Saint Nick Is Sick

I wanted to write a Christmas horror story, and "Saint Nick Is Sick" Rhymed... so I wanted to use it.

 It started on Christmas Eve, somewhere around ten PM on the east coast. It was a cool 34 degrees near the coast of Maryland, a light snow was falling- though the milder air would promise that the flakes would never actually hit the ground. The night was practically silent; even the sounds of the city had calmed on this holiday evening. Most families were enjoying a comfortable and quiet evening- the children were cuddled up in their beds and sleeping as much as the anticipation and excitement of the morning’s gifts would allow.

 The first reports that something had gone wrong were broadcast live on a local news station during a segment that no one was paying attention to at that point in time- the “Santa Tracker”. Throughout the night, the local news team had been updating their tracker, and informing those that were listening on the whereabouts of the jolly man himself. This was something they had done each year at this time, and had done for over a decade. This year was no exception- at around seven pm local time, they had started reporting ‘sightings’ of over parts of Europe, and each half-hour they would move further and further west.

 At around nine-fifty-eight the team was about to come back from a commercial break and update the tracker. They were all in place and ready for the cameras to start rolling, when a message from the studio’s head anchor played in their ears.

 “There’s a situation that’s developing, delay the tracker update.”

 This statement made little sense to the crew- the Santa Tracker was just for fun, it had no bearings on reality; why would a developing situation require the tracker to be delayed?

 The camera started rolling on the chief meteorologist, the man that had been assigned to the annual tradition. He paused and stared at the flashing light for a moment before snapping back to reality, and moving forward with his job.

 “Welcome back. We will have an update on the Santa Tracker here in a few moments, but until then, let’s take a look at the weather for the next week. Overnight tonight we will continue to see a few flurries with little to no accumulation, and the temperature will be around…” He paused and once again stared back to the camera. After a second, he nodded and shifted his focus. “Ladies and Gentlemen, my apologies, we’re going to be shifting to the street crew for a breaking development.” He stood for a moment and waited, the focus of the station switching over to an image of Kara standing near a beach.

 “Thank you, Mark.” Kara took a deep breath and stepped slightly to the side, the camera focused on what looked like a wreck on the beach. “We are currently on the scene of a developing situation. Authorities are reporting that, no more than ten minutes ago, something crash-landed out here. Based on the wreckage, and as you can see, it appears to be a private aircraft- and witnesses reported that the craft was floating along and then suddenly fell at a significant rate of speed. There are police on scene, as well as medics just in case there are injuries, but we are unsure if anyone, other than the pilot of the craft, was involved.” Kara paused as she turned to look at the scene behind her.

 The chatter of the police filled the silent winter air, the camera focused on the wreckage. From where the news crew stood and recorded the footage, the vivid colors of the aircraft, the cheerful red and green, contrasted against the frozen sand. For a moment, the news crew let the situation speak for itself; the red and blue lights of the cop cars, the moonlight penetrating a thing fog that seemed to roll out from the ocean, and the overall confusion that seemed to emanate from the emergency crews attempting to take control of the commotion.

 As the stillness hovered over the situation for an uncomfortable amount of time, Kara stepped back in front of the camera in preparation to return the focus to the main crew.

 “Well, Mark, I think that we’re going to–” Her words trailed off and merged with the chatter coming from the emergency service workers. The camera man stepped past Kara and attempted to focus on the chaos as it started to unfold.

 The brightly colored wreckage started to shift, the splinters of wood being pushed to the side as what appeared to be a survivor attempted to escape from the detritus. Kara started to say something, but the camera didn’t pan; the operator kept his attention on the destruction, and on the new situation as it unraveled. He zoomed in as a gloved hand shoved some of the wood out of the way, followed by an arm that was covered in a bright red suit.

 “Get the medics! There’s a survivor!” One of the officers could be heard shouting a command and the man continued to push his way from the wreckage. The night was almost filled with a sense of relief; even one survivor could be spun into a happy ending of this whole situation, something to label a ‘Christmas miracle’ even.

 The thoughts of miracles and optimism were ripping from the minds of those watching, as the over-sized man, the one presumed to be a survivor, grabbed the paramedic attempting to aid him and ripped the flesh from his throat. The paramedic grabbed at his neck and fell forward, the ‘survivor’ grabbed him and latched his teeth onto his shoulder.

 The entire crowd stood in a frozen panic as they watched jolly old saint Nicholas tear into the flesh of the paramedic- the blood spraying him, coating his fluffy red outfit, and staining his beard. After processing the situation, the police officers all lifted their weapons and started firing on the newly undead icon of Christmas. The bullets pierced his skin, but seemed to do nothing beyond anger him. He threw the paramedics body to the ground and sprung into action- grabbing the closest officer and wrapping his maw around his neck. He continued his murderous rampage with as many officers as he could grab. Within moments, the paramedics body reanimated and followed suit; attacking the officers and others within the crowds. The attackers grew in number with each assault, the officers, the crowd members, and Saint Nick all ripping into as many people as they could get their hands on.

 The cameraman tried to keep the focus on the hellish scene as long as he could. Kara screeched as one of the reanimated police officers leaped at her and tackled her to the ground. Her screech dying quickly as his teeth sank into her esophagus.

 The focus switched back to the main news room, all of the anchors were pale and looked like they were about to be sick. The silence as they watched the screen was heavy, none of them knew what to say. One of the newscasters behind the desk cleared his throat and adjusted his tie as he turned to face the camera. His female co-host fell into tears and ran off screen, the immediate sound of her vomiting was audible as the other anchors attempted to regain their composure.

 “I…” Mark, the chief meteorologist, and the man in charge of the Santa Tracker, attempted to speak, to say anything that could calm the situation. “We’ll be following this developing situation as it happens, please stay tuned.” He then motioned for the show to be cut. After a few moments, the screen faded to black, leaving only the vividly colored overlay of Santa Claus waving, the words “MERRY CHRISTMAS” Taking up the top of the screen.