The Last Christmas (6 page)

Only a few specks of rooftops, cleared for rescue and
it wasn’t that many.

It wasn’t until we reached the airspace of Georgia that the sky cleared some.

Sun.

I couldn’t believe it, not a lot, but it peeked through. The snow was nowhere as
thick and there were clear recognizable structures.

The airport
in Florida was clear and we landed. We’d leave the next morning.

I’ll never forget that Christmas Eve night.
There were sixty of us waiting to fly to Texas the next morning. But Brea was the only child and so many wanted to make it special.

Ralph told me he had contacted the
Texas station and let them know we were coming, and they did have our space.

I was grateful for that.

A couple people rummaged through the terminal looking for things that could be gifts for Brea. They found a few things, a puzzle, a book, a stuffed animal. They all asked me to hide them until the next morning.

The best was Allen. He broke into the vending machine, took all the packets of chocolate covered candy and spent an hour looking for only the red and green pieces.

Brea and I were sharing a blanket on a bench when he gave them to her.

“Something to munch on.
Merry Christmas,” he told her, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Wow,
Christmas pieces!” she said.

“Yeah, and I need to talk to you.”

Brea titled her head.

“You know how that Captain guy is always on the radio?” Allen asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he heard Santa.”

Brea sat up and smiled.

“Seems, Santa is really busy helping the poor kids that are still stuck in the snow.
He’s gonna get here, but I just want you to be ready, in case he doesn’t have time to leave a lot.”

“Ok
ay, as long as he comes. I’ll be happy.”

And she was.

The next morning, she opened her eyes to the few tiny gifts and was so ecstatic; she uplifted the spirits of everyone in the room.

The
flight to Texas, our new home, didn’t take long. I was nervous; of course, I was always nervous.

I told Allen and John that I didn’t want them far from me. Of course, John replied he was hoping to go back on duty.

We landed in San Antonio on a makeshift airfield not far from the camp. We rode in the back of a big military truck.

It was nice to see only a little snow.

The camp was huge. I couldn’t see where it ended after we rolled through the gates. They brought all of us to a huge warehouse, where they said we’d check in.

There
were a lot of warehouses.

A lot of trailers, FEMA
trailers, lined up next to each other.

Too many to count.

Ralph had slipped into executive mode, speaking on a radio and talking to people the whole time. A part of me thought I’d not get to see him again or say goodbye.

Especially
when we walked into the warehouse.

I could smell coffee and food
, and it was packed with people. But clear and unmistakable was the sight of the big jolly man in the red suit.

Children
shrieked and encompassed him.

I was in line at the check
-in table, waiting.

“Mommy. Santa. Can I go see him?”

“Not right now, I have to—”

“I’ll take her,” Allen said. “You check us in.”

“Do you mind?” I asked.

“Not at all. Come on, Brea.” He held out
his hand. I smiled as I watched her run a few feet away to the group with Santa.

It may have been a refugee camp, but people were trying to make it Christmas.

I felt the hand on my shoulder and turned. “Ralph.”

“Hey, before you get caught
up, I want to thank you,” Ralph said.

“Thank me? I need to thank you.”

“No, Katie. I owe you. You and that little one pulled me through a really hard time. I really did want to die. And now …” he inhaled, “I just want to make sure, the little ones, like Brea, have a future. Thank you.” He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “And don’t think I won’t be looking after you.”

“I appreciate that.”

I heard my daughter squeal loudly. I recognized her voice.

“Mommy
, look what Santa brought!” Brea yelled. “Mommy!”

I smiled at Ralph. “I better check in so I can see what Santa brought.”

“If you need anything …” Ralph said.

“I’ll find you.”

“Mommy.”

I turned to the woman in front of me at the check
-in table. “Katherine Morgan.”

“Issue number?” she asked.

“Four, seven six, two.”

“Morgan, 4762, I … you’re here.”

“Yes, I am,” I said.

“No, you’re already checked in.”

I wanted to turn to Ralph and thank him again, but I quickly found out the reason.

“Kate! Katie!”

I froze. My eyes shifted to Ralph.

“Do you know someone here? That’s not Allen
,” Ralph commented.

“Katie
!” he called again.

“Oh my God.” I spun. I wanted to believe it but thought it was only my imagination, until I saw my husband, Tim, Brea on his hip, racing my way.

The blurred, red-suited man behind him, the pathetic Christmas tree, were all perfect settings.

I couldn’t breathe, my heart raced
, and more than that, I couldn’t move.

Tim rushed to me and grabbed hold. “Oh, God
.” He squeezed tight. “I was hoping it was you. They said a Katherine Morgan was coming on a rescue plane. One of the men told me. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” He pulled me closer.

I embraced him wholeheartedly. I’d introduce him to all those who made it possible for me and Brea to be there, but I had to know. “I thought you were dead.”

“Yeah, you would.” Tim laid his hand on my cheek. “I got washed down. I saw the car still there, not moving. I knew you were fine. But those waters carried me for miles. I almost drowned. Some people found me and … Well, I was in a military medical camp for a while, then they brought me here two weeks ago. I was hoping you’d be here, because this is where we were supposed to go. But you weren’t. I’m just so glad now.” He kissed Brea and then pressed his lips hard to my cheek. “I’m so glad.”

“
Me too,” I spoke emotionally, through his embrace.

Ralph told me it was life that was the gift of Christmas
, and he was right.

For a brief moment, in his arms, my family united, it wasn’t
the end of the world. We
were
really doing more than just surviving, we were living.

At six in the morning, I poured a shot of bourbon, downed it quickly, then poured another to sip. I hadn’t been to sleep in three days. I couldn’t. Who really could?

The final hours are upon us.

There’s a lot you reflect on in your life when you know this is it. This is the end. Not just for me but for every single man, woman, and child on the face of the earth.

The end is
‘nigh’, the end is ‘near’, however you want to say it. It’s over. It’s finished.

It wasn’t how I envisioned the end of my life, sipping on a drink and watching my last sunrise.

Doing so alone.

Of course, I knew I wouldn’
t be alone for long. I hadn’t gotten a peaceful moment except at night.

When the news broke that
, for certain, a rogue planet would enter our solar system, there was a sense of, ‘Yeah right, sure.’

It was dismissed. Many experts argued diligently about this
impending doomsday hoax.

After all, how many have
there been? Predictions of the end that never came?

But this one, well it was real. It also was the same rogue planet many had been talking about for
decades. One year it was a hundred million miles from earth, the next, eighty.

It
grew closer and closer.

It would enter our solar
system, what it did after that was unpredictable.

Our solar system is a balanced mechanism of orbiting planets all doing what they are supposed to be doing.

No one was certain what the pull of one planet would do.

The pull of Jupiter or Saturn could knock the rogue body right out of the system
—or worse case scenario—pull it in.

Bottom line was, there
was no good outcome. Every outcome was bad.

If it swung in and out, the balance would offset in the solar system and Earth’s orbit around the sun would change, there for changing the climate, tossing half the earth into a heat wave, the other into the next ice age.

That was the best case scenario.

If the
planet came close to earth, widespread natural disasters would ensue. Earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, every horrendous scene of destruction imaginable.

Unless, the
planet made its way out, the disasters were coming.

Either as the planet missed us
, or just before it smacked into our world.

In that case, the earth would be destroyed. One hundred percent, destroyed. The rogue planet was the
size of Jupiter.

Whether the planet hits us or not is obsolete, if it comes close, mankind will not survive the disasters.

That is what we face.

What exactly
will happen since the rogue planet, Silus-X entered our solar system at 12:30 a.m. EST, December 24
th
, remains to be seen.

We as a people won’t know until the end of the day.

When the disasters begin, or don’t on Christmas Day.

There are no more news agencies to keep
us up to date on the science.

There is no more television,
no radio, nothing. Word of mouth is the means to communicate and that is done by wall graffiti or handwritten signs.

Many people
were planning an end-of-days get togethers. Some were spending time with their families. Everyone braced, because the last we heard, at the rate the planet sailed our way, along with its trajectory, we were gonna be a doomed species.

Chances were, we weren’t lucking out by getting the ice age.

Wherever people went for the last hours, I knew they’d come to me. They pretty much had since the onset.

After
the denial period, came the anger.

People rushed
to my doors for peace. I opened my doors, welcomed them, strangers and friends like.

My doors would never close.

When no one understood why or how this could be happening.

No one could register. That this was it. It was really over.

They flocked to my doors for answers.

Each phase of the process brought more and more people, they’d stay, they’d go and come back.

When the riots started and chaos was everywhere. When men and women alike took to the streets to rebel and cry out and use violence against each other over something they could not control.

They flocked to my doors for protection.

When the realization kicked in, acceptance of it all across the board … they came to my door for strength.

And now as the end is here and we wait for our final moment, they will come to my door for faith.

I am a Roman Catholic priest and have been for a quarter of a century. My parish is one of largest in the city. I am the last of four in our parish that remain.

Father Jason left to find his family.

Fathers Brian and Montgomery were killed in the rioting. And our Pastor Emeritus left us in his sleep two weeks prior.

He lived a good life and was spared.

There were many people spared. A lot of believers starting calling it God’s End, because they swore the Rapture occurred.

People also ‘opted out’,
and while considered a sin to take one’s own life, I couldn’t judge or condemn them for not wanting to wait for death.

I spent my morning finishing that
bourbon; there wouldn’t be a morning mass. I used to love bourbon and I had given it up, now I indulged. The same with smoking. Neither was going to kill me now, and I believed our Creator was fine with my personal weaknesses in this hour, especially since all of my strength was given to others.

They wanted answers, strength
, and a miracle. So did I. I was just like anyone who came to my church for guidance. I was just as lost.

I sipped a little more, then grabbed a stack of papers.
If it went as predicted, and as the scientists said, the planet entered our solar system seven hours earlier.

What it
was doing, I didn’t know. No one did. I suppose some astronomer in New Mexico had it all figured out and was trying diligently to spread the word.

I didn’t want to know.

I wanted to hope and hold on to hope, until that very last second.

There would be a sign for me, I was
certain. It would tell me how to feel and react.

I was waiting for it.

But on this day, my last day, I had plans.

I walked through the church and said my good
mornings to those who were there praying. Most had taken their spot. Their final spot, I guess.

To look around the church, other than the people, one wouldn’t know it was the last day.

My church was Christmas, the celebration of the birth of our Lord. More than anything, on the last night, that needed celebrated and remembered.

Christmas trees were set upon
the altar, candles lit, and I made my way outside.

Gone were the days when people randomly had sex on the street, when they beat up a
stranger just because they could.

Those two
months of terror were unreal. They tried arresting people but there wasn’t enough room in the jails. Then they just started shooting anyone who was around trouble.

The violence subsided. I don’t think it was the ‘
control’ methods that were implemented, I believe that people ‘got it’, they finally got it.

There was nothing they could do and they chose to not spend their final days and hours in anger.

No one wanted to.

What a waste of
energy and last few breaths of life.

I
walked for hours. No one was on the street. No cars. No people. I still hung my flyers everywhere I went.

Handwritten
the night before, that was how I spent my night. I wanted to create the last mass, the greatest Christmas service ever, for the Last Christmas ever.

I invited all. Anyone who wanted to come, no matter what their
faith. Alone or with entire families.

I wanted to get as many people as I could, to bring about this final event where we all rose up in one voice, singing in praise and not crying in fear, that we as a race still believed. That we had faith
we were moving on to something far greater.

That’s what I wanted and envisioned.

A spectacular way to close out our lives on earth.

After
being out all day, stopping to speak to the few people I did see, I looked to the darkening sky.

Left and right, all around, I didn’t see it. I didn’t see the rogue planet. A part of me hoped that it
hadn’t come, surely I would see it. Then reality hit that maybe I wouldn’t see it yet.

I knew it was going to be a decent night service when the church was half full. Joseph was already behind the organ and the music filled the church.

I smiled.

“Father Daniel.” A young boy
tugged on my leg as I passed him. “Can I be an altar boy tonight?”

“
Absolutely. I welcome it.” I laid my hand on his head and walked to the huge organ, left of the altar.

Joseph
only slowed down a moment when I approached. “Evening, Father.”

“Joe. Service isn’t for another five hours.”

“Yes, well, this is something I love. Think I’ll keep playing until I can’t anymore.”

“Thank you
,” I told him. Joe had been around the church for as long as I could remember and was there before I got there. I left him to play; it was a nice touch and deviation in the church.

I spent the rest of the evening writing note
s to family members and friends that I would never see. Since there were no more phones, there was no way to call and say goodbye.

I fully intended to walk up
the main aisle in the fullest tradition of midnight service. Accompanied by my eight altar boys and numerous lectors, I stepped into a packed church.

No, packed was an
understatement.

It was breath
taking; I barely could inspire enough air into my lungs. I smiled as I squeezed my way down the far side aisle, touching hands of people, saying, “Thank you for coming,” more times than I could count.

Josephs
stopped played his marathon of inspirational music; he would begin again when we appeared at the end of the aisle, just inside the vestibule.

However, the second I stepped into the
vestibule, filled with people, a teenage girl burst through the door.

Her expression was one I couldn’t place. Fear? Happiness
? I didn’t know.

“Father. Father …” She took a second to catch her breath. “You have to see.”

“I’m about to start mass.”

“
Please, Father.” She grabbed my hand. “You have to see. It’s … it’s unbelievable.”

Not only was my curiosity piqued, but so
were the many around me in that vestibule.

Hand in the girl’s
hand, I walked outside and down the steps of the church.

There were people outside the church, all frozen in the street
, staring up.

Second to the last step, I cast my eyes to the sky
.

The moon was bright, there
wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and there amongst all the stars, was the brightest star I had ever seen. Not only that, it was huge. Unbelievably huge.

“Merry
Christmas, Father,” she said. “Is that it? Is that the planet, or is it a sign?”

I looked to the object
in the sky that was no less than all I had read about the Star of Bethlehem. I watched it for a moment, and filled with a deep peace that I never experienced in my life, I turned to the girl and answered her. “Both.”

Two thousand years earlier a bright
object appeared in the sky signifying the beginning of a new hope. That bright object was back, and I went inside the church.

One way or another, we were all going to be just fine.

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Jacqueline Druga’s novel span a wide range of genres.