Chapter Three

Immediately, Jordan's survival instincts kicked in. Within a split second, he knew exactly what he had to do; he had to get all the kids, parents, and employees that were standing near him to safety. Surprisingly, he was not scared. He was not worried. All he felt was cold, rational detachment.

Upon receiving the alert, nearly half the elves and even good old Saint Nick himself, had gotten up and ran toward the nearest exit, completely ignoring orders to initiate lockdown protocol. The rest of the elves were standing around and murmuring amongst themselves, while the crowd looked on in worried confusion, parents clutching their children’s shoulders tight.

Now, according to the security alert, the shooter was headed their way. They were all sitting ducks out in the open like this. They needed to get inside of a store, preferably one with an outside exit, or at least a lockable breakroom. Jordan scanned the surrounding area and saw that the metal bars had already been pulled down and locked as far as his eyes could see. This development was only making the crowd even more restless. Their noise levels were increasing rapidly, and at this rate they were gonna draw the shooter right over here like the pied fucking piper.

Somebody had to step up and do something about this, and that person was going to have to be Jordan, because clearly nobody else was going to. Typical.

The shred of an idea started forming in his crisis sharpened mind and he started waving his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention. When that didn’t work, he frowned and started climbing up onto Santa’s raised platform. Kelsey, recognizing what he was trying to do, stepped in to give him a little boost. Once he had both feet firmly planted into the sparkly red cushion, he cupped his hands around his mouth and spoke.

"Everyone listen up. We have an emergency situation on our hands."

It took a moment for his words to penetrate over the din, but eventually the crowd’s whispers died down to a manageable hum. When he was certain that he had their full attention, he continued.

"We’ve just received word that there might be a dangerous individual on the premises.” He quickly held his finger up to his mouth in an attempt to keep them quiet and alert. He looked from one end of the semi-circle to the other, but he didn’t really absorb any of their faces. All they were was a sea of blinking eyes and racing hearts. “I want you all to please remain quiet, calm, and together. Please do not go running off on your own, as we have building security in our ears, giving us alerts and heads up. As you can see, the stores around us have secured their entrances and turned off their lights. We need to get off the floor right now. I have a safe place in mind. Please follow closely behind me as I lead us there. Kids if you could gather in the middle of the crowd please.”

Jordan hopped back down and waited for someone to challenge him. Wisely, nobody did.

He took a moment to whisper his plan to Kelsey just in case something happened to him and then he ripped off the jingle bells around his collar. He urged the rest of the elves to do the same. Then he walked straight into the crowd, which easily parted around him. With Jordan at the helm, they all moved as one tight blob toward the opposite end of the second floor. They kept picking up frightened shoppers as they went along, steadily increasing the size of the group.

Jordan was taking the hundred or so people to Bobby Lee’s Footwear. The store was huge, with a hidden stockroom that was the size of a football field and had a loading bay through which trucks came and delivered new merchandise once a week. Like all the other stores, it was likely to have its steel shutters down as per usual lockdown protocol, but it just so happened that Jordan was working a closing shift there tonight. That meant that he had a key stowed in his costume’s one and only inseam pocket. The plan was to have a few people stationed at the corners looking out for the shooter, while he opened the store and ushered everyone inside, where hopefully, they’d be safe.

They moved briskly through the building’s seemingly empty shell, opting for speed over stealth. By now, they had completely lost all element of surprise anyway. There were children screaming and crying and elderly men and women with their heavy footsteps, barely able to keep up. There were sighs, gasps and whispered prayers and squeaking tennis shoes on the sparkling white linoleum. Every single one of these noises made Jordan’s hair stand up on the back of his neck. That fearlessness he’d been feeling earlier was starting to wear off. It had probably only been a couple of seconds, but it already felt like they’d been walking for ages.

“Can I get an update on the perp’s location?” he asked, placing a hand over his earpiece to block out external noise.

There was no response. Jordan’s heart started beating even faster as he considered the possibilities. What if there was more than one shooter? Maybe one of them had gone up and taken out building security while the other roamed the floor. Or maybe the shooter had somehow impersonated the guard and given them false directions in order to lull them into a false sense of security. Either way, he didn’t like this feeling of blindness. The bad guys could be anywhere, lurking and waiting to strike.

Finally, after a painfully nerve wracking trek, Jordan rounded a familiar corner and Bobby Lee’s came into view. The shoe store was at the end of a long hallway and hidden partially behind an alcove, which wasn’t great for business, but it was great for hiding. All they’d have to do was sprint down the long stretch of floor as quickly and as quietly as they could. With a deep, shuddering breath, Jordan looked both ways like a kid crossing the street and then made a run for it. The crowd followed on his heels, nearly tripping over themselves in their haste.

As Jordan had predicted, the shutters were down, and the lights were off. All patrons and employees were either hiding or had already figured out how to exit the building. He unzipped and peeled back the collar of his costume and pulled the key out of the inner pocket faster than he would have thought possible. He dropped down to his knees and inserted the key into the lock. It gave way with a tiny little click and Jordan heaved the security gate upward. It released a huge metallic screech that was usually so mundane but sounded ominous and terrifying in this emergency situation.

“Head for the back,” he told everyone, ushering them inside. He was still holding up the grille with his hands, afraid that if he left it all the way open, the shooter would come swooping in and corner them. The crowd didn’t seem to care. They just gratefully ducked under the gate and ran inside.

Eventually the massive group thinned out to just a small trickle of people. The small, frail, or disabled who hadn’t been able to keep up with the rest of the crowd but had heard and followed them anyway. Jordan somehow mustered up some patience and encouraged them to move faster with his eyes and his one free hand. One of the elves, Jordan wasn’t too sure what his name was, was hanging back and helping the stragglers. It was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one out here taking responsibility and putting himself in danger. It honestly restored his faith in humanity just a tiny bit.

Jordan welcomed his costumed comrade into the store with a hearty clap on the back. Then the two of them scanned the surrounding area. Without the mob, everything had gotten eerily quiet. They could no longer hear any commotion on the floors above or below them. There was nothing but the soft hum of the heater and a jazzy version of Silent Night playing somewhere in the distance. That is, until a high pitched wail pierced the silence.

A chill went down Jordan’s spine. He whipped his head in the direction of the sound, but he couldn’t see the source of it from behind the alcove. A few seconds later the screeching came again, but this time he was able to make out words. 

“Daddy help! Where are you?”

“Shit,” Jordan whispered under his breath.

The cry was unmistakably that of a little girl. She must have gotten separated from her parents in all the commotion. Jordan desperately wanted to call out to her and tell her to follow the sound of his voice, but that would just lead the shooter right to them. The only thing he could do was run back out and try and get to her. He reasoned that if they could hear her screaming from here then she couldn’t be too far away.

He bit his bottom lip and placed his store key in the palm of the other elf’s hand.

“If I’m not back in five minutes, lock up and take this to the stockroom. If nobody’s done so already, use it to unlock the loading bay doors and get everyone outside.”

The boy looked at him with wide eyes and bobbed his head up and down. Jordan pulled the gate down and clipped it so that it hung about a foot off the ground; just enough space to squeeze a small child through if need be. Satisfied that he’d done all he could, Jordan took off in the direction of the continued wailing.

He ran all the way to the end of the corridor and then crouched down below a pretzel counter to scout out his next move. The little girl’s screaming had dissolved into sniffling, but he could still hear her. It sounded like it was coming from his right. He shuffled to the edge of the counter and craned his neck around the corner, peering into the perpendicular passageway. He scanned the surrounding area until he finally spotted her, a tiny body crouched in the corner where two different walkways converged. Even from this far away he recognized the outfit and hairstyle. It was Lucy, the little girl who wanted an orange dragon race car for Christmas.

She was about thirty feet away. Too far for Jordan to call out to her without exposing their position even more. He stood up, abandoning his hiding place, and ran toward her with his head on a swivel, paranoid that someone was going to jump out at him at any moment.

As he drew closer to Lucy, it was easier to notice the small details such as the trembling of her tiny fingers and the thick fat tears clinging to her long black lashes. The sight would have melted even his ice cold heart under less dire circumstances. If she noticed the manic elf running toward her at full speed, she didn’t say anything, just continued crying to herself and rocking back and forth.

Jordan slowed down just a little bit when there were about two or three store lengths between him and Lucy. He wanted to compose himself a little bit so that he didn’t scare her off. He had no idea how many minutes had passed since he’d handed over his key, but he felt fairly certain that he didn’t have time to chase Lucy down if she ran away from him. He was also too small and scrawny to lift her up and take her by force if need be. That meant that calmness was his best bet.

He bit back the gnawing sense of urgency pooling in his gut and slowly crept closer with his arms outstretched in front of him. He opened up his mouth. He had no idea what he was going to say. Maybe, hey kiddo, I know you’re scared. Or, it’s Lucy right? Santa sent me to come rescue you. Whatever it was, he didn’t get the chance. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a hulking figure emerge from the hallway opposite Lucy.

He was a white male wearing a navy hoodie and cargo pants, just as the man in Jordan’s earpiece had described. There was no weapon visible, but he did have one hand buried in his right pocket along with a gun-shaped bulge. If he would have turned his head just slightly, he would have seen Jordan standing there, just a couple of feet away, but he didn’t, mostly because his eyes had locked on Lucy.

The man’s grip on the object inside of his pocket shifted. Jordan held his breath for a moment, somehow hoping that he was mistaken, and this was just some random, innocent passerby. But that hope was dashed as the man pulled out a small black handgun and pointed it straight at the little girl.

It all happened so quickly that Jordan didn’t even have time to think. He ran at the shooter full force and used the element of surprise to knock him to the ground. The man went down with a grunt, landing hard on his back. Jordan did his best to angle himself so that he was lying on top of the arm the other man needed to shoot his gun.

“Lucy, run!” Jordan shouted. But the girl was frozen in place, staring down at them both with wide, terrified eyes.

The shooter was regaining control over the situation now and Jordan could feel him squirming underneath him. Gritting his teeth, Jordan reached for the gun, hoping that he could pry it out of the perp’s hand before things got any worse.

Unfortunately for him, that was also the exact moment the gunman used his increased size and weight to buck up and try to throw Jordan off of him. Jordan gritted his teeth and tightened his legs around the other man’s torso. It was a bit like riding a mechanical bull.

“Crazy elf fucker,” the gunman said under his breath. His voice was high pitched and tinny, the exact opposite of what Jordan would have expected of a mass murderer.

Jordan ignored him and continued reaching for the gun. He felt the cold sting of metal underneath his fingertips. The gunman realized what he was doing and started writhing. He was able to get his left arm free and brought it up to Jordan’s neck. The man was squeezing the life out of him, but still, Jordan continued reaching for the gun. He kept thinking of his uncle Kenny, and how without him, the old man would have nobody left to take care of him. He would die all alone.

Jordan’s fingers closed around the barrel of the gun and he used the last of his remaining strength to yank it out of the gunman’s fingers. He fell backwards with the weapon in hand. He pulled it close to his body, terrified that it’d go off and hit Lucy.

He landed hard on his back with a sickening crunch that he was sure was one or more of his ribs. Pain flared all throughout his body and he sucked in a shallow breath between his teeth. He wanted so badly to just close his eyes and go to sleep, but he forced them to remain open. He had to keep an eye on the gunman. And the man definitely wasn’t too happy. He ran at Jordan so fast that he barely had time to brace for impact.

The pain that he had felt before was nothing compared to what he felt now. Jordan couldn’t hold back his scream as the gunman pressed his elbows into his battered body.

“P-please stop hurting him,” he heard Lucy whisper. He wished more than anything that she would listen to him and just run away.

The gunman ignored her and continued grappling with Jordan for the gun. It wasn’t much of a fight. Jordan was tiny, weak, and most likely concussed.

“Time to die motherfucker,” the gunman said, punctuated with a popping sound that was all too tiny for the implication it carried.

At least it wasn’t a cop, Jordan thought as warmth spread throughout his chest. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. Just a little pinch and then a spreading sense of numbness. He brought his shaking fingers up to the wound and they came back slicked with red. His vision blurred. This time he couldn’t force himself to keep his eyes open even if he wanted to, which he no longer did. He couldn’t hear the gunman anymore, just the sound of Lucy crying.

“Run,” he tried to tell her one last time. He had no idea if he was successful or not. He lost consciousness shortly thereafter.