The Day After You Die by Dan Kolbet

Author:Dan Kolbet [Kolbet, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

The Cider Farms North Pole was a storage barn packed high with wooden apple crates. The farm cleared out the front section behind the large double doors and rolled in a large Santa throne painted red and gold. A plastic Christmas tree sat nearby, with tag-less packages wrapped underneath for decoration. White, red and green lights hung inside the dimly lit barn. The kids would line up along the wall until they were called forward by a woman in a green elf hat. It was not exactly a memorable North Pole, but the whole enterprise was based around a child’s belief in the magic of Christmas, so it did just fine.

As Harold approached, a rickety wagon, pulled by two horses adorned with bells, rolled up to the barn and off-loaded a group of children. Harold followed as they raced inside to line up.

He scanned the line of children looking for Gail. He couldn’t help but also wonder which of the children might be victims of the bus crashes he had yet to prevent. How many families would be forever changed today with the death of their precious fourth grader? As he walked the line, several of the children recognized him as the lunatic who yelled at their bus driver in the school parking lot that morning.

Soon the children were chanting, “Bus crash! Bus crash!” And pointing at him.

Other than Santa and the woman in the elf hat, there were no adults inside the barn. The chanting drew the attention of the elf.

“What is going on here?” she demanded, then under her breath to Harold, “this is supposed to be a magical visit to see Santa and you’re ruining it.”

“I’m just here to find my sister,” choosing not to explain the unexplainable circumstances for this need.

“Well, I need you out of here,” she said. “The kids are acting strange and the chances of them throwing up or peeing on Santa back there is much higher when they get agitated. What’s your sister’s name?”

“Gail.”

“No, last name,” she said, annoyed. “You know, the Nice list? We go alphabetical so the big guy gets it right. Have you never been to the North Pole?”

“Emery,” Harold said.

She turns to a girl in line.

“What’s your last name, sweetie?” she asks, the surly elf attitude in full effect.

“Wendy Tremain,” she said. “For Christmas, I want a—”

“Save it for Santa, kid,” she said, then returned to Harold. “If we’re on the Ts, your sister has already visited this magical barn of wonder. She’ll be back in the cider-processing barn drinking up all our free hot chocolate.”

“Thank you,” Harold said, rushing toward the exit.

“Hey, why are they yelling about a bus crash?” she called out, to no reply.

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