With one swing, she brought the machete down smashing through the crown of the skull with hand-numbing finality. The body collapsed to the ground as she wrenched the blade free. “There is no such thing as Santa Claus,” Rindy whispered.
That afternoon they stood over the grave that Rindy dug by herself. She’d also dragged the body, dumped it into the hole, and covered it alone. When she was done, she went inside and gathered everybody. Penny had found a bible, and read Psalms 23. Then, each of them said something nice about Ryan and returned inside.
That night, she and Penny wrapped the items they had found in the pack. Together, they agreed to wait a week to celebrate Christmas. It just didn’t seem right to skip it after Ryan had gone through so much to make it happen.
The night they declared as Christmas Eve, Penny recited as much as she could recall of T’was the Night Before Christmas. She and Rindy tucked Amber in, then went downstairs and set out the rest of the presents. Penny went to bed, leaving Rindy alone in front of the tree. She sat for a while listening to the rain. With a yawn, she got up ready for a little sleep before Amber woke the house.
Rindy Farmer peeked out from the shadowy doorway. This house had been a good find sitting all by itself on a hill looking out over a vastness that everyone was pretty sure had to be somewhere in Wyoming. A steady rain continued to fall adding to the gloom felt by everybody the past few days.
Maybe tomorrow would help pull them out of it. Before closing the door, her eyes tried to find the outline of the marker where she buried Ryan. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered into the darkness. As expected, Amber woke everybody bright and early. Rindy rolled over, the chill in the room cold enough to turn her exasperated exhale to a visible fog.
“Rindy!” Amber burst into the room, a ball of child-generated electricity. “Santa came! Come look!” Then the child dashed out. The sound of another door being flung open was followed by “Penny! Santa came! He came!”
Brad stumbled into Rindy’s room. “We’d better go downstairs before she explodes,” he yawned.
Rindy sat up and threw the covers aside. Instantly her body was pebbled with goose bumps. She looked out her window, but it was so fogged over that she couldn’t see. All that she could tell was that the sun hadn’t risen yet. The faintest hint of light was barely discernable.
As quickly as possible, she pulled on a few layers of clothes. Finally satisfied she went out into the hallway. Amber stood at the head of the stairs dancing excitedly from one foot to the other. She was barefoot, and wearing the long flannel shirt she normally slept in.
“C’mon, Rindy!” she pleaded, darting to her and grabbing her hand.
Penny and Brad came in their wake as they headed down the stairs. Rindy was already trying to figure out how to get this done as quickly as possible in order to get in some hunting. Christmas or not, they needed to continue stocking up on food.
Reaching the landing halfway down the stairs, Rindy froze. She could see outside through the giant picture window. The ground was covered in a blanket of pure white. A wave of warmth hit her, drawing her attention to the fireplace where, mysteriously, a raging fire roared. But that was only the first surprise.
Spilled out across the floor were brightly wrapped packages complete with bows and dangling tags. Three red stockings hung from the mantle above the fireplace, giant candy canes poking from each one. Rubbing her eyes, Rindy continued down the stairs in slow, halting steps. She glanced back at Penny who was wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Brad scooted past, joining Amber in the final dash towards the sea of presents.
As Rindy reached the final steps, Amber hurried back to her, a Barbie clutched in one hand. The other hand shot out holding an envelope. “This has your name on it!” she giggled, then ran back to join her brother who was wading into the pile.
Rindy looked down at the tiny, waxy envelope in her hand. Her name was written elaborately across the top. A picture emblazoned on the front showed a cluster of bright red strawberries. She shook the envelope, hearing the whispering rattles of the tiny seeds inside.
“This one’s for you, too!” Brad came up to her with a package wrapped in blue foil with a silver bow. The tag that dangled from it was in the same script with her name.
Sitting on the stairs, she opened the package to discover a beautiful black dress. Her eyes began to water a bit. She blinked to clear them and noticed something written on the back of the tag. She picked it up and read: Yes, Rindy, there is a Santa Claus.
6
Wave, Wind and Blade
By Jason Kristopher
“Is it true, sir?” The salty wind whipped the words from his mouth nearly as fast as they arrived, but he saw the captain had heard. The rain fell and the wind blew, but the waves weren’t that high. Yet.
“Is what true, boy?” The captain’s pipe distorted the words.
How the man kept the damned thing lit in this weather was something Marko would never understand. He clung to the rail as the ship rolled with the waves. At least he didn’t get seasick. Well, not much, anymore. He was thirteen, by the Titan; it was high time he started acting like a man. And men didn’t get seasick.
“One of the swabs told me you were a part of the Red Plague, sir. That you helped all those people, sir.”
Marko knew he’d put his foot in it when even Quartermaster Hobbs stiffened at his words. Oh, damn.
“Master Dodge, if you’d be so kind, sir,” said the captain, relinquishing control of the ship to the younger man who stood nearby. Sailing Master Barson Dodge was his name, and he’d only been one of the Hand’s crew for a few short months.
“Aye, Cap’n Blackwell, sir,” said Dodge, taking the wheel from the captain before it could start spinning.
“Quartermaster Hobbs, I’ll be taking a stroll with young…” the captain looked down at Marko, his otherwise fine features marred by a single scar that ran from just above his left eye — now milky white and useless — to his jaw.
Marko swallowed hard. “Marko, sir.”
“…with young Marko, here. Seems he needs some education ‘bout the way of things.”
Hobbs took a long look at Marko, and shook his head. “Aye, cap’n. Just remember, cabin boys don’t grow on a mermaid’s tail, sir.”
“Ha! Will do, Mr. Hobbs. Fear not, I’ll have your cabin boy back before too long.”
The captain put his hand on Marko’s shoulder, and propelled him toward the ladder to the quarterdeck. Marko had no choice — Blackwell’s strength seemed boundless. He struggled up the stairs, nearly falling over his own feet. The captain joined him at the very rear of the ship, looking out over their wake as they sped through the Sea of Tears toward the Fingers of the Deep and the crowning jewel of the Bakrasahni coast, Mynea.
“Is this your first sail?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, that explains a great deal, doesn’t it? Now, boy, what did you want to know?” Blackwell re-lit his pipe and puffed. Apparently, it did go out, after all.
“Well, sir, they said you’re a knight, sir. Given the title by the king himself, sir.”
“Oh, ‘they’ say, do they? Ought not be listening to ‘they’ so much, boyo.” The captain glanced down at him and winked. “Far better to listen to yourself, instead.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Did you ever see the Red Plague, Marko? Ever see what it did to them folks what caught it?”
“No, sir. I’ve been in Mynea since before then, sir.”
Blackwell raised the cuff of his coat to show his forearm to the boy, who gasped and turned away. The captain just laughed and puffed on his pipe, enjoying the rain, though it was lessening a bit as they got closer to the coast.
“Sorry, sir.”
“For what, boy?”
“I’ve just never seen… it looks like…” the boy was turning a little green and it wasn’t from the motion of the ship, Blackwell knew.
“Looks like worms, doesn’t it? Crawled under the skin and left tracks there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nay, no worms, boy. Just the scars.” Blackwell looked out over the water as the rain slowed still more, and stopped. He was silent for a long time, lost in thought, and the boy began to fidget. “Aye, I did help the poor folk of Salt Marsh. And aye, the King did knight me for my troubles. But that be not the point, lad.”
“Sir?”
Blackwell began to answer, but was interrupted by a shout from the crow’s nest.
“Captain! Enemy ship sighted, sir! Off the port side, sir!”
“Blast,” said the captain, tapping out his pipe and putting it away. He pulled out his own spyglass and looked off the port bow while Marko shaded his eyes, scanning as well.
“Mr. Hobbs!” yelled Blackwell. “Bring us about, and prepare for battle!”
“Aye, sir!” Hobbs stepped forward to the rail. “Alright, ya mangy dogs! Get to your posts! I want those guns loaded five minutes ago!”
The flurry of action on deck was amazing to Marko, who’d never seen such organized chaos. He glanced over at the captain, who had gone forward and was once more at the wheel, standing tall and proud as he gave orders to his crew.
“We’ll take em on the starboard side, Hobbs. Then we’ll make for the Fingers and home.”
“Aye, cap’n.”
Marko stood at the port side rail of the quarterdeck, watching as the enemy ship came closer, sailing under the traditional pirate flag. As there was no immediate need for navigation, Sailing Master Dodge joined him at the rail, and Marko glanced his way.
“Master Dodge, why are we going to run?”
Dodge looked surprised. “Run, boy? Who said anything about running?”
“Well, sir, the captain, he said we’ll make for the Fingers, and I wondered…”
Dodge laughed. “Have you ever seen the Fingers of the Deep? Up close, I mean?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, not too many men alive have. That man,” he said, pointing to Blackwell. “That man has actually touched one of them. In a longboat. Broke a piece off, and carries it in his coat. He’s going to smash them on the rocks, lad, if’n we don’t blow them out of the water with the cannon.”
Marko shook his head. “But… but… no one can get that close!”
Dodge shrugged. “Cap’n Blackwell did. Twas after, if memory serves.”
“After what?”
“After, boy. Don’t you know anything?”
“Well, sir…”
“Prepare to fire,” yelled the captain. Marko’s head whipped around and he saw the pirate ship off their starboard bow. But wait… there was no movement aboard, no crew in the rigging. No sign of life, at all. It was as though the ship was manned by the undead. Suddenly, he shivered, and remembered where he’d felt that cold, primal chill before.
Later, he would swear that he didn’t remember running toward the captain, only to get caught by the Quartermaster and thrown to one side. He only knew that they had somehow found him again, and he had to warn someone… anyone.
“Not now, boy! Get below!”
“But sir…”
Hobbs turned to one of the men nearby. “Get him below. Now!”
The sailor tried to grab the boy around the waist, only to get kicked in the shin. The Quartermaster took the opportunity to grab the boy while he was distracted, hauling him off his feet toward the main deck below.
“They’re all dead! Can’t you see? There’s no one alive over there!” yelled Marko, finally getting the words out.
The captain’s head jerked in his direction, then back to the pirate vessel, and even from nearly fifteen feet away, Marko could see him turn pale.
“Make speed, if you value your lives! Make speed, before…”
There was a cry from one of the men on the starboard side, and suddenly, as the pirate ship drew abreast of their own, what seemed like half-a-hundred humanoid figures filled the sky and landed heavy on the Hand’s deck, leaping in impossible bounds from the other ship. Marko struggled in the senseless quartermaster’s grip as the man’s mind tried to grasp with what he was seeing, but Marko had no such illusions, for he’d seen these creatures before.
Revenants.
The flesh was drawn tight across their features, where there was flesh. Rotting skin and muscle could be easily seen through the gaps in what remained of their clothing, and the Titan only knew what was holding some of them together. They were horrors, straight from the depths of whatever hell had spawned them, and they were relentless.
He finally bit down hard on Hobbs’ forearm, which had both the desired effect of his immediate release and also that of releasing Hobbs from the revenants spellbinding fear.
“Move, Mr. Hobbs!” he yelled, tossing the distracted man a cutlass from a nearby rack as he grabbed another. Hobbs caught it, just in time to turn and skewer the first revenant that launched itself his way. He drew back his blade to strike again, but Marko caught the undead monster with a lowered shoulder at a full run and knocked it over the side while it was off-balance.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” Marko grinned quickly and then moved back toward the captain, who was holding his own against three of the monsters. He looked around and saw fighting all over the ship; some were doing well, most were barely staying alive, cut and bleeding from a dozen ragged wounds and tears.
“Over the side with them, Mr. Hobbs,” Marko said, turning back to the quartermaster. “That’s the only way we’ll win. Otherwise they’ll just keep coming.”
Hobbs nodded curtly, and moved to help the captain while Marko guarded the back of another man. This was either going to be a very long fight or a very short one.
One of the monsters approached, roaring as it tore through one of the nervous deckhands. What remained of the poor man was still trying to scream as Marko shouted and lunged. The nightmarish ghoul almost sidestepped the thrust, catching the end of Marko’s blade just below its ribcage. As it clawed for him, drawing the blade further into itself, Marko felt the fear return, stronger than ever. Something about its eyes, he thought.
He shook his head to clear it, and was surprised as anger swelled up inside, forcing out the fear and causing him to unleash his own battle roar. Taking a firm grip on the handle of the cutlass, he stepped and turned, pulling the creature around with the end of the blade. He would never have been able to do so with a normal man — for he was, in the end, still a boy, with a boy’s strength — but fortunately, this particular revenant seemed to have lost a great deal of weight while rotting.
He spun once more, and like a discus, watched the revenant slide off the blade and into the railing, where it overbalanced and promptly fell over the side. Marko blew his long hair from his eyes, and scanned nearby. One of the other deckhands had an arm off a revenant and had backed it against the mainmast.
Marko ran up and, with the force of his run added, swung his cutlass as hard as he could at the monster’s leg. There must’ve been quite a bit of rot there, for the leg came off the monster’s body as if it was a turkey at the dinner table. Marko pulled the deckhand back, and they watched as the revenant lost its balance and fell, crawling after them.
“Take its head,” he yelled, pointing with his cutlass at the thing’s neck, as he continued to draw it forward. The deckhand stepped to one side, and chopped downward with his sword, neatly severing the revenant’s head from its body. The body immediately stopped twitching, but the head kept trying to growl and bite. Marko looked at the deckhand, grinned, and kicked the head far out over the railing.
We might just make it through this, thought Marko as he turned, looking for another monster. Maybe.
In the end, the crew of the HMS Titan’s Hand emerged triumphant. Fifteen of the revenants had been cast over the side after Marko’s example, and seven more had been hacked to pieces, which were then unceremoniously dumped into the briny deep as well. Twenty-two revenants had attacked, and now all were dead.
But so was a full third of the crew, th
e ship’s surgeon among them. Blackwell had given orders for Master Dodge — who had survived, minus the use of his left arm — to make best speed for Mynea. The able-bodied were seeing to that, while the walking wounded tended to the rest of the injured.
“He was a good man,” said Captain Blackwell. “A fine sailor and he will be well remembered by all who served with him. He saved my life, and that is a debt I cannot now repay. To the sea we commend him, and may the Titan watch over him.”
The sailcloth-wrapped body of Quartermaster Drelan Hobbs slid over the side, making a small splash as it sank beneath the waves. Marko hadn’t seen the revenant claw Hobbs from neck to nuts as it went for the captain, but he’d heard the burbling scream, and seen the frightening countenance of the captain as he turned and beheaded the monster behind him with one slash of his cutlass.
“That was a good suggestion, boy,” said the captain, coming over to Marko as Master Dodge got everyone back to work. “How’d you know to throw them overboard?”
“I’ve seen it, sir.” Blackwell raised an eyebrow, and Marko continued. “Back when we were coming to the capital from Salt Marsh. My da was looking for work in The Market. We were a day outside the city, and they attacked. They… they’re dead, sir. My family. I was a coward, and hid in the truck box with the tools and grease and things. They all died because of me.” Marko looked away, staring at the sea as they made their way home to port.
“Nay, son, that ne’er were true. But I take it the monsters didn’t stay dead, did they?”
Marko scrubbed at his eyes as he turned back around. “No, sir. The guards ran them through and chopped off bits, but they just kept coming. I knew they’d do the same here, and since we’re on the water, it just seemed the right thing to do. When I saw them come over from the other ship…”
Marko choked up at the memories. “You’ve seen them too, haven’t you, sir?”
Blackwell’s face went pale, and just for an instant, Marko thought he saw fear in the older man’s gaze. The captain absently rubbed at his chest as he spoke.
Fight the MonSter: Find a Cure for MS Page 6
