Tracy Tam: Santa Command (11 page)

Tracy turned around in her seat and saw that Jared was now standing on his tiptoes on the half wall between two stalls and sticking his hands into every crack and crevice he could find.

“I saw this special on Discovery Channel,” he said, “that talked about theme park rides and how they did Spiderman and Harry Potter at Universal. Is that how you did this? Is it built on the same type of platform?”

Chris didn't watch Jared. He just smoked his pipe and laughed. He clearly enjoyed the boy's questions.

Tracy didn't. Jared had gone from rude to hyper in a matter of seconds, and neither one was any help. She hopped out of the sleigh and fussed at him. “Will you stop wasting time? There's maybe three hours left before the sun comes up.”

Jared jumped from the wall and landed agilely on his feet in front of Tracy. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, making him look less like a future football player and more like a cartoon character. “Are you kidding? We just went on the most amazing ride ever. Don't you want to know how he did it?”

“No, I don't.” She folded her arms across her chest, which was kind of hard, because the Santa coat bunched up in weird places. “I told you. We have a huge problem to fix. Don't you care?”

“Nope,” he said bluntly. “My aunt works at Santa Command. If the old man misses my house, she'll still bring my presents home. Besides, you didn't look too worried when you were passed out in Chris' library. When did you start caring?”

“When we…” Well, the truth was, she didn't know exactly what had made her change her mind, but it had been sometime after she had stepped through that mirror. She didn't care if there were jets on the sleigh or if it had all been a ride. “It doesn’t matter. At least I care about something more than getting my presents.”

“That's not what I—”

Chris hopped down from the sleigh and landed in between the children. “How about we go inside and warm up?” he said as he rubbed his hands together briskly. “My wife makes a mean cup of hot chocolate.”

“But—” Tracy began.

“Patience.” Chris put a finger to her lips. “I promise you, we'll take care of your problem, but there's something else that needs to be done first.” And with that, Chris turned on his heel and walked out of the barn. The two children followed behind, but they refused to look at each other for the entire walk.

***

Chris' wife, he introduced her as Mary, placed four steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the tiny breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen. It tasted just like the one Tracy had found in the library, sweet and spicy, and Tracy settled back into her chair.

Mary looked like an older version of a 1950s housewife, with a puffy skirt, lacy apron, and wavy, gray hair. Both the kitchen and her appearance showed that she liked things neat and orderly. Tracy could appreciate that. She couldn't sleep if her desk had a pencil out of place.

Mary's kitchen smelled like the Main Street bakery at Disney. Her parents had told her that Disney piped in that smell to sell more cookies, but Tracy had a feeling the scent in Mary's kitchen was the real thing. It was odd to think anything about her night was real, when she had found so many things that made her question what she knew. That was the very nature of science, to raise questions and seek answers, no matter how unexpected those answers might be. She stuck her hand inside her coat pocket and felt the turtle zip drive.

Despite the confusing answers she'd gotten, she still had so many questions. What were those elf creatures? Where did she go when she went through that mirror? She didn't feel like they were in Alabama anymore. Was it really a portal? Did Santa Command have transporter technology like on Star Trek? And last of all, who was Chris? Of everything she had discovered, he felt the most real, but she still didn't know what that meant. He said he was the original Santa. She agreed with Jared on that one. It wasn't possible.

She studied Chris across the table. He had red cheeks and dimples, no beard, just some scruff, but whiskers come and go. If she tilted her head and squinted her eyes just a little bit, she could sort of see how he looked like Santa.

Chris noticed Tracy studying him. He wiggled his fingers, and for a moment, he transformed into Tracy's perfect image of Santa—red suit, fat belly, warm smile—but a second later, he was back in his navy blue suit, looking very much like a retired business man.

Jared noticed it too and spit his hot chocolate all over the table. “I knew this stuff was tainted!”

“Jared!” Mary scolded him as she handed him a wet washcloth to clean up his mess. Her hair was neat and her back was straight, and she was not the type to clean up after children who were perfectly capable of doing it themselves.

Chris laughed it off. “It's all right, my dear. It'll wash.”

Mary raised an eyebrow.

Tracy pulled her cup closer to her and swished it around. Was that what had changed her mind? The drink in the library?
No, it wasn't,
said a voice inside her, although it didn't tell her why. She set her cup down before it sloshed out and she also got on Mary's bad side.

Jared finished mopping up his mess, then plopped back down in his seat. He pushed his mug to the center of the table. When Mary glared at him, he said, “I'm done, thank you.”

She wasn't so easily satisfied. “Jared Astor, when have I ever served you a tainted drink?”

He scoffed. “Probably always.”

Mary opened her mouth to argue, but Chris put his hand on hers. “My dear, I believe Jared has been going through a tough time. Perhaps we should allow him to speak.”

When he put it that way, she couldn't very well say no. She gave him a curt nod and took a slow breath, because slow breaths always calmed adults down. “Very well, then. Jared, what makes you think I would do anything to hurt you?'

“I didn't say you were trying to hurt me. You're just trying to trick me.”

“Trick you?” Mary asked. “How?”

“I believe I understand,” Chris said. He wiggled his fingers again and shifted into the Santa look he had worn a few moments before. Tracy looked around for cameras or strings. When she didn't see any, she realized she hadn't uncovered a single secret since she stepped through the mirror. Santa Command hadn't been very good at hiding their technology. Why was Chris' house so different?

Mary took one look at Santa Chris, and her face softened instantly. The harsh lines around her mouth were replaced with a glowing smile. Her eyes carried a spark that seemed to leap across the table and land in the corner of Chris' eyes.

Tracy looked at the two of them, and she could see how Mary fit in perfectly with Chris' Santa image. They both had gentle eyes and dimpled smiles.

“It's been a hundred years since I've seen you in that. I didn't think you still…” Mary's thoughts drifted off as she reached a finger up to dab at her eye.

“A hundred years? Come on!” Jared's snotty voice broke through the moment, and they all turned to look at him.

Tracy gave him a nasty look. Even she knew better than to be that rude.

“What?” he said. “Are you going to tell me you believe all of this stuff? They're playing with our minds.”

“I…” Tracy began. “Well, I…”

Chris and Mary watched her as she struggled to find the truth. There was a war happening inside her, between all of the proof she had collected over the course of the night and the gnawing feeling in her gut that had begun sometime in Chris' presence. She spoke timidly as she pulled at the cuffs of her coat. “Well, there is that dust that makes people see things.”

“Right,” Jared said smugly. “And the zombie Santas, and that ride he has in the barn.”

Chris gave a weary sigh. His Santa image slipped off of him, but he didn't quite return to his normal self. His skin turned pasty and paper thin as if his previous appearance had been a costume as much as the Santa outfit was. Even his clothes seemed looser on him. The whole effect made him seem much, much older. “Well, I can't argue with the first two. Unfortunately, the world has changed over the centuries, and many things have become a necessity. I can assure you, however, that the sleigh ride I took you on, was one hundred percent genuine.”

Jared leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, whatever.”

“What about jets?” Tracy suggested. “There could have been jets on the sleigh. That would have made the ride real.”

“Did you forget that we just popped back into the barn? How do you explain that, Miss I Wanna Be A Scientist?”

Tracy had no explanation. She'd forgotten about that part.

Chris saved her from having to answer. “Well, I suppose I could have a theme park ride in my barn. Or I could have dusted you like the Inklings do. I could have done any number of things to trick you.” He paused long enough to make his next his next words seem very important. “But I haven't.”

“I don't believe you,” Jared said flatly.

Chris folded his hands on the table in front of him. He thumbs circled around each other as if he were weaving together his answer. Once again, Tracy felt like something important was about to be said. “Let me ask you both something. What makes you so sure there isn't magic in this world?”

Tracy answered first. “Everything has a scientific explanation.” It was what she had believed her entire life, and every moment she'd spent in school had confirmed that. Sure, she'd seen magicians at parties, but she'd also seen books in the public library that showed just how they did all of those tricks. Fairies didn't exist, unicorns weren't hiding somewhere deep in the forest, and even Santa himself, was a corporation with a bunch of gadgets that made people think Santa was magical.

“I see. And do you have an explanation for everything you've seen tonight?”

Tracy squirmed a little in her seat. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Chris asked.

“Well, not all of it. That was my plan, to figure out how everything worked. I had a hypothesis.” And when your hypothesis is proven incorrect, you need to modify it. Beth had said that earlier. Tracy had proven her hypothesis in so many ways by finding the loading zone and spotting the jets on the sleigh and seeing the computer files. But there were other things she wasn't sure she could explain—her cast, the portal, the ride on Chris' sleigh. Even though she could create an explanation, they had all felt different, like they couldn't be real, but they were. Those things all suggested magic. Could her hypothesis be wrong? She shook her head. Her beliefs were cemented firmly into her brain. “There's no way one person could visit all of those houses in one night. Not even you.”

“He did once.” Mary's voice was so soft and wistful that both Jared and Tracy looked at her. “When the world was young, and there weren't so many people.”

Jared shook his head and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” Chris asked. “My hearing isn't as good as it once was.” Although Tracy got the feeling he had heard perfectly.

Jared pushed himself to his feet. His fingers splayed across the kitchen table as he leaned on it. His face turned very red. “I said that if Santa and all of this magic were real, then I never would have lost my parents!” He kicked the chair behind him into the wall and stormed toward the door. Before he left, he looked at them one last time. He pointed his finger at each of them as if they were the ones responsible for his parents. “I'm going home, and if any of you try to stop me, I'm calling the police.”

The second the door slammed shut, Chris stood up. As he did so, the fragile elderly man from moments before shifted into the Chris that Tracy had first met. He tugged on the hem of his vest and squared his shoulders. “Are you ready?”

“What are we gonna do?” Tracy asked him.

“We're going to see some magic.”

Jared

Jared stormed out of the kitchen door and straight into the middle of a forest. The snow was deeper there, wrapping around his feet and snaking up his ankles. He tried not to mind it, but his socks were getting wet. He thought for a second about going back, but there were crazy people in the kitchen. At least with the snow, he knew exactly what to expect. He didn't know where he was going, and he certainly didn't know how to get there, but his feet were moving, and for now, that was enough.

After a few minutes, he found a small river. It was frozen over. He didn't stop to think that he hadn't seen any frozen creeks yet in Alabama this year, although he was certain he was still in his home state. Even if he had thought about the creeks, he would have rationalized it by saying the hot chocolate was still showing him things that weren't really there. He'd also been given hot chocolate the night of his worst nightmare ever. They'd forced the images into him, and the words from the dream still echoed in his head in the inky black of the night.

The workers at Santa Command had been very good at playing with his mind. When he first came to live with Beth, she brought him there, hoping that the “magic” would convince him that things were going to be okay. They showed him flying reindeer, the Inklings (deformed squirrels in his opinion), and Santas traveling up and down chimneys in a puff of smoke. They'd even sent him to Chris' house and insisted he'd been to the North Pole.

As a child, yes, he would have called it magic. As an eleven-year-old, an age he liked to think of as young adult, he knew that all of those things were tricks designed to keep the public in the dark. There was no magic. Santa existed, but only as a club of old men playing dress up.

Chris may have been retired, but he was still one of them. He was still part of the joke that had been played on the world for centuries. Jared didn't wish to be any part of that joke. Any time Beth talked about work, Jared would mutter something about homework, retreat to his room, and lay on his bed with his iPod blasting into his ears. The sound took him into his head where he could leave the world behind him. Chris spoke about magic, but the only real magic Jared could imagine was the kind that would make him forget. For him, music was magic.

As Jared followed the river, he shuffled through his mental playlist until he came up with something angry, something Beth would forbid him to listen to because of the four-letter words in the lyrics. He found the perfect song and screamed it at the top of his lungs.