The fire consumes the last of the sleigh. When it goes out, there’ll be trouble…
It’s really too bad the trouble didn’t happen at the start of the run. A quick rummage in the sack, a call on one of the satellite phones with his position pinpointed with one of the GPS units and there’d be a snug little campsite with a nice cup of cappuccino while he waited for pick-up. The whole thing wouldn’t put the schedule more than a couple hours off. Heck, some of those runs when he was younger were way farther off than that towards the end and that was with fewer stops and no problems with the sleigh. Or the team. Plus little Kyle Schumway’s first deer rifle wasn’t more than a third of the way down in the sack. Little Kyle Schumway’s first deer rifle would have come in awfully handy tonight.
But of course it all went wrong on the way back. At least the kids won’t be disappointed. This year anyway. By the way things look, next year won’t be his problem. Someone else will step up to claim the Suit. Someone always does. No matter what, the Show goes on.
The storm blew up out of nowhere. Usually there’s plenty of warning. The weather boys know their craft and don’t make mistakes. But come to think of it, Blinko wasn’t there for Takeoff with the updated charts. Blinko’s always there with the last minute updates. But things are always hectic and you can miss things. Couldn’t get over this storm, not even with the load delivered. Couldn’t go around it, it was a real monster. Turn and run and hope for the best, find the edge and skirt north and just get home, that was the plan. No one ever said you have to be home by morning, it’s not really a rule, but it’s the Way Things are Done. Maybe laying up in the Caribbean for a day or two would have been the way to go. “Reindeer? No mon, they’s goats mon.” That would have worked easy. Too late now.
Just like it was too late when the mountain rose up out of the storm. Too late to swerve. Too late to dodge. Too late to climb. The only thing there was time for was the crash.
And what a crash it was. Dasher, Dancer and Prancer never knew what him 'em. Vixen went down with two broken legs. Comet probably would have been flying again in a week or two, and Cupid was just dazed, but with Cupid it can be hard to tell. Blitzen was the real mystery. Nowhere to be found and the traces were snapped. All the leather work is brand new for the Ride and the boys in the workshop know their business. It shouldn’t have snapped. It couldn’t have snapped. It could have been chewed through, though.
First thing was to get Vixen warm. Comet and Cupid gathered up the bits of broken sleigh and luckily the Missus hadn’t badgered enough for the pipe to be given up. No more smoking during the Deliveries, that was the rule, but in the Sleigh was another matter, so the fire was easy to start. Dawn wasn’t too far off and if he wasn’t back by then the boys would head out looking. Being as far off course as they were when they went down the search could take awhile. Maybe a day or two. Not very comfortable, but survivable. It should have been survivable least ways.
Cupid was the first. He wandered off looking for more wood. It was horrible, hearing the screams. There weren’t any teeth marks, but the hooves and antlers could keep off a pack of hungry wolves. They were enough for a trusting friend. Comet wouldn’t believe and ran off to his doom. That came quick enough and by the time he got back to the fire Vixen was taken too. That left one lonely old man and the cold dark night.
The small fire finally sputtered out in a puff of steam. The cold closed in. And the dark. And the terror.
Donner was the only one to get back to the workshop later that night. He didn’t seem particularly phased by the whole ordeal. In fact it was almost as if he was at a party the whole time. Just one big Donner Party.
-Rue.
