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 apartments, 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 okay, 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 that 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 wondered 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.
&nb
sp; “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. “Breathe 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 flew 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 buildings 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.
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.”
“Okay, 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.
3.
The Last Christmas: Last Day on Earth
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.
The Last Christmas Page 4
