It was Jenny Cupcake who found the body. An avalanche had exposed a transparent wall of ice; and behind the ice, an elf hung, suspended in ice, arms akimbo and skin blue. His eyes stared forward blankly, and his mouth had dropped open. He looked flash frozen.

Jenny Cupcake tapped the ice with the butt of her Uzi. “You okay in there?”

The elf made no reply; didn’t blink, didn’t move, made no sign that he had even registered Jenny’s presence.

She peered at him. His uniform was outdated but identified as a worker from Sector 7-G. A ragged stump marked the spot where his left thumb had been savagely removed from his hand, and angry looking red gashes criss-crossed his palm. He had probably been a wood worker. (more…)

In the wintertime, when the infected were few and slow, we would walk outside among them, employing clubs and axes at our pleasure. Watching the kids from the safe house joining in, I could imagine this becoming a Christmas tradition in a few years like caroling or standing in line outside the mall at daybreak on December 26th to take advantage of great sales with newly minted gift cards. Crack. Snap. Rip. It was like the sound of church or jingle bells. Our Christmas presents? Laughter. Exercise. Fresh air. (more…)