The Ghoul of Christmas Past

no longer possessed the physical ability to leverage it.
The wave that lifted the boat was almost instantly sucked back as millions of gallons began to pour through the ruined floor. The boat surged forward but Ronald expected all these things to happen and was mentally prepared for them. It was his decision to be up close so he could see the look in their eyes when the shareholders went to their deaths. All he had to do was step from the boat onto the shore and perhaps tip them a little wave as the outrushing water sped them to a painful, terrifying death.
What he hadn’t planned for was one of the captives rising from her seat. He saw the grey-haired woman as she came forward but there was no time for him to react. No sooner had he cottoned on to what she planned to do than it was happening.
The crown of Mary’s skull connected with Ronald’s midriff just below his ribs. It winded him slightly, but more importantly it drove him from the boat. Arms spinning wildly in the air despite the pain coming from his ruined shoulder, he fell backward over the bow of the boat.
With her arms pinned behind her back, Mary was unable to stop her own forward motion and would have pitched out of the boat too had it not surged forward at that moment. Coming to rest half in and half hanging out of the boat, she got to see as Ronald tried to surface only to have the boat roll over the top of him.
Behind Mary, the shareholders were screaming inside their gags and now frantically trying to rip their arms from their own sockets if it meant they could just get free before the boat plunged through the hole they could not yet see.
Then the boat stopped. It jammed and held tight for a second and only Mary knew why. She was staring down into the water at Ronald Norton’s face. It was contorted in pain and rage, but the ride had been designed to give only the minimum amount of clearance between the boat’s hull and the riverbed and Ronald was now a wedge beneath it. His own body was preventing the boat from following the water to the hole.
On the bank, Michael rolled to his side. The ghoul might be wet, but it wasn’t hurt, and Michael got to watch as it clambered back to its feet. Like Godzilla rising from the depths, water cascaded from his hair and clothing and once again he turned his attention to the man on the floor.
His last command had been to kill Michael Michaels.
Feeling like it might be simpler to just put his head back and accept his fate, Michael nevertheless pushed himself back and looked about for the steel tube.
Never give up.
The voice of his son, Tempest, resounded in his head. He might not stand a chance, but he would go out fighting.
‘Kevin.’
The ghoul turned his head.
Mary was sitting on the bow of the boat, her hands still bound awkwardly behind her back. ‘Hello, Kevin. That is your name, isn’t it?’
No one ever called him Kevin. He looked back at the man on the shore remembering he had a task to perform and took a step forward.
‘Kevin,’ Mary called, getting his attention again. ‘It’s Christmas in a few hours. Do you like Christmas?’
This time the ghoul tried to smile. The effect was horrific, but Mary could see what it was trying to do. ‘How about if we sing a Christmas song?’
Michael had no idea what his wife was doing, or how she knew to do it, but like a snake charmer lulling a serpent into a drowsy, compliant state, when she started singing Cliff Richard’s biggest Christmas number one, Mistletoe and Wine, the ghoul dropped his menacing hands back to his sides and began to hum along.
The water in the artificial river was flowing around the ghoul’s legs, the level getting lower by the second as it flooded the basement below. In a jolt of panic, Michael remembered Frank and the ninjas. They were down there still? That they were not here meant the ghoul had beaten them. What shape were they in? Where were they in relation to the hole that just got made or the water pouring through it? Had they been buried under tons of falling masonry, or drowned by the flood?
Michael was in no shape to help them, but Mary’s singing shut off abruptly when the boat shifted. Mary almost fell overboard, something that would ensure her doom, and only stayed on the boat because she managed to hook a foot around the bottom of a seat.
Ronald was getting up and there was still enough water left in the river to carry the boat to its doom. With a triumphant roar, Ronald burst from the water, gasping for breath but leaping to the shore to clear the boat’s path to the hole.
‘Kevin!’ Mary screamed. ‘Help us!’
A beat passed as the ghoul stared at his master and back at the boat. Then he started wading, running through the water after the boat as it began to pick up speed.
Seeing him, Ronald shouted, ‘Ghoul, no!’
The ghoul faltered, his steps slowing as conflicting instructions ruled his head. Mary’s terrified wail, ‘Kevin, save us!’ broke the spell.
Just as the boat reached the corner, a giant hand grabbed the back end. It was three yards from the hole and the passengers could see the wreckage fifty feet below. If the ghoul let go, they would have two or maybe three seconds before the boat impacted on the floor below where it would explode into pieces.
Ronald couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The ghoul was his servant! His to command! ‘I said, no!’ Ronald roared, jumping down into the last of the outrushing water. In a