The Last Christmas (3 page)

I looked at my family. It didn’t matter how they were physically, they were still
my wife and children. I thought back to the day when it started. Carly got the fever first. How? We had been in the house. They didn’t take a breath of fresh air. Yet, the baby got sick. Carly died within a week, and while she was sick, Jeff got sick.

It was one thing to lose a child, but another to watch them rise.

Rise from the dead. Eyes glazed over without color, skin drawn of any life, and filled with a rage brought on by a hunger that only flesh could satisfy.

The news said to destroy
them. To hit them in the head.

But how do you do that? How do you do that to your own child? Let alone two of them.

Melissa and I talked about it. We bound them so they wouldn’t be a danger, but they were still our children. Day after day, their flesh rotted, it killed me. Killed me.

They cried out in this agonizing
, damnation moan every second of the day.

Melissa didn’t get sick.

The kids were hungry, and she did what any good mother would do, she fed them.

I tried to stop her, but it was too late. They had consumed half of her arm.

Melissa died that night and rose the next day.

The longer I
stayed with them, the harder it was to get rid of them.

“I
tried,” I whimpered out. “I did.”

“I know you did.”

“I’m sorry. I did some terrible things. I almost did it to you.”

“Let’s just go.” She held out her hand. “Let’s go.”

“I did it for my family. And I brought you here for them. I just kept thinking. Look at them. They aren’t gonna be here next Christmas. They won’t. I just …”

“Mark, what you did you did. Let it go and let’s leave.”

I nodded sadly, looked at her hand and then made eye contact. “You’re good people. Go find your family. I need to feed mine.”

I stepped back and as I did, Jenny
desperately tried to grab for me, but I made it too far back.

She
screamed loudly. Almost as if she cared at that moment. Perhaps she did in some way. A bonding between strangers.

But my decision was made and in that final step it was too late to change my mind even if I wanted to.

I didn’t want to.

Melissa grabbed for my head while Carly
grabbed my leg and Jeff leapt for my arm. My family embraced me.

When I
had left, I believed it was our last Christmas. It was. We were together.

Jenny’s screams of horror continued. They faded
as I was totally encompassed in the throes of my hungry family.

I was okay
with it … A weird, peaceful feeling swept over me. I was doing what I set out to do. I was feeding my family on Christmas.

August came in with a vengeance, baking us beyond belief. I was just complaining the day before it happened. It was the hottest summer I could remember in my life.

I hoped for better weather for our town’s
Community Day. Little did I know I would regret hoping for that.

Just as the last
of the Community Day’s fireworks exploded in the sky in the grand finale, the first snowflake fell. A sudden cold took over the northern area, dropping to fall-like conditions. People donned sweaters and sweatshirts, and watched the traditional lights in the night sky.

It snowed, temperatures dropped more
, but nothing arctic. Not yet. It then snowed continuously without stopping. At first, not heavy, just those dusting flakes. The ground was much too warm to hold an accumulation. The earth seemed to be fighting itself, wanting to be warm, while the sky had other plans. For about ten days, that snow fell steadily and fine. Then it grew heavy, and Mother Nature, still in a bout of schizophrenia, wouldn’t let it stick to the ground. Instead it melted, for as fast as it fell, it melted and areas flooded.

Scientists called it a freak weather
anomaly brought on by a northern weather condition.

Any day it would change.

After a couple weeks or so, people called shenanigans.

The ice age
had begun.

No one would ever have expected for the
ice age to begin in the middle of August. When people were still wearing summer clothes.

But it did.

When the reality was finally forefront in our minds, the exodus began. Actually, it started out as an evacuation of New York and other areas that were flooded. Because soon, the flood waters would ice over.

It then turned into massive movement to get everyone south as fast as possible. Once the new ice age arrived in full force, it was only going to be a matter of weeks.
A huge snow cap would top off our world and a ripple of cold would cast the remaining planet into a near-extinction level.

Only a few, very remote
, areas would be habitable without worry.

They were south, far south below the
equator.

The storm front that brought in the cold
, blanketed the northern portion of the globe so there was no air travel anywhere north of Georgia.

To get that airfare, you had to have the resources. Too many people did not. They either left on their own or had to rely on the help of the government movement.

Imagine tens of millions of people moving south, only to stop at a city or place that was not safe and then all of those moving. Over a hundred million Americans and Canadians were moving at the same time.

It was insane.

It was also not advised. Not only were military units dispersed to extract people, but also to extract resources. Foraging on a grand scale like no one had ever imagined. It had to be done. There weren’t enough resources in the south.

The
re were those who made it to safe places—the rich. Those who made it south into temporary camps, and there were those who didn’t make transport, tried on their own, and were stuck somewhere in between.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Barely surviving.

They were called the nomads.

I was one of them. Me and my daughter.
We had no intention of being nomads, but when the water started rising—rather quickly too—my husband, Tim, and I packed the car and left.

We weren’t even anywhere near a flood area. But, Tim, you know, he was smart.
Personal belongings were a minimum; he shoved food and other survival things into backpacks. Making everything we had mobile, in case we had to walk.

When the announcement came about the ice age, Tim wanted to go south
right away. But you weren’t permitted. In order to keep traffic flow going, you had to wait your turn.

August 15
th
– the heat wave hit.

August 20
th
– the first snowflake.

The
flooding began mid-September and exodus orders were in place by the end of that month.

Tim knew we couldn’t wait until our leave date of
Halloween.

Not with water rising, the lakes expanding
, the snow falling and temperatures dropping steadily.

Priority
evacuation states and areas were the coastal cities, and those farthest north.

We were southeast New York.

I have to admit, for as much as I doubted our government, the Emergency branch had it together. They announced stopping points and fueling stops for those traveling by car. Areas where you could pick up an emergency ride.

The so
-called FEMA camps that were always denied were in fact, real, and our family was assigned to one in Texas.

That was where we’d head. We ha
d fifteen days before we were permitted to check into the camp. We brought that much food with us.

Tim had our
stops marked and route determined. The path of the least traffic. I was confident. We took the back roads, initially, from our home and ran into small amounts of traffic. I couldn’t imagine how bad the main highways were.

The trouble came once we hit Olean
, New York. A mere thirty miles from our home. A storm blew in, a bad one too. Lake-effect weather, icy rain mixed with snow, along with powerful winds.

We had to stop, we knew it.

“We’ll pull over after we get to higher ground.”

I didn’t understand what he meant at first. Higher
ground? I thought it more dangerous to drive. We moved at a snail’s pace as we crossed the First Street Bridge over the Allegheny River.

Tim tossed me the map. “W
e’re here.” He pointed blindly. “How far until a road goes up into those hills.” He then indicated out the windshield.

I could
see the hills he mentioned. It was hard to determine how far away they were with the storm beating on our windshield.

My
daughter, Brea, was in the backseat, perched in her booster. She was being really good for a five-year-old. Her little feet kicked against the back of my seat. “Mommy, the river is a monster.”

“It is,” I
replied, not really paying attention to what she meant. I focused on finding that road, or any road. And there was one, not two miles away.

“
Mommy, do you think it will eat us?”

“What
, baby?” I asked.

“The river.”

Then Tim gasped, “Dear God.”

This prompted me to look. I gazed to my right. The
river was indeed a monster. The typically mild river was raging and lifting; it snapped out waves to the right and left in the oddest manner that defied any reasoning of nature.

The wind picked up and not only could I feel the bridge
sway, but branches and other small items swirled through the air. “Tim?”

“We’re almost
across the bridge. Almost. Traffic is moving ahead, I bet. We’ll be fine.”

Did he
believe that?

The river was like nothing I had ever seen.
In the few minutes since I noticed it, it had swelled and grown, the waves now reached up and smacked against the bridge.

Brea sh
rieked, “Mommy!”

Suddenly, I my mind sped to all those stories of
flash floods and hurricanes. I thought of my daughter and our car being swept into the river.

She
was in a booster seat, not a car seat. Kept in place by a seatbelt.

What would happen if
our car plunged into the river? With that thought on my mind, I turned in my seat. “Come here, sweetie.” I held out my hands to her.

“
Katie, what are you doing?” Tim asked. “Leave her. It’s safer. She’s in a car seat.”

“No she’s not. It’s a booster seat. I need her in my arms. Just until we get away from the water.”

Tom nodded. His hand hit against the steering wheel in frustration. He wanted to move faster.

Brea slipped to the front seat,
and sat facing me on my lap, her legs straddling over my hips, and I put the seatbelt over us.

Was it smart? I didn’t know at that moment. I just knew I had to hold my child. She was safer in my arms.

Just as we made it to the very end of the bridge, just as we sighed in relief, that was when it happened.

I saw it.

My eyes widened the closer it came.

Seemingly in slow motion, a
huge tree flew through the air, like an arrow it sailed our way. I thought, that was it. We were done, but the tree landed just before us, causing Tim to slam on the brakes. When he did, the car swerved sideways. I gripped my daughter tightly with everything I had as my side of the car slammed into the tree; it caused the tree to move some. But we stopped with a hard jolt.

“You okay?” Tim asked.

I nodded, holding Brea. She cried in my arms.

Then I saw the look of horror on Tim’s face.

“Tim?”

“Oh God, we have to get out.”

I screamed his name as he reached for his door and got out. What was he doing?

H
e crossed over the front of our car, climbing quickly over the fallen tree and reached for my door.

Behind him, I saw what he did. What made him panic.

A huge rushing wall of water.

He tried
to open my door. I tried.

It was stuck, jammed from the
collision with the tree.

“Push!”
he yelled.

“I am.” I
shoved and shoved. “It won’t open.”

The water neared.

“Try harder!”

I used my
shoulder, but nothing. “Tim.” I looked out the window at him.

I was certain at that moment, the river was going to wash
away our car or rush into the car. I clutched Brea with everything I had. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry.”

Tim pounded on the window.

I was also certain, by the look in his eyes, that he was positive we were dying. Tim thought he’d witness the death of his family.

Hi
s hands were flush against the window, he peered briefly over his shoulder as the water rushed our way, then looked at us … making eye contact one last time.

The water smacked with a vengeance against the car and Tim slammed once into the window.
His hands reaching to grab something.

Brea screamed, “Daddy!” in my ear
, and I grabbed her tighter, pressing her face against my shoulder so she wouldn’t see. Another rush of water and Tim was gone.

I
cried, too, and then the car lifted.

My
daughter, my baby, I held on so very tight to her. With everything I had, I wouldn’t let go.

For the sake of both of us, I
had to calm down, tried to keep my wits.

Clutching Brea, I closed my eyes, praying out loud, reciting the words as quickly as I could get them out, over and over.

Hail Mary full of Grace … The Lord is with thee …

Then we
rolled.

Blessed are thou among woman and blessed is the fruit of the womb
. Jesus …

We slammed into something.

Holy Mary Mother of God, prayer for us sinners …

Water rushed over the car.

Now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

We were going to die.

Hail Mary …

I repeated it until I couldn’t repeat it anymore. Brea cried in my ear and I had
to comfort her. I waited for the water to break into the car. I debated on whether to undo our buckle, climb out and make a swim for it in the icy waters and then I realized, there was no way I was going to be able to hold my child against that current.

I didn’t want to let go and her float off alone, watch her go under.

No.

No if we were going to leave this earth, we would do so
together.

I heard drowning was a peaceful way to die.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared
,” she whimpered.

“Don’t be. I’m not. We’re
together.”

I lifted her head to look at her beautiful face. And that’s when I noticed,
Where was the water?

“
Mommy?”

“We’re not under. We’re not under.” I smiled.

“What about Daddy? Is he okay?”

My eyes instinctively closed. Tim. Poor Tim.
I answered her as best and as honestly as I could. “I don’t know.”