Deb looked to me for confirmation. “How do we know we can trust you, old man? Who are you taking him to? His folks?”
The Wizard sighed. “Might I at least have a beverage if we're to do this much cavorting first?” Holly passed the old man a Croak, which seemed to perk him up a bit. He magicked the lid off and smiled as the bullfrog noise filled the air. He took a deep swig before continuing. “Ah, much better. I'm afraid it's 'All Hands On Deck' in the wizarding world on Christmas Eve. Only so much old Santa can conjure on his own, as it were.” He rubbed his forehead with his staff hand, lifting the magic weapon into the air and sending rollergirls scattering out of the way, lest they be transformed into toads.
“So what about the kid?” I said again.
“Yeah,” Deb said, a bit more aggressively than I would have liked.
“The child,” the Wizard said, “asked to go home, and I shan't lie—I won't be taking him to the home he remembers.” The kid's face wrinkled in despair, before disappearing beneath a dirty shag of bangs as he cried into his hands. Derek crouched behind him and patted him, glaring up at the Wizard as the band, the rollergirls, and even Katarina Breedon grilled the old man on what exactly he thought he was doing, and who he thought he was, etc. etc., and then some.
“Stop!” I yelled. The hush fell over the group as if it were magic. It probably was. I was good at that, after all. “Explain,” I said.
“The child's parents raised a changeling, as I believe you've discerned, Harlow.”
How did he do that? Was he a mind-reader?
“The actor from Moonlight,” he continued. There was a stunned silence from the group that wasn't of my making, this time. Finally, Deb spoke.
“I guess if you took him back to his real mom and dad after all these years, they'd be pretty freaked out, wouldn't they?”
I thought of my dad, and how I'd felt when I'd learned he still lived.
“I guess I can imagine how awkward that would be for the kids' parents to wake up on Christmas morning and find a younger version of their son, waiting beneath the tree. I mean, the person they thought was their son. You know what I mean.”
“Indeed, fair prince,” the Wizard said. “You have the widom and leadership of your father in you.” He nodded in approval.
“So, where then?” Deb asked. Derek held the boy, patting him on the back of the head. Gennifer was reaching for him, as if to have a turn holding him, as well.
“We could keep him,” Gennifer said.
Her mother snorted, but kept her mouth shut.
“Fortunately,” the Wizard replied, “I have a colleage who keeps an enormous book of wishes, which he updates frequently—especially on this night of the year. I feel certain that within it, there are many hopeful couples who would be quite happy to welcome a quiet, well-behaved boy into their home for the morning's celebrations. Perhaps even a bit of a theiving one, truth be known.”
And then the Wizard looked down his nose, over his glasses at the child, and I saw through the veneer of aloof distance the old man wore as a matter of course. He may have been a weirdo on the outside, but inside? He had a heart for children.
“Okay,” I said. Deb looked at me, pointed teeth bared and wings spread at the ready to swoop in and retrieve the child.
I shook my head at her. “No,” I said. “He's going to be okay,” I said.
And then the kid raised his head from Derek's chest, and in the light of the biggest moon I'd ever seen in my life, above a plain of cushy white snow in the middle of a the frozen Indiana night, he reached out for the Wizard's staff.
They went twinkly.
“Goodbye, Harlow!” he called, but the voice was already far away, like he'd been pushed down the Frigerator Shoot and was waiting on the other side. “Thank you for the wish!”
We stood in stunned silence for a few seconds, before Kat brought us back to reality. “I'm freezing my ass off out here!” she yelled. “You got anymore of them Bingo pull-tabs, or was that it, ya cheap bastard?”
On the walk back to the mansa, I couldn't help but step a little lighter.
Deb linked her arm through mine on one side, Holly on the other. “Three unlimited topping pizzas,” Holly sang, “two flea markets...”
Maybe I'd given up my one wish for the night, but somehow I couldn't help but feel others were coming true.
“And a changling in a magazine!” I roared with delight.
I looked over my shoulder at the looming moon. “Thank you,” I whispered, and felt Deb squeeze my arm before she spread her hulking black wings and flew up behind us, an eerie silhouette of dark joy protecting us all.
“Best Christmas ever,” she whispered in a voice only I could hear.
This story takes place in the time between TROLL OR DERBY and the forthcoming sequel TROLL OR PARK. For more by Red Tash, visit https://RedTash.com.
Silent Night,
The holiday viral sensation
by Jack Wallen
Silent night. Holy night. All is calm, all is quiet.
The music gently massaged the ambiance of the holiday occasion. It was a celebration that would have profound and epic repercussions on the human race. And, most importantly, it might well be the only such celebration this holiday season.
My name is John Burgess. You should know that name. If you do not, it will only be a matter of time before you do. I am the leader of an organization that has been charged with the grand, sweeping change of the human race. A cleansing if you will. This organization is comprised of politicians, men and women of industry, philanthropists with particular desires – dark desires and darker designs.
We are the Zero Day Collective. We are remaking humanity, forcing its molecular biology to shift, proving evolution can be controlled.
‘Round yon virgin, mother and child.
We are currently tracking down a woman crucial to our goal. She has been part and parcel to our grand design and will help ring the death knell for mankind. Bethany Nitshimi is with child. That baby will be the first human born immune to the Mengele virus. That child holds within his DNA the cure which must not get into the hands of the people. That cure would undo everything the Zero Day Collective has worked tirelessly for.
But, for now, there is a joyous occasion to celebrate. A moment ripped from time. A piece of peace, stolen from a purer past.
Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.
With a tap of spoon to glass, I had everyone’s attention. God damn power is money, sex, everything.
“I want to thank you all for joining me for this Christmas celebration. But this is not just any holiday meal. What this meal represents is a new beginning for mankind and, more importantly …” I paused to take in the seduction of their rapt attention. “ … an absolute control over every consumer market, property, and person on the planet. This is absolute power and it will corrupt absolutely.”
Applause exploded and echoed off the walls in the room.
I had two big reveals for this auspicious occasion – the first was a video feed, but not just any video. This particular scene the audience was about to gaze upon a glance into Christmas yet to come. Our future silent night. With an elegant wave of a tiny remote the lights in the room dimmed. Candlelight flickered off the glasses and sequined dresses of the more feminine attendees. I would say ‘female,’ but there were some in attendance of questionable gender. The moment was perfect, a romantic notion that was about to be juxtaposed with a slice of Armageddon.
The video screen lowered in absolute silence. When the first images of the video feed appeared, the audience wasn’t quite sure what they were seeing. The feed was live from Munich.
“Ladies and gentlemen, what you are witnessing is the Quantum Fusion Generator designed and built by our own Dr. Lindsay Godwin.”
As if on cue, Dr. Godwin walked in front of the camera, inadvertently blocking the view to the device.
“Ladies and gentlemen, what yo
u are witnessing now is the ass of Dr. Lindsay Godwin.” The audience laughed – eating up every word I spoke. They were mine, the world would soon follow.
“This device has a two-fold purpose. The first purpose is a ruse to make the general populace think we are delivering a perfect source of renewable energy. It’s the second purpose that brings the Zero Day Collective together, with a singular purpose.” Another smile. Another pause.
Finally Dr. Godwin moved away from the camera lens, giving the audience another glimpse of the future. Apparently (and unknowingly) the good doctor decided to give us a show by running some tests on the device. A brilliant red glow shone from the top of the generator. The glow was quickly followed by an almost sickeningly low thrumming sound.
Secretly I turned the volume of the feed up. The noise grew uncomfortably loud. Patrons squirmed in their seats. Men and women alike pressed the palms of their hands to either their ears or their eyes, to keep the pressure from the sound at bay.
Thankfully the lighting in the room was so dim, otherwise everyone would have seen the grin gracing my lips.
“Jesus Christ Burgess, turn it off!” one of the board members yelled over the din.
I complied. As much as I enjoyed the suffering, I needed these people alive and on my side.
From my pocket I pulled a mic out and flipped the power switch.
“Merry Christmas, Doctor Godwin!” My voice had a twinge of mockery.
The doctor turned to the camera and glared. “I have no time for you at the moment. As you can see, I am very busy.” Godwin started to turn back to the generator, but quickly had a second thought. “Merry Christmas you dare say? You are about to unleash Hell on the planet and you would dare utter those sacred words – ”
Mute. There was no way I was going to allow yet another one of Lindsay Godwin’s tirades ruin this moment. He knew his place and it was not to be judge and jury. The man was a creator of life and death. His work with the Heizer Sequence was genius – which was precisely why I had to pull him away. And now, I have his partner in genetic crime working for my team.
I am, in a word, brilliant. I will, in a word, rule.
“That was only a glimpse of what is to come. Now I have something really special to share with you. In honor of this occasion, this Christmas dinner, I have arranged to give everyone a first-hand look at the future of mankind. I hope you all have strong constitutions.”
With a sotto laugh I waved the screen away with my magic wand. As the screen slid up into the ceiling, the wall behind it vanished into the floor to reveal a three-inch Plexiglas wall. The dramatic lighting kept the secrets that lay behind the wall still in the dark. Only I had the power to reveal the sights that would forever change the lives of the people seated around the festive tables.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you … the Mengele Virus.” Another wave of the wand and the lights changed to reveal the first amplified human. To call the thing human was a bit of a stretch. It was still bi-pedal and remotely resembled homo sapien 1.0. But try to dig any deeper than flesh and bone and the similarities quickly ended.
The thing, the zombie … turned and raced at the clear wall. It knew. It could sense, smell, almost taste what lay on our side.
Brains.
The Santa suit the beast wore was in tattered rags, the fake beard hung by a thread – it was left for effect. The effect worked wonders on the audience's sense of irony. I couldn't help but laugh. It was a thing of genius seeing a group of the world’s wealthiest, the kings and queens of capitalism, shrink in fear of the one man that saved their monetary system year after year.
Oh what would they say if they knew the ruined Saint Nick they were viewing was the very same man whose lap their children had recently sat upon and in whose ear was whispered the secret of secrets by each youngster – what I want for Christmas.
Well, little Cindy, what you want is your life; what you’ll get is suffering.
The Santa-thing crashed a broken, meaty fist against the wall, causing every member of the affair to nearly jump out of their seats. Women screamed, one man stood and slammed his hands onto the table. The man made like he was going to bolt the room, but the holiday music wafted to his ear and convinced his body to sit back down.
God rest ye merry, gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay …
The holiday music continued on in the background. What should have been a soothing balm for the attendees went completely unnoticed, save for one shivering man.
Weakness. It sickened me. I made a mental note to use the shaking man as my next experiment. In a blink, the man’s shelf-life had practically disappeared.
All eyes and ears were on the morbid horror displayed in front of them. The zombie continued pounding, the audience continued jerking and jumping.
Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day …
The monster stopped his pounding and stared at his audience. He sniffed at the air; his eyes, his sour-milk eyes, were worthless, save for the ability to see light and shadow. I knew the delight that tickled his nasal passages. Beyond a sliding door a gift awaited my subject. That gift was my coup d'etat and would serve to prove to everyone in the room just how serious the Zero Day Collective was about its mission.
To save poor souls from Satan's power, when we were gone astray.
Yet another wave of my wand and a door hissed open. From out of the doorway rolled a remote controlled dolly, which came to rest in the center of the room. On the dolly was strapped a man. The man was alive, awake, and was about to witness, first hand, the new world horror.
Everyone immediately recognized the man with no future. Only yesterday, Tab Donagal sat at my right side … both literally and figuratively. It wasn’t until he began questioning some of my, shall we say, more “fringe” decisions, that I decided the man had to be disposed of. When the opportunity arose, I took it. That opportunity was here and now.
“John, what have you done? That’s ...” The first of the audience recognized Tab with a shock.
The response to the realization had the exact effect I had hoped for – respect and mind-numbing fear. Each and every member of the board knew not to fuck with me. If they ever questioned that, they wouldn’t now.
The zombie slowly approached the dolly, sniffing the air as it walked. The look on the thing’s face was a mixture of confusion, rage, and bliss. It desperately wanted. It only had no idea what it longed for.
Donagal screamed out. He had no idea why he was there, why he was about to become the Christmas Goose for the undead. One minute Tab was leaving his office, to spread some holiday cheer. His wife had signed them up to join a caroling group Hell-bent on spreading holiday spirit to a home for senior citizens. He hated Christmas almost as much as he hated retirement homes filled with senior citizens wishing life would just finally release them from their mortal coil. The next the man was injected with liquid sleep and strapped to a remote control dolly. Now the man was about to become the first undead Christmas meal.
O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy. O tidings of comfort and joy.
When the undead beast finally stumbled upon the dolly, it reached its bony fingers out so it could feel what it was that beckoned. The greasy hands found the ex board member’s head. With a great sniff the zombie took in the meaty smell with its rotting nose. The stench wafting from the fear induced sweat on the man was like Christmas morning to the beast. It wasn't the fear, or the sweat, or the skin, or the meat the thing wanted.
Without warning the zombie placed its palms on either side of the man's head and began applying pressure. The bound man screamed out, but the undead Kris Kringle had not the power to succeed in its task
Never fear Kris, I have tricks up my sleeve to rival that of your magical elves.
The wand waved and the dolly's straps were loosened. Donagal was free. That freedom would only buy the man his death. Slowly the mouse began to back away from the cat. The cat, of course, wasn't finished playing with the mouse.
r /> The man turned and ran toward the clear wall.
“Jonathan, help me! Let me out of here!” The desperate pleas for help were delicious music to my ears. They sang out again, and again, and again.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light. From now on, our troubles will be out of sight.
The collection of board members around the table were back in their seats. It was clear, by the looks on their faces, they were enthralled with the spook show treat laid out before their eyes. Each attendee knew they were witnessing the fate of mankind, the new evolution of the human being, the perfect storm we brewed in Petri dishes and lab rats. And as Zombie Santa was about to unwrap its first Christmas package and dig into its first holiday meal, the board members around me were drinking the Collective Kool Aid and worshiping at the altar of Armageddon.
Through the years We all will be together, If the Fates allow.
The zombie bull-rushed Tab. The two bodies fell, clumsily to the floor – one screaming for help, the other moaning in some sort of post-life ecstasy.
“Jonathan! Why are you doing this? Help me! This thing is going to kill me!” The man's voice was pure panic.
Crack.
The zombie bashed the man's head against the floor.
“Someone … help me.” Tab's voice was growing weaker.
Crack.
Again the skull slapped against the once-white tile of the floor. A hand reached out, hoping to grab purchase on something, anything. It found nothing.
Crack.
The body went limp.
I looked upon my subjects as they stared on in a mixture of horror and blood lust. The thirst for power swept over the crowd. The switch had been flipped. Fear made desire.
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough. And have yourself A merry little Christmas now.
The next sound was a wet, slurping symphony. The zombie had its gift unwrapped and was enjoying the sweet meats within. Members of the audience were practically standing on the table to watch the hunched-over monster digging into the brain pan of a man who was once a brilliant colleague. When the zombie finally stood up, gray matter clung to its lower jaw as it roared its thankful approval for the gifts it had received.