The Last Christmas On Earth

Andrea Lepri

The last Christmas on Earth

Translated by

Mickey Perkins

Original Title

L'ultimo Natale sulla terra

First Edition

0111 edizioni -- www.0111edizioni.it

English Edition october 2019

Publisher: Tektime -- www.traduzionelibri.it

This novel is a work of fantasy, any reference to existing people and real events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2019 - Andrea Lepri. All rights reserved

Index of the Episodes

EPISODE I Harry's awakening

EPISODE II The plastic model

EPISODE III In the Dead Sea

EPISODE IV Ufo Crash

EPISODE V James's frustration

EPISODE VI The Zen Garden

EPISODE VII Pedro's death

EPISODE VIII The Dome

EPISODE IX Nautilus

EPISODE X In the Great Pyramid

NOTES The Author and the Translator

Episode I

Harry's awakening

Harry looked around confused, struggling to keep his eyes opened. He had just been woken up by complete and deep silence, almost unnatural as if the very essence of life had suddenly left that corner of the world to escape from some kind of dire threat. The fresh and damp air barely moved, a single and unexpected gust shook blowing among the yellow-reddish leaves of the maple grove, otherwise still like in a postcard. Looking at the dark sky above him, speckled only by some remote star, Harry realized he could not tell if it was early morning or late evening.

At first, this fact appalled him, then, by increasing his focus on the clouds that were lying over the Penobscot Bay, he noticed that these had taken on the typical shades of twilight. He assumed the sun must have just set and once again he looked around perplexed, worried because he was late. He carelessly scratched the bite of an insect on his shin, his hand absently came up until an unpleasant sensation of stickiness forced him to look down; then he discovered that he had both knees flayed and that the sense of stickiness was due to a pink jelly, which was penetrating his wounds to heal them with a speed that he thought was impossible.

He watched amazed as his own flesh regenerated until the process was finished, then he touched fearfully where his blood had just gushed a few moments before and he was astonished that he was not hurt at all. He wondered how he could have gotten those injuries, he was sure he had not crashed down from the branch of some tree, because he was more than certain he had not climbed because of his crazy fear of spiders. Later he wondered if by chance he had fallen off his bicycle, but there was no way that was possible. He was a grown man now. How could he have forgotten? Annoyed by all these mysteries, he ran his hands through his smooth, black hair several times, leaning his lower lip forward in an attempt to collect his thoughts. In the end, he sighed resignedly, he could hardly believe it because it had never happened before and yet he must have fallen asleep.

But what happened to his knees? The noise of something struggling furiously in the water intrigued him, drawing him away from his worries. He got up and moved toward the bank of the stream to see what it was. He clung to a low and protruding branch, cautiously walking around a tree bristling on the bank to avoid sliding down and there he spotted his own fishing rod. It was exactly where he left it, between two rocks near the place in the stream by Megunticook Lake. A monstrously large trout was hopping out of the water, trying to break free from the hook. Harry could not remember if he was still awake at the time the fish had bitten and if so what had been his last thought before he fell asleep.

Meanwhile, the grove was slowly recovering to breathe, a sudden and persistent pruning announced that it was the time when the squirrels leap from branch to branch and then go ashore searching for food. An otter, recalled by the noisy trout, peeked out from a bush a few meters upstream, spotted the easy prey and dived, raising splashes of water; when it emerged it aimed firmly towards the fish that seeing it began squirming even more furiously: he knew he had no escape.

Far away the bell chimes of the Rockport church announced that it was time to get ready for dinner. Thinking again he should return home, Harry ran quickly looking for his beloved mountain bike. He really cared about it because convincing his parents he was able to ride it had cost him an arm and a leg; that's why every time he went to the stream he would rest the bike on a tree after wrapping the fishing rod with a rag to avoid scratching it. Instead, he found the bicycle thrown to the ground carelessly; he rushed to pick it up and inspected it inch by inch, to make sure that it wasn't damaged.

Suddenly he felt like someone was spying on him, he looked around for the umpteenth time and the darkness that was cloaking everything intimidated him. A few days before, his father told him to apply a battery-powered light to the handlebars of the bike, but he objected saying that afterward, it would no longer be so beautiful; in that exact moment, he regretted his own decision, because right then a light would have been really useful. New and more intense noises revealed to him that the wood was becoming increasingly alive and faster and when he heard the first nocturnal birds sounds he was frightened so much that he hoped not to be in front of a bear.

He put on his glasses that were around his neck and placed the elastic that prevented him from losing them around his nape. He noticed that one lens was cracked and chipped and he wondered once more what the hell had happened to him; finally he stretched his right arm and then he bent it to bring the watch right under his nose. He wore it by habit because he was not able to tell the time, but knowing that it was late he still brought his hand to his forehead in a blatant gesture deciding that, even if reluctantly, he would leave the equipment there because he doesn't have enough time to pick it up; he told himself he would come back the next day.

He was disappointed he could not take the trout with him because it was perhaps the biggest fish he had ever caught, but he had stopped making noise and this meant that it was probably already gone in the belly of the otter. Harry imagined the otter satisfied while going back to her den to get some sleep because thanks to him the hunt was already over. He shrugged and told himself that at the moment he had far more serious things to think about, for example, the fact that surely his parents already were very angry. So, even though it was a little scary it was necessary to take the shortcut. Without thinking twice he picked up the backpack containing the snack and all its treasures from the ground and threw it over his shoulder, jumped clumsily into the saddle and began to push on the pedals struggling a little to keep the handlebars straight, as he felt stable he swooped down into the woods and crossed the bush in a flash.

He came out on an immense meadow and after walking a few hundred meters he turned left, then he followed a stretch of the mule-track that ran along the valley floor between Payson and Camden until, at the crossroads for the city, he sharply cut through a beet field, being careful to stay away from the scarecrows because he remembered rumors that at night they try to grab whoever passes nearby.

Finally, he climbed to the top of the Camden Hills where he stopped to take a breath. He took off his blue polo shirt, leaving just his white ribbed undershirt on, he used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead and take a break to observe the sea, it was illuminated by the expanse of lights that ran along the winding coast. The evening ferry ride was accompanied by low flying seagulls: illuminated by a multitude of headlights it was crossing the Penobscot Bay bringing home the commuters from Deer Island, whose lights reflected a thousand glints against the dark surface. Harry moved his gaze to the valley floor in the direction of Rockport, his home was just four or five minutes away and by daylight he would have been perfectly able to recognize the dark slate roof. Instead, he saw confused flashes of red and blue light making their way through the ash trees tops and he kept his eyes wide open in astonishment, then he squinted them for better focus and realized that the lights came right from his garden.

Fearing that something might have happened to his parents, his heart skipped a beat, then he tied his polo shirt to the barrel of the bike and got up on the pedals flying down the steep descent, regardless of the pebbles and holes that might have led to a nasty fall.

James had been pacing back and forth in the garden for hours and was now close to exhaustion and hopelessness. Starting from the early morning he spent the day trying to think according to the habits of his son: every time that was approaching some important appointment for Harry, like the 2 pm tv series or the snack at 4 pm, or the Egyptology collection at 5 pm, he had hoped to see him coming back home. Instead still nothing! He stopped and checked the clock once again, it was past 8 pm and Scooby-Doo had just begun, but there was no shadow of Harry.

He shook his head discouraged and began to roam like a robot back to the large garden, chasing away mosquitoes, and due to the anxiety he had not even noticed that he was reducing his favorite flowerbed into mush, the one adorned with violets that in few days would have welcomed the big Christmas fir tree.

He felt a sense of physical discomfort and unhooked the first two buttons of his shirt as if that simple gesture could help him feel better.

Although they were in late December, that year the summer seemed not to want to end. Instead of snow and ice, the lawns were covered with fragrant flowers and the temperature continued to be around thirty degrees. For this James had taken the bad habit of chugging Budweisers one by one, cursing the heat and humidity; consequently, his stomach had definitely grown and his persimmon colored Deputy Sheriff's uniform had begun to be tight.

Even though science was still far from finding a plausible explanation for this incomprehensible phenomenon, experts from all over the world were in agreement that the climate had by now definitively gone mad and things would hardly get back to normal. To support their theory, which initially many had judged absurd, in many places of our planet, deserts had begun to seem like prairies and vice versa.

Entire ecosystems had packed their bags and quickly moved in search of better living conditions, leaving many scientists speechless. James stopped and looked up at the starry sky, then covered his ears trying to feel far, at least for a moment, from the noise that surrounded him. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, breathed deeply hoping that once opened again he would be in his bed, finally awake, thanking God because it was only a bad nightmare. Optionally, in order to hold his son immediately, he would even have agreed to be the victim of some joke orchestrated by an author of tacky Reality Shows. Instead, when he opened his eyes and uncovered his ears, he was still in the middle of the same chaotic shouting, the same traffic of frosty fluorescent bodices, the same colored flashes cutting through the darkness and of the same confused barking of tired dogs. There were those who gave orders and those who distributed tea and hot coffee, someone with block and pencil asked questions everywhere taking notes, a guy placed in front of a field radio marked portions of a topographic map using a marker pen from the gigantic tip.

James got back to his wanderings and his wife Eve took his arm, accompanying him in his furious gait and pulling back trying to restrain him. Another woman would have been dragged away by his volume and his firm step, but she was a bit taller than him, thin and muscular, the classic Northern European woman with long ash-blond hair and blue eyes so clear that at first sight they might even have looked albino. Tired of being pulled like a trailer, she gave him a yank forcing him to stop, then he looked in her eyes.

"What?" he said annoyed.

"Really? You should look your face in the mirror, then you wouldn't ask me what" Eve replied. James snorted.

"Why don't you let Dr. Parker give you a sedative?" She urged him immediately, using a tone James thought was too thoughtful.

"Do you still insist on this? Do you want to tell me why I should take a sedative?" He replied nervously. Before Eve could even answer, Dr. Adam Parker interfered.

He had a fine mustache and round intellectual glasses combined with a fancy butterfly, he looked like a mannequin escaped from an antique shop.

"Mr. James, please listen to me! You have not been sleeping for much longer than a day, your eyes are completely bloodshot and the veins on your neck and temples are extremely dilated. I am telling this for your own health, you should rest because going on like this you may collapse within a few minutes. I'm sure that if you would allow me to check your blood pressure, it would be off the charts" he explained to him seriously, staring at him with his tiny clear eyes.

"Until I won't see my son again I am not willing to rest, understood? Indeed, if waiting here means collapsing, that's fine!" James argued with a raspy voice looking over at the doctor: he was trying to identify who was sharing out some coffee outside in the crowd.

"How I feel is not your business, and if..." he was saying till Hellen arrived. "Excuse me," she said placing a hand on James's forearm trying to get his attention. Eve noticed the gesture and glared at her jealously or perhaps simply claiming her ownership; Helen defiantly stared at her while placing the Sheriff's star pinned to her chest and then again to James.

"I must return to base, I have to plan tomorrow workday," she told him tightening the grip on his arm as a sign of solidarity, then Eve gave her again a piercing glance.

"Sure, I see" he nodded nibbling his upper lip.

"Good. If you have any news, call me please"

"Yes Sir, I will keep you updated. Thank you for doing this" he replied sadly because he feared that instead, for that evening, there would have been no news.

"Don't give up, I'm sure that anytime now you'll see Harry riding his bike up there, at the top of the driveway," she said trying to encourage him.

"I really hope you're right... but I just can't understand why he did it. Lately, we hadn't even scolded him, we didn't give him one reason to run away from home..." he concluded shaking his head slowly.

"I don't think he ran away from home, otherwise he would at least leave you a note so you could feel guilty" Helen objected after thinking for a while. "Anyway try to hold on, you'll see that everything will work out. See you Tomorrow" she concluded, then she walked away towards the patrol car, deliberately ignoring Eve. Before getting on the Jeep she stopped to give instructions to agents and volunteers so that the next day at dawn, unless news, everyone would already have known what to do without wasting precious time. Eve focused on James.

"Love... I would rather prefer not to insist, but why don't you drink herbal tea? Maybe something that won't let you sleep but help you at least to relax".

"So I wasn't clear enough" he snapped so loudly that everyone was looking at them, "I am not going to relax! If you didn't notice yet, I'm in this condition because despite all the efforts we made so far we can't find our son! There is no sign of him or his mountain bike within five miles, and if you really want to know what I don't understand is how can you stay so calm, and above all why we haven't decided yet to call someone expert! By now it is clear that Harry has been kidnapped and despite all their goodwill these people will certainly not be able to help us find him again!"

"Oh really? Then if that's what you think, why aren't you looking for your child on your own?" The Beagle breeder, who gathered the canine units, told him bothered. His partner answered with a blank stare, shrugging his shoulders.

"A kidnapping? We are a very normal family that lives in a remote village of peasants and fishermen, who should have kidnapped our son? And what for?" Eve said, shocked.

"I don't know, what I know is that we have to call experts, I told you! What? Do you hope our Harry will be found thanks to them?" James vented his frustration, pointing to the muddled rescue teams set up by the people of the town; they were all returning to the base camp because it was dark and finding Harry would have been impossible. Men and women were emerging in small groups from the bush, exhausted and distressed, and deliberately avoiding to look at Eve or James. Most of them put torches and backpacks to the ground wearily, depressed, discouraged; one guy called loudly for the dog that had plunged back into the bush in pursuit of a hare, another one slipped into the Headquarters, prepared inside a camping tent.

"Do you think your colleagues and your boss have done better so far? Maybe the sheriff?" Eve retorted, pointing to Helen as she was giving the latest guidelines. James was going to reply, but the doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention.

"Mr. James, I would not seem... don't be offended if I get involved, but I don't think your son may have been kidnapped by someone. You know very well that Harry is not a boy like everyone else, any banality that would leave another child completely indifferent, like a fall from a bicycle, could have caused him emotional trauma. Harry may have lost his sense of direction, or could ..."

"Save your breath!" James shouted, shaking his hand sharply.

Helen was already seated in the driver's seat of her Cherokee and was about to start the engine. When she heard him screaming, she opened the door and poked her head out to see what was happening: James was approaching his nose a few inches far from the doctor's face and he was going to explode, and knowing how much he disliked him, she feared he might do something foolish. Some of the volunteers were heading towards the two contenders aiming to calm down their souls. Helen was wondering it was not the case to intervene in person.

"Look, my son is not an idiot, he only has Down syndrome! Harry has gone fishing alone at Payson Corner several times, he knows how to ride his bike perfectly and can't get lost for five damn miles. Is it clear, Doctor?" James was shouting when a sudden movement behind the doorbell attracted Helen's attention, who would have been able to recognize that silhouette even a hundred miles away.

Helen's heart started beating wildly. Just as she had predicted to James a few minutes before, the boy had materialized beyond the hedge that bordered the east side of the property. Harry used his last energy to quickly walk the steep path that led to the entrance of the garden, and there he stopped to look at the scene panting. He did not understand the reason for all this shouting, but he got close to them, watching fascinated as if it was a movie; most importantly he was relieved because his parents were both there and at first sight, it seemed they were both fine.

"Thank God" Helen murmured, bringing her hands to her mouth, jumping off the road and running towards Harry, who had meanwhile walked a few more yards and stopped not far from James. He was approaching interested and amazed for the circus before him. He got off his bike and got down on his knees as if the forces had abandoned him all at once.

"Harry!" shouted Helen as she saw him fall. Everyone turned to look and then immediately exploded in a roar of joy followed by euphoric liberating applause. James was the first to reach his boy and literally tore him from Helen's arms.

"Dad, you're not angry, are you? I know I was late, but it's not my fault. I must have fallen asleep".

"You fell asleep? " Echoed James. "You have been missing home since yesterday at 2 pm. It's eight in the evening! You've been out for thirty hours, where the hell have you been?" He shouted grabbing him by his curved shoulders.

"I... How can it be possible, since yesterday?" Harry said confused trying to figure an excuse out, but not finding one he looked at his father with a guilty face. His eyes were moistened and his lips began to tremble, he was going to cry because he thought no one would ever believe him.

"Enough! Can't you see he is not feeling well? Let him go!" yelled Eve pushing James away. Then she held his hand helping him to stand up. "Don't worry honey it's all right! Come on, let's go inside" she whispered hugging him protectively.

Nodding she invited the doctor to follow them and James, still confused, watched them go towards the house. He wanted to go with them, but he could not move a single nerve: the discharge of stress showed as a sudden wave of fatigue whose backwash had carried him off any remaining energy.

Harry's dog suddenly came out of the reed that bordered the green at the back of the house and ran to him wagging his tail.

"Toby!" Harry exclaimed reaching out to pet him, but unexpectedly the dog stopped a few inches from him and immediately backed away to avoid the contact. He raised his snout and sniffed the air, lowered his ears and arched his back, lowering his tail back between his hind limbs. He sniffed again and walked away from the boy again, then straightened the hair on his back and began to growl at him, showing his teeth. Finally, he positioned, ready to attack.

"Toby..." Harry murmured disappointed as he moved towards him. James guessed what was going to happen and ran trying to avoid the worst thing. "Toby, what..." he said just in time, a moment later the dog pounced on Harry, knocking him over and biting his forearm, which he had instinctively lifted up to protect himself. After that, he placed his nose an inch from his face and again he growled threateningly. James belted the dog and lifted him from the ground aiming to make him harmless, but he felt that he was struggling so hard that he would have escaped immediately. The sensation of dripping blood showed him that the claws of the powerful Collier's hind limbs had caused him a cut in the thigh of his right leg.

"Hurry, take him inside, I can't hold Toby anymore" he shouted to Eve. She helped Harry to get up and dragged him home by running, the doctor picked up the leather bag and hurried after them. James let the dog go who barked and gave paws to the door already closed and immediately ran to hide in his wooden kennel, where he continued to yelp and howl for a while. James wanted to punish him but he gave up just after one step because his leg was giving him too much pain. "All we need is the crazy dog ..." he whispered stunned scratching his head. That swing of emotions had destroyed him.

It was late and the volunteers were very tired, but Helen continued giving orders to dismantle the Base Camp anyway because the equipment could have been useful if a new emergency had occurred somewhere else. At the end she thanked those who had participated in the rescue and dismissed everyone except the ambulance driver, Dr. Parker would have noticed what to do once he had determined that the boy was fine. Since James was still dazed, Helen was concerned about taking the mountain bike into the shed, she knew how much Harry cared for it and how angry he would have been if the next morning it was still there, thrown out in the meadow.

She bent over the bike and spotted the boy's clock on the grass. She thought the boy must have lost it when he dropped to his knees so she slipped it into his pocket willing to return it to James as soon as possible. She grabbed the handlebars and noticed that it was covered with a very fine light blue-colored luminescent powder; mechanically she tried to scratch it off with the nail of her little finger, but a tiny cut on her fingertip provoked such a pain that she immediately gave up cursing, then she shrugged and started pushing the bike towards the shelter. James recovered and joined her when she was already at the door of the tin shed.