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“Gallivanter!” the herders shout.
The harness jingles. The reindeer at the front tosses his head. Cubes of special feed fall in the snow.
“Here. Take him.”
The herder shoves a feed bag at Gallivanter and slides away. Ronin holds his head up. His rack rises above the reindeer. Gallivanter sighs.
“How many times have I told you? The others can feed you.”
The last reindeer snorts. His breath hits Gallivanter like hot steam, blowing his beard braids over his shoulders. It’s followed by wet nostrils on his cheek. Gallivanter holds up a cube.
“Eat.”
The other reindeer gobble all the cubes they’re offered. They remember what happened last Christmas. Dasher, Dancer and Cupid were recovering from a slight illness and shouldn’t have made the journey. Halfway through the night, they gassed out. Christmas is always a demanding night, but that Christmas the sick reindeer were barely able to inflate.
Ronin had shouldered the burden of hauling the sleigh through the last leg. Without him, they would’ve been stuck somewhere in the Netherlands.
Gallivanter hugs his snout. “Time to go, my boy.”
The reindeer eagerly dig at the snow. The bells jingle. They look back and wait. There are pronouncements. The elven step back. The call is given; Ronin throws his head back and roars.
He leads the way.
The reindeer gallop across the muted snow; the bells are loud and tinny. One by one, the hooves turn silent and the jingling settles. Nine reindeer soar toward the night sky.
Gallivanter waits for the whine of the timesnapper to engulf them. The elven will remain on the ice. A minute or two will pass before they return, exhausted and satisfied, with an empty sack in the back of the sleigh.
This Christmas will be different.
There will be no accidents to report. No sightings to cover up. But a rule will be broken. A rule that applies to the elven colony, including the reindeer. A rule Gallivanter is very familiar with, one he has broken once before. This is the Christmas Ronin sees a truck on a very cold night.
The Christmas he interferes.
The room was silent.
Ryder turned his head. The sheets on the other bunk were bunched up. Arf wasn’t snoring.
He was gone.
Ryder sat up. Bradley Cooper remained asleep. It was a few minutes past four o’clock. Winter gear was stacked on the floor. He hadn’t gone to the nicy meeting. That meant Jane and John must have brought the gear to his room.
If you must sleep over there, Jane had said, we’ll take care of you.
A scattershot of frozen snow blew across the window. It was dark and windy. The barn light was on. Drifts had formed. It had snowed quite a bit since he fell asleep. And there were footprints, too. Like another football game.
Where’s Arf?
He had been snoring when Ryder fell asleep and wasn’t scheduled for introspection for another day. His laptop was gone, too. Ryder checked the drawers. They were empty.
The bedroom door across the hall was ajar. Ryder pushed it open, peeking inside. It was dark.
And empty.
The board had been erased. The introspection list gone. He ran to the end of the hall, his heart pounding. He pushed Cherry’s door open, hoping she would be sitting cross-legged on the floor, shadows flickering across the rug. But the cushion was empty. Candlewicks blackened.
Where is she?
Her bed was made, the pillow smooth and square. He pulled the sheets back and reached between the wall and bed, feeling for the slit she had cut in the mattress. With two fingers, he searched the hiding spot.
There.
He fished out the phone, careful not to drop it. Wherever she was, she hadn’t had time to take it with her. Or she’d left it behind for him to find. He touched the screen, hoping there would be a map, at least a clue as to where they took her. There was a message waiting for him. It wasn’t a map. It was one word.
Hide!
A surge of adrenaline kicked his pulse up another gear. The room was beginning to spin. Maybe they forgot about him or he was the last in line. He stared at the phone. That can’t be right.
Two days had passed.
That was why the snowdrifts were so deep, the tracks so prolific. He’d been asleep for two days.
How?
The phone flashed with urgency. He shoved it in his pocket and ran back to his room. Quickly, he put on the winter gear. It would be enough to survive, including food and a tent. He could make it in the mountains for days. Strapping on the backpack, he went to Cherry’s room and threw it out her window. The snowdrift was deep and soft and without tracks.
She didn’t escape.
He dug out of the snow and put the backpack on, snapping the buckles in place before starting out. He had to get away and clear his head, hide deep in the trees, far enough away that the drones wouldn’t find him. He could spy when he had a chance and come back.
The wind nearly pushed him over as he trudged into the open. He leaned into it. His cheeks were scrubbed numb. He plodded through the snow, eyes watering, trees blurry. The horses were in the pasture, galloping away from the fence. The going would be easier once he was in the woods. The snow would diminish. He reached the tree line’s moonshadow and was almost out of sight.
His legs gave out.
Creeping death shivered through his body. He fell like a tree. Arms limp, the ground rushed toward him. Face-first, he was buried in the snow.
It was dark. Cold.
He couldn’t feel it. His body hummed with a fresh pulse of paralyzing anesthesia. Helpless, he panicked. Trapped in the confines of his own body, he struggled to breathe. Snow melted around his mouth. It packed into his ear, but he could hear the wind howling over him. Each breath was a struggle.
A green light began to glow.
A shadow cut through the bluster. An electromagnetic field vibrated in his teeth. A drone was hovering close to his head, the green eye near him.
What’s happening?
He heard footsteps breaking through crusted snow. A hand firmly rolled him over. Icy crystals melted on his eyelashes. The world was dark and blurry.
“Why is he awake?” BG said. There was a pause like he was listening to someone on the phone. “Let’s put him in storage. We don’t need him.”
Snowflakes landed delicately on Ryder’s nose. BG was standing in front of him, but he was looking at someone out of Ryder’s eyesight. Heavy footsteps were behind him.
BG took a knee and leaned over him. The stink of nicy was on his breath. Ryder involuntarily gagged as BG shoved his hand in his pocket. He pulled out the phone.
“Where’d he get this?”
Whatever chance they’d had to escape was over now. It was all in the open. They would know about the early morning excursions, the trip to the cabin, the maps on the phone.
It was all so over.
BG looked up and nodded. “Okay, all right. I’ll send for one of the new boys. The big one. We’ll put him on a table for now and sleep him till we get back.”
There was a long pause. BG was standing over Ryder alone now. A chunk of time was missing. Snow had dusted Ryder’s face. Someone new had joined them. A hulking figure threw Ryder over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. Ryder’s arms flopped around as the big boy trudged through the snow. Blood was pounding in his temples.
Arf!
Ryder’s tongue was fat. Saliva drooled from his lips as he bounced. Confusion mingled with fear, the fumes of panic filling his chest. Helplessly, he watched the footsteps recede until they reached the building.
Arf carried him to the elevator.
Ryder’s ribs were hurting. His gut ached. He managed a groan. Arf wouldn’t hear it. I’ll send for one of the new boys.
The elevator descended deep below Kringletown. When the doors opened, the room smelled like a nicy armpit—a cloying aroma that invaded his sinuses and slid down his throat. He gagged as he was flopped onto a table. Arf looked down on him, with snow melting on a neutral expression. The ceiling was a network of pipes.
I’ve been here before.
It wasn’t the smell that was familiar, it was the maze of conduit above him, the hard surface of the table. Maybe he dreamed it.
BG stood on the other side of the table. It felt like an operation was about to take place. Somewhere a mechanical rhythm played. Wump-wump-wump-wump. Panic bloomed in his gut and coldly streamed through his arms and legs. BG closed Ryder’s eyes.
He couldn’t open them.
A deep humming rose from his bones and filled his head, the anesthesia digging in. Ryder disappeared in the all-consuming darkness.
A black hole of unconsciousness.