Christmas in the Multiverse Read online

  “Like it?” asked Madge.

  “Errr…”

  “Me neither. But the reindeer does and that’s what counts. Time to go, my dears.”

  The door swished shut. The reindeer approached the tree and begin to nibble at its branches. Before Alex could tell it to stop, the world disappeared in a blur of tinsel, fairy lights and baubles.

  Five

  Gallop

  Alex stumbled out of the Spinner. Her stomach was making noises that made her think she had a performing seal in there, and she could feel beads of sweat popping out on her face.

  She leaned over and retched, spattering the ground with her lunch. Fortunately, she’d been sticking to her white food diet and the flecks of cauliflower were almost camouflaged by the snow.

  Mike was behind her. His face was green and he’d grown a—

  “Of course!” she laughed, nausea leaving her.

  Mike frowned at her and put a hand to his chin. The Spinner always had the same effect on Mike, one that irritated him more than a mosquito in a nunnery and which he refused to acknowledge.

  Alex bit her lip. Mike was waving his fingers in and out of his beard. It was full, and thick, and bushy.

  “Go on then,” he said. “What color is it?”

  “White. Can I have a present please?”

  “Don’t.”

  He pushed past her and stepped out into the snow. It was clean, virgin snow, the sort of snow you wake up to when school is cancelled, your toboggan is ready to go and all is perfect with the world. Flakes of it danced around them, twirling in the air like something out of a movie.

  Alex stuck out her tongue, waiting for the crisp freshness to hit.

  “Urrgh!” she spluttered, spitting it out.

  “What?” Mike asked.

  “Try one.”

  He stuck his tongue out. It protruded from his beard like the tiny tongue of a cat, or maybe a white-maned lion. The snowflakes got nowhere near it.

  He held his hand out to catch some flakes.

  "Wait,” he said. “Why is it so warm?”

  “It’s paper.”

  “Paper.”

  “Fake snow.”

  She dropped to the ground and lay in it, windmilling her limbs to make snow angels. Paper angels. She sprang up again.

  “So--what else is fake?”

  They looked around. Rudolph had emerged from the Spinner and was happily grazing on the paper that coated the ground around them. Alex poked him.

  “Are you real, boy?”

  He raised his head to glare at her. His tinselly antlers were covered in flakes of pristine white paper. They were huge, as big as gobstoppers.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. The deer turned to saunter up the hill ahead of them, pausing from time to time to eat.

  “How will we get back, if he disappears?”

  “Don’t worry,” replied Mike. “Madge has it covered. I’ll contact her on the bitbox when we need to get home.”

  He reached into the pocket of his red jacket and brought out the bitbox. It was perfectly wrapped with a perky looking green ribbon on top.

  “Nice,” she said.

  Mike shuffled out of the reindeer suit. Underneath, he was earring jeans and a Christmas sweater. It sported a row of elves doing the Macarena.

  “Madge?” asked Alex.

  “Early Christmas present.” He slid the bitbox into a pocket that had been knitted into the front of his sweater. The elves shuffled along and mooned at them.

  They were in a forest clearing, with tall conifers surrounding them. To the South West was a steep slope upwards, fringed by nibbled trees. Rudolph was a hundred yards ahead, making his way up the hill.

  “Madge said to go to the top of Mount Davidson,” said Mike. “Which is that way.”

  “Right.”

  They started trudging upwards through the snow. Alex adopted the stride she normally used on snowy mountains back home in Scotland, but soon realized that wading through paper was quite different from snow. Instead of crunching nicely under her tread, the paper squished and swooshed, forming swirls and eddies around her. After a few steps, she had a pile of flakes banked up against her shins, slowing her progress.

  She stopped to shake them off. She felt hot in her elf suit, and dreaded the reaction of anyone they might meet here. This place was probably a movie set, populated by actors and producers in clothes more suited to the temperature. So much for blending in.

  She altered her tread, picking her feet up and placing them down squarely with each stride. After twenty strides, she was worn out.

  “This is daft,” she said. “There has to be a better way.”

  Rudolph had stopped and was chewing at a tree.

  Mike paused to stretch, his fists balled in the small of his back. He flung his reindeer antlers off and threw them to the ground. He coughed, then almost choked on a white hair that had strayed into his mouth.

  “Why don’t we try riding him?” Alex said.

  “What?”

  Alex approached the deer.

  “Here, boy,” she muttered, holding a hand out. “Minou minou.”

  The reindeer looked up as abruptly as if she’d yanked on a chain around his neck. She smiled, thinking of Schrödinger; this was a surefire way of getting his attention.

  “Minou minou.”

  The reindeer dropped the branch he was chewing and approached her. She held her breath.

  “What the hell?” said Mike.

  “He’s a quantum deer. He likes French.”

  “What?”

  “Quantum cats like French, it seems quantum reindeer do too.”

  The reindeer dipped his head as he reached her. He lowered onto his front legs, inviting her to climb up.

  “Ha!” she cried. “This is all my Christmases rolled into one.”

  “Don’t be too hasty,” said Mike. “We still have to work out where Santa has got to.”

  “Maybe Rudolph will lead the way. He seems like a clever chap. Don’t you, boy?”

  She was on Rudolph’s back now, clinging to his fur. “Come on,” she told Mike. “Get up.”

  Rudolph dipped his rear legs as obligingly as the world’s most obsequious butler. Mike grabbed Alex’s arm and climbed up. At last he was behind her, gripping her waist.

  “Not too tight,” she said.

  “Don’t worry. I know about you and Sarita.”

  Alex felt her face turn so purple it was now probably The Face Formerly Known As Alex’s.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, thinking of the kiss she’d grabbed after she and Sarita had jumped together for the first time. The arguments they'd shared, and the secrets Sarita was keeping.

  “Don’t worry,” he replied, miming zipping his lip. She shook her head and dug her heels into Rudolph’s flank.

  “Giddy up!”

  She braced herself for the jolt of Rudolph breaking into a run, if reindeer did run. Canter? Gallop? Or did they have a vocabulary of their own?

  Rudolph didn’t budge.

  “Mush,” she said.

  Nothing.

  “Run!” shouted Mike. Rudolph made a noise that sounded like a snort of derision.

  Alex thought for a moment.

  “Hang on,” she muttered.

  “What?” asked Mike. “This was a daft idea. Let’s get down.”

  She raised a hand to silence him. “No.” She paused.

  “Allons-y!” she cried.

  The reindeer sprang into life.

  Six

  Candy

  Rudolf was surprisingly sprightly, for such a heavy creature. Within minutes they were at the top of Mount Davidson.

  Alex and Mike slid down from the reindeer’s back. Mike was out of breath and wheezing.

  “You OK?” asked Alex.

  He nodded, then coughed. “I’ll be fine. Seem to have gained a few pounds on the jump.”

  It wasn’t just Mike’s beard that had changed on this jump. His middle wa
s distinctly broader and his skin ruddier. The elves had disappeared from his sweater and it had turned red. He looked a lot like—

  “Don’t say anything,” he said. “I’m not Santa.”

  “No.”

  She hoped her dad didn’t look as ridiculous as this, in the outfit the pound store would have given him. But Mike’s beard was real. His sweater was now made of a plush red velvet that made him stand out like a pool of blood against the snow. Dad’s beard would be fake, and his suit made of polyester. And he would probably insist on wearing the tartan Santa hat he wore for Christmas every year. Santa was a Scot, he claimed. It explained all the whisky he drank.

  Rudolph plodded away and started nibbling on another tree. Beyond him, a view of the city panned out below them.

  This wasn’t the San Francisco she knew. It looked more like something from a chocolate box. Wooden cabins with snow-topped roofs fanned out from long, brightly lit streets festooned with Christmas lights and decorations.

  At the edge of it all was a pale blue Bay, shimmering in the low sunshine. The Golden Gate Bridge was right where it should be, but instead of being shrouded in mist, it looked like it had been sprayed with icing sugar.

  “This must be the place,” said Mike.

  Behind him was another cabin. Instead of logs, it was made from oversized Tootsie Rolls. The windows were brightly colored and opaque, like the windows in the gingerbread houses they sold at Macy’s.

  She trudged through the paper snow and ran a finger down a window. It felt sticky and warm.

  She licked her finger.

  “Mm.”

  Mike followed her lead. He licked his finger then reached for the window again. “Jolly Ranchers”

  “Best one I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Do you think we can eat the walls?”

  She shrugged. “Not if we don’t want the building to collapse.”

  “We should stop. We’ve got a job to do.”

  “I know,” she said, taking another lick. “But this is so good.”

  She pawed at the windows, scoping her fingers along them as fast as she could, This stuff didn’t just taste good; it made her feel good, too. Warmth was swelling in her stomach, along with a feeling of well-being.

  She leaned in towards a window, wondering if she could get away with licking the panes. Through the distorted candy, she spotted movement.

  She raised a hand. “Stop.”

  Mike was tugging at his beard, trying to tease out sticky clumps. For once, he wasn’t grumbling. “What?”

  “There’s someone in there,” she whispered.

  He leaned in next to her, putting a hand up against the window. She pulled him back.

  “We need to get in there,” she said. “This is where Madge told us to come. Center of the disturbances.”

  “Can’t we eat a bit more first?”

  His cheeks were flushed and his mouth smeared with gluey stickiness. HIs pupils had dilated so much he looked like a My Little Pony.

  “No,” she said. “It’s drugged.”

  “It’s candy. That’s all.”

  “Look at my eyes. Are my pupils dilated?”

  She realized that the world had become brighter, as if someone had shone a spotlight on their surroundings.

  He leaned in. “Yeah. Christ, Alex, your eyes look like they could swallow a reindeer whole.”

  She took a deep breath, and spat at the ground.

  “Don’t eat any more.”

  He wiped his fingers on his suit. “No.”

  They looked through the window again. Alex could hear voices. There was a center of light, blurred through the candy pane, and shapes moving around in front of it.

  She squinted and put her face closer to the pane, making sure she didn’t touch it.

  “What can you see?” asked Mike.

  “Dunno. I think there’s people in there.”

  A face appeared on the other side of the window. Alex gasped and fell backwards. Mike stumbled with her, the two of them tumbling into the paper snow.

  “Run,” she hissed. “We’ve been spotted.”

  Seven

  Comrades

  They ran along the front of the building and hurled themselves around a wall to its side. Behind them, Alex heard a door open.

  “Hello?”

  The voice was high-pitched, like its owner had been inhaling helium. “Who’s out there?”

  They ran again, more slowly this time, careful not to make a sound. Alex was glad of the paper flakes to deaden their footsteps.

  Behind the cabin was a barn. A large, open-fronted structure, made not of Twinkies but of Snickers bars.

  Mike gestured towards it. He was crouched on the ground, his back against the wall of the cabin. He had his hands in front of his chest and his fingers steepled as if they were a gun.

  “What’re you doing?” Alex whispered.

  He looked down at his hands then swiftly brought them to his sides. “Sorry. Habit.”

  She wondered in how many universes he’d been able to get his hands on a weapon. The only object they’d ever carried through the Spinner had been the bitbox, and its only weapon was the high-pitched wailing it made when Alex tried to break into it.

  Mike started to run to the barn. Alex followed. It had a high door made of red wood. It gleamed as if freshly painted, and sparkled as the light hit it.

  They yanked it open, tumbled inside and leaned against it.

  In front of them was the largest, most ornate sleigh Alex had ever seen. It gleamed like a pin so new it was just a twinkle in its mother’s eye. Its runners were made of gold encrusted with sparkling diamonds and its sides were fashioned from a heavy wood painted the same gleaming red as the barn doors. On top was a glass roof that glinted in the low light.

  “I’ll check if there’s anyone in this thing,” said Mike. “You watch the cabin.”

  Alex eased the high door open and peered out. She could hear two voices.

  “What did you see, Gerald?”

  “A face. Licking the window.”

  “You’ve been drinking too much mead.”

  “No, sir. Don’t touch the stuff.”

  “Hmm. Anyway, there’s no one out here. Maybe you need to have a lie down.”

  “But sir—”

  “No buts, Corporal. Let’s get back inside. Horace hasn’t finished speaking yet.”

  Alex opened the door further. Between them and the house were two people. They were both no more than four feet tall. One was blushing so hard he might turn into a plum at any moment. The other frowned at him. Instead of wearing military uniform, as she’s expected, they were dressed like she was. One wore a red suit, the other green. Both had pointy hats with bells on the end, and shoots so long they’d make it difficult to walk.

  “Sleigh’s clear. Military?” asked Mike.

  “Sort of.”

  He looked over her head.

  “Military elves,” she said. “That’s a new one.”

  The two elves went to a door in the rear of the cabin that seemed to be made from a giant Hershey bar. The one in red, the frowning one, opened it and ushered the other through. HIs colleague ducked as he did so, leaning away from the other elf as if afraid of being struck.

  “Let’s follow them,” Mike said.

  The door closed behind the elves. Alex and Mike crept towards it, keeping low. There were no windows in this side of the building, just a solid wall of Twinkies.

  They stopped at the door. Alex put a hand on it. It was cool to the touch. She resisted the urge to bite it.

  She looked at Mike. His beard had matted where the candy had stuck and he looked like Santa after too many whiskies. His pupils had returned to normal and his face registered quiet determination.

  They waited for a few minutes, then Mike turned the doorknob. It squeaked faintly and he stopped, his gaze on Alex. She could feel her heart beating.

  Mike wrinkled his nose. His thick white mustache was straying into his nostrils.
He started to shudder. He stared at Alex, wide-eyed, his hand not moving from the doorknob.

  He started to twitch, his nose twisting itself into contorted shapes. He took a stilted breath.

  Alex grabbed the elf hat from her head and shoved it under his nose. Silently, Mike sneezed into it.

  “Thanks.”

  She shrugged. He wiped his nose on the hat and handed it back to her.

  She grimaced. “Keep it,” she whispered.

  He shoved it inside his suit, sniffing. He patted his mustache to smooth it away from his nostrils.

  He turned the doorknob further and eased the door open just a crack.

  Alex peered through. She could see a wall of small backs. There were elves in there. Lots of them.

  Mike opened the door further. There was a voice, high-pitched like the two Alex had heard outside. Someone was making a speech.

  “Comrades,” the elf cried. “It is time for us to prevail. For too long we have been expected to slave away all year, making toys, filling stockings with candy, hacking into Amazon wishlists. It’s our turn to have a Merry Christmas!”

  Muttering ran through the crowd of elves. There was a mood of agitation in the room, of nerves being frayed to breaking point.

  “We have the ur-Santa in custody,” the voice continued. “This gives us bargaining power, comrades. Brother Geoff and I have spent the last three hundred and sixty-two Boxing Days in negotiation with the Council of Santas. You know as well, as I do, brothers and sisters, that this has been fruitless. Arbitration has not worked. The Santas are refusing to bend. Now is the time for us to act, to claim what we are due!”

  The elves jumped up and down, applauding. Two at the back tossed their pointy hats in the air, then fell to the floor, scrabbling for them under the feet of their colleagues.

  “Isn’t it a bit, er, a bit… extreme?” Another voice, even higher-pitched, and shaking.

  “Extreme, Comrade Rodney? Extreme?” The first voice asked. Alex could imagine its owner scanning the crowd, checking for dissent, emphasizing the drama of his rhetoric. “I’ll tell you what I call extreme. Working for three hundred and sixty-three days a year with no pay, that’s extreme. Being forced to sleep in shifts with the reindeer, that’s extreme. Toilet breaks only when there’s an R in the month, that’s extreme!”