CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Countdown
The delivery van sped along Drabville’s cobbled streets, narrowly avoiding bins and lampposts. No one inside spoke; words seemed unnecessary. All eyes were glued to the road ahead. Finally the town square came into view and they could make out the small stage that had been rigged up for the choir, now singing ‘White Christmas’, a famous Christmas melody. The spectators stood in clusters, rugged up in coats, mittens and hats. Some grandparents sat in folding chairs and poured hot drinks from thermos flasks. The children were clearly restless, trying to listen respectfully to the singing, but their eyes kept wandering over to the pile of presents at the back of the stage. As if by magic, they had all selected the gift with the brightest paper and special name tag, believing it would contain the biggest surprise. The van pulled up and its occupants tore out just as the countdown was beginning. Mr Hapless, Harietta’s father, was almost unrecognisable in his costume, until he tripped over the microphone cord and lost his Santa hat, which gave him away entirely.
The children were lifted onto the stage where they congregated in a large huddle, each clutching a present to his or her chest. Their faces were bright with excitement. They were nearly blinded by the camera flashes as doting parents recorded the event.
‘Wait!’ Milli shouted over the din of band instruments.
But nobody heard her or even glanced in her direction.
‘Nine, eight, seven, six,’ cried the townsfolk, joining in with Santa’s countdown and clapping their hands in time to the music.
‘Don’t open them!’ yelled Ernest. ‘You don’t know what’s inside!’
‘Four, three…’
‘Two, ONE!’
From there everything happened rather quickly. We all know what children are like when unwrapping gifts—there is no delicacy or thought of saving the expensive paper for reuse. If you think back to your own experience with gifts, I’m sure you will remember tearing off the wrapping paper and flinging it to the floor, impatient to end the suspense and feast your eyes on the contents within.
Before Milli and Ernest had reached the stage, its surface was awash with wrapping paper, ribbons and discarded cards, their messages far too predictable to bother reading. But as the presents were revealed, each child fell silent. They stared into the boxes, their eyes wide. The parents, who had been expecting looks of elation, were confused.
Finally, a voice broke the silence. It belonged to a little girl called Polly Brook whose collar was always starched and pigtails perfectly matched.
‘Yuck!’ she cried, dropping her present to the ground. ‘It’s horrid!’
The gift landed with a heavy thud and suddenly everyone saw its repugnance. What had once been a sweet-faced doll with blonde plaits and an upturned nose had been transformed into something quite repellent. Her eye sockets were empty, their rims painted a lurid red. Long, hairy fingers sprouted from her gums and her hair had been replaced by coiled rubber snakes. She wore overalls and out of the top pocket poked the curved tip of what could only be a knife.
The other children took their toys from their boxes and held them out to their parents in protest. It took the adults some time to register what was happening and they were slow to react. Some of the mothers gasped and put their hands over their mouths, horrified by the sight of the mangled toys. Some grandparents made tut-tutting sounds, believing they were witnessing someone’s macabre idea of a joke. But once the initial shock wore off, people began to panic. The children on stage started to wail, many kicking away the offensive objects. Some pushed their way to the edge of the stage hoping to rejoin their parents.
Nobody had gone far when a sound from above startled everyone. The familiar words rang out over the square—words that filled Milli and Ernest with dread. ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ cried a voice and the tinkling of bells filled the square. Children and adults alike forgot their shock and instead exclaimed in wonder, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the lacquered red sleigh hovering above them like a vision. So entranced were they at seeing the myth of Santa Claus come to life that many forgot all about the strange gifts and broke into a cheer. They waved at the sleigh, perhaps hoping Santa had arrived to rectify his mistake.
‘Don’t trust him!’ Milli yelled, as she and Ernest rushed onto the stage. ‘He’s not Santa!’
But for the second time that morning nobody heard her desperate plea. They were all too preoccupied clapping and watching the reindeer perform graceful manoeuvres in the sky. What they didn’t realise was that the reindeer weren’t being entertaining; in fact, they were preparing themselves for something quite sinister. They began to rock back and forth and suddenly jets of fire spurted from their nostrils towards the stage where the children were standing. Parents screamed and siblings shielded one another but the flames were enchanted and had only one purpose: to form an impenetrable ring of fire around the children. They were now trapped within the flames, inaccessible to their parents.
If you think being imprisoned inside a ring of fire with a collection of mutant toys and a deranged villain in a Santa suit flying overhead sounds bad, imagine the terror the children felt when Dr Illustrious drew a black oblong object from his coat pocket and pointed it directly at the toys littering the stage.
At first the children thought it was a weapon and cowered, but when Santa started clumsily pressing buttons they realised it was a remote control. The buttons activated small microchips planted deep within each toy. Before the children’s eyes, the pile of mutant toys wriggled and came to life.
Little paws, claws and hands reached over the rims of cardboard boxes and the toys scrabbled their way out. Another flick of Dr Illustrious’s remote control and they swivelled around until they were facing the startled children. They began to advance fixedly, with synchronised movements. In the bright sunlight their deformities were even more pronounced—they were a mass of contorted faces and clumsy bodies.
The children tried to back away but were trapped by the searing flames. Through the fiery barrier they could see their parents, their faces paralysed by shock as the toys closed in.