"Dear respected Christmasland owner,
I am responding to your ad in Spicy Menace Comic,
Volume 12, Issue 36.
Would I like to work in Christmasland? You bet!
I have worked 19 years for MCS Custodial Services.
I am trusted with shipping dangerous chemical gasses all over the world.
I also work in schools,
where the Vice-Principal says I'm a go-getter.
There is nothing I'm not ready to do
to earn a place among your Christmasland staff.
Season's greetings!
Bing Partridge."
Mom?
Dad?
No, no...
No...
Hey, mister...
I have something for you.
It's an invitation to Christmasland.
I knew it!
Are you naughty or are you nice?
Nice.
Only those who truly deserve it can go to Christmasland.
Vic?
What, you just leave me? No goodbye?
I didn't leave you.
That's what Mom said. She said you left us both.
Well, then she misunderstood me.
Then help me understand.
Hold up, OK. Let's just... How did you even find me here?
I shouldn't have had to find you, Dad.
Chrissy, baby, who is it?
Hold on one second.
You're right.
I should have done this different.
You know, but I... I had to get out of there.
Your mom and me bring out the worst in each other.
She's better off without me.
It's for the best.
You should have told me.
I screwed up.
Sorry.
But I am here for you, Brat, you know?
Anything you need.
It's Tiffany Jones.
I should have known.
Were they drinking?
Yeah.
Maybe when he runs out of beer...
She's a bartender, for Christ's sake. He's in hog heaven.
I'm going to bed.
Vicky, how did you find out?
Some asshole's been painting dicks on the loading dock again.
Jeez. I scrubbed them last week.
Yeah. Well, you're going to be scrubbing them again.
Oh, my God.
Make some fresh coffee, will you? This stuff tastes like horse piss.
No!
Vic.
Vic?
You alright?
You ride out here like a bat out of hell,
and now you're, like, in outer space.
What was the name of that filthy doll you had back in Third Grade?
What?
"Mousey"?
- Or was it "Rabbity"? - Let's get out of here.
No. "Petey." The one you had until I lost it.
Are you losing it now?
No, I'm not. What was its name?
It wasn't a doll, it was a rabbit, and his name was Leonard, so...
If you were going to bust my balls
we could have done this where there's weed,
so I could be, you know...
OK. Don't move.
Where you going?
Honestly, I have no fricking idea.
Holy crap!
Craig! Hey.
Hey, you alright?
You alright?
What was that?
What did you see?
- That, Vic. Fricking that. - Just tell me what you saw.
I saw a bridge, OK? I saw a bridge. I saw it right there.
And I saw you go over it.
Good.
I tried to follow you and...
Maybe I'm the only one who can cross.
What?
Grab your bike.
Where did it take you?
The first time I went over, it took me to my father's lost watch.
The second time, his girlfriend's house.
Just now...
...to a landfill.
Leonard?
- Leonard! - Yep.
What the hell?
Don't ever cross that thing again. Alright? For anything.
One day you're finding rabbits, the next day your dog is dead.
- I don't have a dog. - OK, then it's you.
Then it's you.
Then it's you instead.
I've never seen you so scared.
Honestly, Vic, I...
I don't know how you're seeing anything right now.
- Vic... - Let's get out of here.
Vic?
Let's go.
Could you grab the file on the Hawkeye Farms case, Nadine?
Thank you.
- Libraries got delivery now? - Yeah, you wish.
Miss Howard's had you on a no-lend list
since Pride and Prejudice.
That was six years ago.
- She tried to call the cops. - She did.
She tried to get me to file a police report on myself.
Come on, Maggie, not more Wraith talk.
Listen, there were only about 500 made.
- Maggie... - No one really drives them.
They're more like a showpiece,
because once they break it's hard to find the parts.
You want to go looking for Wraith parts now?
It's an old car.
Had to have broken down at some point.
Find the parts, find the Wraith, and Danny.
Peter Ives didn't take him alone.
According to your... Scrabble bag?
- I'm sorry. - It's fine.
- I know you were fond of Danny. - Am.
I am fond of him. I taught him how to read.
OK, well, you know, he's most likely...
There's a junkyard in Nebraska with spare Wraith parts.
Please.
Young Bing Partridge, the man of the hour.
We're overdue for a chat, sir.
Probably the most important chat of your life.
Charles T Manx at your service.
CEO of Christmasland Enterprises,
Director of Christmasland Entertainment,
President of Fun.
The hand of Fate has brought us together.
I was on my way here to locate a certain individual,
an individual able to find a Shorter Way...
when I received your inquiry of employment.
You are the author of this missive, are you not?
Are you offering me a job?
Slow down, Mr Partridge. I'm interviewing you for a future.
Unless you prefer to spend your days scrubbing away
at crude depictions of male galliformes.
- What? - Cocks, Mr Partridge. Cocks.
I need a new Chief of Security
to protect the children of the world.
You do agree that children need protection, do you not?
I think so.
Then get in. Time is wasting, sir.
Thank you.
So Bing, I have been watching you,
and I wonder, in your work at Sochempharm,
what are the gases to which you have access?
Oxygen, nitrogen, helium...
Some stuff called sevoflurane. For dentists mostly.
We call it gingerbread 'cause that's what it smells like.
It's an anesthetic?
Yeah, you huff a little bit,
and kind of do what people tell you to do.
You become open to suggestion.
Yeah.
Huff too much though, and it just knocks you out.
I see.
I got to level with you, Mr Manx.
Ever since I wrote you that letter I've dreamed about Christmasland.
And it was... it was scary.
Scary?
Heavens, no! What, is hot cocoa scary?
Are presents every day scary?
No.
Not scary like that, but...
Scary, because... I can't ever get in.
Well, only very special people ever get in.
Am I special?
That's why I'm looking you over. To find out.
Tell me, Bing, when you dreamed about Christmasland,
did the moon wink at you?
How did you know?
Because maybe you do belong in Christmasland.
I'm so sorry, Mr Manx.
I just... I feel very tired.
I think I'm about to fall asleep.
Good.
The road to Christmasland...
is paved in dreams.
So...
Dad says we're better off without him.
Maybe we are.
No more handing over the cash after scrubbing toilets all day.
Maybe you could pick up an extra client or two.
Yeah?
- Hire somebody to help you out. - I've been thinking about that.
Have you in the afternoons and on weekends and...
after you graduate, well, the sky's the limit.
Vic!
Willa told me you're applying to RISD.
What a wonderful school.
Yes, we were just talking about Vic's future.
Well, if you need anything at all, you let me know.
I have a sorority sister in the registrar's office.
Thank you, Mrs Brewster.
Everything's bright and shiny!
It's about half as much without your father's pitchers of beer.
See?
You haven't asked me about RISD.
RISD...
What even is that?
It's the Rhode Island School of Design.
It's a Fine Arts college. A good one.
It would have been nice to hear it from you instead of Angela Brewster.
That was embarrassing.
I want to go to college, Mom.
Your father's filling you with crazy...
- It's not crazy. - He's the hero, I'm the villain.
You're not. I know you're the one who kept the family together.
- And a roof over our heads. - I know. You're the strong one.
I'm worried about Dad living with a bartender.
Don't be.
It's not your responsibility.
This sucks, Vicky. Your father's the one that left.
He's better around me.
Sorry, Ma.
Promise me one thing.
If there's hard liquor in...
...in that house,
you come right back home, OK?
Love you.
Not bad.
Mom says I'm too old to draw with chalk
and that regular girls text with their friends.
Mine told me the same thing.
Who says we want to be regular?
I want friends.
Vic?
Your dad said you were sick but you'd be better in a few days.
I am better, thanks to you.
These are yours.
Yeah. I got them down to size for you.
I wrote my number in the cover.
I already have it.
Good. Call if you need any tips.
Or even if you don't, OK?
- You're leaving? - I'll be around.
We'll always be friends, OK, Maggot?
OK, Weasel.
Sorry.
Hey, Vic, hold on.
Wait up.
- Sorry, I didn't mean to... - No, no. What's going on?
What's up?
What? What's wrong?
Just... me and Mom.
Yeah?
- Hey, Vic. - Hi.
- Kind of a surprise. - Yeah, I know.
Sorry I was throwing myself around last night. I was just...
...surprised you left, is all.
That's OK.
We'll figure it out, you know?
We can put her in my craft room. We can move some stuff around.
Right. Yeah.
OK?
- Does Mom know you're here? - Uh-huh.
Here we have the laboratory.
- Wow. - Yeah.
Do you not want me here?
Of course I want you here.
I'm just not sure this is the best place for you right now.
You have school, and college stuff.
Mom doesn't want me to go to college.
At least you believe I can do it.
Hey, of course you can go to college.
Look, Tiff's... kind of funny
about people, you know, touching her crap.
- Crap's right. - Hey.
This is her house. OK?
Be nice, and just, you know, don't touch anything.
That's you and Grandma.
That's supposed to be a surprise, so please don't touch that.
Grandma loved Mom.
Everybody loved your mom. That woman lit up a room.
Dad, I have to ask you something.
Can you ever see us in a way, like...
you could ever come home?
You and me and Mom?
Look...
Your mom and I grew up together, right?
We had some good times.
Best of all, we had you.
Things have changed between us.
I can never go back there.
OK?
You understand?
Yeah.
I'm going to go smooth it out with Tiffany. You stay in here.
OK.
I'm sure it's cool, you know?
You, me and Tiff.
Alright.
Fella come in for some body work on a '38 Wraith.
Bended-up left front fender.
Needed to replace the brake drums.
Said he'd spun out on some black ice into a ditch.
When was this?
Thirty-two years ago, come October.
Well, you seem sure about the date.
That's when my son and my grandson disappeared with the car
and the son of a bitch who owned it.
- You remember the owner? - Yeah.
He was a sickly fella. Bad teeth. About 80 years old.
And your son fixed his car?
Robbie got spellbound on that car.
Even when it did spooky stuff.
Spooky stuff like what?
Goddamn thing started by itself.
Robbie would say it was crossed ignition wires.
One day I come home and Robbie Junior's yelling,
"Grandma, the car got Daddy."
I come out. The goddamn thing has Robbie pinned against a garage wall.
Robbie said it was his fault. The thing rolled off its blocks.
That car had a mind of its own.
Then...
one day I come home,
and the car is gone.
My son is gone, and so is my grandson.
Well, I... reckon people leave for all kinds of reasons.
They didn't leave, Sheriff.
My family was took.
But in my heart of hearts, I know that little rat-face took 'em.
Somehow.
Well...
...if somebody comes asking for old Wraith parts,
will you give me a call?
A lot of good it will do you.
But yeah.
Christmasland?
No, Christmasland is to the west.
And once a year, Bing Partridge,
I take someone special.
Me?
All children are welcome
but adults must first prove their worth.
I'll do anything, Mr Manx.
I need you to help me save ten children.
Save them from monsters.
What monsters?
Their parents.
The bad ones.
If every day was Christmas for a child,
instead of another day of misery and woe,
wouldn't that be wonderful?
Yeah. I guess so.
Excuse me, Mr Manx, taking children from their parents,
isn't that kidnapping?
Absolutely not.
It's a matter of rescue and retrieval.
Any child would give their teeth to live an eternity in Christmasland.
There's something ahead I want you to see.
Tiff! You know Vic's going to art school?
She's got a talent like you, babe.
Of course she does. She's your daughter.
Yeah, well, I need to get in first.
And when would that be?
Applications are due soon.
So you'd be on your way...
Next fall, if I get in.
- What do you mean, if you get in? - If I get in.
You're a shoe-in.
Oh, shit.
This is ridiculous, Vicky. Get in the car.
- You shouldn't be here. - Neither should you. Get your stuff.
I'm not leaving.
She came here to try to save you.
- You know what, Linda... - Save him? From what?
- From this. From this. - Oh, OK!
She came here because she has a talent.
She wants to go to college.
Vicky, look at me.
You stay in this flophouse with your father,
the closest you'll come to college is tending bar with a baby bump,
next to the valedictorian of Margaritaville over here.
Pardon my French! I'm sorry, what's wrong with tending bar?
- You clean houses. - At least I don't wreck 'em.
How long you been banging my husband?
I give Chrissy the love he deserves.
- And I don't push him. - Linda, get back in your car.
Fix it with your hands, drunk! Go ahead.
Alright, that's what we're doing here?
Give her a preview, huh?
Stop it!
I'm calling the cops. OK? Is that what you want?
Call the cops, right now. Alright?
I do not want the police here.
I am not leaving without Vicky. I'm not leaving without her.
Vic?
Vic!
Fix it with your hands, drunk!
Preview of the coming attraction!
I'm gonna call the cops. Is that what you want?
Don't worry.
You're... You're safe here.
Where am I?
Here. Here, Iowa.
Iowa?
What? No. I'm from Haverhill, Massachusetts.
Well, you came a long way.
You are the Brat, right?
And I'm guessing the motorbike is your knife,
and that old bridge over there is your inscape.
Of course, sorry.
You look about that age. This is still probably pretty new to you.
You think you're going crazy,
but you're not. You're...
You're a strong creative.
Wait, do you have something for me? Something someone left or lost?
Yeah. Yeah, I've been expecting you.
I'm not really supposed to crash here,
but Miss Howard takes pity on me because I'm an orphan.
I've seen this place before.
My Scrabble tiles told me you were coming.
They can tell me just about anything, if I listen.
They can't give me proper nouns, though, like in Scrabble.
But nicknames are OK, hence "the Brat."
I'm Maggie Leigh, by the way.
Vic McQueen.
My dad calls me Brat.
Well, Brat, let's go take care of that knee.
I like your fish tank.
Thank you. It is a pain in the ass to clean.
So what did you call my bridge before, when we were outside?
It's an inscape. It's a world dreamed up in your imagination.
Everybody has them
but only strong creatives can pull theirs into the real world
with the help of a knife.
- My bike? - Exactly.
It cuts the fabric between the real world
and the world of thought.
And allows you to access your bridge.
Sorry.
So every time I cross it,
my head kills me and my left eye feels like there's a needle in it.
That is the...
cost... of a gift.
I didn't used to stutter before my bag found me.
I was about your age, maybe a little younger,
but it varies, like puberty.
I know what you're thinking.
Why you, right?
Or me?
But think about it.
Some people are movie stars.
Some people speak a dozen foreign languages
or are amazing cooks,
and some people are strong creatives.
People like us?
I'm a medium. It's a gift, but it's different.
I help interpret the static.
Thank you.
You said that you had something for me.
My tiles, they've been chatting about you for days.
What is the Brat here to find?
Oh, God, no. I don't...
It's creepy, I know.
"The Wraith." Is that something you lost?
No, but I am looking for him.
It's a guy?
It is a serial child abductor.
He's a strong creative too.
He took a kid I know.
I think I should start heading out
before my bridge or inscape starts to fade, or...
Thank you.
Thank you so much.
Yeah, but my tiles say that you're supposed to help me find...
Thank you for all the help, Maggie. I'm sorry you lost your friend.
Daniel. His name is Daniel Moore.
He's eight years old, Vic.
The Wraith killed his mother and took him
from the only home he knows, Vic, OK? Please, just wait.
You are the only person that can stop him, OK?
The girl who finds lost things can find lost children.
Don't you see you've been chosen?
I don't want to be chosen.
Your tiles are wrong.
Vic?
Haley.
How did you do that?
Haley, listen to me.
You never, ever tell anyone about this.
- Where did the bridge go? - Haley, promise me.
You're squeezing my arm.
The bridge? That bridge is dangerous.
There's bats in there
and strange places and strange people.
- You're scaring me. - Good.
Promise you won't tell.
I promise.
- I'm sorry. - It's OK.
What are you doing out here anyways?
Mittens ran away.
He'll come back. He always does, doesn't he?
Let's go home. I'll give you a ride.
Helmet on.
Hop on.
Squeeze my waist real tight. Don't let go.
Mr Manx, Mr Manx!
There's a dead girl in the ice.
Not dead.
Not yet.
Maybe not for many years.
What is this place?
This, Mr Partridge, is the Graveyard of What Might Be.
These are all children...
...who, if I do nothing, will have their childhoods stolen
by their mothers and fathers.
All of them.
Beaten with chains,
fed cat food,
sold to perverts...
Consider this one.
Lily Carter.
Turned to a life of sin by her father.
She never had a chance.
Her childhood ended before it even began.
If only there had been another to take her off to Christmasland.
You could line all these parents up and put a bullet in their brains,
for all I care.
Or a nail.
I wish I could have saved you back then, Bing.
But will you help me save the others?
Before it's too late.
Yes. Yes.
Good.
Let's go back to the car for some hot cocoa.
Then we have work to do.
There is someone who might threaten
the magic and wonder of Christmasland.
Someone in Haverhill.
Tell me, Bing Partridge,
what do you know about the Shorter Way?