Sam was the first to wake up. As per their usual custom, he tossed a pillow at Woody. “Morning!” he shouted. Woody mumbled something incoherent, sitting up and swinging his legs to the side of his bed. “Let's go downstairs and look!” suggested Sam.
Both boys pulled on an extra sweater and pair of socks before skidding out into hallway and down the stairs. In the living room, the big socks they'd each put out the night before looked very much as they had last night. A couple people in the family had put one or two things into them before bed, so that each was lumpy. Jimmy had helped Sam, telling everyone else to vacate the room when he'd helped bring in the gifts Sam had made. Jimmy had been teaching them how to carve little bits of wood into interesting shapes, out in the back shed some evenings. Allison had made one for their mother, and Sam could tell she was excited for Mom to see it. It had taken Allison the whole time, all the bits of time she could spare, and she'd made a sort of tiger for her. She told Sam the tiger was Mom's favourite animal at the zoo. He couldn't remember. All he remembered of zoos were the polar bear and the flamingo, his own favourites. Sam had found he had a natural talent for making the carvings, once he'd figured out how to use the knife properly. He'd made something small for each person.
“I think we should wait,” said Sam, thinking about how he most wanted to see everyone's faces as they uncovered his gifts. “Should we do something for Sally?”
“I think she knows about Santa,” shrugged Woody. “She remembers how it changed.”
“Let's play something,” suggested Sam. They were playing Hungry Hungry Hippos (with a few beads filling in for missing marbles) when Sally wandered in, rubbing one of her eyes. She was wearing an old sweater of her mother's, and it hung off her in a funny way. “Hey, want to be elves again?” asked Sam, noticing Sally eyeing the stockings. Elves was a game they had invented last year.
“Sure!” enthused Woody. “What should we do first?”
“Let's put something on Daddy!” exclaimed Sally.
They decided on a tea towel, folded to look like a ready-to-cook turkey using a folding and rolling technique Woody had learned from his cousin once. Sally was the one who would place it on the target. Sam was the best at playing Jenga, but Sally was still able to fit into all the best hiding places in the house, plus she moved around quickly and quietly, expertly avoiding all the creaky spots on the floor. As the boys watched in the door to the Taylor parents' bedroom, occasionally giving her encouraging gestures and warning signals, Sally darted across the floor, deposited the tea towel turkey on the wool cap Jimmy wore to sleep in, and tucked its turkey legs into the brim of his hat. They all held their breaths as Jimmy cleared his throat and mumbled something about Hawaii, but he continued to sleep.
Sally was nearly shaking with her suppressed giggles as she retreated back to where they were. “What else do we do as messy, mischief-making elves?” she asked when they ducked into the boys' room, out of earshot of the adults.
“Window writing?” asked Woody.
They weren't allowed to do it on the big living room window, but there was an almost as big window beside the back door that often steamed up enough. They spent the next little while drawing with their fingers, first leaving 'elf footprints' but then making designs. Eventually Woody and Sam started writing dirty words, which made them all double over with laughter as each new word one upped the last.
“You better hope that's not the first thing the parents see when they come downstairs.” It was Allison, staring at them from the foot of the stairs with a half warning, half laughing look on her face. She was already dressed. She had loved sleeping in, in the old days, but most days she was up before Sally, heading out to work, so it wasn't that surprising.
“We're just having a joke,” said Sam. “We'll wipe it off before they come down.”
Allison nodded. “Did you guys already look in the living room?”
“It looks the same,” shrugged Woody. “So we're playing elves. Do you have any ideas for what we should do next?”
“I liked when you made a cave for the bears,” said Allison.
“Ooh, cave!” agreed Sally. She raced upstairs to grab some of the teddy bears that had featured in their last year display.
“I'll get started rounding up the cushions,” said Woody, going into the living room. Sam was about to follow when he noticed Allison was putting on her coat and scarf. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“Just...going for a walk,” she said. “Don't worry.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, wanting to join his friends before they built the whole thing without him.
“See you soon,” said Allison, pulling on her mittens and opening the back door. A gust of wind blew snow through the opening as she went outside. He stared after her for a moment but was distracted by Sally running by, a collection of stuffed animals sliding out of her grip. “I couldn't leave out Mr. Muggles this time!” she announced. Sam picked up a stuffed tiger and ran after her.
They used the cushions to make a cave and since they were on a roll, they strung up some of the blankets from their bedrooms to create a series of interconnected tunnels and dens. Sally went around perching her animals in different locations. “I think Amadi and Gregory are going to get married,” she said.
“Amadi and Gregory aren't even the same kind of species,” said Woody, rolling his eyes. “Amadi is an orangutang and Gregory is a penguin. He's a bird.”
“Well, they're going to adopt Sasha,” she said, holding up the tiger. “And they'll go in here, and this is where you'll be safe,” she said, addressing the last part to the stuffed animals. She crawled then herself into the tent.
Sam and Woody soon were climbing inside the series of dens, exploring the tunnels they'd made from the inside. Woody and Sally argued over territory a few times, though they didn't mind if Sam wanted to share space with either of them. At one point the blanket roof by the TV stand collapsed on Woody and the others had to move in to rescue him. Sam laughed as he worked to rebuild alongside the Taylor siblings. “We could keep our food on the shelves, right here,” he said, pointing to the space that had once held their DVD collection. “This could be the mess hall. And we could move Hungry Hungry Hippos into the part over there, and have a game room.”
Sally scrambled out to gather up the things. Sam crawled further through the maze, smiling to himself. He wouldn't mind if they spent the day building. It was alright, being safe here.
“What's all this?” came a voice from outside. Jimmy didn't sound mad so much as playing along with them, and Sally was giggling, so it seemed safe to come out. Woody and Sam crawled out of either end of the network of blankets and cushions now taking up a large part of the living room floor.
“We made Winter Wonderland again!” said Woody. “It has a sunroom and a game room.”
Sam looked past Jimmy, who had scooped up Sally despite Woody's reminder that it was the one year anniversary of his Christmas back injury. Mom and Margaret had both come into the room too, wrapped in bathrobes and sweaters. Sam smiled at Mom, who returned his smile. “Good morning everyone,” she said.
“Ready to look at the stockings?” asked Margaret. Woody cheered and jumped to his feet. Sam began to stand up too. He noticed Mom looking around. “Allison up yet?” she asked.
Sam felt a weird feeling in his tummy as he answered, “She is. She went out.”
“Where?” asked Mom.
He shrugged. “She said for a walk.” He stepped over to take his mother's hand, like he had when he was younger. The look on her face was still different than when she'd first come into the room, but she smiled as they joined the Taylors near the stockings. She smiled again when he reached her sock and pulled out the small tree shape he had carved for her.
Mary tried to keep her eyes closed for as long as possible. She could hear the winds, still howling, but she could tell, squinting through her eyelids, that it was just light enough to be the beginning of morning. The room was still a stinging cold, and she rolled onto her side, sinking further into the space between Eric's hip and three pillows, the old foldaway mattress creaking. She leaned her face into the pillows, getting as far under the blankets as she could, willing the light to go away. It only lasted a few minutes. Eventually she had to pull herself out of the crowded cocoon, force herself to stand, and shivering in the shock of the palely lit living room, pull on her blanket shawl and trudge up the stairs.
On her way back down, she stopped to look out the window in the hall. The snow was still pelting against the glass, and she imagined it pelting against the ground, the rooftops and trees, through town and beyond. She didn't let herself think about the people beyond town, the ones who were lost somewhere out in the storm. She only let herself think for a fleeting moment on the Richmonds, out at their farm. She would certainly not be spending this day with them, and really, it shouldn't be a great loss. It wouldn't have been memorable for anyone.
When she came back downstairs, Eric was lighting the fire again. They'd been getting by on fires for the past few weeks. They'd been staying here almost as long. She began folding the many blankets they huddled under at night, and when he was finished building the fire, he helped her fold away the bed and replace the cushions. They barely spoke as they worked. This was routine now. She hated morning even more when she had to walk upstairs to the bathroom instead of down the hall, like at home, but it was a small issue. She sat on the couch, pulling a blanket over her lap, waiting for the room to warm up. He sat beside her, putting his arm around her and making a dramatic show of leaning his head on her shoulder. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.
“Merry Christmas,” she echoed, turning her head sideways to kiss him before turning back to look at the fire.
They passed a while in silence. She lost track of how long it had been before Gail came into the room. She had apparently chosen to mark the occasion by staying in her pyjamas, rather than being dressed before arriving downstairs as she usually was. She wished them a merry Christmas too and they returned it. The embarrassed smile she sent in Mary's direction made Mary sure she remembered their hazy conversation in the middle of the night.
There was more quiet now. The traditional activities would have to be forgone, as all they had was a fire coming to life in the grate. Mary didn't know if they'd all been too tired to do anything like search for the old decorations or put up a tree, or if they'd avoided it on purpose. Trying to make things like last year, or other years, had filled her with a certain unease. She wondered if trying to get back to normal would mean having to admit to all the things that had happened in the past month. It was easier to ride out the cold mornings and warmer nights, for now. She wondered if she should feel sad.
Instead, she smiled faintly as they talked briefly about what to eat. There weren't many options, but Gail was of the opinion it would be okay to use some of the flour and try to make some kind of pancakes. They would try to make them on the fire, on the makeshift grill that had heated their scraps of food so often lately. Mary volunteered to mix it up, and dropped her blankets in favour of a less warm but more serviceable sweater.
When Mary came back into the living room, balancing a bowl of batter, Eric and Gail were both crouched by the fireplace, getting the grill ready and talking softly. For the first time that day, she thought of her father, and of the fancy breakfasts he and she had tried to make for themselves when she was young. Most of them were disasters, though she supposed she'd learned her instincts in the kitchen from their failures. And the sense of adventure she now needed while piecing together their food with the few supplies they'd saved. Dad had tried, when he could, to keep things going. She had tried too. She remembered her conversation with Gail and felt a strange pang of unease. She brought the bowl over to the fireplace, trying not to interrupt, but it seemed they were done talking.
They ate in silence, the three of them sitting on the couch, among the blankets. Afterwards, they congratulated each other on a good experiment, though the pancakes had been fairly flavourless. They sat a little while longer, though eventually, Mary felt silly being in pyjamas still, and took her clothes to the bathroom. Gail followed and Eric dressed last, and then they were all together in the living room again, gazing into the fire.
“I guess the bright side of being stuck in a snow storm is, everyone gets a well deserved day off,” said Gail.
They smiled back at her. No one mentioned it was supposed to be a day off anyway.
No one mentioned what they were missing for several hours. They played a few card games and one round of the ancient Star Wars board game that was sometimes unearthed when they were shut in. They went their separate ways to do a few chores. Mary took a nap while Eric and Gail looked for a place to hang the picture they'd brought from their apartment, the one gift that made up their spartan Christmas morning. It was almost noon by the time Eric, sinking back in the couch, said, “I guess Stanley's going to miss mocking me in the Santa suit.”
“He was looking forward to it,” said Mary with a smirk. She was now fixing a torn sleeve with an ugly but sturdy black thread.
“I'm sure you would have been great, honey,” said Gail, poking at the fire and adding another piece of wood. “But the kids'll understand.”
“It would've been fun I guess,” said Eric. He reached for Mary's hand. She smiled at him, but she was thinking about the Christmas party from last year.
“I hope everyone else is doing okay,” she said. “It feels weird not going back home. I mean, back to the bar. I've been open on Christmas so many years.”
Gail turned towards the couch. “You did throw a good party last year. We'll make next year's even better.”
Mary nodded slowly. “There were so many people. And you know, even the year before that...”
They were all silent for a moment. Contemplating that year that meant different things to each of them. Mary remembered the shock and despair, the panics at night and dreamscapes during the day. But it had also been her first Christmas with Eric, and she'd had some certainty of their small, private corner of the bleak world. And then, there'd been the others. “It wasn't really a banner year or anything,” she said quickly. “But we had us. Everyone who had nowhere to go came to the bar. Some people who were really lost, and...” She glanced at Eric briefly, wondering if he would recall the same thing she couldn't quite figure out how to say. “There wasn't much anyone could do, to help them, wasn't much we could offer. We didn't even have food to share. But I guess it was something, that we were all there. Still going. You know?”
Gail nodded. Eric seemed to be studying her fingers, intertwined with his. “I know,” Gail said.
They shared potatoes for lunch. The wind had begun to die down. Gail went out to gather snow to melt. “The sun's actually out,” she said when she came in. She seemed slightly more serene. “Want to come out and see?”
Moments later the three of them stood, clad in their hats and scarves and breathing in the light air. No one else had emerged from the houses nearby, and the street seemed calm under the pale blue sky. “Snow doesn't seem too deep,” said Gail. “It was just harsh while it lasted. We could try to go, still. If you're up for the walk.”
Eric wondered if anyone else would actually be going out in the snow. Mary just said she would like to.
They dressed carefully but carried only a few things with them. If anyone ventured out to Bailey's tonight, they wouldn't be getting any extra food. The snow wasn't deep enough that they couldn't walk, but they had to step high enough that it left them breathing hard. They took turns leading, tramping out a path for the others.
The town looked different today, coated so newly in a snow that had kept them in for Christmas. Mary usually averted her eyes as she passed the shell of the warehouse, but she glanced at it today. The snow made it seem muted. Though she knew it would melt soon enough and the blackened frame would show again, she smiled a small, triumphant smile.
It was theirs, she thought to herself as they walked, only speaking to check in with each other as they laboured through the drifts. Covered in snow and sleepily waiting as it was, it seemed more like their town, their place, than it had since the night of the raid. And on the other side of New Bern, the place the soldiers had taken her seemed farther away, separated from her by the snow and the calmness that was their place, here.
They were getting close to Spruce Lane. She could feel her heart pounding and was certain her cheeks were red but she smiled and squeezed Eric's hand. They saw Karl Spinnet shovelling outside the door to the former Cyber jolt, and waved. “Are you opening the bar?” he called.
“We'll be there. Anyone who wants to can join us,” said Mary. “Can't promise much else.”
“I'll tell the others,” he said. Several once-refugees lived in the building, converted to makeshift housing after J&R left the first time.
Once they reached the bar, Eric said “I should go next door and get on the radio. See if I can check on things.”
Mary led the way and Gail followed her inside. They began lighting a few lanterns. Mary glanced warily at the jukebox. They couldn't use the little emergency fuel they had for the generator so she would have to ignore it. She hung her coat and started to make a fire in the wood stove.
Gail took a seat at the bar nearby, glancing around for a moment before she said, “I think we should come back here.”
Mary raised her eyebrows in question. “I mean, after Christmas, after the snow dies down or we can borrow a sleigh to transport our stuff.”
“Come back here to stay?” asked Mary. She was confused. They hadn't discussed it a lot but she knew Gail was attached to the house. So attached they'd known they would have to stay there with her, once they'd agreed they needed to stick together right now. They'd been walking home from the bar in the dark still hours, pulling out the bed every night, and it had been fine. She'd tried to figure it out in words when she'd talked about it with Mimi once. She knew the reasons, and at random moments she thought to herself about the parents of missing milk carton children who never leave in case their child randomly wanders back to their house one day. She even remembered herself that tiny voice in the back of her mind that had cried, embarrassingly and disconsolately, the day she and her father had moved to Jericho, because her mother would never know where to find her should she suddenly decide she wanted to, even though she had been eleven and far too old to believe it would happen. She wrinkled her forehead and glanced at Gail. “Are you sure? We're totally fine, living at home with you. Eric and me, we're happy to.”
Gail shook her head. “We should be here.” She glanced upward. “The apartment is much easier to heat. You won't want to make this walk everyday soon enough, and it's safer here. Close to town hall, the radios, everything. In an emergency, this is where we should be.”
Mary nodded slowly, but she felt her throat strangely catching as she raised her eyebrows again. “Are you sure?” She hoped she could convey, in her expression, all the things that would keep Gail from wanting to leave her home, without breaking their unspoken agreement not to speak of them. “What about...all the things you wouldn't be able to bring? It'd be alright, you know.”
Gail glanced around the bar room. She stepped over and looked down at the dark jukebox. “It'll be alright. We'll have us. For three, it just makes sense.”
Eric came in a few moments later, his cheeks a flaming red, but his face in a grin. He carried the radio with him. “Got in touch with two of the outposts! They're fine. Bill and Monty had to dig themselves out of their shelter today, but they made it to Stanley and Mimi's.” He held out the radio. “You could call over there. I don't think anyone would complain.”
Mary took it from him, smiling. Gail smiled too. “Everyone's fine,” she said, half a question, half a reassurance.
They didn't mention the other names. Heather. Dale and Skylar. Russell. Jake. Names in their minds, but far from this softly blanketed, slowly waking place.
Eric shrugged. “We're here.”