The Last Christmas

by Druga, Jacqueline

  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  Whether the planet hits us or not is obsolete, if it comes close, mankind will not survive the disasters.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 24th, 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 notes 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 breathtaking; 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, t
he 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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  If you enjoyed these stories, please check out more of Jacqueline’s work at www.jacquelinedruga.com

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