A Zombie Christmas

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Authors: Anthony Renfro
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about some water?”
    “Fred, you want anything?”  Mike asked as the man stared at the fire.
    “Beer me.”
    “All I got is Corona.  No lime.”
    “Sounds good.”
    Mike went into the kitchen and came back with a cold beer and bottled water.  He handed the men their respective drinks. 
    Fred was still seated, but Ji m had moved over to the table.  He was staring at several rough and crude blueprints.  The first was a design of the neighborhood and a wall surrounding it.  The other looked like a crude way of getting water from the air outside into the mouths inside.  It was a filtration system.
    “These are pretty good.  Were you an architect before all this?”
    “No. I’m just a man with ideas.”
    Jim took a sip of his water, and found pleasure in the cold.  He scanned the neighborhood plan once again.  “I like this concept, but how in the world can it be done?  We have zombies crawling up and down this street everyday.”
     
    “W e do it in shifts, a couple people guarding, several people working, we can get it done.”  Mike paused and sipped on his water.  “If we put up a wall around these thirty houses, get guards posted at all times.  We can come out of our homes and enjoy life again.  We can build a community garden.  Maybe, if we are lucky, we can bring in some livestock, raise a small farm.  We don’t have to give in to the zombies.  They should be giving in to us.”
    “I like that thinking, but it is going to be a lot of work.”
    “Anything in this time and place is a lot of work.  If we are going to survive, then we have to think outside the box.  That’s why I want to do all this for Christmas this year.  I want the kids in this neighborhood to wake up Christmas morning and find a present at their door.  I want them to feel like Santa is still here, and he is one mean zombie killing machine that won’t let Christmas die, no matter what the situation.”
    “You don’t need to sell me or Fred on it.  That’s why we’re here.” 
    “I know, but I need you and Fred to understand why.  So if it gets bad at the mall, you will know that what we were doing was for a good cause.”
    “I’m aware.  Let’s just go over the details.”
     
    Fred got up and walked over to the table to join the conversation.  He was one of those guys, the ones that just seem to know how to survive.  He was a tall guy with a lanky build and graying hair.  He had to be getting close to fifty.  He had said in the life before this that he was an accountant by day, hunter by weekend.  You wouldn’t think an accountant would know so much about surviving, but trust me, he did.
    Jim was more of a following kind of guy with a big heart and big ideas.  He was a teacher before the world turned to crap, and I hoped that one day he could lead a school in this neighborhood.  Jim was about average height, somewhere in his mid thirties, still youthful, but mature beyond his years. 
    And me, dear old Mike, I stood about five foot eight, not too pudgy, not to lean.  I was a runner before the world turned to chaos, a brick layer as my trade.  I had learned a lot about hunting and stuff before all this happened. The biggest buck I ever shot was a ten pointer.  I was proud of that one that day.
    “The details are like this.”  Mike grabbed a folder he had sitting by his chair. 
    In this folder were three separate compartments with each of their names on it. Inside each compartment was a list of what toys to get, a map of the area they were to cover when delivering the toys, a map of the mall (where to go in, where to meet if separated) the time they were supposed to arrive and leave, stuff they would need (weapons, snacks, a couple bottles of water, things like that), and a few other odds and ends.
    Mike handed Jim and Fred their compartments, and all three of them found a seat around the Christmas tree , which splashed and sparkled its white and colored lights.  It had no idea of the world

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