The Last Santa Clause

“The girls are gonna love these”, said Jimmy, dropping his sub-machine gun and scooping up a Barbie dreamhouse playset and an armful of dolls; dumping them in his sack and slinging it over his shoulder before picking up his gun and heading towards the exit of the department store.

One thing that certainly had got easier, since the meteor hit, was Christmas shopping for the kids or, to be more precise, Christmas looting. Turkey and chocolates were hard to get hold of but toys and games didn’t spoil.

“The only really big problem”, thought Jimmy, as he blasted the pointy eared head off of the walking corpse stumbling towards him, dressed like one of Santa’s elves, “Is all the damn Zombies”.

“Daddy?”, asked a little girls voice from his Minnie Mouse two-way radio.

“Things are getting a little hectic at the North Pole, honey”, he said, as another Zombie dressed like one of Santa’s elves attacked him, groaning and drooling, from behind, “I’m having a bit of trouble with Santa’s elves”.

Fortunately, the elf zombie had a bell at the end of its pointy, velvet hat, otherwise he never would have heard it coming. Unfortunately, this elf obviously did the hammering in Santa’s workshop because it was carrying a sledgehammer, probably looted from a hardware store, and Jimmy only just managed to move in time to avoid it as it came crashing down, smashing into the ladies perfume counter behind him.

“Daddy”, said the trembling voice again, speaking out of Minnie Mouse’s mouth, “Someone is trying to get in”.

“That's probably the Eskimo's honey, but don't worry”, shouted Jimmy, holding the cartoon walky-talky to his left ear while he simultaneously fired twenty rounds into the hammer wielding zombies chest, blowing the brass buttons off of its velvet, fur trimmed costume, “You're in an armor plated Cash-In-Transit van. No one can get in except Daddy”.

Jimmy let go of his walky-talky that was tied to his belt and took one of the army surplus hand grenades from off of his jacket, pulling out the pin and tossing it into the front pouch of the Zombie elf’s workshop overalls.

“Go hang that on your Christmas tree, Pal”, he said, as the Zombie elf exploded and one of its pointy plastic ears, aswell as the decaying human ear inside it, hit him in the face as its rotting, maggot ridden body was scattered by the blast all over Fragrances and Cosmetics.

“Are you still there, Donna?”, he asked, talking into Minnie-Mouse’s head, “Is Charlotte alright?”.

“It’s me daddy”, said Charlotte, Donna’s twin sister, “What was that noise?”.

“Fireworks”, said Jimmy, “They’ve got fireworks in Santa’s workshop. They help his sleigh to fly”, he said, pushing his way out through the glass doors of the store exit.

All over his stolen blue, armored transit van he saw a bunch of Zombie kids; some of them only 4 or 5. One of them had a baseball bat that he was swinging against the shatterproof windscreen, trying to break it.

Jimmy couldn’t help but feel sadness as he looked at them all, dressed just like normal kids with brand names and TV characters on their winter clothes that were also stained with human blood. One, a little girl zombie, even had pigtails with ribbons. But their faces looked like something on the back of a pack of cigarettes,their skin rotted away and their eyes, totally empty of any human feeling. All he could see in their eyes was some kind of crazy anger or hate.

“Sorry, kids”, said Jimmy, as he emptied out his magazine into their decaying Zombie flesh and they fell to the ground, in red pools, all over the snowy sidewalk, “But I’ve got kids of my own to worry about”.

“Daddy?”, asked Donna, “Those people have stopped banging on the van but we heard someone shooting a gun”.

“That was a toy gun, you heard, sweetheart. They have some toy guns here that sound just like real ones”, said Jimmy, getting into his armored van and slamming the door shut, “Well, we’re going to leave the North Pole now. I wish you could’ve seen it but Santa doesn’t allow kids to see inside his secret workshop. Anyhow, Santa gave me some great toys that I just know you’re gonna love”.

But, just then he heard, no it couldn’t be, but yes; he thought he heard sleighbells jingling from behind him and, adjusting his rear view mirror, Jimmy saw, heading towards him fast, a Zombie dressed in a blood spattered Santa suit and he was driving a horse drawn cab made up to look like Santa’s sleigh and pulled by two drooling, black, zombie horses with mad, bulging eyes.

“Ho ho holy shit”, said Jimmy, as he slammed down his foot on the accelerator and, lurching forward, the car stalled.

“What was that daddy?”, asked Charlotte, worried.

“Uh? Polar Bears,honey. We’ve got some really big polar bears coming up behind us”, he said, frantically turning the key in the ignition and trying to start the engine,
all the while hearing the sound of those sleighbells getting closer and louder until they started to sound like a death knell.

“Why don’t you sing something, honey?”, said Jimmy, breathing a sigh of relief as he heard the engine start and felt the van shoot forward, “A christmas carol, like one of the ones that mommy taught you. Sing the Twelve days of Christmas”, he said as he heard a thump on the roof of the van and realized that the Zombie Santa was now clinging on to it ; his bloody false beard hanging over the windscreen.

“What’s that noise on the roof, daddy?”, asked Charlotte.

“That’s just the Polar Bears, darling. Why don’t you sing and it’ll scare them away”, he answered, turning the steering wheel from side to side as he swerved the van, trying to shake off the Zombie whose hideous decaying face was staring right at him now, and grinning, through the windscreen.

“I feel sick daddy”, said Donna, “Why’d you have to shake the van?”.

“I’m sorry, honey”, said Jimmy, “There are these trees; really big Christmas trees in the way and I don’t want to crash into any of them. Why don’t you sing and it’ll take away the sick feeling…and make sure you’re both strapped in tight back there, honey, okay? ‘Cause there’s gonna be a big bump coming up”.

Jimmy stamped on the break pedal and the van suddenly jerked to a halt, hurling the Zombie Santa from the roof and catapulting him through the plate glass window of a convenience store.

“Is everyone alright back there?”, asked Jimmy.

“Yes daddy”, said Donna, “But we can’t remember what comes next, daddy. After five gold rings?”.

Jimmy racked his brains. What did come next? Was it six maids a milking or six geese a laying? He was pretty sure that it wasn’t six lords a leaping. “Never mind the Twelve days of Christmas, honey. Why don’t you just sing Jingle Bells”, he said as he rammed the front end of the van into the Santa Zombie who had climbed back out of the convenience store holding a shotgun, that some over cautious store owner had kept behind the counter, by the barrel and swinging it like a club.

Backing up and swerving away from the Santa suited Zombie,who inspite of the fact that his wheels had torn an arm and a leg off of its body, was still kicking and struggling to get up like some demented wind-up toy, he sighed with relief as he headed out of and far away from the Zombie infested city.

“A report just coming in”, said a voice on the van radio, “of a shooting spree that has just occurred within the city centre. Police believe the shooter to be James L Robinson, an Iraq War Veteran who they think may be hallucinating due to untreated Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Police also say that they have reason to believe that he may have murdered his wife in a fit of paranoia and taken his two
young children hostage in the back of a stolen blue security van”.

“I must be losing my marbles”, said Jimmy to himself as he listened to the radio, “I’m starting to hear things. There are no more radio stations transmitting. No more civilization. No more people except us. I killed Sally, my wife because she’d turned into a Zombie . She was going to eat the kids for Christ's sake!”.

Jimmy waited till the van was a few miles outside the city limits. The freeway would’ve been crawling with Zombies so he found a deserted back road on the map and, parking the van near some willow trees, he got out and opened up the back doors.

“Are you okay kids?”, asked Jimmy, happy to see the smiling faces of his two beautiful daughters again as he upturned and emptied his toy sack onto the floor of the van, “I got toys from Santa. He gave them to me himself to give to you”.

Donna looked disappointed as she inspected the Barbie playset. “I wanted a puppy, daddy”, she said.

“Me too, daddy”, said Charlotte.

“Next year, darling. I promise”, said Jimmy, sighing with exhaustion as he hugged and kissed his two daughters, “Next year”.