Robby asked, “Dad, how does Santa know if I’ve been naughty or nice? Does he have drones that fly over our house watching everything? He doesn’t use illegal wire taps does he?”
His father answered, “No he doesn’t do any of those things. I’m not sure how he does it but it must be some sort of magic.” He tucked the covers up around Robby. Kissed his forehead and said, “Don’t worry about it, you’ve been so good that I’m sure he already has you on the ‘Nice’ list. Good night and sleep well.”
He got up and went to the door of Robby’s bedroom. There was a night light in the wall so he could have shut the door but he left it just a little bit ajar. As he left he admitted that he kept the door open more for himself than for Robby.
He went downstairs to the kitchen and his now cold coffee cup. He sat down and mentally went over his list of presents for Robby. He really was a very special little boy. Every night he would listen as Robby said his prayers. At seven years old he might have skipped the prayers before bed but he insisted on it every night. His mother had started Robby praying at night, and Robby remembered her in those prayers. His father recalled that tonight, just as every night since the funeral last June, Robby had asked God to take care of his mother up in heaven.
Up in Robby’s bedroom a single light on the small Christmas tree that his dad had gotten him, dimmed briefly. In a data processing room over thousand miles to the North of Robby’s house a burst transmission was received. The rather small clerk who received the message opened a file named 177495/25565-Robby Johnson. He logged the transmission into the file and added today’s notes.
He had looked at the report from the tree and entered, “Robby still remains solidly on the nice list. He gets another green check for the day. His hug for his father was especially tight today and gives his father great comfort since Robby’s mother died.” In the to-do column he entered, “Check to see if Robby’s father has gotten all of the presents that Robby asked for.”
The clerk sent a transmission back to the tree, resetting it for the next 24 hours. Then he activated the icicle hanging from Robby’s garage roof that faced across the street. Inside the Cravens house the clerk observed Emily Craven, who was whining and yelling that her TV program only had a half an hour to go. She couldn’t go to bed now or she would never know who was the most talented on the show. The clerk watched as Emily’s mother gave in to avoid hearing the screaming.
He opened Emily Craven’s file and entered today’s report. “Emily still not going to bed on time and raising such a fuss that her mother cringes. Homework left on table unfinished.” The clerk added a red check into Emily’s file, noting that she remained solidly on the ‘Naughty’ list. In the to-do column he added, “Remove one of the special socks that Emily plans to wear to her class Christmas party.”
Back in the kitchen, Robby’s father was thinking about what his son had asked. Oh, he knew all about the spirit of Christmas, and he knew that parents gave their children presents that they said came from Santa to preserve that Christmas spirit. Still he wondered how it was that there always were stories in the papers each year telling of unexplainable gifts arriving in the homes of the needy.
He thought back to that year when he was almost ten and had agreed with all the other boys that there wasn’t any Santa. That year the steel mill where his father worked had been out on strike for over three months and he knew that it was going to be a sparse Christmas. That was OK. He had a loving family and food on the table. He didn’t need toys. After all he was almost a man. Yet that year under the tree there had been that big red dump truck, which both of his parents claimed no knowledge of. He wondered if it was still in that box up in the attic.
Back in the data center the clerk was back from his break. He reopened his machine and told himself he’d better get to work, since he had another 2,000 clients to finish. He thought, “It’s a good thing I work in a ‘no-time’ zone. No way I could manage all 5,000 each day otherwise.”
Special Cases Unit
The clerks in this unit all wore white smocks. Many of the clients whose files they monitored were hospitalized or in care facilities and if they had to visit them they wanted to remain inconspicuous.
In the third work area from the left the clerk named Maria was adding today’s report to the open file on her machine. She wrote, “Waclaw rested comfortably today. We added a bit of Christmas Cheer to the intravenous drip he was being given. It won’t show up on his blood tests but it raised his spirits. There is little else we can do for him and this will be his last Christmas.”
The clerk wiped a tear on her sleeve so that it wouldn’t fall onto the keyboard. She knew it could short out the machine since this was the third one this month and she had been given an official memo on the care of computer components. She tabbed over to the “Adjunct Actions” column and checked to see if there was any new information. There was none, so she placed a new request in the out box her machine connected to.
From: Maria, Clerk 249 Special Cases Unit
To: Director, Extra Ordinary Requests Division
My client, Waclaw Devonich, continues to weaken. His leukemia is incurable and we are aware that this is his last Christmas. As you know such client’s wishes are given triple “A” priority. I wish to reiterate that he has stated numerous times that all he wants is to be able to say goodbye to his father. His father Jacow is presently serving with the Polish army in Afghanistan.
I know that it is against policy to reveal internal information concerning illness and that therefore you cannot communicate his son’s failing health, but there must be something that can be done to get Waclaw’s father to his bed side before it is too late.
Please get back to me with any news, and please make it good news.
In the name of Mikolaj, as Waclaw calls him, or Santa as we know him I beg you to make every effort to reunite these two.
She hit “send” and added a silent prayer that she would hear good news about Waclaw’s father.
Maria loved her work but she wasn’t sure how many more decades she could handle it. Her first case had been in 1863 on the modern calendar. Her client was a young girl who wanted her father home from the war. The family lived in the state of Massachusetts in the United States, but her father was fighting in the south. His last letter had been at the beginning of the month of December, and he told his daughter that he was going to Virginia. He told her that he had heard Virginia was a beautiful place and he promised to take her there after all of the fighting was over.
The little girl didn’t really care if Virginia was beautiful or not, she just wanted her daddy home for Christmas. That was a request that the Special Cases unit couldn’t grant, because her father had been killed in Fredericksburg two days before the little girl had made her Christmas wish. The best they had been able to do was arrange for the girls’ uncle, her father’s brother, to survive the war and move the little girl, her brother and mother into his house in Connecticut. She grew up in a warm and loving environment with her uncle’s family. The army had sent her mother a letter telling of her husband’s bravery at the Battle of Fredericksburg. The letter girl kept that letter in a bible that she had by her bedside until the day she died.
There were some compensations though. She had found that there were organizations on the outside that specialized in helping people like her clients achieve some degree of happiness. They would take them to amusement parks or to some place in the world that they had never seen nor were likely to visit on their own. These helpers automatically got on the nice list.
Maria always found it funny that grownups forgot the spirit of Christmas and doubted that there was anything to be gained from getting on a nice list. They never seemed to put together the unexpected good things that popped into their lives after they had done something nice for another. OH they had their sayings like “cast your bread upon the waters” and “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” But they never connected any acts of kindness to a bit of good fortune that came their way.
Of course to be fair, finding a dollar in your pants pocket didn’t always count as a major stroke of luck. Often they didn’t even stop to think about where the dollar might have come from. Perhaps in adults it was better not to show that the bit of good luck was a result of a good work. With children who were just learning how to behave it might be necessary to tell them that if they did something nice they might get something nice in return. Adults were more capable of giving themselves a reward.
If they helped an old lady with her groceries, they went out and bought themselves a $4.00 cup of coffee. Maria could never see it, and in fact didn’t like coffee in the first place. Now a nice cup of hot chocolate was another thing entirely. Luckily for her the canteen served the world’s best hot chocolate.
Speaking of hot chocolate it was just about time for her to take her lunch break. There had been a rumor going around that the big man himself was going to be getting his lunch in the canteen sometime this week. He usually ate a quick meal in the workshop, but occasionally he joined the staff on a meal. Everyone wanted to be there when he came in since for some reason the food tasted better whenever he was around. That and it was good to see that man you were working for every-so-often. Not that he would admit that they were working for him. He always maintained that they were all working for the clients, especially the children.
It wasn’t unusual for him to drop by her section. He seemed to light up whenever they told him about a needy child that they could help. He would always go out of his way to see to it that a child client assigned to her group got whatever they could provide.
The trick was to restrain his desire to help. They had to watch out for his exuberance taking the gift too far. It wasn’t unusual for them to find out that he had ordered a toy to be gold plated as special treat. The problem was that gold plated model airplanes tended to fly very poorly. It was nice however to be able to use his influence to push through a request for the unusual gift. With that in mind, she printed out a copy of Waclaw’s file to be ready just in case the guy in the red suit happened to stop by.
As it was printing she was reminded of a story she had heard about a priest whose wish came to the special cases unit. In some versions the man was supposed to be a bishop in his church. He lived in a land that was torn by strife and his faith was often strained by the world around him. He lived in a rather large town that was a major port for his country. Although he was a priest, he found that he was often lonely. Because of his rank in his church, he had no one to turn to talk about his troubles.
He had a nephew, who was also a priest, who lived in the same country and was well aware of the troubles their country faced. He and his uncle wrote to each other, but they were always afraid that their mail might be intercepted and opened by the authorities. Because of that fear they were not able to discuss how they truly felt.
This nephew was traveling by ship down to visit his uncle and the uncle could hardly wait. The younger man met some people on the boat he was traveling on who were both rich and kind. They took a liking to this young priest and offered to pay for his passage to remain with them on the boat beyond his uncle’s port. It meant an opportunity to visit America, a country he had never expected to see. He wrote to his uncle, or rather telegraphed him from the ship, and explained about the opportunity that he was being offered.
His uncle was heartbroken. He had been anticipating the visit from his nephew for months. He realized, however, how wonderful this opportunity was and how excited his nephew seemed from his telegram. It was in his power to tell his nephew to get off the boat and come to meet him. Despite how much he wanted to see his nephew, he was loath to stop him from seeing America. There was little time in which to have his nephew refuse the offer and get off the boat at his uncle’s port. His uncle couldn’t decide. His desire to see the younger man was matched by his desire to have his nephew take advantage of this wonderful opportunity.
He decided he would flip a coin. If it landed on the obverse side he would send his nephew a telegram wishing him a safe voyage to America. If however he saw the King’s face, he would explain that he wanted to see him and to thank his fellow voyagers for the offer, but explain that he had duties to attend to.
Now as the story goes this man, the bishop was a very good man who had been on the nice list for almost all of his life. The reason his wish came to the Special Case Unit was not him but the nephew. He was scheduled to never make it to the next port. He and almost everyone on the ship would die when the ship hit an iceberg and sank. The nephew was going to be a great savior on that ship. He would see the woman of the couple who had offered him passage safely to a lifeboat. Then he would offer the husband who could not join her solace and to others on the ship courage in their time of greatest need. Fate would have to be changed if the nephew did not stay on the ship. He would survive, not perish.
The bishop reached into his desk and took out a gold sovereign he had been given a few years before by a wealthy member of his parish on the day they had left to immigrate to America. The bishop thought it ironic that he was flipping a coin given to him by someone who traveled to America to decide if his nephew should go there. Maria thought that of course it would have to have been a gold coin if Santa was involved in the wish.
The bishop flipped the coin and let it land on the floor. He closed his eyes for a quick prayer to accept the decision if he was to miss seeing his nephew. Then he looked down and saw King Edward looking back at him. He sent a telegram to the ship telling his nephew the bad news that he was needed to work with the Bishop. The younger man’s fate was changed so that the bishop’s wish could be granted. Now that was a true case for her unit.
Data Integration and Records Unit
The pressure was really beginning to mount. Reports were pouring in hourly, where in the summer months a report might only be made once a week. If you didn’t know better you’d think that there was some connection between the changing weather and the intensity of the reports. There always seemed to be an increase in client reports and dropping temperatures. There was a commonly held belief among the data clerks that case workers tried to make their clients look better. This was probably true but that desire seemed to intensify as Christmas drew near.
Behavior of the client class became decidedly better, or the case workers were letting small matters slide. Either way the Naughty list seemed to get shorter and shorter as Christmas drew nearer. Since this had become an annual occurrence the division had employed extra help in the time leading up to the big day, and the computing budgets for the months prior to Christmas were doubled.
Every year the division head complained to the big man who promised to take measures to correct the problem and every year he would pass over the problem saying it was not in keeping with the spirit of the year to crush such a showing of kindness.
This year the director was going to try again to have the big man do something to rein in the cascade of reports that were flooding the data centers. After all if his people couldn’t do their jobs, then there wouldn’t be any Naughty & Nice lists for Santa to use on Christmas. There was a rumor going around the apple cider fountain that the big man was going to have lunch in the cafeteria. The director decided this was a day to skip lunch at his desk and try the menu in the canteen.
North Pole Canteen
There were only a few empty seats left in the place when Maria got to the cafeteria. She grabbed a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup, and then got one of the remaining seats that faced the door so that she could see if the big man came to lunch today. It was apparent that quite a few people had heard the rumor about who would be having lunch in here today.
On the other side of the room the Director of Data Integration had a Caesar Salad and one of the few remaining seats left in the place. He was sitting with a few of the staff from his division, all of whom were excited to have the director eat lunch with them. They were chatting about how efficient the new servers were and complimenting him on the status report forms that he had initiated this year. They were all sure that without the mandatory forms they would never have been able to keep up with the increased flow of reports.
Suddenly the entire room went silent. All eyes turned to the door as a very large man in a red sports coat and black trousers walked in. There were a few whispers from the back of the room as people tried to maneuver for a better look. It wasn’t that the big man stayed locked up in his office hiding away from the rest of the operation. Quite the opposite. He was almost never in his office as any of the head office staff would tell you. They were forever running around looking for him to sign this or “OK” that.
The toy manufacturing center was the most likely place to find him. He was always coming up a new idea for a toy that he thought would be popular this year. Of course he was always right. It was a part of his magic that he knew exactly what children would love.
As they saw him go through the line he got a salad, and a cold drink. Tomorrow there would be a run on the salads and cold drinks. It always followed that the next day everyone wanted to try whatever he had the day before. The tables were set for two, four, six, or eight persons. There was only a single table that had only one seat. If he wasn’t allowed to eat by himself he never would have been able to get in a bite before being swamped with requests.
Protocol was that he was allowed to finish eating before anyone could approach him. So all eyes were on him as he ate. They were just waiting for him to push back his chair and allow others to approach. Many of people were surprised to find out they had spilled hot soup into their laps as they kept their eyes on the man instead of their lunch.
Finally he put down his fork and finished his drink. He started to push back his chair and across the room a number of people were preparing to rush to the front of the room to meet or greet the big man. As a number of chairs started backwards at tables where folks had been waiting for the right opportunity. They stopped in their tracks. He wasn’t finished; instead he went back up to the line and got another tray. As they watched he got a mug, no two mugs, of something hot. Then he took several plates from the desert section and began to move through the room.
All eyes followed to see where he would stop. As Maria watched he seemed to be coming to her side of the room. As he came closer she began to worry. She had planned to try to talk to him after he ate, but when she saw all the other people waiting to see him she had despaired of getting past the more important staff to talk to him. Now her mouth started to go dry as he came closer.
He was there, standing next to her. She was affair to look up at him as she heard him say, “Maria, I understand you’ve been brushing up on your Polish.”
She nodded.
Santa looked at the three others at the table and asked, “Would you mind if I joined you?”
Immediately they all stood up and offered him their chairs. Santa said, “Well it’s true that I’m a little overweight, but I probably don’t need three chairs.”
The senior clerk spoke for the rest and said, “Thank you for coming over to our table Santa. We’re honored, but it seems as if you have to talk with Maria and we were all finished.” With that the three of them picked up their trays and left.
Santa sat down and asked Maria if she would like a mug of Hot Chocolate.
She nodded yes so he poured two mugs from the pitcher he had brought, and passed one to her. Then he asked, “Would you like this other piece of chocolate cake. It seems as if I mistakenly picked up two pieces.”
Again she nodded, and he passed her a plate with chocolate cake and an extra fork.
Santa took a sip of his hot chocolate, and said, “I heard from the director at EOR (Extra Ordinary Requests) that you have a problem he can’t fix. Would you like to tell me about it?”
She had Waclaw’s folder right there on the table. Even though she had hoped to talk to Santa about it she found her throat was dry and she reached for her drink. She took a sip and a deep breath, and then she started to talk about Waclaw. She passed the folder over to him as she spoke, but he waited until she finished before he opened the folder. A tear had escaped her eye while she spoke about the young boy and she tried to brush it aside while she went on with her story.
When Maria had stopped speaking Santa opened the folder. As he read he made notes in a pocket pad he had taken out of his jacket. He looked up and said, “Elven years and he’s never been on the Naughty list? That’s quite a record. They’re sure that there’s no chance of a recovery?”
Maria shook her head and said, “No they’ve tried everything. His form of the disease is too strong. This is surely going to be his last Christmas, and he has only made that one Christmas wish to see his father.”
Santa was tapping his pencil on the table. Then he reached over to his wrist watch. It was a 2040 model “Dick Tracy” Communicator. He tapped in an address, and across the room a tablet buzzed in front of the Director of Data Integration.
The director opened the communication app and there was Santa looking right at him. The director stuttered a bit and then said, “Yes sir, how can I help you?”
Santa asked if he would come over to join them at the table he was sitting at. The director looked up and there was Santa waving at him. He got up and walked over to join Santa. When he got there Santa waved to one of the other chairs and motioned for him to sit down.
Santa said, “Hans this is Maria, who works in the Special Cases Unit. She has a problem that I think you may be able to help me solve.”
The Director, who was amazed that Santa called him by his first name, said, “I’ll do whatever I can of course.”
Santa said, “Excellent, I knew I could rely on you. This may be a bit unusual, and what the folks in Planning call “Sidebar” but stick with me if you can. Will you pull up the records for Pendar in Afganistan. I believe he’s eleven and has been taken to fight against the American troop in Ghazni.”
The director worked a minute and then said, “I have his records here, but Santa you probably already know that he is a devote Muslim, and has no attachment to you or Christmas. Still our auxiliary information system has him listed as solidly on the nice side, at least until he was taken to fight by the rebels. After that his actions become a little cloudy. Some of the things he has done since then wouldn’t be called “nice” by most folks here.”
Santa said, “I understand the quandary. Where is he now?”
The director said, “I have him located on a road about five miles away from a foreign military base. Oh Santa, this doesn’t look good. He’s been wounded and is lying on the side of the road.”
Santa asked and the director passed over his tablet. There on the screen was a picture of a roadside where little Pendar lay. It was obvious that he was bleeding. As Santa watched several military vehicles went by. Suddenly one of the armored cars stopped and a man got out of the vehicle and walked over to where Pendar lay. As the man bent down he stopped and looked back.
Santa said, “Hans can we get the sound on this thing?”
The Director reached over and touched a few of the settings on the bottom and the speakers on the tablet were shouting “Stop, Don’t move him.” The director touched the tablet again and the sound level went down a bit. Then they heard, “He may be booby-trapped.”
Santa touched the screen and the focus centered on the boy and became ever increasingly large.
Finally they could see that the boy’s hands were tied together. He was breathing but didn’t seem to be conscious. As the focus sharpened they could see something under the boy’s body. The director said it first, “Grenades.”
Santa agreed and said, “The men who did this to him are definitely on the naughty list.” He moved his hand across the screen and the focus moved to the man kneeling next to the boy. Santa whispered into his watch, “Wait, be cautious.” Then he touched the watch and the scene started to move again.
As they watched the man stopped reaching for the boy and waited for the man who had shouted. The other man looked down at Pendar and walked around him. He knelt down and then laid down in front of the boy. He stood back up and said, “He’s been set up as a trap. We see a wounded boy and they see an opportunity to blow up several of us who try to help him.”
The first man to reach Penda asked, “What can we do?”
The other said, “There’s not much we can do. I can’t tell how many grenades might be under him and if we move him they’ll go off. I’m afraid we’ll have to leave him.”
The first man said, “We can’t just leave him. He’s about the same age as my son Waclaw, and I’d never leave him.”
Maria looked up and said, “Santa is that Waclaw’s father?”
Santa nodded.
Waclaw’s father said, “Get everybody on the other side of the road, I’m going to pull the grenades out.”
The second man said, “Sarge you can’t. You’ll never be able to find them all.”
Waclaw’s father said, “I can’t not try. Now move everybody to the other side and watch out for an ambush.”
Santa hit the Time Stop on his watch again. He changed the prospective on the picture until they were looking at Pendar from the side opposite where Waclaw’s father was about to try to save the boy. Then he said, “This is just between the three of us. If the boys and girls in technical branch find out how I’m using the Time Stop feature they’ll take the hot chocolate dispenser out of the sleigh.”
Maria and Hans the Director both nodded in agreement and the three of them went back to looking at the scene playing out on the tablet screen. Santa started time again. They could see Waclaw’s father reach under Pendar and touch the first grenade. They saw how he carefully felt around until he could feel the release lever and grasp it in his full hand. Then he slowly pulled out the grenade and yelled, “Fire in the hole.” Then he threw the grenade into the field he was facing as far as he could and then lay on top of Pendar as the grenade exploded harmlessly in the field.
He reached under Pendar again and quickly felt another grenade. He repeated the process he did for the first grenade, and once again it blew up in the empty field. He started to feel around for the next grenade and they could see that Pendar was regaining consciousness. He must have moaned and tried to move because Waclaw’s father stopped feeling for the grenade and started to pet the boy’s head and was talking very softly to calm him down.
They could see that Pendar was responding to the soothing voice and lay still. As soon as that happened Waclaw’s father began to move his hand under Pendar and found another grenade. Again he grasped the grenade. Pulled it out and threw it as far as he could into the field. He immediately covered Pendar with his body as the grenade exploded.
Pendar was clearly scared by what had just happened and he started to squirm. Back in the lunchroom they could see the whites of his eyes. Waclaw’s father tried to calm the boy. He kept petting the boy’s hair and speaking as softly as he could. He yelled back over his shoulder, “Does the medic have any tranks?” There must have been a positive response although they couldn’t hear it. Because Waclaw’s father yelled “Hypo?”
Again there must have been a positive response because he yelled, “Bring it here.”
In a few seconds there was a woman kneeling next to the boy and man. She was saying, “Sarge, this is for a full sized man. I don’t know what it will do to a skinny boy.”
Waclaw’s father asked, “Will it be worse than a grenade?”
She softly said, “No.”
Waclaw’s father said, “On the count of three, I’m going to lie on top of him. You stick him as soon as you can.” He started to count and on three he laid fully across the boy.
Pendar panicked when he felt the man get on top of him and he tried to move, but the man weighed nearly three times as much as him and he could barely squirm. The nurse must have given him the shot because they could see the pain in his eyes. He was still trying to get away when his eyes started to blink and then close.
Waclaw’s father said, “Feel for a pulse and tell me we didn’t just kill him.”
The nurse reached around the Sarge and felt Pendar’s neck. Then she said, “It’s weak but steady.”
Waclaw’s father said, “Good, now get back across the road.”
He stretched and knelt down again. He reached under Pendar and started to search for another grenade. There didn’t seem to be anything there. He tried again and this time carefully moved his hand under the boy from stem to stern without finding anything. He yelled back, “I think I’ve found them all. I’m going to try to move him but no one comes any closer until I say so.”
Waclaw’s father started to lift the boy and Santa hit the Time Stop. He touched the tablet until they could count the freckles on Pendar’s chest. He slowly moved the position they were looking at until he had covered Pendar’s entire body. Then he asked, “Does anyone see anything?”
The Director and Maria both shook their heads, but Santa apparently wasn’t satisfied so they checked again. This time as they went past Pendar’s pants top Maria called out, “Stop!”
Santa froze the screen and said, “What do you see?”
Maria said, “These are peasant people right?”
Santa answered, “That’s right.”
Maria said, “So as I remember the briefing we had back in 1920 they keep their pants up with colorful ropes of cloth.”
As she said that Santa magnified the screen until they all could see a small glint right at the top of Pendar’s pants. Maria said, “I don’t think that’s a belt buckle.”
Santa said, “Oh Frostbite. They were relying on westerners’ prejudice against touching the genital region.”
Santa touched his watch again and whispered, “Stop. Feel the top of his pants.” Then he touched the Time Stop again and Waclaw’s father was moving again, but then froze.
He carefully lowered Pendar back to the ground and started to run his hands under the boy along the top of his pants. He stopped when he felt something that shouldn’t be there. He was moving very carefully as he tried to grab the grenade. It seemed to be stuck. As they watched from their side Waclaw’s father started to unroll the top of Pendar’s pants. The grenade was apparently folded into the top of the pants.
Waclaw’s father seemed to manage to get the grenade out of the garment when they all heard the same click. Santa froze time. Maria said, “Oh no the grenade is going to explode.”
Santa touched the phone and whispered, “Underhand.”
Then he looked at the other two and then back at the screen as he started time again.
Waclaw’s father heard the click and pulled his hand and the grenade out as fast as he could. He didn’t stand or try to pull back his arm to throw. Instead he did what would have made any softball pitcher proud and threw the grenade as far as he could underhand. As soon as he felt the grenade leave his hand he dropped back on top of Pendar, but he wasn’t fast enough. The grenade exploded while it was still in the air and the shrapnel caught Waclaw’s father and Pendar both.
In the lunch room Marie screamed. The explosion seemed deafening and they could see the blood pouring out of Waclaw’s father’s arm as he fell on top of Pendar. A man came into the scene and Santa adjusted the view to pull back from the bodies. They couldn’t hear anything away from Pendar and Waclaw’s father, but the man was screaming, “Did that metal detector get here?”
There must have been a positive response because the man said, “Then get it over here fast.”
Another man came over holding what must have been the metal detector. The first man said, “ Scan them.”
The man was moving the base of the detector across both Pendar and Waclaw’s father. He said, “I’m getting something right in the middle.”
The first asked, “Is it big?”
The man with the detector was nodding his head.
Then they heard a female voice say, “I don’t think he was happy to see me, so check to see if he’s got his gun on him.”
The first man carefully reached under Waclaw’s father and then said, “It still in his holster.”
The female voice said, “Then get it out and try again. I want that kid after all that the Sarge went through to save him.”
The first man must have been able to get the gun out from under Waclaw’s father body and the man with the detector scanned the bodies again. He was shouting, “They’re clear.”
The nurse came back into the scene. She yelled to the man with the detector, ”Get out of the way.” Then to the other man with the Sarge’s gun still in his hand, she said, “Drop that and help me roll them over.”
As they watched from the lunch room the nurse’s movements seem to speed up until Han’s the Director asked, “Is this thing broken?”
Santa said, “No that’s just Gabrjela working at top speed. She graduated at the top of her class in nursing school and I think she’s going to apply for medical college after her tour is over so that she can be a doctor.”
As they watched the nurse was applying bandages, slapping on creams, and giving shots all at the same time. Then she stopped and yelled, “Get that stretcher over here for the Sarge.”
Two men came into the scene and started to lift Waclaw’s father unto the stretcher.
The nurse yelled, “Careful, I’m pretty sure his shoulder is shattered.”
They got him on the stretcher and went out of scene. Then the nurse picked up Pendar in her arms and started to walk away. The first man who had gotten the gun out from under Waclaw’s father was still standing there with the gun in his hand. He asked, “Are they going to make it?”
The nurse stopped and then turned toward the man and said, “I think they will, but the Sarge’s baseball career is over.”
Then they were left with just some empty medical packaging to look at. Hans the Director was sweating, and Maria was sitting there with her head buried in her arms.
Santa leaned back and said, “Well that was a good day’s work.” The other two just sat there with their mouths open.
Finally Maria said, “Santa, How can all of this be a good thing?”
Santa was smiling and sipping his now cold Hot Chocolate. Then he said, “I told you this was going to be a ‘sidebar’ operation. That means that we were going to get somewhere by not going there directly. You asked for help in Getting Waclaw’s father to see him before he dies.”
Maria was nodding but still in the dark.
Santa continued, “Well what just happened was that Waclaw’s father has been injured. Injured so badly that he will have to go back to Poland to be treated and recuperate. Care to guess where the polish solders are treated when they come back from combat?”
Maria was sitting there with her mouth open, so the Director said, “The same hospital where the son is?”
Maria and Santa turned toward him, but it was Santa who said, “You guessed it. By tomorrow night Waclaw’s father will be stabilized and landing in Warsaw. Before the sun rises, he and his son will be reunited. Painfully perhaps but Maria here didn’t ask how I got it done, just get them together.”
Maria’s mouth was still open when Santa added, “As a bonus Pendar will be taken to the Polish medical tent. Then he’ll be moved to an Afgan treatment facility where the shrapnel will be removed and the head wound he got from his fellow rebels, who used him as a booby trap, will be treated. Pendar’s family will join him there and then return to their village after stopping off to thank the Polish troops who saved their son.I believe I can arrange it so the commander of the Polish camp finds out that Pendar’s father was a nurse in his village before all of the fighting broke out. He may just see it as possible to hire Pendar’s father to help out with the wounded in the camp. That would mean that Pendar and his family would move in next to the Polish camp and be safe from most of the conflict that they faced at home.
“So as I said, a good days work.” He got up from the table and added, “Ho, ho, ho” as he left the room.
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