The Co-Pilot straightened his shoulders and glanced at the other’s frightened faces. “Someone should start a fire. In the morning, we should see what can be salvaged from the wreckage.”

  His head ached from the wound, but his heart ached even more. He had known Alex since high school. He had intended to work on a ground crew, but Alex had gotten him into the flight program instead. Alex had helped him to push through his fear of heights. Alex had been the one that had said nothing would happen.

  Alex had been wrong…

  “Alright people,” Edward took charge again. “You heard the man. The desert is a cold place at night, so you men find us something to burn. Anyone have a knife?” He pulled a flashlight from the small medical kit, the strap of which had somehow tangled itself around his leg during the crash.

  Derek raised his hand, “I have a pocket knife.”

  “You and your dad find us something to light up. We can use some of my sterile alcohol to start it when you get back.” Ed handed Derek the flashlight, “Don’t go too far. It’s easy to get lost out here.”

  “I thought I saw some scraggly looking bushes over that way.” Robert headed west, and his son followed.

  The temperature had dropped considerably. The sand made ominous swishing noises as the wind swept over it, chilling the survivors. Edward knew that even in the desert hypothermia was a real danger, especially to anyone who had lost blood.

  He had done what he could for the seriously wounded. Now he tended to the minor scrapes and scratches on the others. In the moonlight, they all looked the same.

  Daniel was comforting his new wife, who seemed to be having the hardest time dealing with what had happened. Kirsten was huddled by herself and had remained quiet for a while now. Amelia had her leg elevated. Calvin sat at the outer edge of the group, staring at the wreckage.

  Edward sighed and glanced at the moon. This certainly wasn’t the Christmas any of them had planned.

  *

  Derek was glad to get away from the rest of the group, needing to be by himself to work things through.

  The seconds before the plane hit the dirt hadn’t felt like seconds, they’d felt like years. Everything had been way too fast and incredibly slow at the same time. The worst part had been not knowing what was next and not being able to do anything about it. As the stench of burning fuel gave way to clean night air, Derek considered how this tragedy mirrored his own life, at least up to this point.

  He studied his father, who was scanning the ground for anything flammable. A fit man for his age, his dad had thick black hair and blue eyes - a handsome man by most standards. Derek shook his head, thinking how ironic it was that they appeared so similar on the outside and yet had so little in common.

  His mother had left them both when he was young. Early on he had asked questions about her, but his father would never give him a straight answer. Eventually, he had stopped asking.

  Then he had gone off to college, starting his own life. Last year his grades had dropped drastically thanks to Callie, his ex-girlfriend. He had thought they would be together forever. Too late, he had learned that she had other things in mind and other guys in her bed.

  Unfortunately, she had also been the most popular girl in school. Following the breakup, he had become an outcast on campus, harassed by every jock from there to the Rio Grande.

  His laptop had been stolen along with all of his research notes and study papers. His dorm room had been ransacked, and the few things he had were destroyed. So-called friends had abandoned him, and his gorgeous black motorcycle had sported a new coat of red spray paint. The pocket knife his mother had given him for his eighth birthday was the only thing left.

  Of course, his father had blamed him for it all, continually mistaking reasons for excuses. The older he got, the less he and his father got along. The harder he tried to make the right choices, the more bad things seemed to happen. He had completely lost control of his life, and it was spiraling downward faster and faster.

  Two weeks ago, he and his father had stopped speaking to each other. Now that it was Christmas, his father must’ve felt guilty, because he had all but forced Derek to go on this trip with him.

  They had been headed to the Grand Canyon - a father/son thing. Derek failed to see the point. They would never see eye to eye about anything. How could a giant crack in the ground change that? And now, they were stuck in this desert together for God only knew how long.

  “There it is!” Robert shouted, startling Derek out of his thoughts.

  He looked to where his father was pointing the flashlight. Sure enough, there was a scraggly little bush sticking out of the sand.

  “Great, let’s get it and get back. It’s getting colder.” Derek pulled out his pocket knife, knelt by the sad little plant and grabbed it by the base. “Ouch!” He yanked his hand back.

  “What’s wrong?” His father brought the light closer.

  “It stuck me.” Derek rubbed his sore finger.

  His father leaned in closer to the plant, revealing tiny spikes in the light. “Must be some kind of cactus.”

  “Great, so how am I supposed to get it?”

  “Let’s try…“ Robert stopped short. “Did you hear that?” His father shone the flashlight behind them.

  “Look, we should…“ Derek started, but his father hushed him again. This time, he heard it - a soft moan.

  “Some kind of animal?” Derek whispered.

  His father shook his head. “I don’t think so. Let’s have a look.”

  Slowly the two returned the way they had come towards the sound - not too far back, but masked by the wind. In the moonlight they could barely make out a shape over to their left in the sand. As they approached, the thing moaned again.

  Robert shone the light on the ground, and Derek pointed to what appeared to be drag marks as well as black spots in the sand. Robert knelt and felt one of the spots, which was moist. His fingertips brought into the light were crimson. “I think its blood.”

  “Help me,” the figure moaned.

  Derek and Robert rushed to the dark shape on the ground. As the flashlight finally illuminated the form, the two men stopped dead in their tracks.

  “That’s…“ Derek started.

  “Impossible,” Robert finished.

  The two exchanged befuddled glances before staring back down at the injured man, who wore the tattered remnants of a captain’s uniform.

  *

  Kirsten wasn’t usually one to complain. Normally, she just did whatever she wanted. Complaining was just a lazy way of saying you wanted someone else to do something for you.

  When she had thought of the desert, which had been rarely, she had thought of b
urning sand, venomous creepy-crawlies, and prickly cacti. She had never thought cold.

  Her black leather jacket was just enough to keep out the worst of the chill, but her fishnet stockings did little against the wind. Her platform boots were useless in the sand, but at least they kept her feet warm.

  In the short time since Derek and Robert had gone to find something to start a fire with, it had gotten bitterly cold.

  Edward had finished making the rounds with his peroxide and wound cream. Almost everyone was huddled together on the ground behind the rock outcrop, which offered some protection from the wind, but not much.

  Kirsten sat by herself, a few feet away from the main group, but she had heard the others talking amongst themselves. Amelia and Becky thought they would be rescued. Edward and Daniel had discussed survival strategy, and Calvin was still mourning his loss.

  She studied the latter’s back for a time, wondering how it would be to feel so attached to someone that you would actually miss them when they were gone. She had abandoned those feelings a long time ago, when her mother had betrayed her father by marrying someone else after his death.

  Not that her stepfather wasn’t a nice man. He was - the same kind of nice as the brainwashed neighbors, living in their perfect houses with their perfect children, surrounded by their perfect little white picket fences. The kind of nice that made her want to vomit.

  Gradually, she had amped up the rebel inside her in response.

  Red lipstick and pink nail polish had turned to black. Blond curls had turned to dyed pink pigtails, and her pet rabbit had turned into a pet snake. Her mom had pretended she didn’t notice, hoping the changes would all go away.

  And so, Kirsten had taken herself away, as far away as her entire life savings could take her. At least, that had been the plan until this had happened.

  Staring at the back of a man who had lost his best friend, she wondered if anyone had ever felt that way about her. Maybe they would have if she had given them half a chance.

  Now she was lost in the Mojave Desert with a group of people she barely knew, freezing her tail off. Tears stung her eyes, but she wiped them away as Derek and Robert approached, carrying something heavy between them.