The Last Christmas (2 page)

After quietly opening
the garage by hand, I grabbed the duffle bag that I always took for supplies and got in the van.

My heart beat so strong
ly. I worried for them. What if I didn’t come back? There was a half a box of stale crackers remaining. I envisioned my family waiting for those lights to come on. Waiting for the signal that I was home.

No. No. Those lights would go on.

I would make it back.

Wearing my own Santa hat, I pulled
out from the garage, looked, saw none of those things, closed the garage door and then backed from the driveway.

I kn
ew I was no less than a red flag with that Santa hat on my head, but I had a mission, one I would complete.

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There was one of those Dollar Marts three miles away in Chester. It was off of Old Mill Run Road, and it was rarely busy because few people knew it was there.

I was banking on that place for food. Hoping against hope, that
people thought of grocery stores, pharmacies and such, instead of a Dollar Mart.

They had aisles of food as I recalled.

I passed a few of those things as I drove on the snow-covered roads. My only weapon was a baseball bat. But somehow, I wondered if I would even need it.

The weather and time had taken
their toll, those things moved even slowly, almost dragging. Some crawled aimlessly.

I didn’t see any that ran.

They lacked enthusiasm when they saw me. Not even trying for the van.

I felt relieved
, even more so, when I saw a mob of them around what looked like a dead deer. The deer died recently; I could see the steam rising up from the carcass as they pulled at its insides.

The mob paid no attention to me.

I wondered how they got that deer.

My
bald tires slid a few times on the road, but I made it to the Dollar Mart. The front doors were smashed, open and the store was dark. I pulled right up to the entrance, grabbed my flashlight, bag, and bat, shut off the van, and stepped out.

I was going to be fast,
run in, run out.

A few of those
things were down the road, and I knew I had about twenty minutes before they made it. That was, unless there was one in the store.

I didn’t see any, when I looked.

Get in. Get out.

But then I saw
a bin of dollar toys when I walked in. The cheap ones. But who cared.

A turn of my beam of light lit the far
wall and the loads of cheap toys there.

How perfect that I would not only return how with food, but with gifts, as well.

Christmas.

I slid the bag from my shoulder, opened it
and placed some toys in there. Just grabbing from the bin. I’d sort it out later. For sure, cheap toys or not, they’d breed a smile from the kids.

I shouldered the bag, and headed to where I knew there were food
aisles.

A few
steps into my walk, I heard a crunching sound.

It was close.

A foot stepping on something.

One of those things were in the store.

I raised my bat.

Click.

My eyes widened.

“Say something,” the woman’s voice spoke
from behind me. I felt the gun against my head. Or at least I assumed it was the metal of a gun.

“Um, don’t shoot?”

She exhaled. “Oh my God,” she said excitedly. “A person.”

I turned around and before I could look at her, she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me as if she knew me.

“Oh my God,” she repeated.

“It’s ok
ay,” I told her. “It’s okay.”

She stepped back.
She was young, maybe twenty. Tears had caused streaks across her dirty face. She just stared at me.

The
n just as she emotionally laughed in relief, she collapsed. She dropped to the floor.

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I figured it was a number of things that caused the young woman to faint. She had a backpack stuffed with supplies and a gun. A true villain would have taken her things and left her.

But I was alive and those of us who were alive had to look after one another.

I carried her and her things to the van, then after securing her, I went back inside for food.

The shelves were pretty bare. A few cans of food, crackers
, and cookies. Water. She probably had grabbed a ton of stuff. I took what was edible and drinkable, then a few more items.

Thos
e things hadn’t made it to the store yet.

Before leaving, I wanted to make sure she was all right. Did I need to take her
somewhere, help her? In the back of the van, I used baby wipes to clean off her face, and the coolness of the cloths brought her to.

She thanked me
again.

“Jenny,” she said of her name. “You are?”

“Mark.”

“
I can’t believe I ran into someone alive.”

“Are you alone?” I asked her.

She nodded and sobbed.

“Where are you from?”

“Glenn Falls.”

“That’s thirty miles from here,” I replied. “You did that on foot?”

“Yes. I wasn’t alone. I was with my boyfriend and … And …”

“And?”

“My daughter.”

Thinking,
Oh God
. My hands shot to my face.
Don’t say it.

“We broke down and
those things … they surrounded the car,” she cried as she spoke, “we got out to run and … they just ripped my baby from my arms.”

“Oh my God.” My heart
broke. It literally broke right then and there. As a father I couldn’t imagine her pain.

“My boyfriend, tried to get her back and they got him. I ran. When I saw I couldn’t help … I ran.” Her
head lowered.

“It’s ok
ay.” I placed my arm around her. “When was this?”

“A week ago.”

“Where were you going?”

“To my mom.
We were safe. We were. But then Liam picked up a radio signal finally. It was a survival station. They were right outside my parents’ town. They had names. My mom was on the list as a survivor there. Two days later, she made radio contact with us. And we decided to try to make it there.”

“A survival
station.”

“
One of many. They fortified places. Waiting things out. Those things won’t last much longer.”

“Wow, this … this is great news. Where is it?”

“In Jonesville. Not far.”

Jonesville
wasn’t far. In fact, it was about four miles, the opposite direction from my house.

I kept thinking, this is truly a
Christmas miracle.

“What about you? Are you alone?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I have my family. My wife and two kids.”

“Where are they?” she
asked.

“Home. Safe. And close to
Jonesville, I can tell you,” I sighed out, “this amazing news. A survival station. Hope.”

She nodded and then she burst into tears.

“I am so sorry about your daughter, I really am. I am so very sorry.”

“Why did you leave your family at
home?”

“To get supplies. Food. I needed to feed my family and I wanted to do so because tomorrow is
Christmas. I wanted it to be a good Christmas. Now it will be. Food. Presents. And a survival station nearby.”

“
You’re very fortunate.”

“I am, Jenny. So you are you
, in a way. You survived. You’re alive. And …” I looked out the window. “We have to go.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. You can come to my house. Meet my family. We’ll eat and then as a great Christmas present, we’ll hit that survival station.”

Jenny was excited
and happy to go, I could tell.

We talked in the van on the way back, not even noticing if we saw any of those things.

“What are they like?” Jenny asked. “Your family.”

“
Melissa, my wife, is amazing. Beautiful. Carly, she’s four. But so mature. Quite though. Jeff, well, he’s a character. Wait until you meet them.” I caught myself in my enthusiasm. How callous of me. “I’m sorry.”

“
No. It’s okay, my daughter was eight months old.” Her head lowered again.

I don’t think I could ever say I was sorry
enough. The pain the young woman was experiencing had to be unbearable.

I squeezed her hand to convey my strength
.

She seemed better and
calmer when we pulled into the garage and I secured it.

“We stay in the basement. I have a fireplace down
here in the family room,” I told her. “But I have to do something.”

“What’s that?”

I smiled and reached for the generator and started it. “It’s Christmas. I was thinking you know, it would be our last one together. Our last Christmas dinner. But after hearing about the survivors … maybe not.”

“Maybe not. What are you
doing?”

“
Christmas lights.” I plugged in the cord.

“Aw, that is so sweet.”

“Thanks.” I knocked on the door between the family room and garage. “Melissa, it’s me. I’m back. Merry Christmas, sweetie, I brought food.”

I reached for the knob and
turned.

Jenny stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

Her hand went to her mouth and nose. “The smell.”

“You’ll get used to it. It won’t be for long.”

I felt the tension as I put my hand on
her back. She didn’t want to go, but I led her in and shut the door.

“Melissa
. Jeff. Carly.”

My family
immediately showed their enthusiasm at our new guest and rushed our way.

Jenny screamed. Unbelievably loud
, and it hurt my ear.

She spun around and ran right into me.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “I thought you wanted to meet my family.”

Her entire body shook. “Let me leave.
Let me leave.”

“I can’t do that. It’s Christmas. Come on in f
arther.” I grabbed her arm. She was no match, really, for me, and I pulled her easily into the family room.

It was bright and colorful with the lights. The
spinning artificial tree played a sour version of
Winter Wonderland.

Jenny wouldn’t stop screaming.

Carly ran to us, but snapped back from the restraints.

“Stop it!” I
yelled. “You’re scaring them.”

“Oh my God, you’re insane. You are completely insane. Mark … Mark … don’t you see them?”

“They’re my family.”

“They’re dead.”

“No!” I blasted. “They’re… they’re …”

“Dead.”

“No.” I growled. I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. “They’re my family. They’re hungry. That’s all. I told you I needed to feed them. You’re gonna help me. You’re gonna help me feed them.”

Jenny screamed powerfully with anger and pulled from my grip, backing up.
“Feed them yourself! They’re your family. Feed them yourself.”

“I need you. You can be with your daughter if you do this.”

“I want to be with my mother. She’s my family, too, she’s alive. I’m her child. Just like they are your children. She loves me.”

Jenny
argued so emotionally, so passionately, that something struck me. Something in her eyes. My head lowered. “You’re right.” I held up my hand. “They are my family and I have to be the one to do this. The keys are in the van. Take the supplies.” I took a step back.

“
No!” She grabbed me and yanked me forward. Her tone softened, “I know … I know what it’s like. I do,” she pleaded. “I lost my child. I know. Just … let this go. Please. Let’s leave. Let’s go to the station.”

“I can’t leave them.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I tried.” I closed my
eyes. “I tried. Early on. I wanted to run for the hills, release them. Just let them go, because I couldn’t bring myself to … to … but I couldn’t. I bound them and brought them to the van. But then I couldn’t leave. Too many of them were out there. And once I got them here, I couldn’t do anything but feed them. Keep them alive.”

“
Let them go, Mark. They need to be let go.”