Beneath The Mistletoe

2

"Holly?"

Holly sat, huddled against the banister on the bottom step of Aunt Gem's stairs, watching the shadow in the frosted glass of the front door window -- the shadow of Chris Winters.

Why was Chris Winters here, standing outside Aunt Gem's house? How was he here? The change should have taken him by now.

"Holly? It's you in there, isn't it." It wasn't a question, it was a declaration. Could the Changed speak? She didn't think so. 

"Holly." The handle rattled as he tried to open it. "Hol, let me in."

She stood up and went to the door, her hand reaching for the glass, for the dark shadow of Chris Winters. He was right there. Right outside. How could he be there?

"Holly." The shadow of his hand found hers, and he pressed it to the glass. "Please."

Her heart was pounding so hard, it rattled her whole body so that she began to tremble. He didn't sound changed. He sounded like Chris. But that shouldn't be. He made contact with the parasite before she ever did. He should have changed by now.

She glanced at the doorknob, her heart aching to open it, to see a familiar face after being alone for so long. To speak to someone, have an actual conversation instead of just the quiet of her own thoughts.

But her head stopped her from reaching for it. She had to be smart now. Had to remember the danger that lurked outside.

"You haven't changed," she said, an accusation more than a question.

"No," he said, in one big relieved breath. "Jesus, Hol, I can't believe it's really you. I thought--"

"Why haven't you changed?"

"What? I don't -- How should I know? Luck? Grace of God? Who gives a shit? Let me in!"

"I need proof."

"What are you talking about? It's me! Just open the door."

Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle. There were two doors to Aunt Gem's -- the heavy red main one, and a screen door in front of that.  She pulled open the red one and there he was, right there on the other side of the screen door. He wore a thick puffy jacket that was dirty and torn in some places, sweatpants that must have concealed multiple layers judging by their bulk, a hat and a hood over top. He seemed huge, wearing so much. But his face betrayed just how much weight he'd lost since they turned him away from the Clean Refuse. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes surrounded by dark circles, and his mouth looked wider somehow, like the skin around it had pulled tighter over his bones. Did she look just as frail?

She swallowed, and said again, "I need proof."

He pulled down his hood, and shrugged. "I mean, look at me Holly. I'm me."

He was Chris. She couldn't believe she was seeing him, but there he was. Even after living alone in a world that had crumbled around them, even after the toll of surviving had weakened his body, he was still handsome, and tall, with glinting brown eyes. He was still Chris Winters. 

At least, it looked that way.

"Take off your clothes."

His brow wrinkled. And Holly felt her cheeks flush with heat. A year ago, she would never have believed she'd find herself saying that to Chris Winters. But the world had changed a lot since then.

"I need to be sure," she said. 

He stood there, frowning, as if trying to decide whether to indulge her or turn around and take his chances with the empty world. Finally, he shook his head and unzipped his jacket, dropping it at his feet. He pulled off his boots, standing in the snow on the porch, and began peeling away the layers of pants and sweaters.