Doctor Trek - Santa Claus Is Coming To Town (2)
Police sirens wailed. "There they are!" they heard Sheriff Roy Connor shout. "Disperse!" Rumpelstiltskin shouted. The elves winked out of existence. In moments, police had surrounded Who, Fred and Frobisher, and all manner of weapons were aimed at their every body part. "Stand totally still!" Roy shouted. "Or die!" "Not the most enticing of choices," Who noted, throwing up his hands in surrender. "I think I preferred the elves," Frobisher commented unhelpfully. Mick Raines couldn't sleep. He lay in bed, Alexandra sleeping peacefully by his side, his mind working overtime. He couldn't get over the sight of poor Stanley McDermott...horrible. And those strangers...were they really guilty? Sheriff Connor seemed to think so, but his opinion didn't amount to much at the best of times. The strangers had been weird, alright, even slightly eerie with their strange talk and peculiar clothes, but all the same, there'd been something reassuringly benign about them. He simply couldn't imagine them doing THAT to poor old Stanley. He looked at the bedroom clock, squinting at the wall: 1:05 am. He sighed, thinking this was a great way to start Christmas, and was rolling over to try and get some sleep, when he heard a noise. What was it? Low murmurs, coming from Zoe's room. Surely she couldn't be up playing with her dollies at this hour? Being careful not to disturb Alexandra, Mick climbed out of bed and crept into the hallway. The light was on in Zoe's room. Mick groaned, and pushed open the door. "Young lady, what do you think you're - " he stopped, aghast. In the middle of the room was a big fellow dressed up as Santa Claus - and Zoe was in his arms, unconscious. "What the hell?" Mick roared, enraged. "Let go of her this instant, you maniac!" "Rumpelstiltskin!" Santa roared. In an instant, thirty elves materialised in Zoe's room. "A troublemaker, eh?" Rumpelstiltskin grimaced when he saw Mick. "Oh, goody." Within moments, Mick was dead, speared to the wall through his genitals. "Nice rump on this one," Santa nodded, patting Zoe's bottom. Captain Who, Fred and Frobisher were seated in Sheriff Connor's office at the West Hampshire Police Station, facing Roy across a desk. "You're my three most likely suspects, Captain," Roy was saying. "You're strangers, your clothes are...eccentric, to put it mildly, you have no ID, you can give no account of yourself, no proof of where you come from, and you ran when questioned about the murder and assaulted a police officer in the process - " "Ah well, that was Fred's fault," Who interrupted, giving Fred a reproving glance. "She's very excitable." "I tend to get that way when people start pulling guns on me," Fred explained, with more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "So can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't charge you three and have you locked up right now?" Roy demanded. "Apart from the fact you have no absolutely no evidence whatsoever, you mean?" Fred questioned. "Yes," Roy nodded. "Apart from that." "Because we're not the killers," Who told him. "But I know who is." "Who?" Roy perked up. "He calls himself Santa Claus," Who told him. "And he comes from another dimension." Roy raised an eyebrow. "He comes from a tiny pocket universe, very small. Just enough for one house - his house. He calls it Santa's Grotto." "Are you taking the piss?" Roy demanded. "He lives there with his bloodthirsty reindeer, headed by the decidedly psychopathic Rudolph, and thirty murderous little elves. Every year on Christmas night, the gateway between his dimension and ours opens a little," Who explained. "He goes to a town, any town, on any planet in the cosmos. This time it's Earth, and it's West Hampshire." "But what does he come FOR?" Fred demanded. "To take ALL the town's children, aged up to 16. And I mean all. By morning, there'll be no children left in West Hampshire," Who told her. "But why?" Fred asked. "He takes them back to his Grotto for Christmas dinner." "What's so bad about that?" Fred was perplexed. "He doesn't take them to eat Christmas dinner," Who told her. "He takes them back to BE Christmas dinner. You see, Santa Claus and his elves think human flesh is so much more tasty than turkey." Fred went white. "That's it," Roy stood up. "I've heard enough. This is Christmas, not Halloween. You guys - in the cells." "What?" Who stared. "You don't believe me? There's a cannibalistic Santa Claus, a pack of bloodthirsty reindeer and a hoard of murderous little elves out there, how can you not believe me?" He frowned suddenly. "Oh, dear," he sighed. The phone on Connor's desk rang. Roy snatched it up. "Yes?" he snapped. "What? Good Lord," he slammed the phone down, stunned. "What was it?" Who demanded. "That was Constable Walker, he's over at The Cow's Nuts. Mick Raines is dead - speared to his daughter's bedroom wall. And his daughter is missing," Connor seemed in shock. "Do you believe me?" Who asked. "No," Roy snapped. "There's something going on tonight, alright, and I'll wager you know what it is - but I am not prepared to accept - " the phone rang again. "The phone's going to be ringing all night, Sheriff," Who told him. "An awful lot of concerned parents wondering where in the world their children are. Not in the world, that's where. Not this one. Not unless you move NOW." Ignoring him, Roy picked up the phone. "Davison? Where are you? What were you doing there? What? Are you sure? Yeah, thanks Dan. Keep a lookout," he put the phone down. "Danielle's disappeared." "Your daughter?" Fred asked. Roy nodded. "Detective Davison went over to see her - though what he wanted with a beautiful teenage girl in the middle of the night is anyone's guess - " he frowned suddenly. Who, Fred and Frobisher all looked admiringly at the ceiling tiles. "Anyway, she'd gone. And the fireplace in our living room was...all but demolished. Like..." he couldn't bring himself to say it. "Like..." "Like someone had climbed down it?" Who snapped. Roy sat down, suddenly looking very tired and old. "Are you prepared to cooperate with me now?" Roy nodded weakly. "What should I do?" "Get out an APB to your officers," Who instructed. "Tell them to be on the lookout for a bunch of reindeer guarding a large sleigh." "You can't be serious?" Roy looked at him, aghast. "I'll lose my badge issuing orders like that." "Lose your badge or lose your daughter," Who snapped. "Your choice." Reluctantly, Roy Connor reached forward and picked up the phone. CHAPTER FIVE Driving down Main Street in his unmarked car, Detective Dan Davison couldn't quite believe the message he was hearing from Sheriff Connor over the police radio. "Repeat, all units be on the lookout for a large sleigh surrounded by reindeer. If spotted, surround and prevent departure but do not - repeat, DO NOT - approach. Reindeer considered to be savagely dangerous. Repeat, savagely dangerous." Dan shook his head. Getting that news about Danielle must have unhinged Connor's mind, he decided. And was it really that worrying? She was probably just over at some boy's house, getting a good seeing-to. He only wished she'd come to him. Then they could have come together. And as for the fireplace...dry rot, anyone? He turned the car down a side street, picking up the radio to speak to the Sheriff. "Hey, Connor, you lost your marbles or something? Who do you think's got Danielle? Father Chri - Christ!" The car smashed into the side of an enormous sleigh. The sleigh remained unmarked, didn't even move, but Davison's car flipped over, crashing into it's side, windows shattering. Davison coughed. He was winded and bruised, but not seriously. He brushed glass from his clothes, pausing to check in the mirror that his pretty-boy looks were undamaged. They were, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Davison?" the radio crackled. "Are you okay? Davison?" Dan reached for the radio. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just had a little accident, that's all. Crashed into something bloody big, though God knows wha - " he paused. A reindeer was poking it's head through the shattered door window, eyeing him up. He could smell it's rancid breath. "Holy Moses," he began. He noted it's glowing red nose almost disbelievingly. "I don't believe it. You weren't kidding. It's Rudolph the Red-Nosed bleedin' - " The reindeer tore his face off. The last communication Sheriff Roy Connor received from Detective Dan Davison were his agonising screams in the last throes of death. "We've lost Dan!" Connor looked up at Who and co. "They've got Dan!" "Where was he?" Who demanded. "Only a few blocks from my house. He was coming back here, so he must have turned off Main Street - " "Get your men out there now," Who ordered. "If we don't get to that sleigh before Santa, you can kiss goodbye to this community's children. ALL of them," he turned to Fred and Frobisher. "Come on!" He ran out into the night, and noticed the icy streets. "Frobisher - change shape into a bobsled!" "You're not serious?" Frobisher protested. "Do it!" Who roared. Frobisher did so. "Come on," Who and Fred leapt in. "Funny," Frobisher remarked to himself. "In all the time I've known Fred, I never thought SHE'D end up inside ME." Sheriff Connor ran out of the station and dived into the bobsled. "Move, Frobisher!" Who yelled. The sled raced down the icy road incredibly fast. "Look out for the reindeer and that sleigh!" The bobsped sped through West Hampshire's dark streets. Santa Claus turned down the street toward his sleigh, an unconscious seven year old girl slumped over his shoulder. He grimaced when he saw the smashed car, but beamed cherubically when he saw Rudolph finishing off the last of Detective Dan Davison. Reaching him, he gave the reindeer an affectionate pat. "Good boy," he said. "Nice light snack before bed-time, eh? Ho, ho, ho!" Suddenly, the street was filled with policemen, guns raised. "That's far enough, Santa," Roy yelled. "One move and I'll fill your big belly full of lead!" "And what a charming start to Christmas that would be," Santa chuckled. Roy didn't appreciate the fat old fart's sense of humour. "Shut up," he snapped. "Rudolph," Santa began. "One move, reindeer, and I'll give your nose a damn good reason to be red," Roy yelled. Rudolph lay down contentedly, yawning loudly, and giving off a little fart. Who, Fred and Frobisher strode forward. "So, Mr Claus, we meet at last," Who went and eyeballed Santa. "Unfortunately," he added rudely, taking the young girl off him and handing her to a police officer. "Where are all the other kids?" Roy demanded. "On the back of the sleigh, in the sack he's supposed to have presents in," Who said tightly, resisting the temptation to spit in Santa's face. "Fred, Frobisher - get them!" "That's impossible," Roy snapped. "They couldn't fit." "It's dimensionally transcendental," Who snapped. "What?" Roy frowned. "Bigger on the inside than the out," Who snarled. Clambering on the back of the sleigh, Fred and Frobisher opened the sack. Instantly, dozens of young children began running from it - more than dozens, hundreds, even. "Good Lord," Roy's jaw dropped. "I don't believe it." He spotted a familiar face emerging from the sack. "Danielle!" She ran into his arms, crying. He hugged her, lowering his gun. Fred looked in the sack. "Empty," she reported. She and Frobisher jumped down from the sleigh to stand beside Who. "Well, Santa," Who smirked superiorly. "Looks like the tables have turned, doesn't it?" "Yeah," Fred interjected. "Thas up shit creek without a paddle, mate." Santa's lip curled. "I have one last thing to say," he told them. "Oh?" Who inquired. "Rumpelstiltskin!" Santa roared. Thirty elves winked into existence in the road, wielding spears. Twelve policemen were dead before anyone realised what was happening. "Shoot them!" Roy pushed Danielle behind him to safety. "Shoot the little bastards in the green outfits!" Santa made his move, grabbed Fred, hooked an arm around her throat and began dragging her toward the sleigh. "No!" Who and Frobisher started toward him. Santa's free hand dove into his red coat and pulled out a gun. He aimed it at Who and Frobisher, and pulled the trigger. Who flinched. Frobisher gave a girly scream. A spray of glittering red tinsel darted from the gun and wrapped around Who and Frobisher, holding them together fiercely. Knocking out Fred, Santa threw her in the sack and darted to the front of the sleigh. "Giddyup!" he roared. The reindeer climbed to their feet and leapt up into the sky, dragging the sleigh and Santa with them. He waved gleefully. "Merry Christmas!" he yelled. "Ya fuckin' weeners!" The moment the sleigh was far enough up in the air, Rumpelstiltskin and the elves - not one of them hurt - winked out of existence. Policemen lay dead or dying all over the snow-covered street. Staring around him aghast, Roy staggered over and freed Who and Frobisher from the tinsel. "Look at this," he yelled in fury, not at them but at thin air. "I started off with twenty officers! I've got five left!" "Yes," Who looked into the sky grimly. "And the night's still young." The reindeer pulled the sleigh above the clouds. Holding the reins, Santa laughed merrily. Not his best year, he reflected, and not nearly enough to go around like previous celebrations, but his Christmas dinner looked fresh and tender, and he for one couldn't wait to get stuck into the meal. Santa looked back at the sack containing the unconscious Fred, and smiled, showing his sharp little teeth. The sleigh reached the point in the heavens from where it had emerged, and with a flash of light, exited back into it's own dimension, taking the reindeer, Santa and Fred with it. "Come on," angrily, Who led Frobisher out of the road. "Where do you think you're going?" Roy yelled. "Back to the teleport cubicle. Fred is in mortal danger," Who told him. "How come?" Who stared at him. "Because with all this town's children safe and sound, just who do you think he and his little playmates will be having for Christmas dinner?" "Here. Take this," Roy threw him a gun. Who looked at it strangely, then nodded. "Thank you, Sheriff." "Can you stop him?" Roy asked, genuinely concerned, having grown to rather like the three unlikely heroes. "I don't know," Who shook his head. "With these weapons...I dunno." Who and Frobisher rushed back to the teleport cubicle, and climbed inside. With a whirring of engines, the teleport cubicle, Who and Frobisher left West Hampshire. The teleport cubicle materialised in the console room of the TARDISPRISE. Who dived out and immediately raced to the console, frantically hitting buttons and throwing levers he'd never hit or thrown before simply in the hope of having something happen. "What are you doing?" Frobisher joined him. "Recalibrating the warp engines to cut through the dimensional matrix. The gates will still be open a short while after Santa has left. He'll be back in his own dimension by now," Who growled contemptuously. "Preparing his feast, no doubt." He hit a button. "That's it! Back to the teleport cubicle!" They dived back in, and the tent dematerialised. The teleport cubicle materialised once more just outside a small hut, which glowed green, red and many other bright colours, and looked cheerful and welcoming. Climbing out of the cubicle, Frobisher beside him, Who shivered at what terrors he knew the hut hid inside. "Here we are," he said firmly, trying not to let his own terror show to his companion. "'Santa's Grotto'." Frobisher began to cry. CHAPTER SIX The enormous present was encased in wrapping paper on the kitchen table. Brandishing an enormous electric carving knife, Santa beamed at the elves surrounding the table, all eagerly awaiting dinner. "As you are all no doubt aware," Santa began, "this year's expedition was not one of our more successful. For this reason - plus the fact I'm hungry as hell and for the purposes of speeding up the narrative - I have decided we shall have our Christmas dinner - now!" The elves cheered, the bloodlust obvious in their eyes. Santa tore open the wrapping paper. On the table lay Fred, unconscious and totally naked. Santa buzzed the electric knife joyfully. "Rumpelstiltskin!" he cried. "What will it be? Leg or a breast?" "A spot off the right nipple, please," Rumpelstiltskin requested. "And the Person's Nose." "Certainly," Santa reached forward. "One more step, Santa, and I'll blow your fat ass all the way to Greenland!" Who emerged from the doorway, gun raised. Frobisher came close behind him - so close, it seemed like he was trying to merge into Who's back so no one knew he was actually there. Santa looked up. "You!" he hissed. "No, Who, actually," Who told him. "Captain James T. Who, to be precise. This - " he tried, then located Frobisher cowering behind him, "is Frobisher, and your dish of the day happens to be my friend, Fred." "You have good taste in friends, Captain," Santa licked his lips. "Soon, so will I!" "We're leaving," Who told him, gun wavering so wildly in his hand it was practically aiming at everything BUT Santa. "Try to stop me and I will shoot." "Go ahead," Santa scoffed. "I could have my elves kill you in a second. Your guns didn't work so well in back home, did they?" "That was a different dimension, Clausyboy," Who told him. "Different laws. There, you weren't really real, so you couldn't die. I don't imagine anyone's ever tried to kill you in your Grotto before. Here, you're real - and this gun will blow your head off as easily as your knife will slice through my companion's pancreas." Santa snarled, confidence eroded slightly, but not totally destroyed. "I don't believe you." "Then please, try me," Who scowled. "Be my guest. It all depends, of course, on whether you ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky?" he glowered. "Well do you, PUNK?!" Santa growled. "Take her," he spat. "She's not worth it anyway. Her hide looks as tough as a rhino's ass." Fred opened her eyes. "Hey," she protested. "Frobisher, help Fred with her clothes," Who ordered. "Aww," Frobisher grumbled. "I was enjoying the view." "Do it!" Who ordered. Grumbling, Frobisher did so. "Your 'macho, angry young man' act is beginning to get on my nerves." Fred dressed and got off the table. She, Who and Frobisher began to back slowly away toward the doorway. "Wait a moment," Santa began thinking. "If we could hurt you in that dimension, but you couldn't hurt us, that would mean that in this dimension you could hurt us but we couldn't hurt you." "That's what I said," Who snapped, reaching the door, Fred and Frobisher behind him. "So how come I've been cutting up and eating thousands of YOUR dimension's children all these years?" Santa demanded. "Ah," Who pondered nervously. "I'd rather forgotten about that - RUN!" he roared. He, Fred and Frobisher ran for it. "Get them!" Santa roared. "Kill them!" The elves charged after the time travellers. Who, Fred and Frobisher skidded out of Santa's Grotto and dived into the teleport cubicle. It dematerialised just as a spear was thrown, flitting through the empty space where it had been standing there less than a second ago. Santa joined the elves. "Rumpelstiltskin!" he roared. "Get the reindeer! It's not over!" he scowled murderously, all trace of loveable jollity gone from his face now. "It's not over until those three are dead!" The teleport cubicle rematerialised in the console room of the TARDISPRISE. Who dived out, dashed to the controls and hit buttons. Finally, he sighed in relief. "What is it?" Fred asked. She and Frobisher joined him behind the console. "We're through the dimensional gates. We're back on Earth, high above West Hampshire," Who explained. "Any second now and the gates will seal up, and next year Santa and his sycophantic little cohorts will have to get their dinner elsewhere." He put the scanner on. "Any second now." "Look!" Fred pointed. Reindeer were emerging from nothing, pulling a sleigh - with Santa behind the reins. "I'll get you, Who!" he roared. "He's lost his proverbial marbles," Fred observed. "He most certainly has. Any second now and - ah," Who stopped. "What?" Fred demanded. "The gates have closed. He's trapped in this Universe, and as from here he'll never know where the gates back to the Grotto will open, he's stuck here - forever," Who sighed. "And he knows it too. Which means he doesn't care. Which means..." "What?" Fred prompted. "He's going to kill us," Frobisher explained. "DIE!!!!!!!!" Santa ran the reindeer toward the TARDISPRISE. "He's going to hit us!" Fred cried. "Shields up!" Who commanded. "Er - Captain," Frobisher began. "What?" Who snapped. "We haven't got any shields. Anymore," Frobisher added. "Oh," Who frowned. "We're dead," Fred realised. "I think not," Who pointed. The reindeer were stalling in mid-air, refusing to carry on, apparently realising that crashing head-first into a Starship would do disturbingly little for their good health. "Move!" Santa yelled, completely insane now. "Go forwards or I'll kill you!" The reindeer turned in mid-air, giving him a 'dangerous' look. Momentarily surprised, Santa let go of the reins - and the reindeer took off into the night sky in the opposite direction, free. "No!" Santa roared, then realised where, without the reindeer, he was heading - straight down. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He plunged into the clouds. Who turned the scanner off, and grinned at his companions. "A most satisfactory resolution, methinks," he beamed. Down in West Hampshire, little Benjamin McNair was looking out of his bedroom window, and gasped in surprise and joy when he saw Santa Claus heading for the ground in his sleigh. Fast. Very fast. Very, very fast. Very, very, very fast. Benjamin winced. He got the feeling there weren't going to be many presents this year. THE END THE CAPTAIN WILL RETURN IN HAPPY ENDINGS
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Copyright © 1994 Ian Kidd |