Page 47 of Run, Run Rudolph
Haden nodded and yawned, moving the bucket into the stall and taking a seat.
I watched him for a second as he pulled out his phone. He had a queue of unanswered text messages. I could see him skimming them, then using some sort of texting shortcut that suddenly produced a long message which he’d then send. I caught the odd word from the message. Symptoms to watch for in the pet, and the clinic’s emergency number if things got worse. But, otherwise, it was call in the morning and make an appointment.
I was charmed by his efficiency, and how he instituted boundaries between his private after-hours time, and the plethora of so-called emergencies that plagued him. But I also felt bad for sucking up his night with my own weird animal emergency. The poor man never got a break by the looks of it.
And there didn’t seem to be anything more that he could do for Rudolph. “You can head home now if you want,” I offered again. I was enjoying his company, but I didn’t kid myself that this was the start of something.
“It’s fine,” he mumbled, continuing to work through his messages.
Still half numb from my earlier drive, I headed back into the cold night where it was snowing like crazy again. A swirl of blinding snow spun and drove downward in a gust, and I worried about the reindeer. The visibility was horrible. And without Rudolph and his ‘nose so bright,’ I wasn’t sure how they’d fare. Could they get lost? Blown completely off course and stuck somewhere foreign, and too exhausted to reach the pole?
The trunk of my car was open, and I peeked inside, not spying the elf. Where had he gone? I checked around the vehicle for footprints. None. Was he okay? Had he beamed his way back to the North Pole? Wherever he was, I supposed I no longer needed to worry about him freezing to death because of me.
I quickly put the roof up, ignoring the drifts of snow on the car’s seats. A chill rocketed down the collar of my parka, and I jogged to the two-bedroom farmhouse, located only about thirty feet from the barn, shoulders bunched up to my ears. Inside, I fed my pet gopher Felipe some apple slices when he sat up on his hind legs and chirped at me.
Then I brewed two cups of coffee, figuring it would be a while before Haden and I got a chance to call it a night. Bundling up again in my big boots, parka, scarf, mitts and toque, I opened the door, startled when Boots went tearing past me and out into the freezing night.
“Boots!” I called, but he was already gone. Knowing he could seek refuge in the barn, thanks to the kitty door I’d made, I let him be, even though I worried about him being out in this weather.
Alone, I walked under the row of bare crabapple trees lining the walkway to the barn, heading back with a thermos and two cups. Halfway there, and somewhere above me, I heard a deep male voice shout, “Turn, turn, turn!”
It was followed by a cracking that sounded like a tree branch breaking and I instinctively crouched, eyes to the sky. Through the dampening sound of the falling snow, there was the faint ringing of sleigh bells.
Santa!
The reindeer were back already, and had brought Santa to fix everything!
There was a flicker of white light, some sort of headlight I guessed, and then the shadowy outline of reindeer pulling a sleigh.
I gasped at the brief sight, feeling like a kid as joy filled my heart. Santa was real. All of it was real.
More commands, each one sounding more frantic.
Without Rudolph and his nose, Santa must be having trouble landing his sleigh despite the headlight. Almost dropping the thermos, I jogged to my car, flicking on the headlights. They cast a glow across the driveway—a beautiful landing strip. Then I ran to the barn, flipping on the rest of its outdoor lights, including an extra floodlight. Next, I grabbed the huge emergency kit flashlight from my trunk and I aimed it at the sky.
Immediately, I heard a crash. I ditched the thermos and cups in the snow and ran blindly toward the noise, aiming my light. Snow crunched under my feet, and as I stepped off the driveway, my boots sunk into the deep, unpacked snow, pitching me forward. I got back to my feet and slowly waded through the endless white, punching holes in the drifts with my big Sorels, the cold snow tumbling over the tops of the tall boots and freezing my ankles.
The light from the barn had already been swallowed by the falling snow, darkness surrounding me other than the beam from my flashlight. In a storm like this, it would be easy to go too far, get turned around and freeze to death a few dozen feet from safety.
I hesitated, considering turning back. Then I heard muttering and bells ahead, and to the left. I did my best to continue toward them, and just when I was starting to panic again, my light caught something. The sleigh?
I waded through the knee-deep snow, and a few seconds later, I was running a hand down the side of a majestic wooden red sleigh with gold detailing. A man in red and white was sitting on the plush bench seat, rubbing his forehead. In front of him, his reindeer were pawing at the ground, looking back at me. Everyone was standing, seemingly okay.
“Hey, guys,” I called to them, wondering what to do. “You made really good time. You were only gone for about half an hour.”
Where was Santa’s boisterous ‘Ho, ho, ho?’
I came up to the sleigh’s door and shone my light on Santa, excitement swelling like I might burst with giddiness. I was about to introduce myself when I realized the sleigh wasn’t level. The front end was jacked up and splintered pieces poked jaggedly into the air.
Santa had hit a tree.
No. Not hit. Slammed.
Santa was not all right.
Unable to get the dazed man to reply to my hellos, I tried opening the sleigh’s side door, but couldn’t find a handle.
“It opens from the inside,” Prancer said. He was one of the reindeer closest to the sleigh.
