Sunday, August 23, 2009

Freeman's Anthem


Overture

"Intel indicates enemy militias are redeploying for an attack on the VA Hospital complex. We spotted several heavily armed units crossing the lake yesterday at dusk. Their objective is either to keep the Seminole Militia pinned down or eliminate it as a force entirely. Northern Command can't afford to lose this complex, but doesn't have any support to cut loose either. So the colonel has ordered Bravo Company to secure the facility. Once we're in position, he'll send a security detachment to shore up our defenses. Landing proceeds at 1900.

"Jones, setup mortar teams in the parking lot behind the main hospital, here. I want tubes sighted to support the bridges, here and here, the complex of buildings across the road, here, as well as covering the channel behind us. Once the enemy figures out we've landed, I expect their gunboats either to force the pass or to come straight up the Intracoastal from behind these finger islands. Station your Dragon launchers in the trees along the shore, here, and on the point. You're responsible for neutralizing any gunboat activity.

"Wilson, your men will provide security inside the complex. I want teams in each of these buildings. If the perimeter falls, each team will have to hold out until reinforcements arrive. Choose and interlock your zones carefully. Make those buildings into bunkers. Stay out of the perimeter fight as long as possible. I don't want to give away our strength too early.

"I'll setup Command in the hospital itself. We'll tap off their generator and bring their satellite link back online. We'll use that to signal back here once we control the facility and the landing zone is safe for reinforcements.

"That leaves you with perimeter, Freeman. Drop a squad in the pass as we transit. Their first priority: hold both shores until our reinforcements arrive and make sure that drawbridge stays up. Second, warn us if any enemy gunboats force the pass but do not engage unless they try to seize it. I want one squad, here, holding the bridge over Long Bayou and another, here, at this causeway. Same priorities, except the causeway drawbridge must stay down as an alternate line of retreat or overland reinforcement. And make sure no one crosses that rail-trail bridge. Finally, I want you to cover the complex perimeter. Nothing gets across this road. Problem, Lt.?"

"Major, with three squads holding the bridges, that leaves me one to cover over a mile of road, plus another two of shoreline."

"Cut a few guys loose from the causeway to setup on the overpass, here. From there they can see the length of the road bordering the complex. Use them with the squad at Long Bayou to secure your flanks. Coordinate your positions with Captain Wilson. He's got your back. You'll be in a support role for the shoreline. Prep a contingency force to respond to any hot spots. Wilson's teams in the buildings here and here will hold against any assault that gets by the Dragons until you arrive. You will be reinforced by Air Force security once our position is secure.

In the mean time, fifty paramilitaries from the Seminole Militia will be placed under your command. Don't underestimate them. They've been holding this complex with limited support since this thing started. Remember, they may have invited us in to help, but this is their home.

"Which brings me to communications. Since Freeman's paramilitaries are equipped with police radios, TacNet will operate on these frequencies in the clear. Don't say anything you don't want broadcast. OpNet will use our standard secure frequencies. Fire a single red flare if you spot any enemy gunboats. A green star flare is the all clear signal. A blue flare when our main force arrives. A white star flare means we're pulling out. It is also our wave-off signal to the boats. If the complex falls, evacuate all remaining assets and regroup, here.

"Gentlemen, I don't need to remind you that we've got a lot of people depending on us. We don't have enough fuel left to continue as a mobile force, and NorthCom hasn't indicated that any more is on the way. The 34th and the surviving elements from MacDill are the only active units on this coast from Naples to Pensacola. And the Seminole Militia has stood beside us through all the majors: the fight at the airport, the evac of MacDill, even the fiasco at the port last month. Without their flanking maneuver, the battalion would have buried two companies there instead of one.

If we lose this complex, we've also lost our only local ally. If we inflict enough damage on the enemy while defending it, we buy time for NorthCom to reinforce and re-equip us. Colorado Springs wanted to abandon Florida all the way to Jacksonville and retake it later. The colonel convinced them not to give it up. Bottom line: No mistakes this time. Gentlemen, let's make this one work."


I

"Williams, what do you see?" Freeman called quietly over his shoulder, still peering forward over the low, cinderblock wall surrounding the hospital complex, searching the night out of the corners of his eyes. If the company's night vision gear hadn't been diverted, this would be easier.

"Nothing yet, Lt. Still too dark to make it out." Her voice was high, but steady. She was no Marine, but for a cop, she was handling her first serious command fairly well.

No sign. Damn. The command post could have fallen hours ago. If so, he and his squad would be cut off soon with no chance to retreat. And no prayer of rejoining Battalion for an alternate landing. But his last orders from the major had been clear: Hold position as long as Command holds. To be precise, "Our orders from NorthCom are they want the entire battalion here now. They did not give an explanation, so I won't offer one. But as long as our flag flies over this complex, we own it. Is that clear, Lt.?" Crystal. Sir.

Initially, everything had gone smoothly. First squad had set down quietly in the pass. Second and Third squads had landed at the two bridges without incident as well. Nearly half their main force had unloaded along the grassy beach at the VA complex when trouble erupted. Suddenly, a well-armed enemy directed by a commander who knew how to use them had savaged them from the far shore. Either these self-styled militias had suddenly found training, or they had been reinforced by mutinous elements of his own military. It looked like the Port of Tampa all over again. Half of Wilson's contingent was face down in the bay, along with the captain himself. Jones' two remaining mortars were in a scramble mode, fire and move; no time for ranging shots. From radio distance NorthCom and the colonel had decided this operation would still succeed by definition. Now, Freeman was trying to plug the holes in mile long perimeter with seven Marine reservists and forty-odd green troops who elected their own NCOs. His command looked like a farm-hand militia engaging seasoned professionals. At least all his new troops were armed, most with assault rifles. Some even had body armor. He would make it work. By definition.

"Wait for their next flare, Williams, then look again. Nelson, take another crack at that machine gun with the grenade launcher on my mark. That should draw another one of their boat flares. Maybe our mortar teams will wake up this time. Phillips, watch for the trail from the flare, and take him out with a LAW. My guess is that he's beside the guy with the radio. Maybe we'll catch a break. Collins, lay down covering fire. Pass the word to the rest to stay down and get ready to move again."

Cupping his watch with his right hand, Freeman waited the minute it would take for his orders to spread up and down the line. He listened as Williams reminded her lookouts to cover an eye against the flare this time to avoid night blindness. She learned quickly for an elected sergeant, the only one among fresh fifty his platoon had received that had made any impression on him other than eventual KIA. She looked an unlikely leader in a sleeveless shirt that once had been part of a county sheriff's uniform. But the comfort with which she held her assault rifle belied her image. Her eyes moved silently from the hospital to her troops' positions with a quick check across the road and back to him. An aura of competence glowed behind a redneck facade that spoke of being one of the boys when necessary. Freeman guessed that since the fighting started, she'd found it necessary more often than not.

A lone rifle report shifted his attention forward. Beyond the low wall he and his troops clung to for cover, five lanes of asphalt were awash in flickering red-orange light. A dozen or so hazard flares lay askew on the pavement at somewhat regular intervals along the length of the road. They hissed and sputtered a warning to anyone who thought of crossing. The corpses splayed across the pavement between them were afire in their light. He'd lost five people just keeping that road lit. Those five had purchased sight for the gun crew on the overpass anchoring his left flank to continue firing down the road each time the enemy probed. Between them and the second crew atop the bridge around the gentle curve to his right, none of the enemy had survived a crossing. After the first devastated attempt, few others had tried.

The crew in the apartment block across from him started taking practice shots on the flares again, extinguishing a few. Others walked and skittered jerkily back toward his side of the road. Their light advantage wouldn't last long. Soon, the other side would reposition their RPG's and mortars to get a shot on his bridge squads. If they did get across, Wilson's squads, who had so far kept a disciplined silence in the buildings behind him, would test their resolve. Perhaps stumbling into an ambush would break the enemy before they overran the complex. If not, it might buy enough time for the rest of the battalion to arrive and setup.

The last time he'd checked in, he had been informed their forward observer had been taken out when the apartment block across the street was overrun. Now, that was his job, too, with support from the remaining observer on the hospital's roof. After his last secure radio died saving his only trained radioman from an otherwise well-aimed round, he'd had to get creative. The police radios were monitored by an enemy direction finder. The few times he'd attempted to use them for coordination, enemy mortar fire had quickly drown out any information they might convey. He'd sent a runner to Lt. Jones with instructions to use the enemy's boat flares as his signal for support fire. The suppressing fire helped but enemy counter-battery fire had savaged Jones' teams, leaving two of his tubes tangled and twisted.

Freeman watched the seconds tick away. Three. Two. One. "Mark. Fire!"

Corporal Collins sawed into the apartment block with sustained automatic fire. Sgt. Nelson sprang up beside one of the wall's concrete posts, the barrel of his grenade launcher searching the red-orange night for the source of the rival machine gun chatter. Third floor, second building west. Freeman heard a low fump, KaBam! Then a brief delay before the skittering of concrete and gravel as it rained onto the pavement below. By the time the boat flare arched overhead, Nelson was already crouched into a run toward his new position. He, too, remembered the enemy tactics from the port. Just before the flare burst to light, a rope of flame to his left signaled that Sgt. Phillip's light anti-tank weapon was up and on its way. A split second later, its swoosh crashed into a deafening WaBoom! as half a dozen apartments collapsed into rumble, centered on the source of the signal flare that now bathed the trees and yard of the complex in a hellish red glare. That should give the enemy pause before attempting to force their way across the road again.

"Got it Lt. Freeman"

His ears still ringing, he couldn't immediately find the source of the voice. He located Williams when her finger stabbed the red night toward their flag streaming above the hospital. A moment later, Jones' mortars fired up, keeping the remaining enemy pinned down until their own mortars could respond.

"Ok, people, let's move. Hustle, before they sight those tubes." Freeman's voice boomed up and down the line, as his arm waved his people toward their new positions. He turned his head toward the hospital to ensure the flag still flew in the waning light before springing into a half-hunched sprint himself.


II

Freeman slowed, hoping the others had kept pace as he reached one of Jones' launchers crouching in the brush overlooking the bay. Hours the length of days had passed since Phillips' LAW had curtailed the enemy probes along the perimeter. The bootfalls following him announced Williams just behind. Nelson, his veteran sergeant, thundered past with the others destined to reinforce the remaining positions. They would serve as back-up launchers and provide covering fire in case any boats survived the Dragons' breath.

The first red flare minutes before had signaled enemy patrol boats forcing their way through from the Gulf. Waves of automatic weapons fire rippled across the water when a second flare erupted over the point. Either one of Wilson's veterans had panicked or another group of boats had been spotted in the south channel. A sound tactic to spread their resources. Already, he'd lost too many Marines defending their northern perimeter, not to mention the militia who had fallen defending the compound. Their compound, Freeman reminded himself.

Now, he'd had to choose between defending the northern perimeter and keeping the landing zone open for reinforcements. Nearly half his remaining people had responded with him. The squad on the overpass should be able to hold the road with the remaining twenty or so along the wall continuing their deadly game of hide and seek under Phillips' direction. If the situation got too hot, they had orders to retreat into the compound buildings until Freeman's return. Better to sacrifice ground and save some of the platoon, though both ground and personnel were in limited supply.

The whine of multiple marine diesels surged and receded cyclically above the diminishing weapons fire. Freeman hoped Nelson's people had made cover by now. He leaned toward Williams and in a low, steady voice said, "Single red flare. Get ready. One. Two. Three. Now."

Red flame arched over the water from several other positions within a matter of seconds, bathing the bay in an eerie, hellish light. As flares exploded one by one, Freeman made out three gunboats zigzagging their way across the water from the pass, with another four in the south channel beelining toward the point.

Where were those mortar teams? A soft fuwump, fuwump behind him announced two shells were up and on the way. Those, the enemy would expect. Keep them coming, Jones, he thought. Let them think this is just like the Port of Tampa, where mortars were the only shore defense we had. The darkness before the westerly boats erupted in watery flame from two near misses, close enough to send the lead boat rocking. Two mortars were going to make it difficult to blunt this blow if the Dragons didn't work. No one in the battalion remembered having to use the long decommissioned anti-tank missiles as a shore defense system before.

"Keep a white flare handy in case this doesn't work," he whispered in Williams' ear, who nodded without facing him, her rifle tracking the sounds of the incoming motors, the military flare tube on ground within easy reach.

"You ready, son?" Freeman asked the Marine manning the Dragon mounted nearest him. He must be a replacement. He was too young to be original material. He looked competent, but too fresh, too clean. Freeman reminded himself that he had looked that way once. But he'd also had a few years to age gracefully and find his place in the reserves before confronting enemy fire. "You know the plan, wait for the next round of flares and mortar shells. Those three should be preparing to turn for a strafing run along the shore."

"Yes, sir, I know. 'Pick your target, aim and fire. Squeeze the trigger. Don't rush the shot.' The way they're coming that lead boat should be an easy score."

"Good. Williams and I are going to move off to send up the next flare, so they don't get a lock on our position. We'll return to provide covering fire and help setup the next launcher."

"Didn't you hear, sir? No spare launchers. Most of them went into the bay before we got them unloaded. One shot is all we get."

Freeman just shook his head before turning, motioning Williams to follow. She fell into a crouching run behind him without a word. She was good, still the best he'd seen from the militia. If they both got out of this, she might make a good squad leader. By morning he figured he would need a few more. Too early to start thinking like that, Freeman, he reminded himself. No point getting attached to her before the battle's over. Easy way to let emotions cloud your judgment. Still, the battalion would need to replenish its ranks with capable personnel just to replace the bodies on the beach.

A sharp whistle behind him snapped Freeman's head around. He flinched, throwing up an arm as he recognized the incoming shells. Explosions tore through the woods a hundred yards away with a crack of falling trees and broken branches. Damn, that was quick. Jones' mortar teams must be getting tired or reusing positions. Not that there were miles of territory on this peninsula to choose from. The teams should be hoofing base-plates and tubes to new locations by now. That the enemy mortars were concentrating on counter-battery fire was a positive sign. They had no sense of the Dragons waiting quietly in the brush as their prey splashed noisily toward their lair.

He ignored the whistle of a second round until it grew louder and shriller for a split second too long. Williams drove him to the ground just as the mortar shot ripped through the bushes a couple dozen yards to their left. A wild shot sent long of the Marine mortar position by a hundred yards. Splinters of wood mixed with metal whizzed over and around them, tearing through leaves and tugging at the fringes of his fatigue jacket.

"That was too damned close. You hurt?" Freeman asked, untangling himself from Williams. She shook her head. He couldn't tell if it was an answer to his question or her attempt to clear it. He didn't have time to figure out which. "Count to five, then pop off another red flare. Meet me back at the Dragon."

Ignoring cover for speed, he sprinted low across the grass that bordered the water. A small crater tinged with smoke steamed midway between Williams and where he'd left the young Dragon soldier crouching beside his weapon.

Freeman plunged into the brush where the Dragon had been stationed. The young Marine struggled to use the Dragon's bipod instead of his own tattered, blood-slick leg to support himself. He moaned as Freeman lowered him to the ground and eased the Dragon from his grasp. Freeman planted the bipod into the sandy soil, put his eye to the sight and steered the weapon toward the whine of the gunboat diesels. There wasn't enough light to make out individual boats, only shadowy motion in the direction of the screaming engines. As he waited for Williams' flare, he quickly prayed that shrapnel hadn't damaged the Dragon's wire guidance system, and that the soldier panting beside him lived until medical help arrived. He would know whether God still heard his prayers, or even cared, when the eternity of heartbeats stopped pounding in his ears.

Williams' flare lofted over the bay, painting the water the brilliant red of fresh blood. The three boats had just turned parallel to the shore when one came into Freeman's viewfinder. What had the boy said, the first one? Another fuwump behind him registered as he sighted in on the lead patrol boat. He lowered his sight to just above the waterline line, following it amidships. That should do the trick.

Freeman squeezed the trigger. The Dragon roared beside him, belching fire across the water. He held his sight steady, guiding the missile to its mark by the orange strobe of the gunboat's 50-cal that illuminated the intense grimace of the young man behind it. A boy really, he thought. Not a soldier, though. Helmetless, his face contorted into a silent scream, he raked Freeman's shore wildly, frantically searching for the guiding hand of the missile racing toward him. The vision through the viewfinder was disjointed, separate from the bark of the machine gun chewing through Freeman's ears. Slowly, purposefully, he counted to steady his aim: One, one thousand, two one thousands. After endless seconds, the lead boat exploded, scattering debris and shadows that could have been bodies as half its hull skipped up then sliced beneath its own wake.

As Freeman lowered the launcher, the boat on the squadron's left spun sideways in a delaying tactic, desperate to avoid the debris from its leader, only to slam into a large chunk and roll along the water twice before sinking up to its gunwales in the shallow bay. Nothing remained from the third boat except a burning slick of diesel fuel. An explosion from a moment before belatedly registered in Freeman's brain. Another explosion drew his attention left as red and orange fountained directly before the four incoming boats from the south. They veered, presenting profiles to the other Dragon soldiers stationed along the shore.

He turned away from the panorama of his future nightmares, his eyes unfocused until they found Williams crouched over the now thankfully unconscious young soldier, tearing away his tattered fatigues to bind his tattered leg. Lord, she was quick, he thought, until he realized he'd been staring at the aftermath on the water longer than was healthy. At some point he had snatched up his rifle to lay down bursts of harassing fire against the remaining inbound boats. That was the only way to explain the warm, smoking rifle in his hands when he glanced down. A string of similar scenes had looped before his eyes endlessly throughout the past year as he had watched too many men die, and too many who hadn't, at least immediately.

Freeman turned his head from the ripped, stringy flesh of the young man's leg only to see two more boats torn unnaturally from the water, with the remaining two merely scorched by the Dragons' breath. As he picked up the young Marine's radio and exchanged secure calls over OpNet, the remaining two gunboats slalomed back toward the south channel, spraying plumes of water in their haste. An occasional red flare trailed the gunboats as they fled at flank speed. OpNet confirmed that Jones' Dragons had breathed their last until reinforcements arrived. He hoped seeing so many compatriots consumed within minutes would keep the two remaining gunboats cowering in port for the remainder of the night. Even two gunboats would wreak destruction on their lightly guarded flank if their captains decided that baiting Dragons was more honorable than slinking home.

After the diesels' screams faded to a distant buzz, Command sent the green all-clear signal overhead. As Freeman watched it loft up and several bright fingers float down, he caught sight of the Hospital through the gap in the trees cleared by the stray mortar round. Above the building the flag fluttered fitfully, half concealed in the night breeze.

Lowering the radio, Freeman turned to find only half his prayer had been answered as Williams spread the young Marine's jacket up and over his face, the green light reflecting black off the pool gathering by his leg. The brief silence ended when automatic weapons fire resumed from the bridges guarding the compound's northern perimeter.


III

Cupping his hand around the light of his watch, Freeman checked the time again. One more minute and he'd have to assume there were no other survivors. His gaze slid across the shadows of mostly green troops who stood in small, segregated groups enclosed by the railing of the sundial's platform. Faces were barely discernible in the low light of the quarter moon. None of his veterans from the perimeter squad were among them. He had not seen Nelson since the gunboat strafing during the defense of the shore, nearly an hour ago. Phillips might still be out on the perimeter, though none of the stragglers reported seeing him. Sporadic fire in the area of the causeway confirmed that at least some of his original platoon still lived. He doubted they still commanded the overpass guarding the perimeter road. Earlier, they had shifted to a more personal defense judging from the amount of metal and number of tracers being thrown in their direction. Collins was already late. If he didn't return from his recon mission within the next thirty seconds, Freeman would be forced to conclude his last veteran Marine was also out of action.

He'd rounded up the remains of the Jones' Dragon teams, which consisted of a half dozen young replacements, all trained during the past month. Lt. Jones had been killed in the gunboat attack. For a diversion, the enemy patrol boats had inflicted significant damage to the company's command structure. By all reports, their counterparts on shore had overrun the perimeter and several outlying buildings. The reports from the stragglers indicated they had fallen while Freeman's attention was divided between the dual threats. Now the enemy militias were concentrating on reducing the remaining buildings one by one. They'd gained a solid foothold. But in the confusion, they had either missed or ignored the park on the eastern boundary of the peninsula. Perhaps they were waiting to consolidate their gains in the hospital complex before turning to finish the job. Perhaps they thought the six-foot chainlink fence would contain any counterattack. Either way, their mistake provided Freeman an opportunity to retake some ground.

He checked his watch again. The minute was up and Collins wasn't back. Decision time. He scanned the soldiers circled around him one final time.

Several Marines kept watch into the woods beyond brick stanchions and the metal tube railing. A few cast furtive looks over their shoulders toward him, not wanting to miss the order to withdraw, certain it would come. A couple of the new recruits lounged against the tall marble back of the sundial. Too cocky. Likely to be too energetic, to show a little too much initiative and get in over their heads. Not what he needed right now. Murmurs rose from the remaining knots of Marines standing among the larger numbers of the Seminole Militia. Confident murmurs of sending up the white flare, waving off the main force. Packing into the boats and going home.

Home to where? They had spent the past year defending one pullout after another. First the evacuation of TIA, then the remaining squadrons from MacDill. Finally, the Port of Tampa after losing Egmont Key at the mouth of the bay. But not before NorthCom had siphoned off the last of their heavy equipment and electronics. The battalion had become accustomed to leaving before the enemy was defeated. But they had no home now. Maybe it was time to build one.

The locals looked resolved, bordering on resigned. With or without the battalion beside them, they knew there was no place for them to go. After word of the Jordan Park massacre, they would either stand here or get pushed into the water fighting. Either way, they would die, the fate of their sons and daughters huddled inside the hospital unknown. Rumors of mass rape, labor camps and forced relocation swirled in dark whispers, punctuated by sharp glances at Freeman and his Marines. His gaze settled on Williams. She would have to do.

First, he asked, "Johnson, what did you find?"

"We scrounged out a base-plate from where team two took that hit. Our tube was intact, so we're back up to two operational mortars. We also found a spare crate of shells down by the water that was marked for team three. That's twenty-four more shells for a total of forty."

"What about replacements for your team's losses?" The enemy counter battery fire had been deadly if not always accurate.

"I found Jennings here hooked up with one of the Dragon teams. He's the last of mortar team four. We've also been training Lyttle as a loader. We're ready to go."

"How many smoke shells do you have left?"

"Maybe a dozen."

"Ok. Reserve out the smoke and another dozen shells. We've lost contact with the hospital, so our forward observer's gone. I want you to set up both tubes, with fresh alternate locations pre-established."

"Done."

"Good. Take a swag at sighting them in on the apartment block across the perimeter road. Accuracy doesn't matter. What does matter is that both tubes are sighted exactly the same. I want you to establish contact with our squad on the east bridge over TacNet using the call sign 'Queen to Queen's Two'. They will provide you with the correction to the positions you're aiming for."

"Sir, isn't TacNet in the clear?" Johnson sounded perplexed. These didn't sound like orders to cover a pullout to the boats. The Marines exchanged confused glances.

"Yes. I'm counting on it being monitored. With one tube, light off a single round, then request a correction from the bridge. You'll have to work fast. As soon as that round is in the air, I want tube one on the move to its alternate location. I expect the enemy mortars will attempt suppression fire again. That call sign will tell the squad on the bridge you need a correction to the enemy mortar positions. When you get coordinates, unload both tubes with every round you can in one minute. Wait for confirmation. If necessary use tube two as mop up from its alternate position. I want those enemy mortars out of action before we engage in the compound.

"I want a skeleton squad of five as a lookout along the seawall from the point to the oak grove. Peters, pick four of the militia and equip them with radios. If those two patrol boats decide to come back, I don't want to be surprised." The young Marine stood quickly at the sound of his name, not knowing how to react to his first assignment as a leader.

Turning back to the others, Freeman continued, "The rest of us are going to divide into two assault teams. Both teams will move through the gate into the cemetery. Team one will take up position in the trees near the perimeter wall. Their job is to wait. The second team will move around and open up on the enemy flank, then pull back toward team's one's position. We'll draw their squads into an ambush then sweep through the grounds of the complex. Johnson, when you hear team one engage, I want you to drop all your smoke along the perimeter road. That should cut off their support. Hold anything you have left for opportunity fire or harassment. I'll take team one. Williams you've got team two. Think you can you handle that, Sergeant?"

A wicked smile spread across her face, "Can do, Lt."

"I want the all the militia with Williams. Marines, if your Social ends in three, six or nine, you're with her. She is my senior squad leader now. You will follow her orders like my own. The rest of you are with me."

A muffled explosion maybe a mile away announced the enemy mortars taking ranging shots on the hospital. Preparations for a final assault. Soldiers exchanged bursts of rifle fire in the distance with increasing frequency. He didn't have much time.

"People, I do not intend to let this bunch of amateurs who want to call themselves soldiers kick us off this peninsula. We are the professionals here. We are Marines. It is time to remind them of that fact." The Marines straightened. As individuals lifted their gaze from the ground to his face, Freeman let his eyes reinforce every word. "If any of you develop doubts along the way, take a look up to the roof of that hospital. As long as our flag flies, this is our home. All of our homes. And we are here to stay whether anyone out there likes it or not. We are the last active unit on this coast of Florida. If that flag falls, there is no retreat. There is no place else to go. So, we will make this work. Together."

As he finished, Freeman noticed slow smiles draw across the mouths of the militia.



A lone mortar shell thudded softly to the north, maybe a half-mile away. Johnson was baiting his trap. The shadows silently drifting across the cemetery paused, momentarily turning north, waiting for a response. After a moment, enemy shells rained lazily into the park behind them, the shrapnel tearing through the woods. The counterattack had begun.

From his position beside the gate, Freeman watched the two groups of shadows resume their journey forward along parallel roads bordered by twin lines of trees. Both teams moved economically, one half covering the other as they moved up. They moved with purpose and determination, unlike the graveyard ghosts he had mistaken them for in the haze and gathering fog. Did they know his plan was near desperation? How many of them would join the silent majority already residing in this sacred burial place?

Freeman prayed the true spirits of this place would possess all his soldiers, the Marines and militia alike, and allow them to win themselves a home, at least until the nation stopped crumbling under the weight of its citizens' ignorance and prejudice. And fear.

As he picked his way among the low stones marking the veterans from previous wars, he paused, lifting his eyes toward the hospital, only proceeding again when he was certain their tattered flag occasionally stirred with life.


IV

The eastern sky burned now. No longer the false dawn he had witnessed a few hours before in the park. Though the sun had not risen above the horizon, Freeman could make out much of the landscape from his vantage point. The ruins of buildings within the VA complex smoked and steamed. Most of the fires had burned themselves out, exhausted like the surviving Marines and Seminole Militia.

Earlier, each building had been an island, his soldiers wading from one to another through waves of enemy fire. All involved, even the militia, had earned the name Marines. He looked down, examining the binoculars in his hand. Command's binocular. He was Command now, at least for a few minutes longer. The only officer to survive the landing at the Bay Pines VA Hospital complex, Battalion's new home. The major had died defending the refugees in the hospital before Freeman could relieve it.

Below he could see the colonel slowly picking his way from the sheltered harbor where the boats were unloading. Every few steps he stopped to answer another question or issue instructions to another Marine or officer of the militia. It would take him at least fifteen minutes to climb to the hospital roof where Freeman stood. Enough time for a final look around. He raised the binoculars to his eyes.

First, he turned south toward John's Pass. Though he couldn't see any movement, he knew a fresh squad was setting up a permanent outpost. The squad he had dropped the night before had ferried across half an hour earlier after the first of their boats had poured through. They had reported few casualties. The only action they'd seen had been the gunboats forcing passage. Fortunately for them, those boats had been focused on the more engaging targets hidden along the complex's shore. But it was that squad which had captured his attention when he first stood on the hospital's roof an hour before. They had lofted the first blue flare over Boca Ciega Bay announcing the arrival of the main battalion only moments after he'd fought his way into the building and climbed the stairs to survey the remainder of the battle from his current position.

His first instinct had been to send up a white star, to wave off the boats. His hold on the complex was too tenuous, his Marines too few. No sense risking a second landing turning into a second disaster. Before he could decide, more blue flares burned the night. First from the Madeira Beach Causeway, then from Seminole Bridge, and then the point. Until he saw those flares rise, he hadn't known anyone still occupied those positions. The final flare, the decision-maker, came from the Alt 19 overpass. Against the odds, someone had survived that nightmare with the energy and wits to use the proper color. That was proof enough that his squads thought the situation under their control. They wanted to stay. He gave Williams the honor of sending his own flare skyward on a trail of blazing blue flame, welcoming the battalion home.

He swung the binoculars in an arc northward to the causeway crossing to Madeira Beach. Mad Beach had lived up to its reputation. Fighting had been near constant, casualties heavy. Most would survive; nearly all with painful, bloody reminders of the night's fighting. Here, he saw movement as the remaining troops dismantled the barricades facing the hospital and moved them outward to reinforce the approach from the beach. That was the more likely area for concern. Though they had received no fire from that direction all night, it was now their new perimeter. The troops showed no reservation in revealing their backs to the area they had recently faced fighting. It told him they now considered that territory their own.

From the Mad Beach Causeway it was a short hop to the overpass at Alternate 19. Only one member of the four-man contingent sent to guard the road had survived. They had found Brown, who had fired the flare, barely conscious near the spot where Williams currently leaned against the outer wall of sandbags easily distinguishable in her sleeveless shirt. She turned as one of the Marines said something to her, smiled and laughed. She would win them over in the same quiet, competent way she had inspired the members of her team during their sweep of the compound. She had been reluctant to accept his offer of permanently leading a squad under his command. He didn't blame her. He wasn't sure he'd sign up for another night like the last one, either. Unfortunately, his commission gave him no choice as long as the fighting continued and there was someone issuing orders.

His view through the binoculars circled north again. There was no movement along the causeway at Park Boulevard, three miles away. There hadn't been in nearly an hour, since they'd spotted the first of the enemy militias retreating eastward in disorderly bunches, the opposite direction of a few days before. Apparently, they too believed the Marines were here to stay. When Williams had first pointed them out, he knew he'd made the right decision in clearing the battalion to land. They had won themselves a home. Together. Neither ally would have survived the night alone. At first light, he would recommend the colonel send a platoon north to mop up and ensure no units remained on their side of Lake Seminole. He prayed the enemy hadn't thought to leave snipers behind or their progress would be grueling.

He shifted his focus closer, to the smoking buildings across from the VA complex's main entrance. The apartment interiors revealed by Phillips' LAW stood open like drawers in a morgue waiting to be filled. Or sealed. He picked out the charred remains of individual hazard flares along the road by the black, pitted scorch-marks on the asphalt pointing away from where each was fallen. The wall on the near side of the road looked like a medieval relic, breached and broken, cinderblocks strewn near the long, gaping holes. Luckily, they no longer needed its service to assist their perimeter defense. But they would rebuild it anyway.

Continuing the circle, he followed Bay Pines Boulevard east until he reached Seminole Bridge over Long Bayou. Here, too, soldiers reinforced fortifications facing across the water, away from the hospital. Unlike Mad Beach, these outer barricades had been tested under fire. Until his squad had been relieved, only they knew they had held enemy reinforcements on the far side of the old rail-trail bridge, even while ensuring the road in front of the park remained closed to enemy assaults. They had paid high in casualties to accomplish that mission.

He completed his circuit of the area by following the shoreline south, then moving inland to the sundial in the center of War Veterans Memorial Park. Williams had named all these places for him before leaving to see how others she knew had fared. Over half the trees in the park were fallen or shattered stumps, a good approximation of the causalities in the Marine landing force and their militia allies. Both trees and people might take decades to fill in to their former numbers left to their own devices. Fortunately for the battalion, they stood on an active, if somewhat battered, hospital. Medical supplies were the only things NorthCom hadn't yet diverted. Most of the wounded would survive. The rest they would seed from the militia. The trees would have to make it on their own, as they always had.

Just outside the park, he found the Bay Pines National Cemetery with its orderly fields of neatly planted markers. In contrast to the rest of the complex, it had slept the night relatively undisturbed by human events. By evening, fresh dirt would be tilled, and the ground seeded with graves where, eventually, new granite markers would grow.

Freeman lowered his binoculars. The air stirred as day inched closer. He gazed up to see the brass ball atop of the flagpole glittering gold with the first light of dawn. Soon, their flag glowed in the sun, its stripes torn, its edges ragged. Several of its stars were missing, others scorched and blackened just like the states they represented.

As it was coaxed up into the arms of the morning breeze, the tattered flag claimed ownership of this small peninsula to anyone who cared to notice. Ownership that could be asserted only by men and women who had fought for their home and won. Especially those who would now reside among the stones marking previously fallen soldiers who guarded this place once sacred to a nation.


© 2009 Edward P. Morgan III

Smoke and Ashes


As he stepped outside, the ache returned. A nagging ache, a dull fire smoldering in his chest. The ache of too many people having disappeared too quickly. He blinked slowly, purposefully against the brightness. The first sunlight he remembered in days. Only fifteen minutes before he had to retreat back inside the concrete bunker housing the project's offices and labs. Back to a contentious conference room filled with people pretending nothing had changed, while he directed a team whose eyes and hearts were vacant.

A year ago, he and Jim Hunter had stood here twice a day, noting the color of cars as they passed, betting on which color would pass most often. Some days at lunch, they would wander around the park across the street discussing news from the morning paper or investments or whatever else came to mind. That was before Jim had left for his next assignment, one from which he wouldn't return, before he'd started smoking again. Alone, he stared through the newly erected chainlink into the green now out of reach. At least it still looked alive, unlike the faces of the people he'd left inside. Most were tired now, always tired. A few, the ones who still cared, were tense, waiting for the next disaster to negate their current efforts.

He squatted with his back against the stucco, his legs sore from the undercurrent of tension in the meeting. A cigarette would numb the ache, if only for a little while. Later, it would return, only worse. In an hour it would grow into a pounding. A pounding that would kindle a new fire that would burn through his chest with every breath. A pounding that would echo inside his head, coloring his world with a flashing red haze around the fringes of his vision. A pounding need for another cigarette he wouldn't have time to roll or smoke, only crave as an escape from the endless discussion over choosing a new direction that had droned on and on for days.

Without looking down, he pulled the tobacco pouch from his back pocket. He lifted its flap, pressing its sides until the cellophane crinkled into a familiar position and it remained open. He balanced the pouch on one leg, unbuttoning his shirt pocket and extracting the packet of cigarette papers with two fingers. He flicked the cover open and thumbed one out. One hand returned the thin package to his shirt pocket while the other sought the tobacco pouch, setting the loose paper within it. Instinctively his fingers steadied the pouch until his other hand finished tucking the papers away. His focus remained forward, soaking in the quiet green, not wasting a moment outside the gray and angry conference room.

With one hand he folded a crease into the paper to receive the loose, shredded leaves. How many days had he felt like that paper? A thin wrapper, nearly worthless for what he added to the final product. His only value in holding it all together. Like the paper, most days he felt thin, translucent and easily torn.

A crooked finger scooped a clump of brown leaves into the waiting crease, then worked it down its length. Index fingers and thumbs gently rolled the paper back and forth between them until the tangle of leaves smoothed themselves evenly within it. Then his fingers tucked one edge beneath the other while his thumbs exerted a steady pressure as they rolled the bundle up. He wasn't sure which was more satisfying, creating a cigarette from a flimsy paper and an untidy tangle of cut leaf, or savoring what it offered under a slow fire. Was that the same satisfaction his superiors felt as they issued the company its new directives? He was sure the paper felt none as he pulled a few stray leaves from its ends and dropped them back into the pouch to await his next craving. The lucky few.

For over a year he'd felt an unseen hand loading up his team with inexperienced recruits. The company had lost most of its veterans to the last debacle and the uncertainty that had followed. For months they had counted on him to hold the new people together, to guide them while they were rolled back and forth from task to task. Inevitably a few stragglers fell from his grasp back into someone else's pool. A constant pressure transformed the ones remaining into a tight, uniform team, sealing them together with the merest bit of spit or sweat or blood, ready to be burned at someone else's leisure.

He examined the newly formed cigarette in his hand. Perhaps he would sit and roll a half dozen more until the ache disappeared on its own as sometimes happened. He entertained the lie for a moment, though he knew he had little time. They would expect him back in a few minutes. It was either smoke this one now or save it until he would need it less. He rubbed a finger against his thumb and felt the slight drag from the resin that faintly stained both their tips. The oil that trapped the nicotine he now craved. If he raised his fingertips to his nose, he knew the scent would destroy his tentative calm. There was no saving a freshly rolled cigarette from its fate.

His fingers automatically flipped the cigarette between them and raised it to his lips. He fished the matches out from behind the papers in his shirt pocket, rattling the box even though he knew there were plenty of matches inside. The tray rasped as it slid against the cardboard cover. A fingernail hooked a wooden stem, pinching it against his waiting thumb. The tray complained again dryly as he slid it back into its protective cover. More pressure as a finger guided the match along the striker. It started in fits, sparking but not catching. Wisps of smoke trailed from each individual grain until one caught, consuming the others, willing or not. The match flared to life. A whiff of sulfur burned his nostrils, reminding him of his impending return to purgatory after this brief, smoky respite.

He held the flame to the cigarette poised on his lips, drawing steadily, evenly. A cool, refreshing breeze filled his body with that first breath. He savored the sensation, then let the tension flow out of him with the smoke he slowly exhaled. He sat without breathing for a moment, each cell of his body reveling in its satiated need. As always, he was tempted to crush out the remainder, knowing the next breath would turn to stale smoke that only tasted of ash. He wondered if his superiors ever felt the same impulse after they lit a team with a new assignment. Had they ever been tempted to crush one out after their initial enthusiasm was exhausted? He wondered if, like him, they were only driven by habit to complete their tasks, not knowing how to turn away from the possibility of a second first drag, however remote, and the renewed burst of pleasure it would bring. Just as he could never turn away from his mission.

He leaned against the rough concrete, watching the smoke crawl up his fingers into the still afternoon air. A narrow, gray pillar rose undisturbed until, caught in its own heat, it swirled with a flourish then disbursed into a thin, gray haze. How like his efforts of the past several months that smoke seemed. Even under the best conditions, he had no control over where events took his team, or how long they lingered. As people got caught in the turbulence of their day to day, their morale and motivation scattered until only a smoky film of either remained.

Another slow drag. He watched the red glow burn its way up the cigarette's shaft, leaving only delicate gray-white ash behind. Ash as fragile as the people who remained committed to the mission. A careless twitch of someone's fingers and they, too, would tumble to the pavement below. Hunter had disappeared after the last such twitch, like dozens of others before and since. At least half a dozen more were waiting to finalize their next assignments before they too fell away. Soon he would have no team left to hold together. Then what would he be? Just a burned out, empty shell.

Another pull drew the coal closer to his fingers, his reprieve now timed in breaths. Four breaths before he had to re-embrace the chaos within quickly became three. A long trail of smoke drifted up into two. His time was burning down whether he made use of it in or not. The ashen cylinder grew longer, more delicate. Individual cinder chips peeled off and floated away, just like the remnants of his team soon would. Finally, a single breath remained before his own time expired. Like the ashen paper, he realized he no longer held anything together except the fragile remains of what had once been called a team. They would drift off slowly, one by one with the slightest disruption. One more flick and he would join the others floating on air, settling back to earth only when the breeze allowed it. The possibility excited him in a way that patiently explaining an uncompromising reality to unreasonable people no longer did. His gaze lifted back to the park while his mind focused on the potential of something new, something meaningful. Something different.

When the unattended ember finally brushed his fingers, he dropped the unburned remains, crushing it beneath his heel as he turned and walked away.


© 2009 Edward P. Morgan III

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Free Fall and other 55 Fiction

New Times 55 Fiction

This morning one of my entries into the New Times 55 Fiction competition was published. It is titled "Free Fall."

So I thought I would share all the entries and the winner. They all started with lines I’ve been posting on Twitter.

Check out the other stories at the link above. There are some good ones. Enjoy.



No Surrender

In response to his enemy’s request, he raised the white flag high above the watchtower, where both armies could plainly see it. Its corners snapped in the breeze, disrupting the sudden silence that embraced the walls. Once it had drawn everyone’s attention, he set fire to the pole and watched it burn as his reply.



Regret

Alone outside an hour after the argument, he felt a sting of regret followed by an ache deep within his chest. By the time he thought to look down at the dampness pooling on his shirt, the belated crack of the rifle caught up to him and his lifeblood was already spent.



The Question

Would she or wouldn’t she? The question hung between them like a perfect smoke ring, constantly circling inward on itself. Then her sharp sigh tore it open and it dissipated, unanswered, leaving only the bittersweet memory of an unexplored future lingering in the air. He knew in that moment he would have to find another.



Free Fall

His world became summer bright outside, winter dark inside, with no spring to bridge the two. Only tumbling in a perpetual fall. His life narrowed to a series of breaths floating in free fall, as peaceful as he'd ever been, until the rope snapped taut and his feet came up just short of the ground.


© 2009 Edward P. Morgan III

Sunday, December 21, 2008

The War on Christmas


I was halfway to Boston when I got carjacked. I had just crossed into Virginia from North Carolina. It was four in the morning. The last Starbucks mocha grande had worn off and was only keeping me awake by pressing on my bladder. Even that wasn't working so well. There wouldn't be more Starbucks until Richmond in an hour, two before they opened.

That damned extra hour. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have been in this mess. Ok, that and if I hadn't been driving my wife's car. Which I wouldn't have if it weren't for Homeland Security. Who says irony is dead? I think that lot has made it into an art form.

It started at the airport the day before as we were checking in. My wife had decided she wanted to surprise her parents for the holidays this year. A white Christmas in New England? That's what the Weather Channel was promising. As I was finding out hour by hour, nothing about this trip was working out as planned. My idea of the spirit of the season was me, my recliner, my X-Box controller, and a freshly minted Fallout 3 apocalypse to explore in 7.1 Dolby surround and 46 inch high-def plasma with only a bottle of 40 year-old Napoleon brandy as a companion. Needless to say that wasn't going to happen, so we compromised. I would fly into Boston instead of Hartford, rent a car and drive to meet her at her parents' after spending a day or two exploring Quincy Market with my aunt. My wife had it all arranged, at least in her mind. The details she left up to me.

The best we had been able to book with our frequent flier miles were flights that left just far enough apart to make it impractical for me to drop her off and return home until my departure. Instead, I would have several hours to kill in the airport, perhaps bouncing back and forth between the espresso bar and brew house until my blood chemistry had achieved the optimal balance necessary for holiday flying, somewhere between three and four shots of each.

We were running late that morning at the airport, so we rushed her through check-in and sprinted toward security with barely a spare moment for a "love you" and peck goodbye. When she boarded the tram to take her to her gate, she was beaming, almost radiant at the prospect of going home and spending the holidays with her family. I suspected it was the overactive airport AC that had brought the color to her cheeks, but that image of her happiness stuck in my mind. How could I ever have thought of denying her? That sentiment soon became my undoing.

I decided to check-in before beginning the ritual of hopping from line to line until the alcohol and caffeine had come into a perfect state of equilibrium most conducive for take-off. While I had been blinded by twinkle in my wife's blue eyes at the checkpoint, she had dumped all the presents we were carrying north on me without my noticing. As I turned to go after watching her angelic smile fade in the distance as the tram pulled away, there it was at my feet, the huge bag brimming with gifts, my new, and quite sobering, responsibility. That was only the first of a series of unplanned events.

Next, the automated kiosk wouldn't check me in. A cute ticket agent dressed like one of Santa's elves, complete with green tights, miniskirt and a pointed red cap, came by, referenced her own terminal, frowned and asked for my ID. Then next thing I know, I'm being bum's rushed by four of the burliest Santas I've ever seen.

Their idea of getting into the Christmas spirit. Imagine the cast from "Conan the Barbarian" decked out in red felt, faux fur trimmed Santa suits, their badges and Glocks strapped to the extra-wide black vinyl belts, acting as if I'd just broken into their tower, stolen their gems and killed their pets. For several minutes, all I saw was Coca-Cola red. By the time I was done coughing up white synthetic fur from breathing through the sleeve of the whichever jolly fellow had me in the chokehold, I was handcuffed to a chair in a steel-line broom closet somewhere off the main terminal, thinking I was about to cash in my round-trip voucher for a one-way ticket to a sunny resort in southeast Cuba and an all expenses paid winter vacation courtesy of the U.S. Government while the security Santas tore into the presents like a mob of angry children in a Yuletide version of "Lord of the Flies."

After a brief interrogation complete with a holiday rendition of the classic Good Santa, Bad Santa routine, everything was sorted. No, we didn't make a mistake, sir. There was just a minor clerical error regarding your driver's license number, middle initial, date of birth and country of origin. Yes, we are ninety percent confident now that you are a U. S. citizen just like you said. Sign this classified non-disclosure waiver of liability and you're free to resume your travels. No, it shouldn't happen again on your return flight. But you might want to arrive four hours early, you know, just in case your name doesn't get cleared from the list in five to ten business days. I'd avoid all airports until then. Happy Holidays and have a nice trip.

By the time I had cleaned the fingerprinting ink out of my hair, my flight was in final boarding. Only one problem: I no longer had a ticket. While I was MIA in the bowels of the airport, the airline had given away my seat. We'd be more than happy to rebook you, right after the blackout period for your frequent flier miles. How does January 8th sound? Certainly, I can get you on this flight, as long as TSA unlocks your credit card in the next five minutes. Oops, it looks like your seat has already gone to standby customer. All we have left is first class. You don't have cash, do you? Of course, you can talk to a supervisor. She'll be in first thing in the morning.

The next thing I knew, I was behind the wheel of my wife's SUV in long-term parking, dizzy and slightly disoriented from the lack of much anticipated stimulants and depressants packaged in delicious chocolate and amber beverage form, picturing my next phone call shattering my wife's cherubic happiness. In that post-traumatic adrenal hangover I was struck by a way to salvage this less than perfect holiday.

Back in college, I had once driven straight through to Boston. Ok, it had been middle school, and I had ridden with someone else. But I remembered it had taken just over 24 hours. I used to pull all-nighters during finals. The speed limits were higher now. The weather was supposed to be clear until the day after tomorrow, giving me plenty of time. Gas prices had fallen so it'd be cheaper than flying with same day prices. If I hit the road now, I'd arrive before the next flight arrived, if I could catch one. And I'd still have time to rewrap all the presents before I headed across the Mass Pike. I had procrastinated on talking to my aunt, so she only knew that I'd call sometime tomorrow. Like every convicted felon says at the news conference just before he goes to jail, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I should have written the day off to karma and returned home to the holiday scent of newly unwrapped game disk. But I knew my wife would think I'd somehow arranged my misfortune to duck out on a family gathering. After last year's debacle, I would do anything to maintain our current marital détente.

So here I was twelve hours later, just crossing into Virginia. The interstate seemed to stretch out forever, at least that's how long it seemed to take for each mile to pass by. A pair of shadowed sneakers with no feet in them had just run across the road in front of me, jarring me into paranoid alertness long enough to spot the "Virginia Welcomes You" sign advertising an all-night rest area two miles farther on the right. I was ahead of schedule so figured I could afford an hour or so to sleep off the hallucinations before continuing on my way.

I whipped into a spot on the back side of the restrooms. I had barely set the parking brake before I was out the door and scooting for the side marked "men." After the blessed relief of making room more Starbucks, I strolled back toward the car, with a quick detour to peruse the vending machines, confirming that I would be better off waiting until Richmond for breakfast. Nothing in the slots looked comparable to handcrafted hot oatmeal with fruit and nuts and brown sugar that I knew would be waiting in the hands of my incomparable barista.

As I approached my wife's SUV, I noticed the moon was bright and just past full, giving the grass between the spreading oaks the look of freshly fallen snow. My breath steaming in the brisk air only added to the illusion though the sky was clear and full of stars. The place was peaceful and deserted. It was the Friday before Christmas so the holiday travelers wouldn't take to the roads until at least tonight. The only activity was in the truck parking area a hundred yards away where two USPS semis and a FedEx long-hauler were catching what rest they could before their frantic delivery schedule resumed.

I had just crawled back into the car and reclined the seat when something startled me back awake. I'm not sure whether it was a dream or a noise but in my sleep deprived haze I was convinced it was the sound of ice ricocheting off my windshield. I snapped forward, nearly slamming my forehead into the steering wheel. I shook my head to try to focus. It was still dark, so I hadn't been out very long. As my vision cleared, I saw a stocky boy in front of my car, just standing there, staring at me.

I rolled down the window and called to him, "Are you ok, son?"

Nothing, he just kept staring, kind of like that kid in "The Shining." No, I was just paranoid and exhausted. I unlocked the door and swung my feet out. "Are you lost? Where are your mom and dad?"

Just as my feet hit the pavement, a gang of children swarmed around the car from the front and behind. Before I could scramble back to the safety of the front seat and the cell phone charging in the lighter, I felt a gun press against my left kidney. "Don't move, stretch, unless you want to pee through a machine for the rest of your life."

I had no idea what that meant, but with my bladder still trying to relax after four hours of coffee torture, he had my full attention.

"Now, unlock all the doors and get behind the wheel, slowly." His voice was deep and gravelly, kind of like Pigpen from "A Charlie Brown Christmas," not at all what you might associate with a kid. "Keep your eyes front and your hands in plain sight, beanstalk, or they won't find your body until the tundra melts."

I flicked open the master lock switch and eased into the driver's seat, placing my hands at ten and two on the wheel, just like in driver's ed, hoping this was just some childish prank. "I don't have much money, but there are some Christmas gifts in the back. Take them and I'll forget this ever happened."

By then I heard the other three doors open and kids were piling into the SUV, thumping and bumping like a herd of cattle making its way through the slots of stockyard. "You think we came for your merchandise there, Sasquatch?"

"Well, there are some pretty cool toys. And chocolate. Good stuff. Ghirardelli."

"You got it all wrong, Abominable. We don't want your stuff. Everybody in?" Grunts of assent resounded all around me like a troop of baboons at Busch Gardens. "Gun, secure that cell phone."

"You got it, Sig," another strange voice beside me replied, like Froggy from the Little Rascals. What kind of kids were these? I heard rattling noises of the charger being unclamped and the cord wrapped up.

"What do you think, Hagan," the one I thought was Sig asked another companion. "Will it all fit?"

A new baritone voice from the back seat responded, "Just barely. We have to ditch some of the junk back here."

"Ok, Yeti," Sig said from between the seats. "You can relax. We don't want your money or your stuff. All we need is a ride and a few hours of your time. Hell, it might even be on your way."

"You want the car, take it," I said. "It's my wife's, anyway. Just drop me where I can call my insurance company in an hour or two."

"Take a look around you, troll. Does it look like any of us is going to drive this monstrosity?" I slowly turned my head. What I had mistaken for children all had thick, bushy beards, except the one who had been standing in front of the car initially. None of their heads came more than halfway up the seats.

"You guys are all little people," I said in astonishment.

"Are you some kind of moron?" Sig asked, waving his pistol in front of my face. "We're dwarves, not 'Little People.'"

"But I thought that was the what you liked to be called," I protested.

"You're not the fastest car on the track, are you?" said the one sitting in the passenger seat, Gun, I think. "We're Dverger. Dwarves, not dwarfs."

"Why do we always get the ones with IQ's short of the highway numbers?" grumbled a new voice behind me, a dwarf with a sharp nose.

"At least, we're on the East Coast." Hagan added.

"Dwarves? You mean like Tolkien?" I started putting it together.

"Tolkien was a hack," Sig snapped back. "The only thing he got right was that we don't like elves. Think older and more epic."

"Wagner?" I asked. I knew all those classic graphic novels I read would come in handy some day.

Sig shoved the gun into my eye. "You calling us Nazis, there, Cyclops?" All the other dwarves froze.

"Whoa, whoa, no way man." I protested gripping the wheel as though it were a life ring. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"Leave him alone, Sig," Gun said as he connected the power source of a GPS to the lighter, and another one for a radar detector to the spare 12V socket. "He's just uneducated. His brain is probably steeped in O'Really's propaganda."

We all took a second to calm down. Sig took a deep breath, deeper than I believed possible from such a small man, er, uh, dwarf. "Just start it up and pull around to the picnic area. We need to pick up our stuff."

I started the SUV and eased it back out into the parking lot. Following Sig's gestures with the pistol, I pulled into a secluded spot back by some deeply shadowed picnic tables, where two more of his friends emerged. Neither could have been much above four feet tall. As my eyes adjusted, I spotted a chubby one sitting on the picnic table, the benches of which were stacked with metal crates the size of small footlockers.

"This sled the best you could find," one of the pair who approached the car asked when Sig rolled down a back window. "Are these windows even legal?"

The windows were dark, but that dark? Ok, maybe in hindsight insisting on drug dealer tinting with the after-market guy who'd setup shop in the storage warehouse had been a mistake on my part. I knew I should have taken the Jeep to the airport, but who wants to leave a soft-top with no locks in long-term parking over Christmas.

"Hagan says it'll all fit," Sig replied. "Now, get it loaded before that sheriff figures out Carl's trick. It's almost light."

He was right; the sky was beginning to brighten. Normally, the transition between night and dawn was the worst time to be awake. Oddly, between the cold and the guns and the surreal nature of my captors, I was surprisingly alert.

As I stared out the windshield, uncertain whether I wanted the sheriff to return or not, the other dwarves began loading the SUV while Sig kept an eye on me, having climbed around to the front seat. I figured all their gear would fit with some careful arranging, though I wasn't sure where the other three dwarves would sit. But the SUV kept bouncing on its shocks as they arranged and rearranged things behind me.

Finally, Hagan came around to the passenger side and said, "It's all in, but we had to ditch some stuff."

I looked over toward the picnic table to see all the gifts my wife had entrusted to me scattered across its top and benches, along with most of my luggage. "Hey, those are Christmas presents." I protested.

"We're at war," Sig replied. "Consider them casualties. Schil, put a note on them saying "Donations for the Poor" for when the sheriff gets back so the troll here doesn't pout. Then we're out of here."

The dwarves piled into the SUV. At first I wasn't sure they were all going to fit. They almost didn't. Gun took the front seat. Sig, the beardless one and one other took the rear. Hagan and the last three split to either side of the cargo deck. They had stacked their crates to create facing benches. The four of them had laptops that they kept rumbling over in low voices and adjusting. I didn't know what they were up to, but it looked serious and illegal.

"Where are we headed, boys?" I prompted once they were all settled.

"Just pull back on the highway, northbound," Sig answered with a glare. "Gun will direct you from there. And buckle up. We don't want to give them any reason to pull us over. That would end badly for everyone."

Given his tone, I believed him. He had a lot of attitude packed into that small body.

As soon as we got on the road, Gun flipped the radio over to AM and started scanning through the channels. Normally, I avoided that band. All they ever ran was talk radio, and that by guys whose politics hovered between black-helicopters and vast left wing conspiracies. Even FM was dicey until you got to DC. At least after that you could tune in something other than country. I usually relied on my iPod, but Gun had disconnected that and tossed in the glove box, right after scanning through its contents with a scowl. "Just a bunch of Lilith Fair crap, and some 'This American Life.' What are you, gay?"

"Married," was all I could think to say. Nothing like having your masculinity challenged by someone half your size to get you thinking on your feet. Gun just grunted.

He settled on a station out of Norfolk that was like an American Top 40 for ideologues with alternative band names, with Shawn the Manatee, Plush Limburger and Will O'Really holding steady atop the charts for the eighth consecutive year. "It's time for you to get a real education, ettin-boy, something with some red meat, not that oatmeal they serve on NPR."

The O'Really Report was up, an encore presentation from yesterday afternoon. Will O. was the king of this tribe of cultural cannibals; he had a radio show plus a cable television "news" program called "The O'Really Reckoning" on Coyote News. Personally, I was more of a "Countdown" fan; I liked a side of humor with my news and rants. But I knew who O'Really was. I would pause on Coyote News during commercials on "Countdown" just to annoy my wife, until she threatened to stab out my eyes with her crochet hooks and steal back the remote.

Today, he was ranting about the Governor of Washington State and a War on Christmas that she'd apparently fired the first shot in a few weeks ago by not burning some atheist in effigy in Olympia's public square. A single, secular sign had defiled the nearby nativity just with its proximity.

This got my passengers all fired up. At first I couldn't tell whether they agreed or disagreed with O'Really. They grunted and snorted at whatever he said. They cried out with unintelligible exclamations. Those proceeded to unfathomable response phrases, like a liturgy, whipping up their emotions until they could barely be contained. Pretty soon the inside of the SUV sounded like an old time tent revival, culminating with Sig shouting, "He wants a war, he's getting a war, right boys?" The SUV erupted in agreement, the pandemonium rocking it back and forth on the off-road-rated shocks, nearly causing it to swerve from lane to lane as I struggled to control it.

Fortunately, O'Really's show ended before they could get truly fired up. As a closer, Will O. put out a pitch for his Christmas special live from Rockefeller Center in New York City at nine tonight, where he would have Santa Claus giving away presents to the progeny of his faithful.

"We'll see you there, Will O." Sig shouted at the radio to a backslapping chorus of agreement.

Gun scanned around until he found Pall Hardy somewhere down the dial, "We really love this guy," Gun whispered to me at one point. "An American classic. One of the few you guys ever got right."

As Sig, Gun and their comrades listened in reverent silence, I began wondering just what I was involved in. These guys were nuts. I had no idea whether they were performance artists, a terrorist militia or escapees from a psychiatric hospital. They acted like meth-lab chemists who worked without respirators. Whichever was true, I was screwed. There was no way I would be able to talk my way out of this after the airport incident.

After Pall Hardy informed us that we now knew the rest of the story, the station started playing Christmas carols. Gun swatted the radio in disgust. "Celtic propaganda," he muttered.

I started giggling as sleep deprivation and the ridiculousness of the situation began to sink in. It bubbled up slowly, unwilling to be contained no matter how hard I tried until I was shaking and tears were streaming from my eyes.

"What's so funny?" Gun demanded.

"Just that this day couldn't get any better," I laughed, wiping a hand across my cheek. "In the last twenty-four hours, I've been interrogated by TSA Santas at the airport then carjacked by a bunch deranged dwarves with a Christmas fetish. But that will be nothing compared with what happens the day after tomorrow when I show up at my wife's parents' with no gifts. Then, I'll wish Homeland Security had deported me to Guantanamo."

Sig perked up in the back seat. "You're on the no-fly list?" he asked, looking anxiously at Gun.

I nodded as microburst giggles continued to erupt from my chest like a cross between the hiccups and a grand mal seizure.

"Gun, change course," Sig barked. "Hagan, I need intel, now."

Suddenly, the SUV was a hive of activity. The laptop crew popped open a crate between them sporting what looked like some sort of weird, helical structure similar to an impressionist sculpture of a DNA strand. Gun was scrolling through the GPS street-finder at lightning speed, calling out cities and addresses in a language that only it seemed to understand. The laughter died in my throat like a cancerous cramp.

Gun had me exit the highway within a mile and head toward Norfolk. We started on a Federal Highway but quickly descended through the hierarchy of roads from state to county then municipal and finally to roads without markers or names or sometimes pavement. Gun kept shifting me from one to another, always making sure I obeyed the speed limit. There was nothing out here other than tobacco fields and stands of trees all softened by a hint of fog.

"What is that thing back there," I asked Gun when he paused for breath from his conversation with the GPS.

"Satellite downlink," he replied distractedly. "Turn on the rear defroster. It gets better reception that way."

"What else is in those crates?" I asked, knowing I probably wouldn't like the answer.

"Mostly black market stuff out of Iraq and the Stan." Gun started ticking off stuff from a Tom Clancy wish list, "Night vision equipment, encrypted communication links, Alpine climbing gear, pixelated camo, you know, like the Marines wear."

"You know how hard it is to find that stuff in boy's extra-husky?" the dwarf with the sharp nose interjected rhetorically.

Baby's first battledress. Where would you even look for that, I wondered, The Blackwater Gift Collection? Halliburton R Us?

"Please tell me I'm not hauling weapons," I begged. If I was, chainlink isolation in Guantanamo would look like a beachside paradise in a distant tropical dream.

"Wish I could, there, big boy," Sig replied. "We're a self-contained commando unit with almost everything we need. The rest we pick up on-site."

"Need for what?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"You heard O'Really. For six years he's been railing about there being a War on Christmas. Now, we're going to give him one. This Santa stunt of his is the perfect opportunity to send a message."

My world became a little darker, like I was staring at my future down a long, black tunnel whose sides were closing in. I drove in silence for a while. They were serious.

Hagan's voice broke me out of it. "The NSA database says he's clean. The vehicle is unmarked with no current surveillance. There's a pending instruction to move his name from the active to the inactive watch list, with a possible upgrade to archives in five years unless he screws up again."

The dwarves all exhaled simultaneously, which sounded like the air escaping half a dozen weather balloons.

Sig spoke first. "Gun, get us back on course. Keep to the secondary roads, just to be safe. We'll shoot up the peninsula and pick up the interstate outside of Wilmington to keep a low profile."

"I'm on it," Gun replied. He directed me back to a relatively straight two-lane blacktop that paralleled the Federal Highway we had started on.

For a while, I concentrated on driving, trying to figure out exactly how deep I was into this and whether I could get myself out. Before I had come to any conclusions, we were pulling onto the beltway around Norfolk.

"Pull off at this exit," Sig instructed. "I see a Home Depot."

Once were in the parking lot, he leaned forward to me and said, "Go in there and get us a chainsaw, the smallest one they have."

"Gas or Electric?" I asked.

"Are you being funny, big man?" He showed me his pistol again.

"I take it you'll need a gas can, too."

"And some chainsaw oil. Oh, and get eight pair of linesman's pliers, good insulated ones," he added. "Don't try anything stupid. Hagan has access to your NSA file. One quick update, and you're as much a part of this as we are. All the files they pull off our hard drives will implicate you as a ringleader." The laptop gang all smiled malevolently and nodded in unison.

"Oh, and get us some bratwurst and pretzels from the vendor by the door," the chubby dwarf ordered. "And don't forget the mustard. Spicy, not yellow."

"Carl, go with him to keep him honest," Sig amended. "Pretend to be his son."

The creepy, beardless dwarf got out of the SUV with me and grabbed my hand as we approached the entrance. Great. Now I knew how Oedipus' father must have felt.

We collected everything Sig wanted and returned without incident. The only question came when I ordered eight brats with sour kraut and eight bottles of water from the hotdog vender, along with a large black coffee. "The kid's hungry," I said to his quizzical expression. That and a long, probing look at Carl seemed to satisfy him.

"Beer would have been better than water," the chubby dwarf commented on our return.

"I'll put that in their suggestion box the next time I'm through," I remarked, pretending to write a note. "'Dear Home Depot, please sell more beer in your parking lot.' You want an ammo tent, too? Tools, guns and alcohol, that's probably one-stop Christmas shopping for you guys."

They all glared.

Back on the beltway, we skirted Norfolk and headed across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. They posted Carl in the front seat now, to keep with our cover. Me and "my son" were the only ones the toll attendant would see. Once we were clear of the tollbooths, we stopped for gas and Gun took over at navigation again. Sig seemed confident that a full tank would get us to our destination.

The ride up the Delmarva Peninsula was mostly quiet. Sig ordered Nibel and Schil, the chubby one and the one with the sharp nose, to keep watch with Gun while the rest of them caught a nap. I wished I could. I was entering that zone of exhaustion where you had to actively calm down before you could get to sleep. I needed something to help occupy me, so I tried to engage Gun in conversation.

He seemed sociable enough now that he had some food in him. There wasn't much but rolling hills and farm country between the Bay and the Maryland border. Halfway there, I'd learned all their names. Sig, Gun, Hagan, Nibel, Schil and the twins, Gern and Gisel. They called themselves the Fenris Brothers. He looked at me as though that was supposed to mean something. It didn't. Sig was the oldest, then straight down the line. They had all come over from "the old country" on fake passports and visas saying they had seasonal employment at Disney World. Carl, they'd picked up at "South of the Border." Gun didn't know his last name, or really much else about him. "I think he's a cousin we lost track of somewhere. He might be Swedish. They're all beardless and kind of strange."

"So what's your beef against O'Really?" I asked as we passed the sign for Wallop's Island.

"O'Really is just a pawn. Our beef is with Christmas. Specifically, with the big man."

"Santa Claus?" I asked. These guys were armed AND delusional.

"That's what everyone calls him now," Gun said. "When we knew him, he was just Fat Nicki. We started this Yule thing together as a distraction, a winter feast with ice beer."

"You ever seen Norway in winter?" Schil chimed in. "There ain't much to do other than ski and drink, preferably at the same time."

"It grew into an incentive program," Gun continued, "a kind of an end of year raiding bonus. Then it became a payoff to keep the adolescents in line until we could ship them off in the spring. They kept demanding more and more younger and younger."

"That was before the Christians co-opted the whole enterprise." Sig had woken up and joined the conversation. "The Celts rolled over first, so their holidays got priority, Halloween, Easter, Candlemas, all based on Celtic holidays. But we held out another five hundred years, so they needed something big to reel us in. That's when they took over Yule."

"Oh, really," I said, trying to sound interested.

"You think that's funny?" Sig glared at me. "Decorating Norway spruces, where do you think that started, funny boy? And the traditional Christmas ham? You think a bunch of erstwhile Jews thought that one up? Yule logs, mistletoe, holly, garlands, stockings by the chimney, giving presents near the solstice, even the cookies, all of them came out of Norse traditions. Without us, Fat Nicki wouldn't have a franchise."

"So, what, you guys are culture warriors out to set the record straight?" I figured why not play along with their distorted fantasy. At least it was entertaining and keeping me awake as the miles spooled by.

"It goes deeper than that." Gun took over again. "Before they canonized Fat Nicki to buy him off, we were his associates. We had the gold, so we bankrolled the whole operation. We had some money we needed to clean after the Fafnir raid. In return, we got a cut of the profits. Once it took off, the Christian Mafia muscled in. They were concerned about their image, more worried about the Irish than the Danes, so we got the boot and the elves took over."

"So this is basically a contract dispute?" I knew I shouldn't spin them up more, but I couldn't resist.

"This is about plain old theft," Sig interrupted. "They kidnapped Fat Nicki in the dead of night to brainwash him and stole our reindeer. They even renamed them."
"They don't remember us now." Schil sounded sad.

"For a long time we let it go," Gun explained. "We had a lot of mining interests in Wales at the time, so for a while, we were making out pretty good with the whole coal thing. Only smart things those fairies ever did."

"Actually, I think it was Fat Nicki," Carl spoke for the first time. "A part of his reprogramming that didn't take."

"So, what do you need me for?" I kept digging, hoping they would realize how ridiculous it all sounded. "Why don't just ride in on a sleigh?"

"We use technology, idiot," Sig snapped. "Haven't you been paying attention? Magic is for fairies and elves. We spent the better part of three years upgrading to the latest equipment after the Macy's fiasco."

"How was I supposed to know he'd send a body double that year?" Hagan piped up again from behind his laptop.

"The elves must have smelled something wrong," Gun said. "They've tapped into the National Intelligence database through their NORAD connections. You know government does radar telemetry assistance and threat assessment all Christmas Eve. You can watch Nicki's progress online."

"How are we supposed to fight DoD and Homeland Security?" Schil asked rhetorically. "They frost-boarded our cousins Alber and Andvar last year."

"That's why we've gone low profile," Gern or Gisel took it up now, "and taken up insurgent tactics."

"And how is O'Really involved in this?" I asked. I was getting a headache, but just had to know where he fit in this elaborate theory. Amazingly, they were all singing from the same sheet of music. It was beautifully confusing how they could complete each other's thoughts.

"Limburger, the Manatee, Will O., they're are all just Fat Nicki's mouthpieces," Gun answered. "O'Really is like a one man propaganda arm for the elves, trying to secure the franchise against poachers with this fake War on Christmas. So, we decided to turn that against him. He'll have the eyes and ears of the nation with his Christmas special tonight, broadcast live coast to coast on Coyote News."

"He had the audacity to schedule it on the eve of the winter solstice," the other twin added, Gisel or Gern. I'm still not clear which was which, but they were both awake now. "That's like snowball packed with ice to the back of your head."

"That's like throwing down a gauntlet," Sig finished up. "If he thinks he can Zarathustra us, he's sadly mistaken. This time we aren't laying down. Those bastards stole our holiday. Well, this year, we take it back."

That seemed to end the discussion. All the dwarves were awake and busy again. They seemed to have a list that they were checking and rechecking. Maryland soon fell behind us. Before I knew it, we had bypassed Dover and were coming up on the interstate again near Wilmington. Before we got there, we pulled into an abandoned barn for a final pit stop and equipment check. Nibel and Schil broke into a previously unopened metal crate and drew out a feast of what I could only assume were the dwarven equivalent of MRE's: smoked Atlantic salmon, Jarlsberg cheese, savory bread-like crackers, venison sausages and homemade Norwegian flat beer in Grolsh-style bottles. I was famished, so tried a bit of everything. All the food was delicious, hardy and filling. The beer was potent. I finished one before my world became untethered and I drifted completely out.

When Nibel woke me, it was dark outside. The dwarves had killed off most of their supplies. Empty bottles littered the floor of the barn. How they could drink that much and still be on their feet was beyond me. Everyone except Carl had donned gray and white urban Marine camo. Gern and Gisel were just finishing coiling ropes and reloading them in the crates. Hagan was reviewing something on his laptop with Sig and Gun. Schil and Carl were on watch by either door, cleaning their weapons. They were all smoking pipes stuffed with a sweet yet mild smelling tobacco. All except Carl, who had rolled his own cigarettes. Smoke drifted through the barn like a layer of fog. It was like an ATF trifecta in here. Nibel offered me a thermos filled with strong, black and reasonably hot coffee.

"We need you awake and alert for the next few hours," he explained. He proffered one of Carl's handcrafted cigarettes that I stashed in my shirt pocket for later. "But make sure you pee before we leave. Sig says we'll drive straight through once we hit the interstate."

As I sampled Nibel's gift and attended to his warning, the dwarves stowed everything back into the crates and reloaded the SUV. A few minutes later, we were headed north again.

The remainder of Delaware became a blur. Traffic picked up as more people took to the roads. The interstate was packed. Hagan kept a constant monitor on the weather. It looked like it the worst of it would hold off until at least after midnight. But that meant everyone wanted to get where they were going in a hurry. It required a constant four-dwarf watch to keep us from getting run into the barricades lining the New Jersey Turnpike.

The mayhem continued as we took the Lincoln Tunnel into New York. My memory of the city is a chaotic haze, even with having recouped a few hours sleep. The only thing I can remember are a series of headlights, horns and screaming cabbies before Gun had us safely tucked into some back alley normally used by trucks to pick up trash from behind the businesses two blocks from Rockefeller Center. With Gun's navigation skills and the dwarven watch, we'd made record time.

"Ok, this is where we get out," Sig said as I shut off the engine and killed the headlights. "You've done your part. No matter what happens from here, we'll keep you out of it. I'd get as far away from here as you can and forget you ever met us."

I figured that would be impossible, though I knew they'd lock me in an institution if I ever shared the story. "Your secret is safe with me," I said, knowing it was the truth.

"It had better be, Jolly Green. If I find out you're one of Nicki's stooges, we'll hunt you down next. Even if we fail tonight, remember we have a lot of cousins with long memories. Back home we have a reputations against giants." I nodded somberly, taking him at his word.

But I couldn't let it lie. "One question, Sig." He cocked his head and glared at me, then nodded reluctantly. "Will anybody get hurt in what you're about to do?"

He squinted his eyes at me and smiled an evil smile. "Only someone's ratings."

That was good enough for me.

In the time that Sig and I had spoken, the others had unloaded the SUV. They policed any sign that I'd ever had passengers. Everything was spotless and just as it'd been before the rest stop, with the exception of a pine-scented addition shaped like a fir tree suspended from the rearview mirror. I watched as they faded into the night, crates hoisted onto their shoulders, ropes coiled around their arms, linesman's pliers and a single small chainsaw dangling from their belts. One of them carried a gas can. I still had no idea what they intended to do.

I eased the SUV back out into city traffic. Gun had instructed me on the best way to get back to the tunnel and the interstate. It was a harrowing drive without the dwarven watch, but I made it without any unreasonable detours. In an hour, I was headed north again, my eyes half glued to the rearview mirror waiting for the inevitable red and blue pursuing lights.

I arrived in Boston just after midnight as it started to flurry. I found a hotel on the South Shore, near where my aunt lived. I'd wait to call her until the morning, hoping a decent lie came to me in the night. I collapsed on the bed and turned on the TV, still wired from exhaustion. I scanned through the channels until I came across Coyote News.

They still had the "Breaking News" banner splashed across the bottom of the screen. They were showing replays of the footage captured just hours before of the giant Christmas tree overlooking the ice rink at Rockefeller Center crashing toward the cameras just outside the Coyote News studios. Individual strings of lights had been cut until the words "God Jul" could be clearly read down its side in blazing, six-foot letters. Amazingly, there had been no injuries, though Will O'Really had been rushed to a local hospital for observation after some sort of apoplectic seizure.

NYPD and Homeland Security had cordoned off a ten-block area around the ice rink. Witnesses had reported a small horde of heavily armed children rappelling from the lower limbs of the tree just before it snapped and fleeing the scene on foot. Another suspected member of the group had been sitting on Santa's lap, rumored to be played O'Really, and whispered into his ear "the real War on Christmas is about to begin" just before the lights on the 72-foot Norway spruce flickered and the tree toppled after a resounding crack. Just prior to that, the kid had reportedly asked Santa for a Nintendo Wii with a cross-country ski package for Christmas. I recognized Carl's creepy little smile from the police composite sketch.

Sources close to the investigation said they were also looking into an Al-Qaeda link to a previously unknown group from Norway known as the Dverger Winter Arctic Reindeer Veterans Emancipation Network and Lapland Expatriate, though D.W.A.R.V.E.N.A.L.E had claimed no official responsibility for the act. Linguists at the FBI were still trying to decipher the nuances of the group's message.

NYFD was consulting with local construction crews and structural experts on how re-erect the eight-ton tree with building cranes and brace its trunk with steel bands as soon as authorities reopened the site. Linesmen from Con Edison's Local 1-2 had volunteered to restring the more than five miles of wiring and 30,000 replacement LED lights, saying they would have the tree ready for the re-lighting ceremony tentatively scheduled for Christmas Eve. Habitat For Humanity was still scheduled to come in after the New Year and haul away to tree's remains for salvage lumber to rebuild a house for a refuge from Hurricane Ike.

Homeland Security had elevated the threat level around the White House Christmas tree to Red. The Vice President, who was supposed to play Santa for the Congressional children this year, had reportedly been moved to an undisclosed, secure location.

As the news loop began to repeat, I smiled and flicked off the television with the remote.

After a brief but pleasant visit with my aunt, I arrived at my wife's parents', still trying to figure out how to explain the missing gifts as I trudged through the snow to their door. Instead of having to conjure another unconvincing lie, I found a package addressed to me waiting on the porch, mailed from Bergen, Norway, by international overnight express. That must have cost a pretty krone. Inside were replacements for all the gifts that had been left at the rest stop, with the addition of a present addressed to me from "The Real Santa's Helpers" that I later found contained a sampling of smoked Atlantic salmon, Jarlsberg cheese, savory bread-like crackers, venison sausages and seven Grolsh-style bottles containing homemade Norwegian flat beer and one with a potent but heavenly mead. There was also pipe carved to look like a dragon's foot clutching the bowl and a packet of that same sweet yet mild tobacco. "God Jul" was all the card inside read.

"How was your trip," my wife asked as she opened the door to greet me. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair a gold and copper halo. Her eyes sparkled like the Atlantic on a clear winter's day. Being home made her even more angelic, until she glanced at the driveway and asked, "Is that my car?"

I could only laugh and shake my head, "It's a long short story that I'll tell you while we rewrap these presents inside."


© 2008 Edward P. Morgan III