“Okay, that was insane.” Jim took a seat in a nearby chair, and then he realized something – Why was there a camping chair just sitting in the middle of the mall toy store? He looked around. “Been busy, Mike?”
Mike turned on several small kerosene lamps and lit up the kerosene heater (the mall had been without power or heat for some time now). The heater was sitting in the middle of the circle of camp chairs like it was a camp fire. Nearest to the chairs were three sleeping bags, and a cooler that was stocked with non perishable food and water.
The men ate and drank as they watched the zombies. One of them shuffled by with the Salvation Army stand draped over his neck. It looked like he had walked right through it and then continued on without realizing the obstruction. He jingled and jangled, spilled change, as he shuffled around in his zombie world.
The men smiled.
The tensions eased.
Mike went back to business. “When I came up here to do this the first time, I found all the keys, and then made sure I had the one for the toy store. When I came back, I cleaned up the store and locked it. Then the last time I came, I started bringing supplies, a few at a time, working, until I knew for sure I had enough. It took me all day, but I got it done.”
“Thanks,” Jim replied.
“How are you feeling, Fred?” Mike was concerned about him. He hadn’t said much since they arrived.
“Tired and sore, but it’ll be okay. What about guns and ammunition? We used up a lot getting in here.”
Mike pulled back a rug just beyond the indoor camp, and underneath it was an arsenal of guns and ammunition. “Whatever we need, guns are loaded.”
Jim and Fred went over to investigate.
Jim held up a brand new double barrel shotgun and eyed it like a prize.
Fred’s eyes almost shined in the dark with all the new zombie killing toys he had just found.
Mike sat back and relaxed, glad that everything had worked out so far.
So the three men rested for a bit and prepared for the next day by collecting the toys they would need, each man scrutinizing their list with flashlights in the dark.. Mike had found three good sturdy sacks they could use (the sacks had makeshift loops attached to them so they could wear them like a back pack). Each man filled their sacks and then made their way back to the indoor camp.
The night passed.
The men slept.
Zombies shuffled outside, and one jingled and jangled, still spilling change.
Around dawn, Mike’s watch alarm went off.
It was Christmas Day.
5
DECEMBER THE 25th
They left the mall in the same way they came, a blaze of glory. The going was slower because of the bags; but the men were able to keep their hands free, so that made the shooting a lot easier.
Dawn was breaking, and the men hurried back as quickly as they could.
It was a miracle that none of them got bit, and it was a miracle that they made it back to their neighborhood.
Once they were in the neighborhood, they split up according to their delivery map.
They made their deliveries with a tap on the door, a drop off of the presents, and a “Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas!” for good measure. It wasn’t easy, but they were able to make it work.
Once everything was done the men found their way back to their respective homes. It would have been nice to stick around and see the smiles of each and every kid, but in this world, you moved quickly and you moved fast.
Oh, I about forgot.
I didn’t mention this.
This is the best part.
Ready for it.
Okay, here we go.
Each man was wearing a Santa suit at the time. They had stopped off at a local gas station a little more than half way back to the neighborhood. It was set up like the toy store, cleaned out, and locked. Mike had stashed some more food and water along with some Santa suits. They didn’t have to wear them, but each man did.
I wonder what it would be like to see three gun toting zombie killing Santa’s with a pack on their backs running down the street popping off zombies and delivering presents. I am sure; it would be a sight to be seen.
When the men made it into their homes, their stories went like this.
Jim checked himself to make sure he wasn’t bit, stripped naked, cleaned up, and then crashed out in a cold dark house after downing a full bottle of whiskey. He didn’t bother to turn on the kerosene heater, and he didn’t bother with food. He just wanted to drink and sleep. He pulled a blanket over himself and slept deep well into the next day.
Fred didn’t bother with checking himself for bites. He instead went into his living room and turned on some loud heavy metal Christmas music. He left the Santa suit on as he drank beer; head banged around the room, and just got wasted. At some point, he just passed out, sleeping most of the night and into the morning flat on his stomach, beers littering the living room.
Mike crashed down in front of a roaring fire and fell asleep with the picture from the mantel in his hand (he left the suit on as well). The Christmas tree was splashing and sparkling all over the room as he slept the peace of a man who had just done a great task. His dreams were filled with Christmases gone by, happier times and happier days.
The picture he held in his hands, cradled close to his heart, showed, his two sons, and his wife just before it all happened. They had taken a Christmas photo together, and they all were so happy.
It was an image frozen in a better time.
No one could ever change that.
6
DECEMBER THE 26th
A knock on the door the next afternoon woke Mike up.
He put down the picture in the frame and went to answer it.
Jim was standing there holding a shoe box full of paper. He didn’t even have a gun in his hand. It was still in the holster. He was only holding this box.
Another box was lying at Jim’s feet. Mike picked it up.
“Thank you notes.”
“What?”
“Somehow they gave us all thank you notes.”
Jim and Mike went in and took a seat. They began to go through the boxes.
“How did they do this? They didn’t have time.”
“I guess it is a Christmas miracle Mike or maybe Santa really is hanging on just like the rest of us.”
“Yeah, maybe, just maybe.”
Both men froze and looked up at the ceiling, towards the sky. They both then looked at each other. They didn’t speak, but their looks said this.
Did I just hear bells jingling above the house? Did I hear what sounded like a sleigh sliding off the roof? It couldn’t be, they thought at the same time, and shook the impossibility away.
The men turned to their own boxes and began to look at the notes. Most of them were scribbles, drawings, and thank yous all done in a child’s hand. It brought tears to their eyes. This was a true Christmas miracle and a Christmas that none of them would soon forget.
THE END
HO, HO, HO, A Zombie Merry Christmas to you, fellow reader
A Zombie Christmas Page 2