Age of zombies

[74] Christmas eve visit

The air was crisp, cold enough that I could see my breath as I walked through the snow-covered streets of Banff. Despite everything that had happened over the past few months, the town was alive with holiday cheer. The few remaining storefronts were strung with Christmas lights, and wreaths hung from windows and doorways. There was a kind of warmth in the air that hadn't been there in a long time—people were smiling, greeting each other as they passed by, and the sound of children's laughter echoed down the street.

Christmas was coming, and for the first time in what felt like forever, people were letting themselves celebrate.

I had Emma's present tucked under my arm as I made my way to the foster home. It wasn't much—just a small stuffed bear I'd found at one of the stalls in town—but I hoped she'd like it. I knew things hadn't been easy for her since she'd been placed with her new foster family, but I wanted her to know that I was still here for her.

When I knocked on the door, it swung open after a moment, revealing Emma standing there with a shy smile on her face.

"Hey, kiddo," I said, grinning down at her.

"Hi, Jake," she replied softly, her eyes lighting up a little when she saw me.

I stepped inside, the warmth of the house washing over me as I shook the snow from my coat. The foster home was cozy, decorated with all the trimmings of the holiday season—tinsel wrapped around the banister, a small Christmas tree twinkling in the corner, and stockings hanging by the fireplace. It felt homey, which was a relief.

I knelt down in front of Emma, holding out the small wrapped gift. "Got something for you."

Her eyes widened, and she hesitated for a second before taking it from me, her fingers brushing against the wrapping paper carefully.

"You didn't have to get me anything," she said softly, though her smile grew wider.

"Yeah, well," I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "It's Christmas, right? Figured you deserved a little something."

She tore the paper slowly, almost like she didn't want to ruin it. When she finally pulled out the small stuffed bear, her eyes lit up, and she hugged it tightly to her chest.

"Do you like it?" I asked, feeling a bit nervous.

"I love it," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She looked up at me with wide eyes, and for a moment, she seemed like any other kid, just happy to be getting a gift.

I smiled, reaching out to pat her head. "Good. I'm glad."

She held the bear close, her fingers brushing against its soft fur, and for a moment, everything felt... normal. Like we weren't in the middle of a broken world, like zombies and raiders didn't exist.

"How are you liking your new foster parents?" I asked gently, knowing this was a sensitive topic for her.

Emma hesitated, her fingers gripping the bear a little tighter. "They're nice," she said quietly. "They're... they try really hard. But... they're not my parents."

My heart ached hearing that. No one could replace her parents, and I knew this was something she would carry with her forever.

"I know," I said softly, patting her head again. "But it sounds like they're doing their best to take care of you. That's all anyone can do."

She nodded, but I could see the sadness in her eyes. She looked down at the bear in her arms, her small face pinched with the weight of her thoughts. After a long pause, she glanced up at me, her expression a mix of hope and uncertainty.

"Will you... will you visit me again?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The question hit me hard, and for a second, I didn't know how to answer. I wanted to promise her that I'd always be there, that I'd visit every day if I could. But the truth was, in this world, promises like that weren't easy to keep.

Still, I couldn't let her down. Not now.

I smiled, trying to keep my voice steady. "Yeah, of course I will. I'll come by and check on you whenever I can."

Her eyes lit up again, and she smiled, the tension in her small body easing just a bit. "Promise?"

"Promise," I said, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "I'll always come visit you, Emma. You're stuck with me now."

She giggled softly, hugging the bear even tighter. For a moment, it felt like the weight of the world had lifted just a little.

"You better not forget," she said, her voice teasing but still laced with that childlike fear of abandonment.

"I won't," I reassured her, standing up and stretching my arms. "I could never forget about you."

She smiled again, though this time it was smaller, more subdued. But I could see the relief in her eyes, the small spark of hope that I'd managed to rekindle.

As I turned to leave, I glanced back at her one last time. She was still standing there in the doorway, holding the stuffed bear close, her eyes following me as I stepped out into the cold.

"Take care of that bear, alright?" I called over my shoulder, giving her a small wave. "He's got a lot of miles on him."

"I will," she called back, her voice carrying on the crisp winter air.

As I walked down the snowy street, the town still glowing with Christmas lights, I felt a strange mixture of hope and sadness. The holidays had always been about family, about love and warmth. But for so many of us now, it was about survival—just trying to make it to the next day.

But as long as there were still moments like this, small sparks of kindness and humanity, maybe—just maybe—there was still something worth fighting for.

Q: What is the best Christmas present you got?