An hour ago and the sky had been blue and clear. Heather should have been able to cover another five miles before needing to set up camp. But the storm rolled in like a furious god. The road was now lost to the snow and she was no longer sure if she was still on it or even if she was still heading on her south-easterly bearing.

The wind threw nettles at her face and the ground beneath her was the texture of greasy, loose sand. The last time she had been caught in a blizzard like this, she was picking her way through a suburban street going house to house and shelter was readily at hand. Traveling in the open country she was completely exposed. Even if she could set up a tarp using a couple of the spindly, new-growth ash trees that spotted the plane, it would do little to keep her warm and dry in this vicious wind.

A flicker of light in the distance drew her eye. Doubt told her it was a mirage. But hope whispered it was fire—a flame flickering behind glass. Hope won out and she pushed herself onward toward it. Slowly a building began to emerge from the murk.

Heather was reminded of one of those 80's strip malls her parents took her to as a kid, the kind that had nearly died out when big box stores started destroying neighborhoods. And then, died out completely when everything else died out. She came across one the year before and was able to live off the detritus for a month. Perhaps that flicker of light came from someone who'd set up camp in an old Yankee Candle and was currently being warmed by the comfort of scented votives.

The thought of company hurried her steps as much as the need for warmth. The best odds for survival was to travel alone, but that didn't keep her from missing the sound of another voice. This loneliness had become a universal condition and diffused what might have been violent clashes with other survivors. No matter how desperate a person got, company was always welcome. At least briefly.

As she neared the squat, two storey building, it became clear that it was no strip mall. The bricks and wide windows identified it as a civic building. The flat expanse around her hidden by the swiftly falling snow took on new meaning. It was probably a manicured field once, long ago.

Heather found a fire door with a busted lock and entered a hallway lined with lockers. She followed the light and the sound of voices until she reached a classroom. The light and the storm had brought more than just herself. She hadn't seen so many people in one place in years.

In the center of the floor, Emily sat tending a fire. The smoke flitted through a rotted out hole in the ceiling letting the smell of cooking permeated the air. Steven sat across from her drinking bone broth from a handleless coffee mug. On his left, Chayton sipped from a gleaming tin, the hoodie of her sweatshirt hiding all but her mouth.

A man sat in the teacher's desk by the blackboard. The flames of the cooking fire reflected in David's glasses as he flipped through an old ledger, turning the pages with too much speed to actually be reading it. It was more as though he was searching for something that wasn't there.

At the back of the room where there was almost no light, two men sat playing poker on one of the diminutive desks.

"Too bad this isn't a hotel," Baileigh said, taking a chair by the fire. She stretched her legs out, placing her knee-high leather boots next to the hearth stones. It was a confident thing to do in the company of strangers. Solid footwear like that could make anyone forget the tenets of hospitality.

"I thought this was a hotel," she said. Her South African accent sounding twice as exotic since it was the first voice Heather had heard in weeks. "It would be nice to sleep in a real bed for a change."

"I was hoping this was an insane asylum," a woman said stepping from the deep shadows in the corner. "I was hoping to score one of those gurney type tables. The kind with restraints."

"Why?" Heather asked, squinting to get a better look at this mysterious individual.

"No reason," Jesse said slinking deeper into the shadows spider-like.

"It's easy to make mistakes in weather like this," Steven said. "The mind makes you see the things you want to."

David reached the end of the book and smiled, having found what he was searching for. Tearing out the blank pages, he said, "So many misunderstandings. We wouldn't be here without them. I once heard it said, it is the trickery of love which gives rise to the most serious misunderstandings. If you asked me, all the best stories have a misunderstanding at their heart." He carefully placed the paper in his pack and made his way over to the fire.

Jesse shifted out of the shadows closer to the fire and stared into the flickering light. "I have a story, a festive story."

She paused before continuing, offering a knowing smile to the flames.

PLAYING SANTA

By @JesseSprague

A half-filled cookie-sheet of cheerful Christmas shapes stared up at Naomi from the flour dusted countertop. She slammed the reindeer cookie cutter down. In the other room, Gunfire sounded from a video game—one in a violent string she hadn't wanted to buy for her young son Nick. The percussive violence punctuated the streaming Christmas music which strove unsuccessfully to convince Naomi that the holiday was going well.

Where the hell was Lee?

Lee had insisted on buying Nick the game. But Lee wasn't here and Nick was sitting like a homicidal lump on the couch. Her two children had begged her to have homemade cookies for Santa. But Kate was barricaded up in her room. And Nick had been desperate for the baking project until it meant putting down the controller.

"Fine!" Naomi spun away from the counter before she picked the cookie-sheet up and threw it against the wall. As much as the anger in her gut pushed her to punish Nick and Kate for not helping her with the cookies, they were only kids.

They deserved their Christmas treat.

Naomi wasn't actually angry at them anyhow. Baking was just the activity that focused the feelings welling up in her all afternoon as she waited for Lee to come home.

Naomi sank into a chair at the small kitchen table, the plastic tabletop stuck to the sweat on her forearm. The folding chairs surrounding were the best she'd been able to do in the month since Lee moved them all to Denver and rented this house. But as the chair wobbled under her, she cursed each brick that backed the stove, each linoleum faux tile, and the fancy espresso maker Lee had given her as a housewarming gift to compensate her for giving up her job, her friends, her apartment and her life.

She'd forgiven him for drinking through their savings the six months he had been unemployed.

"And then, he doesn't bother to show for Christmas Eve," Naomi said.

Madonna sang about the ring she wanted from Santa. Naomi struggled not to tell the voice from the song that a damn ring never solved anything; that she was better off without it.

"Mom?" Kate popped her blonde head into the kitchen, and Naomi forced her hand out of a fist. Her fingers stretched out on the table.

"Is Daddy home yet?" The ten-year-old asked. Paint smeared one cheek.

"No."

"But it's been hoooours," Kate whined.

"Bring it up with Daddy." Naomi bit back more. Of course Naomi would get flack for Lee's absence. Wasn't that always how it worked? And as a respectful parent, trying to work in a team, she'd have to avoid blaming her husband in front of the children.

"The cookies aren't done?" Kate said. "Can I still help?"

Naomi took a measured breath. None of this was her kids' fault. Kate had probably been upstairs creating some craft present for her and Lee.

"Yes, you can help. But go clean up first." Naomi motioned to the paint splatter that dusted Kate's face like extra freckles.

Kate bobbed her head and disappeared.

Naomi followed into the kitchen doorway and watched Kate dash into the bathroom on the other side of the living room. Nick sat across the Goodwill couch the family picked up a month ago which still reeked like it was drenched in perfume. At six, Nick barely filled one couch cushion but the expression of concentration on his freckled face was perfectly adult.

But he wasn't an adult. Neither of them were. And the Christmas tree hovering in the far corner of the room depressed Naomi. Some of their old ornaments had traveled with them, but without any presents under the tree, it looked anything but festive.

Lee had promised. He'd promised this Christmas wouldn't be a wash, not like the last one when he'd been unemployed. He'd promised to play Santa for the kids.

But now, here was Christmas Eve, the sun was touching the horizon out the window, and no gifts, no Lee. Where the hell was he? What was he doing?

***

Lee's arms were numb, and his shoulders ached from being stuck up above his head. The light streaming from between his gloved fingertips had lost its vibrant quality. The sun must be going down.

His breaths came short, shallow and labored. His mouth tasted like soot and the tiny black grains had solidified on his nose, forming a frozen crust. The metal wall in front of him shoved relentlessly at his chest making taking in a full breath impossible. The shaft was tighter than he'd imagined, tighter than it had looked from the roof.

Trapped.

Lee tried to shove down the mounting panic as a rasping cough made his body slip a few millimeters lower, lower and tighter. Naomi would get him help. He needed to stay calm and not make anything worse. They'd talked about this. Naomi knew where he was, and when Lee didn't show, she'd come looking.

Why hadn't she come looking already? His fingers flexed, the leather had no purchase and glided down. Just an inch up, anything. One real full breath of clean air, that's all he needed, and he could wait.

Don't scream, he warned himself as the panic built. He'd tried that, but all it did was fill his lungs further with the black air. Air that filled his mouth and nose with churning demons.

He needed to wait.

***

Naomi opened the oven, and Kate slipped the full sheet of cookies into the heat. A puff of the hot air hit Naomi in the face as she shut the door.

"Can I have one when they come out?" Kate asked. A tiny blob of dough dotted her chin. The girl could get dirty in a sterile room; Naomi would swear to it.

"One. And one for your brother. We'll ice the rest. Go sit with Nick until the timer goes off, okay?"

Kate glanced over at the single place setting remaining on the table. Gray congealed potatoes and meat that had required refrigeration hours before stood as testament to Lee's absence.

Where was he? Naomi rubbed at her forehead and watched Kate dash out of the kitchen.

Naomi crashed down into one of the chintzy chairs, too tired to be thankful it didn't break. Lee and she had been talking about celebrating the holiday for weeks. No way had Lee forgotten. Even if Christmas wasn't plastered on every billboard and street corner, they'd talked about it that morning.

She'd been digging in the fridge for some cookie dough, the kind that comes in prepackaged tubes. The premade wonder had been there the day before.

"No cookies," Naomi had slammed the fridge door shut.

"Doesn't Santa always get cookies?" Lee had said, taking a bite out of an energy bar.

"In this house, Santa gets cookies after he does his job," and only if she found the package.

Lee had said something, but Naomi missed it as she wondered if there was still time to make the treats from scratch. Good rolled cookies usually required the dough to be chilled overnight or, at the least, a few hours. She'd have to hurry.

"Maybe we'll do carrot sticks this year," Naomi said. Though she didn't mean it. "My mom did that—"

"For the reindeer," Lee finished before taking another bite of his chocolaty bar. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Lee had patted his stomach, which did have a little extra pouch this year. Any weight showed on Lee, who stood five-four and wiry. More of an elf than a Santa, really.

What had Naomi said in response? She couldn't remember.

Naomi rubbed the bridge of her nose and waited for the memory to fade. Worrying about the past did nothing. It was immutable. No going back.

Naomi dug her cell out of her purse and dialed Lee. The tone sounded out in the livingroom, distinguishable under Dean Martin's dulcet tones singing "Baby its Cold Outside". Great. Lee had left his phone behind. She hung up, slamming her phone harder than intended on the tabletop.

This might be the end of their marriage. After the move and all she'd given up, after all these years, Naomi didn't know if she could push past another missed Christmas.

No point sitting in the kitchen and stewing about it. She stood and joined the kids in the living room. On the screen, a spray of blood pattered as a zombie's head exploded. The wall behind the fallen zombie was splattered with blood and a spray-painted message "The End is Nigh."

A bit highbrow for a zombie shooter game, but appropriate for the state Naomi feared her marriage was in.

Then again, what if Lee were in trouble? Stranded somewhere? Snow piled up outside the windows, suggesting various scenarios that could have delayed him. Without his phone, he'd never be able to contact her. She didn't know his number by heart, what was the chance he knew hers? Was it wrong to hope for that, rather than him simply having put his family aside for some temporary distraction?

"Momma?" Nick asked.

When Naomi glanced over, Kate held the controller. This apparently meant that Nick now thought his mother was worthy of attention.

"Yeah, sweetie?" Naomi twisted her wedding ring on her finger.

"Can we light a fire?" He pointed to the fireplace—an ancient brick construction which was impossible to insulate. No one ever wanted to sit near it as the cold air streamed in constantly, so all the furniture was snuggled on the opposite side of the room. Still, the chimney was exciting to a city kid who never lived in a home with a wood burning fireplace before.

"No, sorry sweetie. Daddy asked us not to." Naomi said, ruffling his hair.

"Why?"

Naomi shrugged. She hadn't asked. There were so many things that needed fixing in this old house; she'd just assumed something wasn't working.

"But Moooom," Nick whined.

"No, Nick." The timer beeped in the kitchen. Cookies were cool enough to add candy eyes. "You wanna help me put red-hots on the reindeer?"

"Yeah!" Nick sprang up from the couch and into the kitchen.

Naomi smiled. Something was wrong, deep down her mind fumbled of an answer that seemed just out of reach. It was like having a word on the tip of her tongue only this nagging feeling was stronger not a mild annoyance, but a desperation building inside her. She'd just have to wait for Lee to get back.

***

Dots spun in front of Lee's eyes. He couldn't breathe and between the pain and the knowledge his brain fumbled to fasten on anything else. Anything but the knowledge that he was going to suffocate or freeze in this damn space.

He couldn't feel his fingers. And consciousness swam around him. If he passed out what would happen?

His phone rang in his pocket, vibrating against his leg. Tears burst from his eyes. Naomi would hear that. She had too.

The phone silenced after only three rings, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the grimy metal.

The walls of his tomb closed around him, and he kicked, and tried to scream. Only a deep rasping cough came out. His breaths picked up in pace, stirring the burn in his lungs until it screamed into his mind.

"Naomi! Help!" he shouted, though barely a rasp emitted from his throat, the noise vibrating around his head, surrounding him with his own panic. Arms thrashing above his head but due to the cramped quarters and his leather padded fingers, his effort failed to make any sizable sound. Lee screamed soundlessly until only a desperate gasping remained.

He didn't want to die like this. Alone. Trapped.

His blackened gloves clawed at the thread of light above him.

Why wasn't she coming? She knew. They'd talked about it. He was going to play Santa. She'd even warned him in the morning he was getting too fat.

So why wasn't she coming?

The day they'd rented the house and the leasing agent blathered on about the chimney he'd leaned over to her.

"My dad used to come down on Christmas."

Naomi had laughed.

"He called it playing Santa," he had said, but Naomi's attention had already strayed to something else.

But she had heard him. Wasn't she the one who suggested he play Santa this year?

Did Naomi hate him so much now that she was leaving him to die?

***

Red eyes stared out of an otherwise innocent reindeer face. Naomi set aside the cookie and looked at the mess of Nick's cookies, Donner and Blitzen sported eight eyes, some of them not even bothering to be on the reindeers' faces.

"I wanna ice the snowflakes now," Nick said.

Naomi sighed. Lee should have been here to help, but once again... hopefully it was just another bit of bad luck. She'd never forgive him if he abandoned them on Christmas Eve. Maybe he'd accepted an offer for drinks with some colleagues... it wasn't like he could tell her without his phone. That would be almost worse than forgetting. He'd sworn he wouldn't get started again. If she had to make this Christmas fun without him, she would damn well do it.

"Let's go light that fire," Naomi said. If something went wrong, she could put the fire out. But God damnit this was supposed to be a fun night.

"Really, Momma?" Nick's smile made everything worth it.

"Yes. Go. Set up the starter log." Naomi strode over to the doorway after Nick and popped her head out. "Kate, make sure you open the fireplace vent for your brother."

Naomi retreated into the kitchen and switched off the music. Then she pulled out a bottle from the freezer. She checked her latest line, drawn across the label but nothing was missing from the bottle. That was at least something. Naomi poured a coke into a glass of ice and added a splash of rum.

Could this Christmas get any worse?

She walked out to where the kids knelt by the fireplace. Naomi lit the starter log and crossed the room to sip her drink.

Lost in thought, wondering what things were like back home, and if their car had finally crapped out on Lee, leaving him stranded with the presents he'd promised to buy. That was his one job, play Santa for the kids and get the gifts here. She rubbed at her nose.

Should she call the hospitals? Would that be crazy? What if she didn't, and he was hurt somewhere?

Her nose stung. Smoke.

Odd. Smelled like rubber.

"Did you open the vent? That's too much smoke." Naomi stood.

Kate pouted her lips. "I opened it."

Something must be blocking the shaft.

The smell was awful. Rubber and...

Naomi dropped her glass. Ice and glass shards skittered over the floor.

Lee was playing Santa.

After finishing the story, Jesse held her hands out toward the fire. "Maybe we should sing Christmas Carols. I like those. They are festive too."