Praise me. Praise Santa Claus.
4 ½ jingle balls! John McNee's "Hail Santa!" was not only a well-formulated and nigh perfectly executed horror story, but it really put together what I'd call all the best elements of a HALLOWEEN story and turned it into something perfect for the Yule season, which, in my opinion, is how we should be prioritizing things anyway! I mean, come on: we're in the cold climes of northern Canada (check your maps, it's only about 3½ THOUSAND miles away from Toronto) in the town of St. Nicholas (translation: with a name like that, you know everyone is doomed!). And well, this small dot on the map has "been on the verge of death for years" owing to the closing of their mine many seasons ago. Places have since been abandoned and boarded up, folks have scurried to better climes, and not a hell of a lot remains for anyone. HOWEVER, for the few die-hard folks that did stay, well, their lives are about to change in many ways. Some of the changes might be financially rewarding, others, well, might involve dismemberment and general mayhem. Guess which points are listed on the promotional flyers?
Nobody believes me. You’re all going to die.
Alas before all the lights are turned off in St.Nick (ooo, that slip up will come back to bite me!), a Chinese financial firm has decided that despite the industry's history of poor management, climate change, and financial difficulties shutting down ski resorts all over the world - for example, over 180 resorts in France alone have shut since the 1970s and we're just waiting for the neighbors out back to do the same after over a decade of pathetic amounts of snow - that they will become a leading luxury hotelier and ski resort operator in North America. I mean, why not? The land is cheap, the local folks are willing to part with their properties without any fuss, shops and more are selling out for mere pennies on the dollar … so what could possibly go wrong? Hm, guess they didn't listen to the stories about how the place was established in the first place, huh? A tale about something snatching up young, plump children and carting them away a sack, never to be seen again?
The greater the myth of Santa Claus gets, the more powerful he becomes.
So along the way we meet a few hardened souls that have stuck around as well as the new school teacher (a cute wee red-headed lass from Scotland, of course, acknowledging our Glaswegian author) and the school custodian (a tough fellah from Mobile, Alabama, with troubles of his own). They're joined as Christmas approaches by a slew of contract workers who have signed on to try and get the town up and functioning again. But surprise of all surprises, a blizzard has shut everything down and everyone's snowed in without any phone or other communication equipment to be found, making the answer YES to such questions as "So, we’re stuck here; is that what you’re saying? No way out?" (you can add some bwhahaha's to that if you wish). And don't dare ask for the roads to be plowed because, again, nobody is going to want to do that so close to Christmas. Maybe because of the joy of the season, maybe because of the abundance of vast quantities of alcohol that is thankfully available to help "numb the agony of existence" (which I'm going to use now as an excuse, too). Who knows, right? I've asked it before so I'll ask again: what could possibly go wrong… in a village apparently formed and named in honor of an actual demon was it? Hmm…
It looks and sounds like Santa Claus, but it’s not. It’s big and ugly and evil.
In fact, what begins to occur reminded me a lot of Kristopher Rufty's "Prank Night", a Halloween story focused on the 'shenanigans' (read: disembowelments, decapitations, and worse) committed when the town's under-18 population starts killing anyone and everyone with abandon ("…as darkness fell, children gathered, unseen by adult eyes."). OK, granted "Hail Santa!" pretty much let's us know who and how the whole controlling the small but blood-thirsty population of young'uns very early on, but the spillage of all kinds of bodily parts and liquids is no less bountiful than it was in PN. The fact that the townsfolk - and this is especially true for the longer-term residents - also are somewhat hypnotized by all that is happening ("In the midst of a town-wide massacre, they were throwing a party."), but they don't just start themselves killing everyone for the Schlitz and giggles of it all. No, they instead go and die in truly nasty ways with gay, happy smiles on their faces.
All this Christmas shit! It’s trying to kill us!
But before you can sit up and say "wait, weren't there only a few dozen people left in town anyway?", this story goes into a stretch with an awesome, high tension ending. I really enjoyed how McNeen split the different crews up ("ok, there are 8 of us alive… um, 7… oops, 6 so let's go off into 3 groups of 2!") and it only added to the overall horror of the final few pages seeing who would stay focused and do their best to survive and who would succumb to the mind-numbing powers of Santa Claus… DON'T CALL ME THAT GODDAMMIT!!! It really does invite in some absolutely deliciously disgusting visuals in terms of monster-tude-ness and leaves us all cheering for our heroes (that lived) at the end. Sure, we wind up missing some more people as time goes on but that's normal for the whole ski scene, right? I dunno, I stay where it's warm reading my books about other people getting 'et in the Canadian outback.
P.S. And just because I'm feeling festive, I'll share these sweet holiday thoughts from Shona:
"Do me a favor? Don’t die. That would really spoil the holidays."