Magic & Mistletoe: 15 Paranormal Stories for the Holidays
Page 23
Kris sighed dejectedly and hung his head. The cuffs bit into his wrists as he did.
Jamal turned back to his partner and said, “I’m sorry, Phil. I really should have thought of you. I know you take the holiday rotation for the same reason I do.”
Truckee jumped back so fast and so far his back hit the alley wall. The look of surprise and fear on the old cop’s face caused an equal panic reaction in Jamal, who turned in the direction of Truckee’s fright. The big Harley rose up from the alley floor like a child’s lost balloon.
“I told you to be careful with that,” Kris said. “You just cost me my ride.”
The motorcycle was nearing the roof line when a small figure popped up on the roof edge.
“Hey!” Truckee yelled. “Stop! No! Step back from the edge!” His fear at the inexplicable sight of a floating motorcycle was eclipsed by his fear for a young person who appeared ready to jump.
“Peanut, no!” Kris bellowed and exploded onto his feet just as Peanut squatted down and leaped.
Peanut launched himself out a good five feet, but the angle was off for a solid landing. His chest hit the motorcycle tank with a ringing thud. The adults on the ground winced at the painful sound. Peanut clawed at the tank as he slid from it.
Kris bellowed as he strained against his cuffs for a moment before the metal chain snapped. He ran forward to stand with outstretched arms under the motorcycle, ready to catch Peanut, but the boy hung on. His desperate fingers found purchase on one of the highway bars where he dangled for a moment. The adults held their breath.
With every ounce of strength in him, Peanut managed to lift his body up and hook one leg over an exhaust pipe. He hauled himself up onto the saddle and turned the ignition key. Peanut mashed his thumb down on the starter button and the motorcycle roared to life as Kris roared with laughter.
Peanut screamed with the delight of the child he was and twisted back the throttle. The motorcycle reared up and shot into the sky. Peanut hung on for dear life and hunkered down until his chest nearly touched the gas tank. His squeal of delight carried over the guttural engine song as he progressed through the gears.
Kris doubled over with laughter, hands to knees. When the mirth ebbed, he stood up to wipe the tears from his eyes, then the laughter flooded from him again. Two hardened police officers stood with arms hanging uselessly at their sides, mouths open and eyes wide in expressions of identical and absolute disbelief.
“What’s the matter, boys,” Kris asked, fists to hips, “have you never seen a flying motorcycle?”
Truckee turned to Jamal. Jamal turned to Truckee, then they both turned their heads to Kris.
“Does this mean I’m not getting anything for Christmas?” Truckee asked, cracking a smile.
Kris threw his head back and the belly hanging over his belt quaked with glee. But soon, the sounds of approaching sirens proved competition for Santa’s hilarity.
“Oh no,” Jamal said.
“The backup,” Truckee continued the thought.
“Don’t worry boys,” Kris said. “It will all work out.”
“How will we explain this?” Truckee asked.
Kris bent down to pick up his sack. He also collected the pistol and leather pouch Truckee had arranged there on the ground. Everything went into the bag. “I’ll take back my reindeer dander, officer.”
“Your what?” Jamal asked, dumbfounded.
“The powder…” Kris said.
“That’s what that is?” Truckee asked, carefully re-sealing the zip-lock back and handing it to Kris.
“What else would it be?” Kris asked, with a twinkle in his eye. The pipe appeared in his mouth again, seemingly from nowhere. Neither officer noticed it while Kris was being restrained.
“It’s a prop,” Kris said, shrugging his shoulders as he picked up their thoughts. ”It comes and goes,” he explained.
Three police cars screeched to a halt at the alley mouth and officers burst forth from them. Truckee and Jamal were at a loss, and so were the new arrivals. Some of them drew their pistols and held them at their sides.
“Everything is under control, officers,” Truckee said, snapping out of it and stepping towards the closest officer.
“What the hell is going on here?” the new officer asked. He took a look at Kris. “Are those…broken handcuffs on that suspect?”
“Ah…defective,” Jamal said. “The citizen…his motorcycle broke down…”
“What motorcycle?” another officer asked, looking around.
As if to answer him, the big red Harley swooped down from the sky. Its teenage rider slowed to wave as he brought the bike down just a few feet from the squad-car roofs. Everyone looked up at the sound, then ducked down except Kris, who put fists to hips once again and looked up with pride.
“Damn, that boy is a natural!” he exclaimed.
All heads turned to watch the red motorcycle taillight grow distant. Then, the light turned white as Peanut turned the bike around and headed back down. He landed in the middle of the street with chirping tires fifty feet away, then accelerated towards the officers. Several cops took cover behind open doors, while others stared dumbfounded.
The skinny teen wheeled the big bike up the street and stopped. The bike leaned precariously, and it was all he could do to hold it up. He looked around for the kickstand even as he yelled, “You leave Santa alone! You can’t arrest Santa Claus!”
“Sorry to trouble you, officers,” Kris said as he opened his sack. When he reached inside, several officers pointed pistols at him.
“Don’t shoot!” Truckee yelled and dashed forward to put himself between the officers and Kris. Soon, brightly wrapped packages flew through the air. They landed gracefully as birds on squad cars and at the feet of dumbfounded officers.
“Stay in the saddle, Peanut,” Kris said as he swung a leg over the passenger seat. “You can ride my sled tonight.”
With Santa’s help, Peanut brought the bike upright and kicked it into gear. He revved the engine twice before gently letting out the clutch. The two sailed off down the street and took off into the sky just as the clock struck midnight.
From the Author
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story.
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Other works by P. Joseph Cherubino:
The Genetic Imperative
Fleetfoot Interstellar
Fleetfoot Interstellar: Rogue Messiah
Dead, Wired and Online
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Katie Salidas
C.N. Crawford
J.L. Hendricks
Katerina Martinez
Hailey Edwards
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Rick Gualtieri
Erin Bedford
P. Joseph Cherubino
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