SLEIGH ME

ELLE J ROSSI

 

 

“There are some people who want to throw their arms round you just because it’s Christmas. There are other people who want to strangle you just because it is Christmas.” —Robert Staughton Lynd

 

“Would you put that thing away already?”

I slid my gaze toward my twin, while continuing to rapid text with my thumb. The dark obscured my view, but I didn’t need to see Stephen’s face to know his expression was the same one of somber annoyance he’d been wearing for the last two weeks. My palm burned with the need to smack him upside the head. “What’s your problem? Do you want me to drive?”

Say no.

Say no.

Say no.

“No.”

Thank God. I hated this stretch of road. We hadn’t passed a streetlight, or another car for that matter, in at least thirty miles. It was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. Stephen and I could go out the way we came in. Together. No one would find us for days. Not if this blizzard kept up. We’d freeze to death.

Oh my God, what if I had to eat my brother to stay alive?

I sucked in a deep breath to stop a full-body shudder, reached over and turned up the heat. Snow had been falling steadily for the last two hours. The creak of the windshield wipers was seriously grating on my nerves. I wanted to crank some music to drown out the piercing whistle of the wind. Stephen wouldn’t appreciate the jolt to his concentration. Or so he’d told me the last time I had turned it up.

“But… ”

Here he goes. Dude had a “but” for every situation whether you needed one or not.

“You’re so attached to that damn phone, it’s like the thing is an extension of your fingers. I’m driving through this shit-storm. The least you could do is attempt to be good company?”

I reached over and patted his arm. “Aww… When did you turn sixty-five? If you wanted me to pay more attention to you, all you had to do was ask.” Rolling my eyes, I hit send, switched to vibrate, and stuck my phone under my leg. “Do I need to remind you that I wanted to wait until morning, wait the weather out?” Wait out the dark.

But nooooo, Stephen hadn’t cared about the snow or the dark. All he cared about was getting the hell away from Bakersfield, putting some distance between the campus and his broken heart. I got it. I really did, but dealing with his pissy attitude was getting harder by the minute.

He sighed and slumped back in his seat. “I didn’t know the weather would get this bad.”

Yes, he did. Pointing it out would only cause more tension. “It’s Christmas, Stephen. Let’s try to be happy. Okay?”

“What are you talking about? I am happy.”

I swallowed a groan. “Um, no. You’re so far from happy you’ve crossed over into Scroogeville.” And wouldn’t Mom get a kick out of that? She thrived on drama and loved to throw around I-told-you-so like she was an all-knowing genius and we were the underlings who would never amount to anything. What Stephen needed was a distraction—something to remind him that the world and his happiness didn’t revolve around Miss Allison Peters. It wasn’t that I hated Allison or anything. But stomping on my brother’s heart made her the enemy in my book.

“I know what we should do.”

“What?” Stephen asked, the one word dripping with suspicion.

“Come on. Why do you say it like that?”

He grunted. “Because your ideas always lead to trouble.”

“Not always.” I’d give him usually, but not always. For being twins, we couldn’t have been more different. We might look alike, with matching blond hair and bright blue eyes, but that’s where the similarities ended. Stephen had always been the brooder, while I grabbed on to positivity like a lifeline, for that’s exactly what it was. Except when it came to the dark and long stretches of road. Then I turned from Queen Positive to Queen Someone’s-gonna-slice-me-to-pieces. I should probably stop watching horror movies. If I had one addiction, that was it. It wasn’t my fault. Most little girls grew up hearing fairy tales about Snow White and Cinderella, Christmas tales of Frosty and Rudolph. Not this girl. My bedtime stories consisted of tales of Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy, Krampus, Frau Perchta, and Hans Trapp.

“Anyway,” I said, trying not to sound bitter. “Do you remember the Christmas village I used to work at?”

He tapped the steering wheel in time with the windshield wipers. “Sleigh Land? Yeah, I remember. Why?”

“I was thinking we could stop there on our way home.” I’d kill for some of their famous cider.

“You want to stop and walk around in a blizzard like this?”

I did. Anything to stretch out the time before we got home. Ever since Dad had died, Mom had nixed holiday celebrations. Our mother had never been an exuberant person, but there had been moments when she’d let down the walls and truly enjoyed life. Those days were long gone. The walls were thicker than ever and on the off chance she laughed about something, the sound came out forced and brittle, like slowly cracking glass. Stephen held hope she’d snap out of it, but I knew in my heart that our father’s death had been the catalyst for a destiny that had always been headed toward disaster. Secretly, I suspected our mother was slightly, if not wholly, insane. If I had to hear one more time how Dad was killed by evil, when in fact he’d died from a heart attack, I’d probably join her on the crazy train. If I had to guess, I’d say those dark tales she liked to read to me got to her too.

Was it any wonder I was scared of the dark?

And things that go bump in the night?

We were only going home because the campus was deserted this time of year, and more so, because it was expected. We’d managed to skip out last year by lying. We’d told Mom that we both had to work. I still felt guilty about that. But being around her during Christmas sucked. “Yes. I really do,” I answered. “It’ll probably be our only chance to see some holiday lights.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. We’ll see, Stella. If this shit keeps up, they might be closed before we get there.”

I mussed Stephen’s hair. Always the doubter. “It’ll be open. I have faith.” All I wanted was a little festive happiness before the misery set in. Seriously, was that too much to ask?

We drove in silence for another hour. The longest hour of my life. The weather didn’t get better. It got worse. Ice mixed with snow, and the wipers groaned with the effort of keeping up with the storm. I peeked at the speedometer enough times to earn a scowl from my driver. At this rate we’d be lucky to make it home before New Year’s.

“Man, this sucks.”

I laughed to ease some of the tension. “That it does. Do you have any idea where we are?”

“I don’t even know if we’re on the road anymore. I can’t see anything. “

I said a silent prayer, thankful that boys liked trucks. If we weren’t in a four-wheel-drive, we would have been stuck hours ago. “Okay, that’s a little scary.” A whole lot scary. “Hey, this blizzard is bad, like too bad for a serial killer to be out, right?”

“You really need to lay off the horror flicks, sis.”

I chewed on the edge of my thumb. “Yeah, I know. But you didn’t answer my question.”

He snorted. “I don’t even think Santa would come out in this.”

That made me feel moderately better.

“But…”

Oh, no. Not another but.

“We might have to pull over soon and wait this out. I’ve got a couple of blankets behind the seat. We’ll be fine.”

No way. I’d rather walk than sit like a piece of bait, just waiting for something to come along and tear us to shreds. “Not yet, okay?”

“Soon.”

I leaned forward, straining to see something, anything but the snow, and the ice, and the dark. I counted the sluggish swish of the wipers.

One…

Two…

Three…

Fifty…

I squealed and punched Stephen’s shoulder.

“What the hell?”

“We made it!” I’d never been so relieved in my life.

“Made it where, Stella?”

I scooted to the edge of my seat and tapped the windshield. “Sleigh Land is up ahead, on the right. See it?”

Stephen leaned closer to the windshield, his chin inching over the top of the steering wheel. Strings of lights twinkled in the distance, a beacon of hope.

“Yeah, I see it. I can’t believe they’re open.”

“I can,” I said, bouncing in my seat. “You can’t really cancel Christmas. Besides…” I glanced at the clock. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

Chuckling, he said, “I guess you’re right. You know it will probably take us an hour to get there.”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Why don’t you call Mom and tell her we’re making progress and it shouldn’t be too much longer?”

I groaned. “You call her.”

“Stop being a baby. I’m driving and I know you’re dying to check your messages.”

He had a point. My leg had practically gone numb from all the vibrations. “Fine.” I pulled the phone out and scrolled through my messages before pulling up my contact list. Blowing out a breath, I hit the call button. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing.

“No service.” I shouldn’t have been relieved, but I was.

“Maybe we should skip Sleigh Land.”

I shook my head. “No.” I sighed, evened out my tone. “I promise we don’t have to stay for long, but I really need a jolt of ‘Merry Merry.’ Besides, Mom probably took her pills and crashed already.”

If I knew that for sure, I’d agree to skip the Christmas village. But like her moods, her sleeping patterns were unpredictable.

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

I flipped on the overhead light and batted my eyelashes, stuck out my lower lip. Cheap move, but desperate times and all. “Please? It can be your Christmas present to me.”

He reached up and turned the light off. “Really? You, lover of all things sparkly, will accept a trip to Sleigh Land as your present.”

That right there showed how much I really didn’t want to go home. I pretended to mull it over. “Yes. One trip to Sleigh Land and you’re totally off the hook.”

Smirking, he said, “Done.”

I beamed, and then I swore the angels must have been singing because the snow stopped falling, completely stopped, like someone had shut off the faucet. One moment we were shrouded in darkness, the next we were less than a half-mile from Sleigh Land. Cue the creepy organ music.

“Um…”

Stephen clenched the wheel, his knuckles as white as the snow. “Yeah, I know. I thought we were much farther away.”

I glanced around, an uncomfortable feeling settling between my shoulder blades. Definitely time to switch to Hallmark movies. “The snow must have messed with our perception.”

“Probably. You sure you want to stop?”

I stared at the lights, at the illuminated candy cane signs that marked the parking lot. Memories of some of the best times of my life played out like an old movie in my mind. “Yes. Absolutely.”

We pulled into the parking lot and I noted only a sprinkling of cars. All covered with inches of snow, as if they had been there for a while. They probably belonged to the employees.

Stephen eased into a parking space and cut the ignition. I heard bells and music, children’s laughter and buzzing lights. Those sounds, sounds of happiness, enveloped me and the tightness in my shoulders slid away.

I pulled on my gloves and hat and jumped out of the truck. My feet hit a patch of ice. I went down hard, shrieking like a little girl. I heard Stephen laughing as he rounded the truck to help me up. Then I was the one laughing because he went down too, landing with an audible snarl.

“Oh my God. We are a pair.” I grabbed onto the door and pulled myself up.

“A pair of stupids.” He brushed off his coat and hit lock on his key fob before shoving his keys in his front pocket.

“I hope no one got that on video. We could go viral.”

“You wish. I think we’re good though. I don’t see anyone else out here.”

The village looked as deserted as the roads. I tried not to dwell on that; I really did. Yet, prickles of anxiety skated along my spine. “I don’t know if it would be safer to hang on to each other or not.” I scooted my feet instead of taking a step.

Stephen nudged me along. “I vote for not. “

“Chicken.”

He barked out a laugh and we made our way toward the entrance. I hadn’t heard him laugh in way too long. Despite his protest, I linked my arm through his as we passed under the crisscrossed candy canes held by giant toy soldiers. On our right sat a small cabin, more the size of an outhouse than anything. I’d been sixteen the last time I’d sat in that little gingerbread house, collecting payment and handing out maps.

Stephen pulled out his wallet, but when we got to the window, no one was there. Lights flickered inside.

“Maybe they’re closed for the night.”

A breath of frigid air seared my lungs. I rubbed my gloved hands together. “No way. The music is on.” I knew the routine. Thirty minutes before closing time, they’d shut off the music and start dimming the lights. Still, I looked around and didn’t see another soul. Where was the laughter coming from? I shoved my hands in my coat pockets to hide that fact that I was shaking.

Stephen shrugged. “Guess we’re getting in free. You’re a cheap date.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe we should just go. Mom is probably worried.”

That earned me a wry look.

“Now you’re worried about Mom? Not buying it. You’re just scared.”

I shoved him. “So what?”

“This was your idea.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me along. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find anyone else and then we’ll hit it.”

He was right. This was my idea, and he did seem to be having fun. The least I could do was go along for the ride. I’d just have to keep my eyes peeled for serial killers lurking in the shadows. And murderous elves. And mutant reindeer. Suddenly, dealing with Mom seemed a whole lot safer.

We walked along the winding path. Bing Crosby crooned from the overhead speakers. Every building we came across was empty. The lights really were pretty, but I couldn’t ditch the nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen. I wondered if female intuition ran parallel to paranoia. I wondered if that’s what my mother had thought at first.

I shrieked when an elf dashed into our path before running away, disappearing behind another gingerbread house, the biggest house in the village. Santa’s house.

Stephen laughed, tugged on my hair. “Chill, Stella. It’s all part of the fun.”

“Really?” I asked, my gaze darting around. “Because he looked like he was seriously running for his life.” I willed my heart to calm and worried the pounding organ would blast a hole through my chest. “You’re probably right, though. Fun. At least we’re not alone anymore.” Surely the elf was part of the staff. But what if he wasn’t?

I stared at the house, the twinkling lights that flashed red rather than the traditional white they’d used for as long as I could remember. Cold seeped into my bones. “Stephen?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you see that?”

“See what?”

I pointed toward the house. I should have gone with my gut when we first got here. I should have grabbed his hand and raced back to the truck. But I didn’t. Instead, I crept toward the house, toward the body that lay prone just outside the open door.

The woman wore red shoes, the tips sinking into the fresh snow. Green and white striped tights covered her legs. Her long jacket was green with red cuffs and collar. I recognized the standard Sleigh Land uniform. I still had mine.

“What the hell?” Stephen crouched next to the body.

I shook my head. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Don’t touch her. Something’s wrong.”

He looked up at me, his brows creased. “Obviously. Check your phone. See if you have any signal. We have to get her some help.”

Something told me she was beyond help. Still, I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked for bars. Not a single one appeared on the screen.

Stephen inched closer.

“Don’t touch her!”

He whipped around. “Jesus, Stella. I have to check for a pulse.”

“She doesn’t have one.”

“How do you know?” He turned back and moved her dark hair away from her neck. He flipped the body over and shook her as if he could jar her back to life.

“I just—” The words lodged in my throat. I fought to remain standing, dizziness swamping me. “Stop it. She’s dead. Please, Stephen. Stop touching her.”

“You’re right. You’re right.” Stephen said, easing the dead woman back to the ground.

I stared at the gaping wound on her chest, swore I could see exposed organs beneath broken ribs. Blood slipped from her body and leached into the snow. So much blood.

What happened to her? Her eyes were wide open, staring at nothing yet reflecting the horror she must have felt when the animal struck. Surely it was an animal. One with claws and teeth. Nothing else could have done this to her. I spotted two more bodies huddled in the corner of the room. Both wore elf costumes just like the woman. They didn’t move. Blood pooled around their legs.

Stephen stood, wiping frantically at the blood soaking through his jeans.

I backed away from the massacre. My feet struggled to keep up with the pounding of my heart. “Let’s go. We have to get out of here.” Children’s laughter echoed in the distance, taunting me.

I barely heard my brother’s warning over my own panicked breathing. I stumbled backward. Someone grabbed me from behind and I screamed. Stephen’s eyes mimicked the dead woman’s, wide and full of horror. He raced toward me. I couldn’t move, other than to flick my gaze down. Strong hands, tipped with black claws gripped my forearms. Tighter, tighter they squeezed. I whimpered in pain. My thoughts were frantic even as everything seemed to slow down around me. Think, think, think.

“Move!” Stephen picked up speed.

I twisted my body as he pulled a linebacker move and drilled his shoulder into my captor’s gut. The momentum sent us all into a tailspin. I landed on top of Stephen, who landed on top of . . .

I swallowed another scream, grabbed Stephen’s coat and pulled with every ounce of strength I had. Our feet tangled and we fell again.

The creature pushed Stephen away and we went flying across the path. I landed on my back. All air left my chest in one whoosh. Frozen, I bit back a cry as the monster walked toward us. He was dressed like Santa, had a long beard like Santa and a large bag strapped to his back, but his legs were all animal, with cloven hooves like a goat or a deer. His skin was tinged green, his teeth long and sharp—rows and rows of teeth. He had a hooked nose and elf-like ears with multiple piercings. Two red horns jutted from his forehead. He laughed, the sound sharp and sinister as if he’d emerged from the depths of Hell. We struggled to get to our feet. His fetid breath washed over me and I gagged.

This wasn’t Santa Claus.

This was Krampus.

Krampus didn’t exist. He didn’t. Like Santa, he was a myth told to children to get them to behave. But he looked just as my mother had described him.

“I am no myth.”

The cadence of his voice nearly shredded my skin.

I shoved off the ground as he flicked his long, black tongue toward me like a frog catching a fly. His tongue scraped along my cheek. Stephen grabbed my arm and pulled me away. We ran toward the entrance, the sound of hooves clacking on the cement just behind us.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

Stephen slipped and went down on all fours. Krampus snagged Stephen’s ankle and pulled him backward. Stephen clawed at the ground but couldn’t manage to gain any purchase. I reached for his hand. Desperation clogged my throat.

“Go, Stella!” His voice quivered.

I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m not leaving you.”

Krampus sank his claws into Stephen’s leg. Blood spurted like a geyser, nailing Krampus in the face. My twin wailed and I felt the pain as if it was my own. That tongue—that grotesque tongue—lapped at Stephen’s blood.

I launched myself at the beast, wishing I had a weapon. I slammed into Krampus, my bones jarring at the impact. His hand clamped around my neck and he lifted me off the ground. I kicked and punched, fought with everything I had, trying to buy Stephen some time. Krampus gave me a brutal shake and threw me like a ragdoll. I landed in a heap, tears streaming down my face.

He latched on to Stephen again. He tore at him with claws and teeth, beating him with a bundle of branches, shredding his skin to the bone. I watched, horrified, paralyzed, as Krampus destroyed the other half of me. The sky was raining blood, a deluge of claret gore.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but I couldn’t erase the images. The screams, the screams, the screams were too loud. I pushed my palms tight to my ears, but nothing could drown out the sound of my brother’s agony.

Silence.

Too much silence.

This wasn’t real.

An organ rendition of Silent Night filled the air.

The music swelled and still, I kept my eyes clamped shut.

Maybe I was just as insane as Mom. A genetic defect that made me see things that didn’t really exist. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Krampus stood about twenty feet away, stuffing Stephen’s mangled body into his bag. I gagged as Stephen’s blood, along with who knew how many others, soaked through the bag, staining the snow bright red.

I couldn’t save my brother, but he would want me to save myself. Grief swamped me, but fear and self-preservation won out. I stood, my feet unsteady beneath me.

One step.

Two.

Hot breaths feathered across my neck, branches cracked against my back nearly knocking me down. I didn’t hesitate. I took off, headed for the truck until I remembered Stephen had the keys. I looked over my shoulder, certain Krampus followed me, but I didn’t see him. I needed a place to hide. Somewhere to hole up until help came.

I dove beneath a crop of evergreens, slithered back as far as I could. He would find me. I knew he would. He would see my footprints in the snow. I should keep moving. Keep running. But I knew it wouldn’t matter. The end result would be the same. He would come. And he would kill me.

Why was Krampus here? He was the anti-Santa, the evil monster that punished children who misbehaved. What had any of us done to deserve such punishment? I thought about the horrible thoughts I’d had about my mother, about how we’d skipped out on Christmas last year. But what about the others Krampus had killed? Maybe this was the ultimate retribution for secrets and lies. The reasons didn’t matter. He was coming to get me.

My nerves huddled together beneath my skin, a panicked bundle seeking comfort that would never come. I ripped off my gloves and scratched, scoring my nails across my cold skin, leaving trails of blood like a map, a confession of my ensuing insanity.

I raised my hands over my head, praying, begging for someone to take away this pain and terror. Hooves clacked just beyond the trees, a mocking answer to my futile prayers.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

Thick, black claws parted the branches.

He reached in, snapped his fingers together like a lobster claw. I pressed my back against the trunk of the tree, but his sharp claws scraped my neck. He pulled his arm back, blood—my blood, dripped from his fingers.

Clutching my throat, I scrambled to crawl out the backside of the trees. He latched on and wrapped a chain around my ankle, dragging me just like he had dragged Stephen.

Cold. So cold.

Mom was right. Evil existed.

The trees disappeared and I was face down in the snow, my tears freezing on my cheeks. He flipped me over. A pair of horrific green eyes peered at me, and I knew, I knew, I knew…

A slash of his claws. Once. Twice.

No one could help me now.