Christmas with Nick Klaas

Part 20: And They're Off

Before he could respond to Noelle's question about his family mythos, an alarm on Nick's wrist sounded. He checked his Apple watch. "Ten to two already? If you want to see how the magic happens," he said to her with a wink before continuing, "then we need to go now."

Astounded by the play's contents—not to mention how "i" technology was even taking over running Christmas—Noelle nodded. She definitely wanted to see how the magic happened.

Taking her by the hand, Nick led her to a spiral staircase going down. She followed him at least three levels below ground where they were met with a beaten up, wooden door. After pulling a large, rusty key out of his back pocket, Nick unlocked the door and pushed it open.

"Some things we still do old school," he said, seeing Noelle's surprise. He wasn't wrong. The mix of traditional and modern was giving her virtual whiplash.

The door led to a corridor. Carved out of bedrock, it was wide enough for two people, but barely tall enough to fit a grown adult without stooping. Electric lanterns hung every ten or so feet to light the way. The end was so far down that Noelle couldn't make it out.

"Come. This is a shortcut we've been using for centuries. There's nothing down here that can hurt you," Nick said, sensing her reluctance as he gently pulled her along.

"Does that imply there's something up there that can hurt me?" she asked, only half jokingly. The dark, vengeful brother from the play haunted her consciousness still.

Nick stopped abruptly and faced her. "The world is full of both good and bad. We can only control our own actions, but it never hurts to lead by example," he said like a bad philosopher.

She frowned. "That didn't really answer my question."

"I know," he admitted with a sigh, looking almost helpless. Before he could add anything else, his watch's alarm went off again. "Oh, shoot. We're going to be late."

Noelle had to accept temporary disappointment as they resumed their harried trek underground. The tunnel was practically a straight shot from Nick's house to—as Noelle soon found out—the concert hall. Or more precisely, the Santa Claus mission control in the basement of the concert hall.

Emerging from a door in the rear of the room, they immediately found themselves surrounded by organized chaos. At least two-dozen people wearing headsets and sitting at flat screen monitors simultaneously reviewed maps, timetables, and inventory lists while conversing with someone else on the other end of the connection. A digital clock was ticking down the minutes and seconds in bright red LED numbers. It currently read 1:37. And the large screens on the front wall had a digital rendering of the globe along with an international weather report as yesterday, but the third now showed the interior of the reindeer barn. All the stalls appeared empty except for one at the head.

"Petteri," Noelle whispered the name in admiration, remembering her encounter with the majestic animal the day before. But unlike then, the old reindeer was now obviously restless.

Raising and lowering his front right leg, he tapped on the ground as if signaling his readiness. His nostrils also flared, sending clouds of warm air above his antlers as a gray bearded tonttu approached him. In three small hops worthy of a parkour enthusiast, the gnome Noelle thought to be Tor effortlessly bounced over and off the stall's gate and landed on Petteri's bare back. Another tonttu stood on a third brother's shoulders to unlatch the gate, letting him out. The feed then changed angles, showing the open barn doors. Outside in the snow, the thirteen other reindeer had already been tethered in front of a sleigh.