It was the night before Christmas but it was the last thing he cared about right now. At least, it should have been the last thing he'd cared about right now. He should be focused on the job at hand, even though the job at hand was the cause of his current frustration. After years of rescuing people, from themselves basically, Scott was feeling a little jaded. No, jaded was not the right word. Cynical? Yeah, that was a better fit.
He always felt like this at Christmas, because people seemed to lose any common sense they may have had the rest of the year. He guessed that was why it was called the silly season. Really, who in their right mind went rock climbing when a storm was brewing? Or bushwalking in an unfamiliar area, with no water or mobile phone, only to stray off the path and get lost for several days? Or set out in the middle of a snow storm in a remote area of Alaska when the temperatures were so far below zero that the air in your lungs felt like ice?
Each year, John manned Thunderbird Five remotely from the villa, so the entire family could spend a few days together. But each year they barely had time to say hello to one another in between calls, let alone have time to enjoy a meal together. From first light on Christmas Eve until after dark on Boxing Day; there was one rescue after another. It was three days of total madness.
Now it had descended from the sublime to the ridiculous. While Virgil, Gordon and Alan were preparing to rescue a rock band who had gone swimming with their tour bus in France, he had been diverted and was speeding to a remote area of Canada to rescue some idiot who'd decided to play Santa in the middle of a blizzard. And true to silly season tradition, he'd managed to get himself stuck in the chimney. Scott wondered how drunk this man was, or whether there was a fire blazing in the hearth below.
When he approached the danger zone he slowed Thunderbird One and used the spotlights to illuminate the area. The storm had blown itself out, but trees and ground alike were blanketed in a thick covering of snow which hid the structures underneath. The entire area seemed deserted and scanning the area with the thermal imager produced no results. Scott flicked the radio on.
"International Rescue, space station, this is Thunder bird One. John, are you sure this is the place?"
" Yes," John's tone was firm. John knew that Scott knew John would never make an error like getting the co-ordinates wrong, which meant a possible problem. "What's going on down there?"
"Nothing. The entire area's deserted, no signs of life."
Over the radio, Scott could hear John typing on the computer.
"Five miles north, north west of your current position."
"FAB, John." Scott headed Thunderbird One to the correct location and was gratified to see that the snow here wasn't as deep. At least he wouldn't have to force his way through chest high snow drifts. Not to mention that the VTOLs on One melted the snow which then refroze over the landing skids, making it a tricky business to lift off. Behind a thicket of trees he found a small cottage with a chimney. There were no lights glowing welcomely in the windows though, and it certainly wasn't the drunken party that he'd half expected to see. There wasn't even a ladder propped against the side of the building and the snow on the roof was undisturbed. If someone was stuck in the chimney, then he must have flown up there or climbed up from the inside.
A run of the thermals revealed four heat sources inside the house, as far away from the chimney as it was possible to get. By their outlines, there seemed to be two adults and two children, sleeping in their beds. The thermal imager also picked up a heat source inside the chimney, close to the top thankfully, and no fire in the hearth below.
"Got him, John. I thought you said he was alone? Thermal gives four other heat signatures."
"He said he was alone, which is why Dad sent you."
"Alright, I'm going in to land. How are the others getting on?"
"Gordon's gone down in Four and pumped fresh air into the bus for the survivors. He's lifting the bus to the surface now."
Scott found a patch of level ground near the cottage and settled One on her landing legs.
"So tell me why they didn't just smash the windows and swim to the surface?"
"Bullet proof glass. And they were too stoned or drunk to operate the door release."
"The driver?"
"Knocked out on impact."
"FAB. Scott hid his frustration behind a calm voice as he shut down the engines and opened the hatch. "I'm going to take a look around."
"Call if you need anything." John signed off.
Scott descended the ladder and popped the equipment storage hatch. He secured an equipment belt around his hips, pulled a ladder out and made his way through the snow to the cottage. The snow wasn't as deep close to the house and the spotters on One illuminated the area well.
Propping the ladder against the side of the cottage dislodged a flurry of snow which landed on Scott's head, soaking into his hair where it melted and trickled inside his upturned collar and down the back of his shirt. He shivered with the cold and stifled a curse.
He quickly climbed the ladder and picked his way across to the chimney. Shining a light down the flue, all he could see was a bundle of something red.
"This is International Rescue, can you hear me?" he called out.
A scrabbling from inside the chimney and the red material moved enough to reveal a round face of indeterminate age.
"About time you got here, took you long enough," the owner of the face said, his voice disgruntled.
"Are you hurt?"
"If I was hurt, I would have said. I'm stuck."
"What's your name?" Scott asked.
"Sebastian." A noisy sigh echoed impatiently from below. "And you're Scott Tracy."
Scott's heart gave a painful thump of surprise. "Do you know me?"
"Course I know you. I've known you since you were born. You and your brothers."
Sebastian? Despite racking his memory, Scott couldn't remember meeting any Sebastian's. He pushed his concerns aside. He'd find out how the hell this guy knew who he was after he was extracted. "What's that you've got with you?"
"My sack."
Your sack? Scott thought and sighed. Of course it was a sack. "Alright. I'll drop a line down to you, pull you out."
"No! I need to go down first; then come back up."
Scott paused for a beat. "Are you trying to break in?"
"What do you think I am? A frigging thief? I'm not breaking in; I'm playing Santa for Ben and Charlie."
Scott took the rope from where it was looped on his belt and secured one end to a handy strut. "If you know the people here, why didn't you just walk in the front door?"
"It's a long story. And a rope isn't going to help. I need more Christmas dust."
Christmas dust? Scott thought fast. Had the man been smoking weed or using something stronger? Never the less, he was still someone in need of help so Scott pushed the thought aside and played along.
"Sorry, I'm fresh out of Christmas dust." He fed the rope down the chimney but couldn't get it past the blockage caused by the sack.
"Are you stupid?" filtered up from the chimney below. "I've got the Christmas dust, it's in the sleigh. You need to go get it."
The sleigh? Of course it was in the sleigh. You can't play Santa without a sleigh. Scott looked around but couldn't see anything that could possibly be called a sleigh. All he could see were his footprints in the snow and Thunderbird One in the clearing.
A piercing whistle echoed from the chimney and bounced off the nearby hills. As the last of it faded away, Scott heard the sound of hooves approaching. Around the corner of the house came a group of reindeer, all harnessed together and pulling what could only be described as Santa's sleigh. At least, what he imagined Santa's sleigh would look like. The reindeer stopped at the base of the ladder, pawing the ground and nodding their heads.
Scott shook his head, feeling like he'd fallen down the rabbit hole. I'm dreaming, he thought. I'm asleep and dreaming.
"No, you're not."
"What?" Scott dragged his eyes from the scene below and looked back at the chimney.
"Dreaming. Look, just go get the dust and I'll explain when I get out of here. It's in a round box on the seat."
Shaking his head and vowing never to tell anyone, he climbed down the ladder. Keeping a wary eye on the reindeer, he looked in the back of the sleigh. On the padded seat was a blanket and a round wooden box with an ornate lid.
"That's the box, bring it up here." Despite the fact that Scott was so far away from the chimney on the roof, the voice sounded as clear as if he was standing next to him.
Checking that the latch was secure, he fastened the box to his belt and climbed back up the ladder.
"Open it up, but be careful, that stuff is hard to come by."
Inside the box was a fine, grey powder that looked very much like the sample of moon dust his father had in his office.
"Whatever sticks to your finger will do." Sebastian's voice wafted up from the chimney. "Not too much, just sprinkle it on top of me."
As much as Scott felt like an idiot, for some reason he felt compelled to do as he was asked. It couldn't be any worse than believing there really was a sleigh and reindeer parked on the snow. Could it?
As soon as he touched the tip of his finger to the innocuous looking powder, the lid slammed shut. Only Scott's lightening fast reflexes saved him from a nasty bruise. He shook his finger over the chimney and in the lamp light the powder sparkled like golden glitter as it floated on the air.
"Ah ha!" Sebastian gave a joyful cheer as the glitter touched him, causing him to sparkle and shine as well. Scott watched in amazement as the little man, with a whoosh, pop and thump slid down the chimney and landed in the hearth. Scott's vision blacked out temporarily as a large puff of soot billowed around him.
"For fuck's sake! He shook his head and wiped his sleeve across his face, soot falling off to mar the whiteness of the snow underfoot.
When he blinked his eyes clear, he was standing on the ground alongside the sleigh with no recollection of descending the ladder. Not to mention that standing in front of him was a little man with pointy ears, pointy shoes and a pointy hat with a bell on the end. The little man stared back at him. His hands were fisted on his hips, and an empty red sack trailed in the snow.
"Who are you?" Scott's mind had blanked at the vision in front of him.
"I told you! I'm Sebastian! " With a roll of the eyes and shake of his head Sebastian threw the sack into the sleigh and turned back to Scott. "Who do you think I am? Frigging Santa Claus?"
"I don't believe in Santa," Scott said looking at the sleigh and the reindeer and questioning his own sanity.
"You're not supposed to believe. You're a grown up. That's how it works."
"How what works? Who are you? And how do you know who I am?"
"I'm an elf! That's how I know who you are. And the magic wears off because grownups would want next week's lottery numbers or a Lamborghini. We make toys, not high end performance cars."
"An elf."
"Is there an echo here? You heard me; I'm a frigging Christmas elf. You want proof? Alright, do you remember what you got for Christmas when you were six?"
Scott thought hard, but it was such a long time ago, he couldn't be sure.
"Remember that toy jet plane?"
In Scott's mind he was instantly transported back to that Christmas. He could remember his excitement on opening the present and seeing the sleek silver plane. He'd loved that plane, had looked through the cockpit window at the realistic controls inside and imagined he was flying it. The hours flew by as fast as he imagined the plane would have flown when he'd played pilot of commercial airliners, fighter jets and even Air Force One.
"What did Virgil get that year?" Sebastian's voice broke into his thoughts. "Remember the paint set?" Immediately the image of his plane was gone, replaced by a green box full of paints and brushes. It had been the first time Virgil had been given anything like it and it had fostered a love of art that had not been noticed before.
In quick succession, his mind's eye saw John on the lawn looking at the night sky through a telescope as big as he was and Gordon, playing in the bath with plastic fish and a yellow submarine. He also saw a nine month old Alan, drooling and chewing on a plush red rocket.
Scott opened his eyes, watched Sebastian watching him.
"How did you know that? You weren't there." He found it hard to reconcile what he saw in front of him, what he remembered and what he believed to be true. "Are you saying the whole Santa Claus thing is real?" He felt like an idiot just voicing it.
"You think I dress like this for fun? Of course Santa is real. I only told you this because I was in a bind and I know you lot can keep secrets."
"If Santa is real, then where is he? Why are you delivering toys?"
"Because the new Santa isn't ready yet."
"The new... okay, I'll bite. What happened to the old Santa?"
Sebastian stared hard at Scott for a moment, looked pointedly at the box Scott was still holding. Suddenly the penny dropped, along with the box when Scott realised what must be in it.
Sebastian dove for it, catching it before it hit the ground.
"Cripes!" He stood and cradled the box to his chest. "Take it easy. You could have ruined Christmas for the next fifty years."
Scott rubbed his hands across his face, remembered the soot, but surprisingly, his hands were clean.
"I didn't think the minstrel look suited you," Sebastian said as he placed the Christmas box in the sleigh and climbed in after it. He picked up the empty sack and held it out. "Here, there's something in there for you."
Scott took the sack which he could see was made of red velvet and tied with gold cord. He untied the cord and felt inside. His eyes widened when he pulled out a replica of the jet plane he had been given years ago. The one he'd played with so much until eventually no amount of fixing could hold it together. Scott looked inside the cockpit windows, as he had back then, but now, there was a figure sitting in the pilot seat. He squinted at the tiny features, and started as he recognised himself resplendent in his Air Force uniform. As he watched, the doll Scott adjusted dials on the control panel.
"Recognise it?" Sebastian asked.
"Uh, yeah..." Scott gripped the plane tighter as the figurine waved at him.
"Now do you believe?" Sebastian's gruff manner was gone, the scowl on his face replaced by a smile. "There's something else in the bag there too. Take a look."
Scott put his plane down and took up the sack again. It didn't feel like there was anything in there, but he dutifully looked inside. He found a piece of embossed card at the bottom of the sack and pulled it out. Sebastian spoke again.
"Like I said, we're toy makers. We don't normally do this, but we like your work so we've made an exception. And since everyone you live with all have the same wish, it was an easy decision. And we know you can keep a secret...so... enjoy."
Scott felt humbled as he read the inscription on the card.
This card entitles the inhabitants of Tracy Island to one rescue- free Christmas Day
A Christmas with no rescues? No call outs? The chance to spend time as a family for the first time since they'd begun operations?
"Is this for real?" he asked, half expecting to wake up and realise it was a dream. A weird dream, but a dream nonetheless.
"This is exactly why we don't bother with adults. They're too damn cynical. You've got ten minutes before the Christmas dust wears off and the children wake up." Sebastian shook his head, gathered up the reins. "Go home, your brothers are already on their way."
With that, Sebastian flicked the reins and the reindeer flew into the air, leaving Scott with his plane and the rapidly fading sound of jingling bells.
