Bringing his team around for the target assessment, Claus felt the stirrings of an emotion almost forgotten to him…fear. He was scarce a third of the way through his mission and had already lost a fourth of his team.
He didn’t feel he’d properly appreciated the full impact of the apocalypse on his yearly duties until he’d watched Blitzen and Cupid torn asunder by undead attackers.
His immortal status guaranteed his survival but not that of his trusted retainers. As he descended, he locked in fresh ammo belts. Bells jingling in time to the gunfire,, his sleigh did, indeed, slay.
This story was written for the weekly Tuesday Tales flash fiction prompt: sleigh.