The Last Christmas (5 page)

That was the plan.

Most people had left Washington, D.C.. If they lived in the particular high-rise we chose, then for certain they made their way to safety.

The plan wasn’t to bother or storm into the Vice President’s ‘penthouse’ bunker; it was to make our own.

What John didn’t know was the layout of the building or how many ‘penthouse apartments’ there were. We traveled up twelve flights of stairs, carrying our backpacks and that tank of gas.

John surveyed first while we waited in the stairwell.

It was pitch-black and ice cold. We were sheltered, but I couldn’t imagine how anyone would live long exposed to the elements. It was going to get worse, too.

He returned saying he knew which penthouse the Vice
President resided in and chose one for us.

John had to break down the door with Allen
, and we slipped inside the penthouse. It was huge, hollow, and cold.

I suppose it was going to be beautiful when the sun rose
, or at least in the morning.

“I’ll get this fireplace going,” John said. “Then you and Brea hang tight
here, while me and Allen go get all we can from apartments. We’ll hit every one and get what we can.”

“Can we keep the fire going?” Allen asked.

“We have to. These temperatures are going to drop to arctic levels. We’ll freeze in ten minutes after being exposed, maybe less.”

It didn’t
take long. I guess noise traveled louder in the quiet of the apocalypse.

Before John and
Allen could get the fireplace started, our door burst open and another soldier stormed our room.

He held his
weapon on us and our soldier, John, faced off with him.

“Stand down,” ordered the other soldier.

“Back off,” John said. “We aren’t hurting anyone.”

Then I saw him. He stood in the door way. The Vice
President.

John saw him too.

“What are you people doing?” the Vice President asked.

“Begging your pardon,
sir,” John said. “Surviving. We mean no harm and we won’t bother you. I have a woman and child here. We are going to fire this thing up, stay warm, and stay alive during this storm. We have our own supplies. I appreciate if you told your Captain, here, to lower his weapon.”

The Vice
President didn’t give the order. He said, “You plan on staying in this apartment?”

“Yes, sir,” John answered. “Until the rescue chopper arrives. We’re not in your way.”

“This is nonsense,” the Vice President said.

At that point I was irritated. Why did
we have a gun pointed at us? The whole situation was bad enough for my child, but now she had to witness this. It took everything I had not to blurt the one bad response of, “This is why I didn’t vote for you.”

I was glad I didn’t
say that.

The Vice
President stepped forward. “Lower your weapon, Captain. We have plenty of room with us. We’ll join forces.”

<><><><>

The Vice President took an immediate, fatherly liking to Brea, keeping a blanket over her and near the fire.

“
She will have the warmest spot,” the Vice President announced. We later began calling him by his first name of Ralph.

Having John was an asset.

They had gathered things to burn, but didn’t look beyond the ten-day window of waiting.

John and Allen gathered a lot of things from the lower apartment
s, mostly things that could be burned, extra clothes to wear, blankets. They left the higher floors for later because they would be easier to get to.

The living room
, or maybe it was a den, was blocked off by boxes of supplies. Walls were formed to contain the heat into one area.

Brea had fallen asleep. She ate some peanut butter and crackers while she took in the warmth of the fire. I sat next to her
, watching her slumber, the glow of the fire casting an orange hue on her angelic face.

With a grunt, Ralph joined me on the floor.
“Is that your son?” he asked of Allen. “He’s a hard worker.”

“No, he is just an amazing young man who has
been helping us.”

“
Good kid.” He sighed out. “Thought you might be hungry.” He handed me a pouch. It was open and fork poked from it. “Careful, it’s warm.”

“Thank you.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

My being dropped. “It’s Thanksgiving? This is sad.”

“It could be worse. You’re alive,” he said.

“
Alive is debatable. We’re surviving and this is life … this is what life will be.”

“Not always. Man will adapt and
hopefully, with structure, pull together to do a bit more than just surviving.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

“How come when Washington
, D.C. is empty, you’re still here?”

“Well,
the President was escorted out first, I volunteered to stay. Then I chose not to go on the final transport last week.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to die. I was hoping to die,” he said, with a shrug. “But those two, the Captain and Rodriquez, he’s secret service, wouldn’t let me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Airlifting was impossible due to weather. So it was ground evacuation. I sent my wife and two daughters out to be evacuated. They were killed when the convoy crashed on bad roads.”

My hand shot to my mouth. “I’m so sorry. I guess I do understand. My husband was washed away in a flash flood when we left home.”

He laid his hand on mine. “I’m sorry to hear that, too. Were you headed somewhere in particular?”

“
South. We were assigned to a camp down in Texas.”

“San Antonio?”

“Yes.”

“That’s where
we’re headed. That’s a main camp. So you know it won’t be bad.”

“That’s if
, you know, our space is still there.”

He gave a squeeze to my fingers. “I have some
authority, I’ll make sure you have space.” He winked. “I’ll let you eat your meal.” He stood.

“Ralph?”

He paused.

“I’m sorry I didn’t
vote for you.”

“That’s ok
ay, I didn’t vote for me either.”

He walked away, I watched for a moment and then I enjoyed my meal.

<><><><>

The storm came as predicted and it wasn’t like any snow storm I had experienced in my life. Thunder and lightning blasted, winds that carried below
-freezing air blasted against the windows, immediately icing them over.

We couldn’t see outside after the first day.

But we saw enough to know it was going to be bad.

Within
three hours of the onset, Allen’s truck was virtually buried.

Before the windows frosted over, all that we saw was the tip of th
at annoying, long antenna.

Three days and we were literally in the dark as to what was going on outside.

When the thunder and lightning finally stopped, the snow didn’t, it was lighter, yet still falling.

Allen couldn’t take it anymore. Five days of not knowing, he hit the stairwell.

First trip, he returned for more layers of clothing.

It was too cold
to go on. It was after he realized going down wasn’t giving him any answers, that he had to go to the roof, one floor above us.

He and John went, and it was a good thing that they did.

The rooftop door wouldn’t open.

It wasn’t frozen shut, it was packed shut by snow. Our means of escape to the helicopters was inaccessible.

We weren’t buried, not the whole buildings. Shadows that occasionally cast against the frosted window, told us that. It was that so much snow fell, it landed and blocked the roof.

On day six, they removed the door
, and with the Captain, they began to dig a tunnel using household items left behind. They took lots of breaks, they had to.

It took nearly three days to clear through enough of the eight
-foot thick roof snow to place an antenna unit for the field radio.

Our first contact
since before the storm began.

As John predicted, the ten
-day rescue wasn’t happening.

“The storm is still going on, weather isn’t
permissible,” Ralph told us. “A few more days.”

Brea made her way
over to the window, and I guess that made Ralph nervous. He called her back over.

“You just never know,” he said to me.

I understood.

“Mr. Ralph
?” Break asked sweetly. “Allen said there’s so much snow it comes nearly to us. Is that true?”

“If Allen said so.”

“Do you think it’s soft snow or hard snow?” she asked. “If it’s hard snow, we can just climb out the window and walk.”

“That’s
true.”

Then Brea gasped. “What if we think it’s hard and it’s soft and we sink? Oh no, would we drown in snow
?”

Ralph looked at me with curious smile. “I don’t know. I wonder
ed that. What do you think, Captain?”

The
Captain sat at the radio, not the most sociable guy. “You’d die out there. Even if it is hard, the top is deep and soft, you’d sink and suffocate.”

Ralph pointed his finger.
“You know that was a child wanting an answer right?”

“I think being honest is
important.”

“Carry on,
Captain.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When I saw Brea was occupied with walking over to the Captain, I asked Ralph, “Are we going to make it out of here?”

“
Yes, we are. You have two diligent men, and occasionally my men, working on that roof. We’ll get out. I promise you. And I know us politicians make promises and no one believes them, but you can believe this one.”

“I will.
”

“It’s almost Christmas.”

A squeal came from Brea. Such a loud one, that the Captain covered up his ears. “Oh, will Santa find us here? He’s really good in the snow. I bet he loves this. Maybe Santa can find us and fly us out on his sleigh.”

I saw it, and I know Ralph saw. Because Ralph spoke before the
Captain could say anything. “Santa won’t have time to get us. He’s gonna be much too busy. The United States Military will fly us out of here. No worries.”

“Thank you.”
She smiled and continued to hover over the Captain’s shoulder. “Who are you talking to?”

I smiled at her and returned
to my conversation with Ralph. “Won’t be much of a Christmas, will it?”

“Christmas isn’t
about the toys under the tree or the wrapped presents. This Christmas is about keeping the spirit and being alive. Life … That’s the gift.”

Ralph was right. Delay after delay, then finally, on Christmas Eve morning, when we were all about to give up, the radio call came.

“
Full Wolf, this is Zeus One Four Three, we’re making our approach. Prepare for pick up at zero nine hundred.”

One hour.

We cheered and we prepared.

We wrapped Brea in
every available blanket. She was so bundled I feared she would suffocate. But when we hit the roof, the wind bit us. I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold, it took my breath away.

Allen covered my mouth and nose with the blanket. “Breath
e through that. Trust me.”

They had cleared a circle
on that roof; the walls of snow around us were frightening. I worried that the wind from the chopper would cause an avalanche and bury us. But it didn’t.

To get
at us was more of a rescue, hovering the chopper and lowering the basket to raise us.

It was still gloomy and
overcast but the snow stopped and we were able to fly out.

I wasn’t expecting the snowy devastation. As we f
lew over Washington, D.C., the Washington Monument stood tallest out of the snow, and the dome of the capitol barely peeked through.

Our building was nearly
buried. All but a small amount of our floor.

So many building
s were gone, lost somewhere underneath the silky layer of white.

Brea sat on my lap, John to my right, Allen to my left.
And Ralph, sat across from me. He gave me that ‘closed’ mouth smile, that all but said all would be all right. I couldn’t see much after I sat back. I didn’t want to. From what I could see, everything looked the same.