Knight Rider characters: Copyright Glen A. Larson & Universal Studios
Twas The Knight Before Christmas: Copyright L. Borchers 2001
Twas The Night Before Christmas: Clement C. Moore 1823
A very big thank you to Tomy for the Beta.
TWAS THE KNIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
"Michael, I appreciate you sitting back here with me."
"No problem Pal."
"You think I am overreacting don't you?" He asked with a tinge of guilt.
Michael slowly closed the book he was trying in vain to read and tossed it over on the passenger seat. "I don't think you are overreacting Kitt." He said, trying to keep his voice calm, "but you have to get a grip. Check your statistical data on air travel. Flying is much safer than driving a car."
"Not when I'm in control!"
"I know, Kitt," Michael sighed, "I know. Just try to relax. We'll be safe on the ground in a couple of hours and I promise we will drive back, no matter how bad the weather is."
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart." Michael vowed solemnly.
"Thank you, Michael."
"Your welcome. Now, if you don't mind I'm going to catch a short nap. Wake me when we're fifteen minutes out."
"Of course, Michael. Pleasant dreams."
Michael adjusted the seat back and nestled into a comfortable position. As he closed his eyes and started to drift Kitt's voice pulled him back.
"Michael...?"
"What?" He demanded, immediately regretting the anger in his voice.
"I was just wondering what Bonnie and Devon were doing right now?"
Michael readjusted his seat upright; sleep was not an option at the moment. He peered through the windshield at the interior of the C131 cargo bay. Thinking back he wondered how he ever let himself get into this situation. Actually, very easy, he thought. FLAG was having its annual conference, this time in Winnipeg, Canada. Devon, like a proud father wanted to show off his prized child and cajoled Kitt and Bonnie into accompanying him. But the weather had turned, near blizzard conditions, so here he sat, inside Kitt, inside the cargo hold, trying to keep him from going bananas. It had taken a lot of fast talking on Devon's part to even get him back here in the first place. Cut off from the pressurized cabin of the plane, the cargo hold at thirty thousand feet had no oxygen and dipped well below freezing. But here inside Kitt's cabin he had plenty of oxygen and heat. "They're probably finishing their lunch right now, something more tasty than..." he glanced down at the half eaten ham sandwich on the seat beside him, "never mind. They are fine Kitt, and so are we. In fact, why don't you contact them?" He said with a mischievous smile; let them have a taste of what he had been going through for the past three hours. "I'm sure they would love to talk to you."
"That's an excellent idea Michael, I will..."
The plane suddenly banked to the left. "What was that?"
"I'm sure it was nothing Kitt. Just some turbulence. Patch me through to Bonnie."
Bonnie gripped the armrests like her life depended on it. She hated flying. She had an unnatural fear of flying and despite all her efforts, she had instilled that fear into Kitt two fold. The plane rocked and yawed to the left once more before it settled into an even flight path again. But there was a distinct difference in the sound of the engine's whine. Her communicator beeped twice. Michael. How scared was Kitt back there in the cargo hold? "Yes Michael?" She tried to hide the anxiety in her voice but she knew Michael would read right through it. But hopefully Kitt wouldn't.
"What's going on?" Michael's voice sounded edgy.
If this turbulence got any worse he would really have his hands full back there with Kitt. The only way Kitt would agree to take the flight was if Michael agreed to stay with him. Michael had reluctantly said yes. Now she felt guilty that she had pressured him into it. She glanced to her left at Devon, still sleeping soundly. "Nothing. Just some turbulence. Is Kitt all right?"
"A bit frazzled, but he's doing fine."
"I knew he would with you back there with him. Thank you Michael, I..." A chill ran down her spine as she saw the Captain emerged from the cockpit, heading for her seat, a grim look on his face. "Michael, I'll get back to you."
"What's going on?" He demanded.
"I'll let you know as soon as I know." She reached over and shook Devon awake.
"We have a problem." Captain Arnot whispered as he knelt beside their seats.
"What is it?" Devon asked. As always his voice sounded in complete control, despite his awaking from a deep sleep. Bonnie wondered what was really running through his mind.
"We've developed a fuel leak in Engine Two. We'll loose it in fifteen maybe twenty minutes."
"Can we fly with just two engines?" Bonnie felt her hands begin to tremble.
"Under normal circumstances we would have no problem reaching our destination on only two engines."
"But...?" Devon gently placed his hand over Bonnie's and squeezed it reassuringly.
"We've been fighting a strong headwind all the way. And we left with the maximum cargo weight allowed. We're flying heavy."
"The mountains?" Devon asked.
"We may not be able to gain enough altitude to clear them."
"Oh my God." Bonnie's face went white. "Are you telling me that we're going to crash?" She looked around the plane, suddenly claustrophobic. There were at least thirty other people on board. Most were still sleeping, oblivious of what was going on.
"No, I'm telling you that we may be in trouble."
"What is your normal procedure in a situation like this?" Devon asked.
"Jettison the cargo."
"Michael, something is wrong. Please tell me the truth."
Michael gripped the steering wheel, realizing he was telegraphing his anxiety to Kitt. "I don't know Kitt, and that's the truth. Patch me through to the cockpit."
"Right away."
Michael heard a click then the co-pilots voice filled the interior. "Co-Pilot Jensen here, Mr. Knight."
"What's going on up there?" Michael demanded.
"Captain Arnot is back in the cabin talking to your friends." Jensen said, his voice betraying his nervousness.
"What's he saying exactly?"
"We've got one engine about to shut down."
If Michael didn't know better he could have sworn he felt Kitt shiver.
"How long?"
"Twenty minutes, maybe less."
"Alright. Keep us posted."
"Roger that, Mr. Knight." Michael heard the click as the connection was terminated and he suddenly felt trapped.
"Patch into the cockpit's computer."
"Already done Michael."
"Good. What have you got?"
Kitt flashed a series of graphs on his monitor. "The number two engine on the starboard side has malfunctioned. We lost considerable fuel before the Captain was able to cut the engine."
Michael stared at the monitor. "How much fuel?"
Kitt feel silent.
"Kitt how much fuel?" He prodded.
"According to my calculations." Another long pause.
"Kitt, you've got to keep it together here Pal. I need you."
"I understand Michael. According to my calculations, we have insufficient fuel to clear the mountain range ahead."
Michael let Kitt's statement sink in. "How long before we reach the mountains?"
"Twenty-seven minutes, twenty-five seconds at our present speed."
"A little less than half an hour." He said softly, stunned. "Not much time."
"What are we going to do Michael?"
Michael could hear the panic in Kitt's voice.
"First of all we are going to keep calm. Patch me through to Devon and Bonnie."
"Right away. Do you think Bonnie knows? She is so afraid of flying..."
"I know." No more so than the A.I. Bonnie had instilled the fear and Kitt had added the statistics and possibilities to the equation, leaving him terrified of flying. Why had they coaxed him on this plane in he first place? "Devon is with her. She'll be fine."
"Yes. Devon will keep her calm just as you are keeping me calm. Thank-you, Michael."
Michael brushed away the compliment. At this moment he couldn't afford to get maudlin.
"Michael." Devon's voice filed the cabin, it's tone precise and in control again.
"I hear ya, Devon."
"I'm assuming Kitt has already accessed the cockpit's computers."
"He has," He said grimly, "What are our options?"
"None at the moment I'm afraid. But Bonnie and I are working closely with Captain Arnot."
"Forgive me for interrupting." Kitt apologized, "But there is one option if all others fail."
"I know Kitt." Devon agreed, his voice strained. "But it won't come to that. We'll find another way."
"What option?" Michael asked. Not really wanting an answer.
"It's not even worth discussing at the present time Michael." Devon assured him.
Devon pulled the tray table open in front of him and began jotting down figures.
Bonnie joined him, her fear of crashing lessened by the task at hand, figuring a way of staying in the air. No matter how many times they calculated the figures it still added up the same. Bonnie looked over at Devon and shook her head in disbelief. "No..." she whispered. "There has to be another way." But in reality she knew there wasn't. Thirty other people depended on them.
"Michael?"
"The cargo bay is a self contained unit. There is no access from inside the plane." He said dully.
Bonnie looked back down at the tablet before her. "No," she whispered, there had to be another way. But there was no other way. No other answer.
"Does Kitt know?" she asked, her voice trembling. Why the hell had she decided to take this trip? She hated flying for a reason... and this was it.
Devon nodded. "He already alluded to it."
"And Michael?"
"Not yet."
"How do we tell him? My God Devon. How do we tell him?"
"We don't. We find a different way. I will not sacrifice Michael and Kitt. I won't!" Devon grabbed her hand. "We'll find a way. I promise."
Michael stared out of the windshield at the pallets pilled high with boxes, one huge box in the center labeled Steamroller. What other kind of supplies were they carrying?
"Kitt ... How much cargo are we carrying here?"
"One point seven tons, Michael."
"What would happen if we no longer carried that much weight?"
Silence.
"Kitt, answer me. Could this plane clear the mountains?"
"Theoretically... Yes, but Michael..."
"The odds Kitt. What are they with and without the cargo?"
"Michael, you always hate it when I give you the odds." Kitt protested.
"Just give them to me please."
"The odds are ninety to one against our making it over the mountains with the cargo intact."
"And without the cargo?"
"Michael, I know where you are headed on this and I can not..."
"Kitt, the odds without the cargo?" Michael asked gently.
"Eight to one in favor."
Michael sat in silence for a moment absorbing the facts. There really wasn't much to think about. The odds were clear. "Kitt, get me Devon."
"But Michael, can't we discuss this first?"
"There is nothing to discuss Kitt."
"But aren't you afraid?"
"I'm terrified." Michael said. "But what frightens me more is the thought that I would let a plain load of people perish if I could do something to stop it. Could you?"
"No." Kitt admitted softly. "But Michael, you must understand my programming will not allow me to harm you in any way. I can not be a party to this."
"I know Kitt. I know. I will manually override your systems when it is time."
"Thank you, Michael."
"Get me Devon."
"Right away."
"There is no other way and you know it." Michael's voice cut like a knife through Bonnie's stomach. How could she let him go like this? It was the only answer, but it hurt so damn much.
"There is still time Michael." Devon said. Bonnie looked over at Devon and realized the man had aged ten years in the past thirty minutes.
"Ten minutes Devon. Then we'll be past the point of no return."
"I understand. We will keep working up here. We have contacted the Army base in Winnipeg and the air traffic control center in Vancouver. They are all working with us to come to some kind of remedy other than..."
"Ten minutes Devon." Michael's voice sounded disturbingly calm. For Kitt's benefit Devon realized.
"It's been eleven minutes, Michael."
"I know, Pal. How long will it take to reach the ground once we..."
"Four minutes, thirty two seconds."
"That long, huh?"
"I have scanned the maps of the area and we will be landing in a remote part of the mountains. A major storm just passed through the area twenty four hours ago so there is at lest forty inches of soft snow to cushion our impact."
"Sounds comfy."
"Michael, do you mind if I talk to Bonnie for a moment alone? There are some things I would like to say before..."
"I understand Kitt. Go for it. And tell her I love her too."
"She already knows Michael. We all know."
"Bonnie."
"Kitt. What are you doing on this frequency?"
"I told Michael there were a few things I wanted to say to you. He understands."
"Kitt, I don't know what to say."
"There is nothing to say Bonnie. But there are some things I think you should be a ware of. I have targeted the most likely landing spot. It is a remote part of the Rockies. I will try to maintain contact with you. Depending on the amount of damage that I sustain, I may or may not be able to guide you to our location. Furthermore, our landing could trigger an avalanche which could hinder our rescue even more."
"Kitt, I know how difficult this must be for you."
"Bonnie... The odds of my survival are seventy-five to one in favor. I will be damaged, there is not doubt about that, but I can be rebuilt. But Michael... The odds of his survival are..."
"Kitt, please don't do this to yourself." Bonnie allowed the tears to run freely. How could she survive without Michael? How could Kitt survive without his partner?
"Do what you can for him Kitt. I love you."
"I love you too, Bonnie."
Michael engaged the restraints making them as tight as possible. He hurriedly stuffed everything that could possible turn into a deadly missile at impact, book, plate that still held his half eaten sandwich, pens and loose coins into his duffle bag he had laying on the back seat and ordered Kitt to secure it to the seat with his laser retrain system. He was about to throw in his sunglasses and decided against it. If he did survive the landing he may need them to protect his eyes against snow blindness. A long shot, but it helped him cope. "Are you ready, Pal?"
"No."
"Hey, just think of this as another adventure. Something you can tell the other A.I.'s about when you get home."
"There are no other A.I.'s for me to talk to." Kitt corrected.
"I'm sure there will be in time. How much time?"
"Two minutes. Do you wish to speak to Bonnie and Devon?"
"No. I've said my goodbyes."
"One minute Michael."
"All right. Count me down. At five seconds I will disengage your override systems."
"I understand. Michael..."
"Yea Pal?"
"Good luck."
"The same to you Kitt... The same to you."
"Forty-five seconds... forty-four seconds..."
Michael reached for the disengage button and waited.
"Twenty-one seconds... Twenty seconds."
"Damn."
"What is it Michael?"
"I forgot my gloves."
"Ten seconds... Nine seconds..."
"All right Pal... This is it. See you in midair."
"Six seconds... Five..."
Michael punched the override button. Now he waited. It was up to the pilot to open the bay door. With a huge whoosh of air the hinged door opened. Locks that held the lashed cargo in place automatically disengaged and the tons of cargo along with Michael and Kitt was swept out of the cargo hold. The plane suddenly lifted, free of the excess weight.
Michael felt himself pummeling toward the earth. He quickly engaged all auto systems and Kitt's voice immediately filled the cabin.
"Michael, the plane has already reached altitude. It will make it."
Michael nodded. "Thanks Pal."
The car spun and bucked from side to side occasionally caught in an updraft. Suddenly the blue sky was replaced by stark whiteness. They were below the mountain line. Impact would be any second.
"Pal, it's been a fun ride. Right from the beginning."
"I agree, Michael."
And then the world around him exploded. The car hit the side of a snow bank and began to tumble. The impact threw Michael in every direction. He felt is legs slam into the underbelly of the dash, his arms flung in every direction, hitting the driver's side window and the roof. Michael thought his spine would drive right through his throat as the car slammed again and again into the snow bank as it continued to travel down the mountain. The laser restraint system held him tightly against the seat. He continued to roll. He felt blood fill his mouth. Had he bitten his tongue or was it internal injuries? It didn't matter. It would be all over in seconds anyway.
Kitt could not stop the rising panic. Not for him... he would survive no matter what. But Michael's screams of pain and confusion were more than Kitt could bear. They continued to somersault down the mountain. The impact had been softened by the snow pack, enough so most of Kitt's systems were still functional. But not for Michael. He was flung around like a rag doll in a clothes dryer. They kept rolling. And now all of Michael's cries had ceased. Kitt tried to check for vital signs but his partner was being tossed around too violently for him to get a reading. "MICHAEL!!" Kitt screamed.
Everything was quiet. Deathly quiet. Michael forced one eye open, encrusted with blood and sweat. The car was lying on its side, Michael still strapped to the seat. It hurt too much to move, even a fraction of an inch. Somehow the car had beaten the odds; it had tumbled all the way down the mountain and not caused an avalanche. At least they would be able to find Kitt when the search party reached the area. For himself, he knew it was too late.
"Michael! You're awake." Kitt's voice filled the cabin.
"Kitt..." Michael tried, but the effort was too great.
"Don't try to talk, Michael. Help is on the way. E.T.A is two hours twenty four minutes." He lied. He wasn't in contact with the rescue team, and at their location, the odds of being found... But he knew that Michael needed something to hang onto.
Two hours, Michael thought. It might as well be two years.
"Please Michael. You have to hang on. You have many injuries, but you survived the impact. You just have to hang on now until help arrives."
"Can't." Michael mumbled. "Sorry Pal." He stared out the cracked windshield at the snow and... what was that laying in the snow just beyond the car? He studied it, his vision wavering in and out until he realized what it was. Christmas presents. All neatly wrapped in Christmas paper and tied with bright red and green bows. Christmas. Michael had to smile despite the pain it caused. He'd forgotten that part of the cargo they were hauling was a container of Christmas gifts for the Orphanage society of Winnipeg.
Christmas... this was a hell of a way to be spend Christmas, he thought as the blinding white snow and bright packages dimmed until all was black. Michael was too tired to fight. He allowed himself to fall into the comfort of nothingness. It was time.
Kitt monitored Michael's vitals. All were failing. It would only be a matter of a short time now. Why did he allow Michael to make such a foolhardy decision? Because: it was the only answer. Thirty- seven people survived because he made the right decision. But now he was dying and Kitt could do nothing to help.
It had been an hour since impact. He sent out a distress call immediately to anyone in the area as well as a constant open line to the Foundation. But their position was precarious at best. The one thing that had initially saved Michael, the newly fallen snow pack, now hindered any rescue attempt. The mountain of snow above them was too fragile. One wrong move would trigger an avalanche and they would be buried beneath a ton of snow.
Suddenly Kitt's audio preceptors picked up a sound coming towards them. Voices. Lots of voices. Someone had heard the distress call. There was still hope. Kitt quickly checked Michael's vitals again. They grew weaker by the minute. Their rescuers would have to act fast.
What he saw next was beyond the billions of bits of information in his databanks. Eleven figures, not one of them over 3" tall, raced toward them, hidden beneath heavy parkas to ward off the frigid cold.
They swarmed over the car.
"Go away!" Kitt demanded, alarmed.
They ignored him. They pried the driver's door open and studied Michael.
"Go away!" Kitt demanded again
One of them climbed inside and felt for a pulse.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
And then they were gone, disappearing into the snow again.
All was quiet again except for the sound of Michael's labored breathing. Fear turned to acceptance and he made his decision. When Michael was no longer with him he would shut himself down. Life without Michael was not a life at all...
Twenty minutes later Kitt's audio receptors picked up the sound of a sled gliding over the snow. They were returning! He watched as a sleigh appeared around a snow bank. Eight tiny deer, seven of them with huge antlers easily pulled the sleigh. The eleven little people he had seen before crowded the sleigh. A short, round man with a huge white beard, well into his later years, held the reins.
"It's all right, Kitt," the old man gently patted Kitt's roof, as if he knew how scared the A.I. was. "We will take good care of your Michael. I promise."
Kitt watched as they gently lifted Michael out of the car and laid him atop the sleigh.
"Activate your wench and we'll tow you in."
For reasons he could not explain Kitt felt completely safe with this old man and his little friends and obeyed without question.
The first thing Michael was aware of was the steady beat of his heart. But upon further reflection he realized it was not his heart, but a nearby clock. Then, the sound of splashing water, and someone wiping his face with a cool cloth. Against all odds he had survived. A rescue team must have found him and Kitt. Or was this just another manifestation of his confused mind? Was he still lying inside Kitt, his body bruised and broken, his mind wondering?
Sounds and smells drifted in and out of his semi-conscious mind, telling stories that made no sense. The crackling sounds of a roaring fire, the heat nearly unbearable on is face and body. The smells of fresh baked bread?
"Michael...?"
Michael heard a voice from far away. Soft and feminine. "You are safe now."
He felt someone bath his face with a cool cloth. "Kitt is safe too."
Kitt? He tried to think. Had Bonnie found them? Who else knew about Kitt? He struggled to climb back to full consciousness but the effort was too great, his body hurt too much. Someone lifted his head and he felt something sweet and warm drizzle down his throat. It tasted like nothing else he had ever tasted.
"Rest now." The voice said, soft and gentle. "You will feel better soon."
And he slipped back into a deep healing sleep.
Michael's eyelids fluttered open. At first he saw only vague images. Then his vision began to clear. He was in a small room. The walls were painted a sparkling white. Bright red drapes hung from a window to the left of the bed he was lying on. The bed was a huge four-poster bed, much too large for the room. A soft downy comforter covered him to the waist. His shirt was gone and bandages criss crossed his chest. He took an experimental deep breath and hissed in pain. He promised himself not to try that again very soon. A roaring fire crackled in a huge fireplace to his right. Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with toys. Rag dolls, train engines, horses and ducks and... Michael blinked, where was he?
"Don't worry dear, you'll get used to them. Papa has them all over the house."
Michael looked up to see a short, heavy-set woman, her snow-white hair pulled back into a soft bun about to lean over him again to wash his face.
"This will make you feel much better," she soothed. "you have had a nasty fever the past few days but you're going to be just fine."
"Where am I?" Michael croaked. He was surprised how weak his voice sounded. In fact he felt weak all over. He tried to move but his right leg protested with a sharp shooting pain.
"Don't try to move. Not just yet. Give yourself a few more days to heal."
"Who are you?"
"Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry dear. I forgot to introduce myself." She poured a cup of tea into a red and green teacup as she talked. "You may call me Mama. Everyone does. It's not very often that we have guests."
"How did I get here?"
"Papa found you of course. He brought you and Kitt home."
"Kitt?" His mind reeled. Who was this person? How did she know about Kitt? He tried to sit up. "You know Kitt?"
"Of course we do." She gently pushed him back down on the pillow. "Papa has had some very enlightening conversations with him. I am not always the best conversationalist you know. I have the children to take care of, so when he gets the chance to talk to someone as intelligent as Kitt, he's just as happy as a pea in a pod."
"No, this isn't happening." Michael muttered, closing his eyes. Where was he? Where was Kitt?" He began to shiver from the fever chills and the execration.
"Now, now Michael. You drink some of my tea and you will feel much better when you wake up. And by then Papa should be back. You are going to like him I know." She held the cup to Michael's lips and he sipped it. "It will warm your tummy."
It tasted hot and sweet. "There now, you'll feel much better. I'll tell Kitt that you are almost ready for guests. He will be so glad to see you. The poor dear's been so worried." She sighed deeply and began wiping his face again. "My, that car can carry on. Now just relax. That's it..."
Without knowing it Michael feel back into a deep sleep.
"Now that's a good one." Michael heard someone laughing nearby. "Kitt, you are a character. Oh look, he's waking up."
"May I talk with him?" Michael realized it was Kitt's voice. This was all impossible, he was still dreaming.
"In a few minutes, Kitt. Let him find his bearings first."
Curiosity got the better of him and he opened his eyes. The short woman hovering over him when he closed his eyes was now replaced by an equally short and much rounder man. He wore his snow -white hair long, flowing over the collar of his red vest. His white beard was equally white and his bushy eyebrows framed bright blue eyes that twinkled with merriment. "Good morning my boy. How are you feeling?"
"Better." Michael said. It was the truth. What ever was in the tea had made him feel much better.
"Wonderful. In a few days you will be out of this bed and on the road to recovery. Mama tells me you have been asking for Kitt."
Michael nodded.
The old man grinned, handing Michael his com link. "Kitt, is that you, buddy?"
"Michael! It's so good to hear your voice. I have been worried sick about you. But Mamma and Papa assured me that you would be just fine."
"Mamma and Papa?" Michael looked from the com link to the old man standing above him. " Kitt, are you sure you're all right?"
"Of course I am. I told you I would sustain very little damage in the impact. You however... Oh Michael, I thought at first that I had lost you."
Michael could hear the fear in Kitt's voice. "It's all right now Pal. I'm fine."
"I know Michael."
"How did the search party find us so quickly?"
"They didn't. Mama and Papa's children found us. They told Papa where we were and he came to rescue us. We have a lot to thank them for."
"I still don't understand." Michael realized his voice had begun to slur. He was suddenly incredibly tired.
Papa leaned over slipping the com link from Michael's hand. "There is plenty of time for you to chat with Kitt later." He said gently. "You need your rest. Mama has given me strict orders and if I don't follow them..." He chuckled, "that's a story for another time. Close your eyes and rest. Tomorrow you will feel even stronger."
Despite the fact that he was in a house with complete strangers, he felt an overwhelming sense of security.
Michael slept for the next three days, awakening only occasionally. Each time the aroma of cakes and cookies and fresh baked bread brought back memories of his childhood, and the winter vacations he spent with his Grandmother. And Mama was always there with her warm, soothing tea. Papa too. He would sit next to the bed talking to Kitt on his comlink, and, this he was certain was just a hallucination, three little men, no taller than three feet, stood on a chair watching him. He felt warm and comfortable and incredibly safe.
On the fourth morning he felt strong enough to hobble to the kitchen on a pair of crutches he had found next to his bed. His left leg was still set in the splint Papa had fashioned. It was, according to Papa, broken in several places and would take longer to heal. The rest of his injuries were manageable.
Mama was at the stove pulling out a sheet of cookies from the oven. The kitchen was small and warm and filled with the smells of fresh baked pies, cakes and breads. An old fashioned wood burning stove stood against one wall with a roaring fireplace opposite it. White frost covered the window of the door leading outside.
"Good morning," she called over her shoulder. "You're just in time for breakfast. Papa will be along any minute. There was a problem at the factory last night. The poor dear, it always gets so hectic around this time of year" She sighed. "Sit..." she said, hurrying over to a pull out a chair from the small kitchen table. "You are still weak. Papa says you may be strong enough to see Kitt tomorrow."
"Why not today?" He tried to suppress a groan as he sat down; every inch of his body still ached. "I feel fine."
"Yes. I know dear." She patted his shoulder gently. "But another day of rest won't hurt. Oh, here's Papa now."
The kitchen door flew open and Papa entered amid a flurry of snowflakes. "It's really blowing out there." He laughed. "Ah Michael. It's good to see you up. Kitt will be happy to know that you're feeling better."
"Papa sit," Mama ordered. "Breakfast is ready."
Michael watched the old man shuck his heavy coat and boots. "Mama, smells delicious as usual. You know Michael," he said leaning over to whisper in Michael's ear, "Mama is just about the best cook in the entire world."
"I heard that Papa." Mama grinned as she set a steaming bowl of oatmeal before him. "Now eat. Your insides must be like ice. And Michael..." she placed a steaming bowl before him, "I want you to eat every bite. Your are nothing but skin and bones."
"When can I see Kitt?" Michael asked.
"Eat your breakfast and we'll talk about it later." Papa said.
"But..."
"Eat your breakfast Michael." Mama ordered. "You always neglect your meals. Eating on the run. Fast food all the time, it isn't healthy, is it Papa?"
Taking a taste of the hot oatmeal, Michael looked up at Mama surprised. "Applesauce?" He hadn't tasted applesauce in his oatmeal since he was a kid at his grandmothers.
"And just a hint of cinnamon," she beamed. "Just the way you like it."
"But how...?"
"Just enjoy it Michael."
Papa finished his coffee and sat back, patting his huge tummy. "The only way to start the day, with a good breakfast under your belt." He looked at Michael's half eaten bowl of oatmeal. "Still not hungry?"
Michael shook his head. "I'm not big on breakfast."
"Or lunch or dinner by the looks of you." Mama scolded him. "You are practically skin and bones. A few more days here and I'll fatten you up nicely. Right Papa?"
Papa patted his belly again, "Right Mama."
Michael looked around the small kitchen. "Where exactly is here?" he asked.
"Up North..."
"Where up north?"
"Kitt tells me you don't like this time of year." Papa said, ignoring the question.
"It brings back too many memories." Michael admitted.
"Memories are important, dear." Mama said replacing the bowl of oatmeal with another cup of her special tea. "You should cherish them. Now drink your tea. You rest today and tomorrow you can see Kitt. Right Papa?"
"Right." Papa leaned over and whispered, "you better do as she says, in here, she's the boss."
Michael couldn't remember how long it had been since he felt this comfortable, this safe. He felt his eyes grow heavy again and they were at his side, guiding him back to the bedroom. He had so many questions... Where was he, who were they...? But everything would have to wait. He collapsed onto the bed and felt Mama draw the comforter over him. In so many ways he never wanted this feeling to end.
The next morning Michael felt even stronger.
"Pete is ready to take you to see Kitt," Mama announced after breakfast. She handed him a heavy overcoat. "Put this on. I don't want you catching your death of cold out there."
Michael struggled into the heavy coat, his ribs still smarting, and Mama patted him on the shoulder, satisfied. "Now, don't forget to tell Kitt I'll be by later to see him."
"I will." Michael promised, anxious to see his partner. These last few days were crazy. He needed Kitt and his analytical mind to sort this all out.
The door opened and a flurry of snow blew in. Mama hustled him out the door closing it behind him to keep the kitchen warm. A sleigh stood waiting for him, the tiny driver shivering in the cold. "A nasty storm's moving in." He said through chattering teeth. "We haven't seen one this bad in thirty years. It's going to be rough on Papa tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night?" Michael asked as he lumbered into the sleigh, Papa's splint making it awkward to maneuver.
"Christmas Eve of course. Where you from, Mars?"
"I guess I lost track of time." Michael answered settling into the sleigh.
A single reindeer began pulling the sleigh easily through the swirling snow and deep snowdrifts toward a small barn.
"Here we are," Pete said as they neared the barn. The doors opened and Pete grinned. "Kitt's anxious to see you."
Was Kitt talking to everyone?
As the reindeer slowly pulled the sleigh through the double doors, Michael's mouth dropped open. What appeared, as a small barn from the outside was in fact a huge five-story factory alive with activity.
"Welcome to Santa's work shop" Pete grinned.
Michael mouth hung open. This was not happening. It couldn't be. Santa was a figment of someone's fertile imagination. He was still dreaming, he had to be.
He saw dozens of elves scurrying about on each floor, working on toys of every type.
"I don't believe it." Michael whispered.
The sleigh pulled in and the double doors closed behind them.
"Enjoy yourself." Pete told him, jumping down from the sleigh, "but don't get in anyone's way. We've got a deadline you know."
Michael nodded, mesmerized.
A huge Christmas tree topped with a brilliant star dominated the center of the room rising five floors to the wooden domed ceiling above. Each floor wrapped around the tree. Thousands of small cards, each with a name, hung from the branches. A series of railroad tracks, trimmed with tiny lights, wound around the tree passing each floor, it's cars filled with toys of every description. An elf, suspended from the ceiling with a harness, nimbly moved up and down the tree selecting nametags and dropping them into the cars as they went by. Sounds of hammering and sawing mixed with the sounds of dolls calling "Mama" and the rat-a-tat-tat of toy drums filled the room.
Michael awkwardly climbed down from the sleigh. He watched the reindeer that had pulled his sleigh into the building slowly wander back to a huge stall on the far side of the room, warmed by a huge fireplace covered by an ornate mesh screen depicting scenes of children sitting around Christmas tress opening presents. Seven other reindeer contentedly munched on bales of hay.
"Michael!"
Michael spun around to see Kitt parked to his right in a pristine cement stall. His ebony black hide reflecting the lights of the trains as they wound their way down the tree.
"Kitt!" Michael hobbled toward the car. "Man, is it good to see you."
"Likewise Michael. How are you feeling?"
"I don't know." The car door opened automatically and Michael struggled in. "I think I'm losing my mind here."
"You are quite sane, Michael. But I can tell from your vitals that you are also very weak and still need your rest. Papa made me promise that I would not tire you."
"Don't worry about that now. I want to know who Papa is and where the hell we are."
"Isn't that obvious?"
"Listen Kitt... This is all wonderful but you have to understand. This isn't real. There is no such thing as Santa Claus and his eight tiny reindeer."
"Then how do you explain all this, Michael?"
"I can't. Not yet." Michael looked through the windshield at the frenzy around him. The sights, the sounds...
"Papa said you were disappointed once as a child, that you didn't get what you wished for the most."
"Every kid's disappointed that they didn't get something they wanted for Christmas." Michael scoffed. "You grow up, you get over it."
"But this was something you wanted very badly. But it was something Papa couldn't give you."
"All right, Kitt. If this is the real Santa, what was it that I wanted so badly?"
There was a long silence, then, in a voice so soft and understanding that Michael felt a lump form in his throat... "A new father so your mother wouldn't be lonely anymore."
Michael stared at the voice box mounted under Kitt's dash. "What...?"
"You sent Santa a letter."
A letter written in crayon on lined school paper appeared on Kitt's monitor.
"Where did you get this?" Michael whispered.
"Papa saves all the letters from all his children around the world. This one was special. May I read it?"
Michael nodded, tears welling in his eyes.
"Dear Santa: I want a new Daddy for my Mommy. She is lonely. I have been very good this year. Please make my Mommy happy. Signed Michael Long."
"I never told anyone..." He breathed, remembering that night vividly. He was six years old, laying in front of the fireplace, his mother sitting beside him on the sofa, staring at the decorated Christmas Tree. She hadn't been the same since that terrible day when the police came to the door.
"Papa couldn't give you what you wanted but he did leave you something very special."
Michael thought back. "Gypsy?"
"Yes..."
"This little black puppy, nearly frozen to death in the snow, started scratching at our back door. It was dirty and hungry and my Mother fell in love with on the spot." Michael leaned back against the seat remembering that morning as if it had happened yesterday. "I haven't thought about Gypsy in years."
"Do you believe in Santa now Michael?"
Michael looked through the windshield at the remarkable toy factory. "I don't know." How could anyone know about Gypsy? Maybe he said something to someone... but who? It wasn't anyone at the Foundation, he was sure of that. He seldom spoke of his childhood, to anyone.
"Michael, Pete is here to take you back to the house." Kitt said gently. "You still need to rest."
Michael nodded and silently climbed back into the sleigh. This was all still a dream. It had to be.
The doors opened and the sleigh pulled out of the workshop back into the swirling snow, now heavier than ever.
Michael slept fitfully that night. Who else knew about that letter to Santa? He knew he had never told another living soul. And Santa Clause was just a myth. A child's storybook. Wasn't he...?
Michael awoke to the sounds of excited voices in the kitchen. He hobbled into the room to find Papa and Mama washing soot off the faces of several elves.
"What happened?
Papa looked up. "Terrible, just terrible." He fretted. "A log rolled out of the fireplace and started a fire in the reindeer's pen."
"Are they all right?"
"Yes." He sat down in a kitchen chair, his rosy cheeks pale, "Thankfully they are all safe but they breathed a lot of smoke. I'm afraid they won't be fit to fly tonight."
"But Papa, it's Christmas Eve." Mama sighed.
"The children...?" the elves cried unison.
"Without my reindeer..." He looked at Mama helplessly.
"The poor children. They have been so good this year." Mama sat down next to him. "They will be heartbroken."
"We better tell everyone Christmas is cancelled this year." Papa said sadly.
"I wish there was some way Kitt and I could help." Michael said, laying a hand on Papa's shoulder.
Papa looked up, a sparkle in his eyes. "You can my boy. You can!" He jumped to his feet grabbing his coat. "Why didn't I think of it?"
"What?"
"You get plenty of rest today Michael. Tonight will be a long night." He motioned his elves toward the door. "Quickly, quickly now, we have a lot to do if we are to get Kitt ready for tonight."
Michael watched the old man nearly leap out the door in excitement. He turned to Mama. "Kitt?"
"Why not," she grinned, "he does everything else, why not fly?"
"There now, you will stay nice and warm." Mama said applying the final touch to Michael's wardrobe. He wore three layers of clothes topped with a heavy coat with hood and Mama's hand knitted scarf and gloves. Papa appeared from the bedroom wearing his traditional outfit.
Michael could not help but stare. Santa Clause stood before him in his red suit with white fur trim and black boots. "Ho, ho, ho..." he laughed. "Merry Christmas."
Santa Clause did not exist. He was the creation of a storyteller years ago. But how...? Michael was seven when he realized Santa was just his mother putting presents under the tree and guiltily munching all the cookies and milk he had left every year. Then, who was standing before him?
"Let's get a move on Michael." Papa grinned. "Every year there are more children and never, never enough time." He turned to Mama and kissed her gently on the cheek. "We will be back before you know it."
"I know Dear, just have fun." And she ushered them out the door into the freezing cold.
Kitt stood at the front of the porch ready to go. Michael was stunned to see the changes Papa's workers had made in such a short time. Kitt's top was gone and so was the hatchback lid. A huge sack overflowed the backseat and trunk. The passenger seat was missing replaced by a large cushioned seat sitting above the doorframes to accommodate its size.
"Don't worry Michael," Papa laughed at his startled expression, "We'll return Kitt to his old self after tonight. There was no way I could fit in one of those tiny seats. That's why, my boy, you are driving. Hop aboard, time's wasting."
Michael climbed into the driver's seat. Every inch of Kitt was filled with some kind of present. Large, small, round, square. All wrapped in brightly colored paper and ribbons. Santa climbed in beside him. "And we're off!" he shouted.
Michael carefully dropped the engine into gear and gave it a little gas. Instantly the car was air born.
"Step on it." Santa urged with a chuckle.
Michael obeyed and they soared into the clouds. Rooftop to rooftop they flew lightly setting down on the roof while Santa climbed down the chimney or in through a window. Time seemed to stand still. They flew over land and sea. From country to country, state to state, the Christmas packages dwindling down to only a few.
"Now," Santa said, "it is time for your present Michael."
"I don't need..."
"Kitt told me how lonely you are at Christmas time." He pointed to a house below. "There's are last stop Kitt."
Kitt landed softly on the lawn in front of a house brightly lit with Christmas lights.
Michael couldn't believe his eyes. "That's my old house." He whispered. In front of the door a dogged wagged his tale eagerly. "Gypsy?" Michael turned to Santa. "I don't understand. Gypsy's been dead for years."
Santa smiled and patted Michael gently on the shoulder. "This is my present to you Michael. It is not the father you wished for your mother, that I could not do, but for tonight, time is frozen in the past."
"I still don't understand..."
"Hurry, they are all waiting dinner on you. You're mother, all your family."
"But how?"
"Don't ask how Michael, just enjoy. For tonight you are still Michael Long... Now hurry before the turkey gets cold."
Michael jumped out of the car, his injured leg healed. He joined Gypsy at the front door and knocked. The door opened and the warmth of the house spilled over him, all the smells he remembered so well, turkey, pies, fresh bread.
"Mom?"
"Michael, we thought you would never get here." His mother wrapped her arm through his. "Everyone is waiting. You must be starving. Look at you, still skin and bones. Not to worry, we'll fatten you up tonight."
As she closed the door she stopped, squeezing his arm tightly. "Before we go in I have something for you." She said, pulling a small silver pocket watch from her apron. "I found this in a small box your father used to keep in his drawer. I had forgotten all about it. Heaven knows why I decided to rummage through the attic last night."
Michael took the small watch.
"The night you were born your father had it engraved. He said he would give it to you the day you became a man. He never got the chance."
Michael turned the watch over. On the back were the initials CL, DL and ML.
"Your grandfather, your father and you. Someday when you have a son you will add his initials."
Michael squeezed it tightly. "I don't know what to say."
"Just enjoy the night, Michael." She smiled, kissing him on the cheek, "Merry Christmas, dear."
Together they walked into the dining room, arm in arm, to a table brimming with food and in every seat Michael saw a smiling face he had longed to see for years. This was truly the best Christmas of his lifetime.
Bonnie sat back in her visitor's chair and stared at Michael laying so quietly in his hospital bed and thought back on the past two weeks.
It had taken three long days for a rescue team to finally pick up Kitt's distress signal. More precious time was spent finding a safe route into the valley where Kitt had landed. One wrong move, one errant sound could have triggered an avalanche.
When they finely reached the crash site they found, against all odds, that Michael was still alive... barely.
Carefully they transported them both off the mountain. Michael was airlifted to a nearby hospital and Kitt was loaded into a rented semi then met up with the Foundation's semi four days later for the trip home.
Once Michael was stabilized he was transferred to a medical facility close to the Foundation.
And so things had remained status quo. Michael lay in a coma and Kitt, despite all of Bonnie's expertise, remained silent, as if he too were comatose.
Bonnie spent half her days sitting with Michael, hoping he would regain consciousness, and the other half at the Foundation's garage working on Kitt, trying to bring him back. Devon would arrive sometime in the afternoon to relieve her and sit with Michael until visiting hours were over.
Bonnie set down the book she was reading and rubbed her temples, she felt another headache coming on. Why was Kitt acting as if he were lost in the same coma as Michael? It wasn't possible. It defied logic... and yet...
A familiar voice brought her out of her reverie. "Bon...?"
She looked up to see Michael staring at her.
"Michael!! My God... Michael!!" She reached out for Michael's hand. "You're back."
At the same moment Michael's com link came to life. "Michael? Are you all right?" It was Kitt.
"How long...?" Michael asked, his voice only a whisper.
"Two weeks." She said, trying to wipe away the tears before he saw them.
"Kitt?"
"He's fine... now. I don't understand. Until just a moment ago his mainframe was shut down. He was, for a better word, comatose... like you."
Michael smiled faintly.
Behind them the door opened and Devon walked in. "Dear God," he gasped, "you're awake!"
"Just a few minutes ago." Bonnie said, letting Devon slide in next to her. "And Kitt too."
"Kitt?"
"Don't ask me how or why Devon... I don't know. It just happened."
"This is wonderful news," Devon grinned. "How do you feel my boy?"
"Spacey." Michael said, his voice slurring.
"That's the drugs. You'll feel like yourself in no time."
"How...?"
"How did we find you?" Devon asked, "that part is easy. The rescue team picked up Kitt's distress beacon. How you survived, that's another question. By all rights you should never have. The injuries you sustained should have killed you with in hours, not to mention hypothermia and exposure. But when the rescue team got you to the medical center they found that some of your injuries had already begun to heal, as if you were lost for weeks, not days. Even your leg was partially healed." He nodded toward the elaborate sling that elevated his injured leg. "It's all very strange."
"I had help." Michael smiled.
"From whom?"
"Never mind, it's a long story. I'll tell you about it someday."
"What's this?" Devon picked up a small box sitting on the nightstand. It was neatly wrapped in colorful Christmas paper topped with a bow.
"I don't know." Bonnie plucked it out of his hand. "It wasn't here a minute ago."
"Who's it from?" Michael asked.
Bonnie opened the small card attached. "To Michael," she read, "From Mama and Papa. Who's Mama and Papa?"
"Someone I met recently. Open it."
Bonnie carefully tore away the paper to reveal a small red felt box.
"Open it." Michael urged. He watched as she opened the box revealing his father's watch.
"It's lovely Michael," Bonnie said handing him the watch.
Michael squeezed it tightly.
"Papa thought you would like to have it." Kitt said, "Merry Christmas Michael."
"Thanks Pal."
"It's a spectacular timepiece Michael." Devon said reading the initials on the front. "Who are CL, DL and ML?"
"Old friends." Michael smiled. "They've all passed on now."
There was no way he could explain what had happened to him. If not for the watch he would not have believed it himself. But something had happened. Something very special.
"Well at least you received one present. But I am afraid that we missed Christmas Eve this year." Devon said sadly. "Perhaps next year."
"We didn't," Michael smiled cryptically, "did we Kitt?"
"No, it was quite wonderful Michael. I learned what the true meaning of Christmas spirit is."
"What are you two talking about now?" Bonnie threw here hands up in exasperation.
"Maybe someday I'll tell you how Kitt saved Christmas." Michael winked at her.
"Yea, you Santa Claus and Kitt." Bonnie scoffed.
"How did you know?" Michael asked in mocked surprise.
"That's enough you two." Devon laughed. "It's good to have you back Michael. But it is getting late and you need your rest. We'll be back tomorrow. Can we bring you anything?"
"No," Michael said closing his eyes. "I have everything I could ever want."
"Good night my boy, pleasant dreams."
Michael watched the door close, leaving him to his thoughts.
"Kitt?"
"Yes Michael?"
"Did it really happen?"
"It defies all logic... but yes... I believe it did. Good night Michael."
"Good night Kitt. Merry Christmas pal."
"Merry Christmas, Michael, and pleasant dreams"
Michael relaxed into the softness of the pillows wishing he had just one more sip of Mama's special tea.
1
Twas The Knight Before Christmas: Copyright L. Borchers 2001
Twas The Night Before Christmas: Clement C. Moore 1823
A very big thank you to Tomy for the Beta.
TWAS THE KNIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
"Michael, I appreciate you sitting back here with me."
"No problem Pal."
"You think I am overreacting don't you?" He asked with a tinge of guilt.
Michael slowly closed the book he was trying in vain to read and tossed it over on the passenger seat. "I don't think you are overreacting Kitt." He said, trying to keep his voice calm, "but you have to get a grip. Check your statistical data on air travel. Flying is much safer than driving a car."
"Not when I'm in control!"
"I know, Kitt," Michael sighed, "I know. Just try to relax. We'll be safe on the ground in a couple of hours and I promise we will drive back, no matter how bad the weather is."
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart." Michael vowed solemnly.
"Thank you, Michael."
"Your welcome. Now, if you don't mind I'm going to catch a short nap. Wake me when we're fifteen minutes out."
"Of course, Michael. Pleasant dreams."
Michael adjusted the seat back and nestled into a comfortable position. As he closed his eyes and started to drift Kitt's voice pulled him back.
"Michael...?"
"What?" He demanded, immediately regretting the anger in his voice.
"I was just wondering what Bonnie and Devon were doing right now?"
Michael readjusted his seat upright; sleep was not an option at the moment. He peered through the windshield at the interior of the C131 cargo bay. Thinking back he wondered how he ever let himself get into this situation. Actually, very easy, he thought. FLAG was having its annual conference, this time in Winnipeg, Canada. Devon, like a proud father wanted to show off his prized child and cajoled Kitt and Bonnie into accompanying him. But the weather had turned, near blizzard conditions, so here he sat, inside Kitt, inside the cargo hold, trying to keep him from going bananas. It had taken a lot of fast talking on Devon's part to even get him back here in the first place. Cut off from the pressurized cabin of the plane, the cargo hold at thirty thousand feet had no oxygen and dipped well below freezing. But here inside Kitt's cabin he had plenty of oxygen and heat. "They're probably finishing their lunch right now, something more tasty than..." he glanced down at the half eaten ham sandwich on the seat beside him, "never mind. They are fine Kitt, and so are we. In fact, why don't you contact them?" He said with a mischievous smile; let them have a taste of what he had been going through for the past three hours. "I'm sure they would love to talk to you."
"That's an excellent idea Michael, I will..."
The plane suddenly banked to the left. "What was that?"
"I'm sure it was nothing Kitt. Just some turbulence. Patch me through to Bonnie."
Bonnie gripped the armrests like her life depended on it. She hated flying. She had an unnatural fear of flying and despite all her efforts, she had instilled that fear into Kitt two fold. The plane rocked and yawed to the left once more before it settled into an even flight path again. But there was a distinct difference in the sound of the engine's whine. Her communicator beeped twice. Michael. How scared was Kitt back there in the cargo hold? "Yes Michael?" She tried to hide the anxiety in her voice but she knew Michael would read right through it. But hopefully Kitt wouldn't.
"What's going on?" Michael's voice sounded edgy.
If this turbulence got any worse he would really have his hands full back there with Kitt. The only way Kitt would agree to take the flight was if Michael agreed to stay with him. Michael had reluctantly said yes. Now she felt guilty that she had pressured him into it. She glanced to her left at Devon, still sleeping soundly. "Nothing. Just some turbulence. Is Kitt all right?"
"A bit frazzled, but he's doing fine."
"I knew he would with you back there with him. Thank you Michael, I..." A chill ran down her spine as she saw the Captain emerged from the cockpit, heading for her seat, a grim look on his face. "Michael, I'll get back to you."
"What's going on?" He demanded.
"I'll let you know as soon as I know." She reached over and shook Devon awake.
"We have a problem." Captain Arnot whispered as he knelt beside their seats.
"What is it?" Devon asked. As always his voice sounded in complete control, despite his awaking from a deep sleep. Bonnie wondered what was really running through his mind.
"We've developed a fuel leak in Engine Two. We'll loose it in fifteen maybe twenty minutes."
"Can we fly with just two engines?" Bonnie felt her hands begin to tremble.
"Under normal circumstances we would have no problem reaching our destination on only two engines."
"But...?" Devon gently placed his hand over Bonnie's and squeezed it reassuringly.
"We've been fighting a strong headwind all the way. And we left with the maximum cargo weight allowed. We're flying heavy."
"The mountains?" Devon asked.
"We may not be able to gain enough altitude to clear them."
"Oh my God." Bonnie's face went white. "Are you telling me that we're going to crash?" She looked around the plane, suddenly claustrophobic. There were at least thirty other people on board. Most were still sleeping, oblivious of what was going on.
"No, I'm telling you that we may be in trouble."
"What is your normal procedure in a situation like this?" Devon asked.
"Jettison the cargo."
"Michael, something is wrong. Please tell me the truth."
Michael gripped the steering wheel, realizing he was telegraphing his anxiety to Kitt. "I don't know Kitt, and that's the truth. Patch me through to the cockpit."
"Right away."
Michael heard a click then the co-pilots voice filled the interior. "Co-Pilot Jensen here, Mr. Knight."
"What's going on up there?" Michael demanded.
"Captain Arnot is back in the cabin talking to your friends." Jensen said, his voice betraying his nervousness.
"What's he saying exactly?"
"We've got one engine about to shut down."
If Michael didn't know better he could have sworn he felt Kitt shiver.
"How long?"
"Twenty minutes, maybe less."
"Alright. Keep us posted."
"Roger that, Mr. Knight." Michael heard the click as the connection was terminated and he suddenly felt trapped.
"Patch into the cockpit's computer."
"Already done Michael."
"Good. What have you got?"
Kitt flashed a series of graphs on his monitor. "The number two engine on the starboard side has malfunctioned. We lost considerable fuel before the Captain was able to cut the engine."
Michael stared at the monitor. "How much fuel?"
Kitt feel silent.
"Kitt how much fuel?" He prodded.
"According to my calculations." Another long pause.
"Kitt, you've got to keep it together here Pal. I need you."
"I understand Michael. According to my calculations, we have insufficient fuel to clear the mountain range ahead."
Michael let Kitt's statement sink in. "How long before we reach the mountains?"
"Twenty-seven minutes, twenty-five seconds at our present speed."
"A little less than half an hour." He said softly, stunned. "Not much time."
"What are we going to do Michael?"
Michael could hear the panic in Kitt's voice.
"First of all we are going to keep calm. Patch me through to Devon and Bonnie."
"Right away. Do you think Bonnie knows? She is so afraid of flying..."
"I know." No more so than the A.I. Bonnie had instilled the fear and Kitt had added the statistics and possibilities to the equation, leaving him terrified of flying. Why had they coaxed him on this plane in he first place? "Devon is with her. She'll be fine."
"Yes. Devon will keep her calm just as you are keeping me calm. Thank-you, Michael."
Michael brushed away the compliment. At this moment he couldn't afford to get maudlin.
"Michael." Devon's voice filed the cabin, it's tone precise and in control again.
"I hear ya, Devon."
"I'm assuming Kitt has already accessed the cockpit's computers."
"He has," He said grimly, "What are our options?"
"None at the moment I'm afraid. But Bonnie and I are working closely with Captain Arnot."
"Forgive me for interrupting." Kitt apologized, "But there is one option if all others fail."
"I know Kitt." Devon agreed, his voice strained. "But it won't come to that. We'll find another way."
"What option?" Michael asked. Not really wanting an answer.
"It's not even worth discussing at the present time Michael." Devon assured him.
Devon pulled the tray table open in front of him and began jotting down figures.
Bonnie joined him, her fear of crashing lessened by the task at hand, figuring a way of staying in the air. No matter how many times they calculated the figures it still added up the same. Bonnie looked over at Devon and shook her head in disbelief. "No..." she whispered. "There has to be another way." But in reality she knew there wasn't. Thirty other people depended on them.
"Michael?"
"The cargo bay is a self contained unit. There is no access from inside the plane." He said dully.
Bonnie looked back down at the tablet before her. "No," she whispered, there had to be another way. But there was no other way. No other answer.
"Does Kitt know?" she asked, her voice trembling. Why the hell had she decided to take this trip? She hated flying for a reason... and this was it.
Devon nodded. "He already alluded to it."
"And Michael?"
"Not yet."
"How do we tell him? My God Devon. How do we tell him?"
"We don't. We find a different way. I will not sacrifice Michael and Kitt. I won't!" Devon grabbed her hand. "We'll find a way. I promise."
Michael stared out of the windshield at the pallets pilled high with boxes, one huge box in the center labeled Steamroller. What other kind of supplies were they carrying?
"Kitt ... How much cargo are we carrying here?"
"One point seven tons, Michael."
"What would happen if we no longer carried that much weight?"
Silence.
"Kitt, answer me. Could this plane clear the mountains?"
"Theoretically... Yes, but Michael..."
"The odds Kitt. What are they with and without the cargo?"
"Michael, you always hate it when I give you the odds." Kitt protested.
"Just give them to me please."
"The odds are ninety to one against our making it over the mountains with the cargo intact."
"And without the cargo?"
"Michael, I know where you are headed on this and I can not..."
"Kitt, the odds without the cargo?" Michael asked gently.
"Eight to one in favor."
Michael sat in silence for a moment absorbing the facts. There really wasn't much to think about. The odds were clear. "Kitt, get me Devon."
"But Michael, can't we discuss this first?"
"There is nothing to discuss Kitt."
"But aren't you afraid?"
"I'm terrified." Michael said. "But what frightens me more is the thought that I would let a plain load of people perish if I could do something to stop it. Could you?"
"No." Kitt admitted softly. "But Michael, you must understand my programming will not allow me to harm you in any way. I can not be a party to this."
"I know Kitt. I know. I will manually override your systems when it is time."
"Thank you, Michael."
"Get me Devon."
"Right away."
"There is no other way and you know it." Michael's voice cut like a knife through Bonnie's stomach. How could she let him go like this? It was the only answer, but it hurt so damn much.
"There is still time Michael." Devon said. Bonnie looked over at Devon and realized the man had aged ten years in the past thirty minutes.
"Ten minutes Devon. Then we'll be past the point of no return."
"I understand. We will keep working up here. We have contacted the Army base in Winnipeg and the air traffic control center in Vancouver. They are all working with us to come to some kind of remedy other than..."
"Ten minutes Devon." Michael's voice sounded disturbingly calm. For Kitt's benefit Devon realized.
"It's been eleven minutes, Michael."
"I know, Pal. How long will it take to reach the ground once we..."
"Four minutes, thirty two seconds."
"That long, huh?"
"I have scanned the maps of the area and we will be landing in a remote part of the mountains. A major storm just passed through the area twenty four hours ago so there is at lest forty inches of soft snow to cushion our impact."
"Sounds comfy."
"Michael, do you mind if I talk to Bonnie for a moment alone? There are some things I would like to say before..."
"I understand Kitt. Go for it. And tell her I love her too."
"She already knows Michael. We all know."
"Bonnie."
"Kitt. What are you doing on this frequency?"
"I told Michael there were a few things I wanted to say to you. He understands."
"Kitt, I don't know what to say."
"There is nothing to say Bonnie. But there are some things I think you should be a ware of. I have targeted the most likely landing spot. It is a remote part of the Rockies. I will try to maintain contact with you. Depending on the amount of damage that I sustain, I may or may not be able to guide you to our location. Furthermore, our landing could trigger an avalanche which could hinder our rescue even more."
"Kitt, I know how difficult this must be for you."
"Bonnie... The odds of my survival are seventy-five to one in favor. I will be damaged, there is not doubt about that, but I can be rebuilt. But Michael... The odds of his survival are..."
"Kitt, please don't do this to yourself." Bonnie allowed the tears to run freely. How could she survive without Michael? How could Kitt survive without his partner?
"Do what you can for him Kitt. I love you."
"I love you too, Bonnie."
Michael engaged the restraints making them as tight as possible. He hurriedly stuffed everything that could possible turn into a deadly missile at impact, book, plate that still held his half eaten sandwich, pens and loose coins into his duffle bag he had laying on the back seat and ordered Kitt to secure it to the seat with his laser retrain system. He was about to throw in his sunglasses and decided against it. If he did survive the landing he may need them to protect his eyes against snow blindness. A long shot, but it helped him cope. "Are you ready, Pal?"
"No."
"Hey, just think of this as another adventure. Something you can tell the other A.I.'s about when you get home."
"There are no other A.I.'s for me to talk to." Kitt corrected.
"I'm sure there will be in time. How much time?"
"Two minutes. Do you wish to speak to Bonnie and Devon?"
"No. I've said my goodbyes."
"One minute Michael."
"All right. Count me down. At five seconds I will disengage your override systems."
"I understand. Michael..."
"Yea Pal?"
"Good luck."
"The same to you Kitt... The same to you."
"Forty-five seconds... forty-four seconds..."
Michael reached for the disengage button and waited.
"Twenty-one seconds... Twenty seconds."
"Damn."
"What is it Michael?"
"I forgot my gloves."
"Ten seconds... Nine seconds..."
"All right Pal... This is it. See you in midair."
"Six seconds... Five..."
Michael punched the override button. Now he waited. It was up to the pilot to open the bay door. With a huge whoosh of air the hinged door opened. Locks that held the lashed cargo in place automatically disengaged and the tons of cargo along with Michael and Kitt was swept out of the cargo hold. The plane suddenly lifted, free of the excess weight.
Michael felt himself pummeling toward the earth. He quickly engaged all auto systems and Kitt's voice immediately filled the cabin.
"Michael, the plane has already reached altitude. It will make it."
Michael nodded. "Thanks Pal."
The car spun and bucked from side to side occasionally caught in an updraft. Suddenly the blue sky was replaced by stark whiteness. They were below the mountain line. Impact would be any second.
"Pal, it's been a fun ride. Right from the beginning."
"I agree, Michael."
And then the world around him exploded. The car hit the side of a snow bank and began to tumble. The impact threw Michael in every direction. He felt is legs slam into the underbelly of the dash, his arms flung in every direction, hitting the driver's side window and the roof. Michael thought his spine would drive right through his throat as the car slammed again and again into the snow bank as it continued to travel down the mountain. The laser restraint system held him tightly against the seat. He continued to roll. He felt blood fill his mouth. Had he bitten his tongue or was it internal injuries? It didn't matter. It would be all over in seconds anyway.
Kitt could not stop the rising panic. Not for him... he would survive no matter what. But Michael's screams of pain and confusion were more than Kitt could bear. They continued to somersault down the mountain. The impact had been softened by the snow pack, enough so most of Kitt's systems were still functional. But not for Michael. He was flung around like a rag doll in a clothes dryer. They kept rolling. And now all of Michael's cries had ceased. Kitt tried to check for vital signs but his partner was being tossed around too violently for him to get a reading. "MICHAEL!!" Kitt screamed.
Everything was quiet. Deathly quiet. Michael forced one eye open, encrusted with blood and sweat. The car was lying on its side, Michael still strapped to the seat. It hurt too much to move, even a fraction of an inch. Somehow the car had beaten the odds; it had tumbled all the way down the mountain and not caused an avalanche. At least they would be able to find Kitt when the search party reached the area. For himself, he knew it was too late.
"Michael! You're awake." Kitt's voice filled the cabin.
"Kitt..." Michael tried, but the effort was too great.
"Don't try to talk, Michael. Help is on the way. E.T.A is two hours twenty four minutes." He lied. He wasn't in contact with the rescue team, and at their location, the odds of being found... But he knew that Michael needed something to hang onto.
Two hours, Michael thought. It might as well be two years.
"Please Michael. You have to hang on. You have many injuries, but you survived the impact. You just have to hang on now until help arrives."
"Can't." Michael mumbled. "Sorry Pal." He stared out the cracked windshield at the snow and... what was that laying in the snow just beyond the car? He studied it, his vision wavering in and out until he realized what it was. Christmas presents. All neatly wrapped in Christmas paper and tied with bright red and green bows. Christmas. Michael had to smile despite the pain it caused. He'd forgotten that part of the cargo they were hauling was a container of Christmas gifts for the Orphanage society of Winnipeg.
Christmas... this was a hell of a way to be spend Christmas, he thought as the blinding white snow and bright packages dimmed until all was black. Michael was too tired to fight. He allowed himself to fall into the comfort of nothingness. It was time.
Kitt monitored Michael's vitals. All were failing. It would only be a matter of a short time now. Why did he allow Michael to make such a foolhardy decision? Because: it was the only answer. Thirty- seven people survived because he made the right decision. But now he was dying and Kitt could do nothing to help.
It had been an hour since impact. He sent out a distress call immediately to anyone in the area as well as a constant open line to the Foundation. But their position was precarious at best. The one thing that had initially saved Michael, the newly fallen snow pack, now hindered any rescue attempt. The mountain of snow above them was too fragile. One wrong move would trigger an avalanche and they would be buried beneath a ton of snow.
Suddenly Kitt's audio preceptors picked up a sound coming towards them. Voices. Lots of voices. Someone had heard the distress call. There was still hope. Kitt quickly checked Michael's vitals again. They grew weaker by the minute. Their rescuers would have to act fast.
What he saw next was beyond the billions of bits of information in his databanks. Eleven figures, not one of them over 3" tall, raced toward them, hidden beneath heavy parkas to ward off the frigid cold.
They swarmed over the car.
"Go away!" Kitt demanded, alarmed.
They ignored him. They pried the driver's door open and studied Michael.
"Go away!" Kitt demanded again
One of them climbed inside and felt for a pulse.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
And then they were gone, disappearing into the snow again.
All was quiet again except for the sound of Michael's labored breathing. Fear turned to acceptance and he made his decision. When Michael was no longer with him he would shut himself down. Life without Michael was not a life at all...
Twenty minutes later Kitt's audio receptors picked up the sound of a sled gliding over the snow. They were returning! He watched as a sleigh appeared around a snow bank. Eight tiny deer, seven of them with huge antlers easily pulled the sleigh. The eleven little people he had seen before crowded the sleigh. A short, round man with a huge white beard, well into his later years, held the reins.
"It's all right, Kitt," the old man gently patted Kitt's roof, as if he knew how scared the A.I. was. "We will take good care of your Michael. I promise."
Kitt watched as they gently lifted Michael out of the car and laid him atop the sleigh.
"Activate your wench and we'll tow you in."
For reasons he could not explain Kitt felt completely safe with this old man and his little friends and obeyed without question.
The first thing Michael was aware of was the steady beat of his heart. But upon further reflection he realized it was not his heart, but a nearby clock. Then, the sound of splashing water, and someone wiping his face with a cool cloth. Against all odds he had survived. A rescue team must have found him and Kitt. Or was this just another manifestation of his confused mind? Was he still lying inside Kitt, his body bruised and broken, his mind wondering?
Sounds and smells drifted in and out of his semi-conscious mind, telling stories that made no sense. The crackling sounds of a roaring fire, the heat nearly unbearable on is face and body. The smells of fresh baked bread?
"Michael...?"
Michael heard a voice from far away. Soft and feminine. "You are safe now."
He felt someone bath his face with a cool cloth. "Kitt is safe too."
Kitt? He tried to think. Had Bonnie found them? Who else knew about Kitt? He struggled to climb back to full consciousness but the effort was too great, his body hurt too much. Someone lifted his head and he felt something sweet and warm drizzle down his throat. It tasted like nothing else he had ever tasted.
"Rest now." The voice said, soft and gentle. "You will feel better soon."
And he slipped back into a deep healing sleep.
Michael's eyelids fluttered open. At first he saw only vague images. Then his vision began to clear. He was in a small room. The walls were painted a sparkling white. Bright red drapes hung from a window to the left of the bed he was lying on. The bed was a huge four-poster bed, much too large for the room. A soft downy comforter covered him to the waist. His shirt was gone and bandages criss crossed his chest. He took an experimental deep breath and hissed in pain. He promised himself not to try that again very soon. A roaring fire crackled in a huge fireplace to his right. Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with toys. Rag dolls, train engines, horses and ducks and... Michael blinked, where was he?
"Don't worry dear, you'll get used to them. Papa has them all over the house."
Michael looked up to see a short, heavy-set woman, her snow-white hair pulled back into a soft bun about to lean over him again to wash his face.
"This will make you feel much better," she soothed. "you have had a nasty fever the past few days but you're going to be just fine."
"Where am I?" Michael croaked. He was surprised how weak his voice sounded. In fact he felt weak all over. He tried to move but his right leg protested with a sharp shooting pain.
"Don't try to move. Not just yet. Give yourself a few more days to heal."
"Who are you?"
"Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry dear. I forgot to introduce myself." She poured a cup of tea into a red and green teacup as she talked. "You may call me Mama. Everyone does. It's not very often that we have guests."
"How did I get here?"
"Papa found you of course. He brought you and Kitt home."
"Kitt?" His mind reeled. Who was this person? How did she know about Kitt? He tried to sit up. "You know Kitt?"
"Of course we do." She gently pushed him back down on the pillow. "Papa has had some very enlightening conversations with him. I am not always the best conversationalist you know. I have the children to take care of, so when he gets the chance to talk to someone as intelligent as Kitt, he's just as happy as a pea in a pod."
"No, this isn't happening." Michael muttered, closing his eyes. Where was he? Where was Kitt?" He began to shiver from the fever chills and the execration.
"Now, now Michael. You drink some of my tea and you will feel much better when you wake up. And by then Papa should be back. You are going to like him I know." She held the cup to Michael's lips and he sipped it. "It will warm your tummy."
It tasted hot and sweet. "There now, you'll feel much better. I'll tell Kitt that you are almost ready for guests. He will be so glad to see you. The poor dear's been so worried." She sighed deeply and began wiping his face again. "My, that car can carry on. Now just relax. That's it..."
Without knowing it Michael feel back into a deep sleep.
"Now that's a good one." Michael heard someone laughing nearby. "Kitt, you are a character. Oh look, he's waking up."
"May I talk with him?" Michael realized it was Kitt's voice. This was all impossible, he was still dreaming.
"In a few minutes, Kitt. Let him find his bearings first."
Curiosity got the better of him and he opened his eyes. The short woman hovering over him when he closed his eyes was now replaced by an equally short and much rounder man. He wore his snow -white hair long, flowing over the collar of his red vest. His white beard was equally white and his bushy eyebrows framed bright blue eyes that twinkled with merriment. "Good morning my boy. How are you feeling?"
"Better." Michael said. It was the truth. What ever was in the tea had made him feel much better.
"Wonderful. In a few days you will be out of this bed and on the road to recovery. Mama tells me you have been asking for Kitt."
Michael nodded.
The old man grinned, handing Michael his com link. "Kitt, is that you, buddy?"
"Michael! It's so good to hear your voice. I have been worried sick about you. But Mamma and Papa assured me that you would be just fine."
"Mamma and Papa?" Michael looked from the com link to the old man standing above him. " Kitt, are you sure you're all right?"
"Of course I am. I told you I would sustain very little damage in the impact. You however... Oh Michael, I thought at first that I had lost you."
Michael could hear the fear in Kitt's voice. "It's all right now Pal. I'm fine."
"I know Michael."
"How did the search party find us so quickly?"
"They didn't. Mama and Papa's children found us. They told Papa where we were and he came to rescue us. We have a lot to thank them for."
"I still don't understand." Michael realized his voice had begun to slur. He was suddenly incredibly tired.
Papa leaned over slipping the com link from Michael's hand. "There is plenty of time for you to chat with Kitt later." He said gently. "You need your rest. Mama has given me strict orders and if I don't follow them..." He chuckled, "that's a story for another time. Close your eyes and rest. Tomorrow you will feel even stronger."
Despite the fact that he was in a house with complete strangers, he felt an overwhelming sense of security.
Michael slept for the next three days, awakening only occasionally. Each time the aroma of cakes and cookies and fresh baked bread brought back memories of his childhood, and the winter vacations he spent with his Grandmother. And Mama was always there with her warm, soothing tea. Papa too. He would sit next to the bed talking to Kitt on his comlink, and, this he was certain was just a hallucination, three little men, no taller than three feet, stood on a chair watching him. He felt warm and comfortable and incredibly safe.
On the fourth morning he felt strong enough to hobble to the kitchen on a pair of crutches he had found next to his bed. His left leg was still set in the splint Papa had fashioned. It was, according to Papa, broken in several places and would take longer to heal. The rest of his injuries were manageable.
Mama was at the stove pulling out a sheet of cookies from the oven. The kitchen was small and warm and filled with the smells of fresh baked pies, cakes and breads. An old fashioned wood burning stove stood against one wall with a roaring fireplace opposite it. White frost covered the window of the door leading outside.
"Good morning," she called over her shoulder. "You're just in time for breakfast. Papa will be along any minute. There was a problem at the factory last night. The poor dear, it always gets so hectic around this time of year" She sighed. "Sit..." she said, hurrying over to a pull out a chair from the small kitchen table. "You are still weak. Papa says you may be strong enough to see Kitt tomorrow."
"Why not today?" He tried to suppress a groan as he sat down; every inch of his body still ached. "I feel fine."
"Yes. I know dear." She patted his shoulder gently. "But another day of rest won't hurt. Oh, here's Papa now."
The kitchen door flew open and Papa entered amid a flurry of snowflakes. "It's really blowing out there." He laughed. "Ah Michael. It's good to see you up. Kitt will be happy to know that you're feeling better."
"Papa sit," Mama ordered. "Breakfast is ready."
Michael watched the old man shuck his heavy coat and boots. "Mama, smells delicious as usual. You know Michael," he said leaning over to whisper in Michael's ear, "Mama is just about the best cook in the entire world."
"I heard that Papa." Mama grinned as she set a steaming bowl of oatmeal before him. "Now eat. Your insides must be like ice. And Michael..." she placed a steaming bowl before him, "I want you to eat every bite. Your are nothing but skin and bones."
"When can I see Kitt?" Michael asked.
"Eat your breakfast and we'll talk about it later." Papa said.
"But..."
"Eat your breakfast Michael." Mama ordered. "You always neglect your meals. Eating on the run. Fast food all the time, it isn't healthy, is it Papa?"
Taking a taste of the hot oatmeal, Michael looked up at Mama surprised. "Applesauce?" He hadn't tasted applesauce in his oatmeal since he was a kid at his grandmothers.
"And just a hint of cinnamon," she beamed. "Just the way you like it."
"But how...?"
"Just enjoy it Michael."
Papa finished his coffee and sat back, patting his huge tummy. "The only way to start the day, with a good breakfast under your belt." He looked at Michael's half eaten bowl of oatmeal. "Still not hungry?"
Michael shook his head. "I'm not big on breakfast."
"Or lunch or dinner by the looks of you." Mama scolded him. "You are practically skin and bones. A few more days here and I'll fatten you up nicely. Right Papa?"
Papa patted his belly again, "Right Mama."
Michael looked around the small kitchen. "Where exactly is here?" he asked.
"Up North..."
"Where up north?"
"Kitt tells me you don't like this time of year." Papa said, ignoring the question.
"It brings back too many memories." Michael admitted.
"Memories are important, dear." Mama said replacing the bowl of oatmeal with another cup of her special tea. "You should cherish them. Now drink your tea. You rest today and tomorrow you can see Kitt. Right Papa?"
"Right." Papa leaned over and whispered, "you better do as she says, in here, she's the boss."
Michael couldn't remember how long it had been since he felt this comfortable, this safe. He felt his eyes grow heavy again and they were at his side, guiding him back to the bedroom. He had so many questions... Where was he, who were they...? But everything would have to wait. He collapsed onto the bed and felt Mama draw the comforter over him. In so many ways he never wanted this feeling to end.
The next morning Michael felt even stronger.
"Pete is ready to take you to see Kitt," Mama announced after breakfast. She handed him a heavy overcoat. "Put this on. I don't want you catching your death of cold out there."
Michael struggled into the heavy coat, his ribs still smarting, and Mama patted him on the shoulder, satisfied. "Now, don't forget to tell Kitt I'll be by later to see him."
"I will." Michael promised, anxious to see his partner. These last few days were crazy. He needed Kitt and his analytical mind to sort this all out.
The door opened and a flurry of snow blew in. Mama hustled him out the door closing it behind him to keep the kitchen warm. A sleigh stood waiting for him, the tiny driver shivering in the cold. "A nasty storm's moving in." He said through chattering teeth. "We haven't seen one this bad in thirty years. It's going to be rough on Papa tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night?" Michael asked as he lumbered into the sleigh, Papa's splint making it awkward to maneuver.
"Christmas Eve of course. Where you from, Mars?"
"I guess I lost track of time." Michael answered settling into the sleigh.
A single reindeer began pulling the sleigh easily through the swirling snow and deep snowdrifts toward a small barn.
"Here we are," Pete said as they neared the barn. The doors opened and Pete grinned. "Kitt's anxious to see you."
Was Kitt talking to everyone?
As the reindeer slowly pulled the sleigh through the double doors, Michael's mouth dropped open. What appeared, as a small barn from the outside was in fact a huge five-story factory alive with activity.
"Welcome to Santa's work shop" Pete grinned.
Michael mouth hung open. This was not happening. It couldn't be. Santa was a figment of someone's fertile imagination. He was still dreaming, he had to be.
He saw dozens of elves scurrying about on each floor, working on toys of every type.
"I don't believe it." Michael whispered.
The sleigh pulled in and the double doors closed behind them.
"Enjoy yourself." Pete told him, jumping down from the sleigh, "but don't get in anyone's way. We've got a deadline you know."
Michael nodded, mesmerized.
A huge Christmas tree topped with a brilliant star dominated the center of the room rising five floors to the wooden domed ceiling above. Each floor wrapped around the tree. Thousands of small cards, each with a name, hung from the branches. A series of railroad tracks, trimmed with tiny lights, wound around the tree passing each floor, it's cars filled with toys of every description. An elf, suspended from the ceiling with a harness, nimbly moved up and down the tree selecting nametags and dropping them into the cars as they went by. Sounds of hammering and sawing mixed with the sounds of dolls calling "Mama" and the rat-a-tat-tat of toy drums filled the room.
Michael awkwardly climbed down from the sleigh. He watched the reindeer that had pulled his sleigh into the building slowly wander back to a huge stall on the far side of the room, warmed by a huge fireplace covered by an ornate mesh screen depicting scenes of children sitting around Christmas tress opening presents. Seven other reindeer contentedly munched on bales of hay.
"Michael!"
Michael spun around to see Kitt parked to his right in a pristine cement stall. His ebony black hide reflecting the lights of the trains as they wound their way down the tree.
"Kitt!" Michael hobbled toward the car. "Man, is it good to see you."
"Likewise Michael. How are you feeling?"
"I don't know." The car door opened automatically and Michael struggled in. "I think I'm losing my mind here."
"You are quite sane, Michael. But I can tell from your vitals that you are also very weak and still need your rest. Papa made me promise that I would not tire you."
"Don't worry about that now. I want to know who Papa is and where the hell we are."
"Isn't that obvious?"
"Listen Kitt... This is all wonderful but you have to understand. This isn't real. There is no such thing as Santa Claus and his eight tiny reindeer."
"Then how do you explain all this, Michael?"
"I can't. Not yet." Michael looked through the windshield at the frenzy around him. The sights, the sounds...
"Papa said you were disappointed once as a child, that you didn't get what you wished for the most."
"Every kid's disappointed that they didn't get something they wanted for Christmas." Michael scoffed. "You grow up, you get over it."
"But this was something you wanted very badly. But it was something Papa couldn't give you."
"All right, Kitt. If this is the real Santa, what was it that I wanted so badly?"
There was a long silence, then, in a voice so soft and understanding that Michael felt a lump form in his throat... "A new father so your mother wouldn't be lonely anymore."
Michael stared at the voice box mounted under Kitt's dash. "What...?"
"You sent Santa a letter."
A letter written in crayon on lined school paper appeared on Kitt's monitor.
"Where did you get this?" Michael whispered.
"Papa saves all the letters from all his children around the world. This one was special. May I read it?"
Michael nodded, tears welling in his eyes.
"Dear Santa: I want a new Daddy for my Mommy. She is lonely. I have been very good this year. Please make my Mommy happy. Signed Michael Long."
"I never told anyone..." He breathed, remembering that night vividly. He was six years old, laying in front of the fireplace, his mother sitting beside him on the sofa, staring at the decorated Christmas Tree. She hadn't been the same since that terrible day when the police came to the door.
"Papa couldn't give you what you wanted but he did leave you something very special."
Michael thought back. "Gypsy?"
"Yes..."
"This little black puppy, nearly frozen to death in the snow, started scratching at our back door. It was dirty and hungry and my Mother fell in love with on the spot." Michael leaned back against the seat remembering that morning as if it had happened yesterday. "I haven't thought about Gypsy in years."
"Do you believe in Santa now Michael?"
Michael looked through the windshield at the remarkable toy factory. "I don't know." How could anyone know about Gypsy? Maybe he said something to someone... but who? It wasn't anyone at the Foundation, he was sure of that. He seldom spoke of his childhood, to anyone.
"Michael, Pete is here to take you back to the house." Kitt said gently. "You still need to rest."
Michael nodded and silently climbed back into the sleigh. This was all still a dream. It had to be.
The doors opened and the sleigh pulled out of the workshop back into the swirling snow, now heavier than ever.
Michael slept fitfully that night. Who else knew about that letter to Santa? He knew he had never told another living soul. And Santa Clause was just a myth. A child's storybook. Wasn't he...?
Michael awoke to the sounds of excited voices in the kitchen. He hobbled into the room to find Papa and Mama washing soot off the faces of several elves.
"What happened?
Papa looked up. "Terrible, just terrible." He fretted. "A log rolled out of the fireplace and started a fire in the reindeer's pen."
"Are they all right?"
"Yes." He sat down in a kitchen chair, his rosy cheeks pale, "Thankfully they are all safe but they breathed a lot of smoke. I'm afraid they won't be fit to fly tonight."
"But Papa, it's Christmas Eve." Mama sighed.
"The children...?" the elves cried unison.
"Without my reindeer..." He looked at Mama helplessly.
"The poor children. They have been so good this year." Mama sat down next to him. "They will be heartbroken."
"We better tell everyone Christmas is cancelled this year." Papa said sadly.
"I wish there was some way Kitt and I could help." Michael said, laying a hand on Papa's shoulder.
Papa looked up, a sparkle in his eyes. "You can my boy. You can!" He jumped to his feet grabbing his coat. "Why didn't I think of it?"
"What?"
"You get plenty of rest today Michael. Tonight will be a long night." He motioned his elves toward the door. "Quickly, quickly now, we have a lot to do if we are to get Kitt ready for tonight."
Michael watched the old man nearly leap out the door in excitement. He turned to Mama. "Kitt?"
"Why not," she grinned, "he does everything else, why not fly?"
"There now, you will stay nice and warm." Mama said applying the final touch to Michael's wardrobe. He wore three layers of clothes topped with a heavy coat with hood and Mama's hand knitted scarf and gloves. Papa appeared from the bedroom wearing his traditional outfit.
Michael could not help but stare. Santa Clause stood before him in his red suit with white fur trim and black boots. "Ho, ho, ho..." he laughed. "Merry Christmas."
Santa Clause did not exist. He was the creation of a storyteller years ago. But how...? Michael was seven when he realized Santa was just his mother putting presents under the tree and guiltily munching all the cookies and milk he had left every year. Then, who was standing before him?
"Let's get a move on Michael." Papa grinned. "Every year there are more children and never, never enough time." He turned to Mama and kissed her gently on the cheek. "We will be back before you know it."
"I know Dear, just have fun." And she ushered them out the door into the freezing cold.
Kitt stood at the front of the porch ready to go. Michael was stunned to see the changes Papa's workers had made in such a short time. Kitt's top was gone and so was the hatchback lid. A huge sack overflowed the backseat and trunk. The passenger seat was missing replaced by a large cushioned seat sitting above the doorframes to accommodate its size.
"Don't worry Michael," Papa laughed at his startled expression, "We'll return Kitt to his old self after tonight. There was no way I could fit in one of those tiny seats. That's why, my boy, you are driving. Hop aboard, time's wasting."
Michael climbed into the driver's seat. Every inch of Kitt was filled with some kind of present. Large, small, round, square. All wrapped in brightly colored paper and ribbons. Santa climbed in beside him. "And we're off!" he shouted.
Michael carefully dropped the engine into gear and gave it a little gas. Instantly the car was air born.
"Step on it." Santa urged with a chuckle.
Michael obeyed and they soared into the clouds. Rooftop to rooftop they flew lightly setting down on the roof while Santa climbed down the chimney or in through a window. Time seemed to stand still. They flew over land and sea. From country to country, state to state, the Christmas packages dwindling down to only a few.
"Now," Santa said, "it is time for your present Michael."
"I don't need..."
"Kitt told me how lonely you are at Christmas time." He pointed to a house below. "There's are last stop Kitt."
Kitt landed softly on the lawn in front of a house brightly lit with Christmas lights.
Michael couldn't believe his eyes. "That's my old house." He whispered. In front of the door a dogged wagged his tale eagerly. "Gypsy?" Michael turned to Santa. "I don't understand. Gypsy's been dead for years."
Santa smiled and patted Michael gently on the shoulder. "This is my present to you Michael. It is not the father you wished for your mother, that I could not do, but for tonight, time is frozen in the past."
"I still don't understand..."
"Hurry, they are all waiting dinner on you. You're mother, all your family."
"But how?"
"Don't ask how Michael, just enjoy. For tonight you are still Michael Long... Now hurry before the turkey gets cold."
Michael jumped out of the car, his injured leg healed. He joined Gypsy at the front door and knocked. The door opened and the warmth of the house spilled over him, all the smells he remembered so well, turkey, pies, fresh bread.
"Mom?"
"Michael, we thought you would never get here." His mother wrapped her arm through his. "Everyone is waiting. You must be starving. Look at you, still skin and bones. Not to worry, we'll fatten you up tonight."
As she closed the door she stopped, squeezing his arm tightly. "Before we go in I have something for you." She said, pulling a small silver pocket watch from her apron. "I found this in a small box your father used to keep in his drawer. I had forgotten all about it. Heaven knows why I decided to rummage through the attic last night."
Michael took the small watch.
"The night you were born your father had it engraved. He said he would give it to you the day you became a man. He never got the chance."
Michael turned the watch over. On the back were the initials CL, DL and ML.
"Your grandfather, your father and you. Someday when you have a son you will add his initials."
Michael squeezed it tightly. "I don't know what to say."
"Just enjoy the night, Michael." She smiled, kissing him on the cheek, "Merry Christmas, dear."
Together they walked into the dining room, arm in arm, to a table brimming with food and in every seat Michael saw a smiling face he had longed to see for years. This was truly the best Christmas of his lifetime.
Bonnie sat back in her visitor's chair and stared at Michael laying so quietly in his hospital bed and thought back on the past two weeks.
It had taken three long days for a rescue team to finally pick up Kitt's distress signal. More precious time was spent finding a safe route into the valley where Kitt had landed. One wrong move, one errant sound could have triggered an avalanche.
When they finely reached the crash site they found, against all odds, that Michael was still alive... barely.
Carefully they transported them both off the mountain. Michael was airlifted to a nearby hospital and Kitt was loaded into a rented semi then met up with the Foundation's semi four days later for the trip home.
Once Michael was stabilized he was transferred to a medical facility close to the Foundation.
And so things had remained status quo. Michael lay in a coma and Kitt, despite all of Bonnie's expertise, remained silent, as if he too were comatose.
Bonnie spent half her days sitting with Michael, hoping he would regain consciousness, and the other half at the Foundation's garage working on Kitt, trying to bring him back. Devon would arrive sometime in the afternoon to relieve her and sit with Michael until visiting hours were over.
Bonnie set down the book she was reading and rubbed her temples, she felt another headache coming on. Why was Kitt acting as if he were lost in the same coma as Michael? It wasn't possible. It defied logic... and yet...
A familiar voice brought her out of her reverie. "Bon...?"
She looked up to see Michael staring at her.
"Michael!! My God... Michael!!" She reached out for Michael's hand. "You're back."
At the same moment Michael's com link came to life. "Michael? Are you all right?" It was Kitt.
"How long...?" Michael asked, his voice only a whisper.
"Two weeks." She said, trying to wipe away the tears before he saw them.
"Kitt?"
"He's fine... now. I don't understand. Until just a moment ago his mainframe was shut down. He was, for a better word, comatose... like you."
Michael smiled faintly.
Behind them the door opened and Devon walked in. "Dear God," he gasped, "you're awake!"
"Just a few minutes ago." Bonnie said, letting Devon slide in next to her. "And Kitt too."
"Kitt?"
"Don't ask me how or why Devon... I don't know. It just happened."
"This is wonderful news," Devon grinned. "How do you feel my boy?"
"Spacey." Michael said, his voice slurring.
"That's the drugs. You'll feel like yourself in no time."
"How...?"
"How did we find you?" Devon asked, "that part is easy. The rescue team picked up Kitt's distress beacon. How you survived, that's another question. By all rights you should never have. The injuries you sustained should have killed you with in hours, not to mention hypothermia and exposure. But when the rescue team got you to the medical center they found that some of your injuries had already begun to heal, as if you were lost for weeks, not days. Even your leg was partially healed." He nodded toward the elaborate sling that elevated his injured leg. "It's all very strange."
"I had help." Michael smiled.
"From whom?"
"Never mind, it's a long story. I'll tell you about it someday."
"What's this?" Devon picked up a small box sitting on the nightstand. It was neatly wrapped in colorful Christmas paper topped with a bow.
"I don't know." Bonnie plucked it out of his hand. "It wasn't here a minute ago."
"Who's it from?" Michael asked.
Bonnie opened the small card attached. "To Michael," she read, "From Mama and Papa. Who's Mama and Papa?"
"Someone I met recently. Open it."
Bonnie carefully tore away the paper to reveal a small red felt box.
"Open it." Michael urged. He watched as she opened the box revealing his father's watch.
"It's lovely Michael," Bonnie said handing him the watch.
Michael squeezed it tightly.
"Papa thought you would like to have it." Kitt said, "Merry Christmas Michael."
"Thanks Pal."
"It's a spectacular timepiece Michael." Devon said reading the initials on the front. "Who are CL, DL and ML?"
"Old friends." Michael smiled. "They've all passed on now."
There was no way he could explain what had happened to him. If not for the watch he would not have believed it himself. But something had happened. Something very special.
"Well at least you received one present. But I am afraid that we missed Christmas Eve this year." Devon said sadly. "Perhaps next year."
"We didn't," Michael smiled cryptically, "did we Kitt?"
"No, it was quite wonderful Michael. I learned what the true meaning of Christmas spirit is."
"What are you two talking about now?" Bonnie threw here hands up in exasperation.
"Maybe someday I'll tell you how Kitt saved Christmas." Michael winked at her.
"Yea, you Santa Claus and Kitt." Bonnie scoffed.
"How did you know?" Michael asked in mocked surprise.
"That's enough you two." Devon laughed. "It's good to have you back Michael. But it is getting late and you need your rest. We'll be back tomorrow. Can we bring you anything?"
"No," Michael said closing his eyes. "I have everything I could ever want."
"Good night my boy, pleasant dreams."
Michael watched the door close, leaving him to his thoughts.
"Kitt?"
"Yes Michael?"
"Did it really happen?"
"It defies all logic... but yes... I believe it did. Good night Michael."
"Good night Kitt. Merry Christmas pal."
"Merry Christmas, Michael, and pleasant dreams"
Michael relaxed into the softness of the pillows wishing he had just one more sip of Mama's special tea.
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