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“And. Done.” Phil triumphantly stated as he slowly backed away from the small plant.
“Perfect,” Dan commented, moving over on the log to give some room for Phil to sit, wrapping the thick blanket around both of them.
They used to wait to decorate the tree late at night. Heat on and lights glowing, they would put on Christmas music softly in the background as they delicately placed ornaments collected over the years around the large tree. It was a tradition formed over the many years. Something that was a treasured moment they never would have thought they would stop.
Well, used to.
It had been years since they had decorated a tree. They both wished they could go back in time and tell their past selves to enjoy it. To take their time and enjoy every last moment. Enjoy those comforts they don’t even realize they have.
Because one day soon it would all be gone.
They hadn’t even thought about celebrating holidays since it began. It took three years for them to acknowledge each other’s birthdays. Partly because it took that long to learn what date it even was, partly because it hurt to celebrate alone.
They know what likely happened. They know the statistics and circumstances. They knew the fatality rates and randomness of immunity. They knew that their loved ones were long gone.
They had discussed it before. Dan especially had never believed in an afterlife before it all happened. But as it all began to fall, as society collapsed all around them, when hope became fantasy, it seemed that was the only option. The only way they both could go on knowing their loved one’s likely last moments were in sickness was by believing there was truth in that they may be in a better place. They never thought too much about it. Thinking too much about anything was dangerous.
Word had gone around that they were close to establishing country wide telephone systems. Somewhere deep inside them they hoped that one day they could call home and see if their parents picked up.
Another fantasy. Electricity went out almost a month to the day that the CDC announced a fast acting, resistant virus that was transmitted through skin to skin contact. People brushed it off as another COVID. Some people prepared to quarantine again, going back to the precautions of wearing masks and carrying around extra hand sanitizers, others ignored the announcement completely, believing in was another over reaction.
That attitude lasted barely a week when suddenly everyone was getting sick. Fast. Too fast. Really sick. Once it touched a house, it would be days before that house would be vacant. It was even worse in apartment buildings. All it took was one resident in the building before that would vacate the building in less than a week.
That was when the CDC announced that it was airborne. That it remained on surfaces for days. Anything anyone who was infected touched or breathed on was now contaminated for anywhere between a day and a week.
Infections in rural areas were slower because of this. Fatality rates were overwhelming. Everyone who was infected would pass.
Or was thought for some time. One of the last presentations given by the CDC when televisions still worked was the announcement that a small percentage remained immune despite being infected. They did not know how or why and said they probably never would. Very few staff remained at the CDC. There wasn’t enough people left alive at the CDC to look into immunity and why it happened.
The message was clear. There would soon be nowhere on Earth that the virus didn’t touch. This was a mass extinction only to be survived by a few lucky ones.
Or unlucky depending on how you looked at it.
Both of them had remained in contact with their family until the second the internet and phones stopped working. They both lived on the hope that their families were waiting somewhere else to hear from them. Despite knowing how foolish this was.
It took about two months for the few survivors to emerge. Most traumatized. Stumbling out of their houses in a daze as they watched everyone around them die. The few therapists that survived set up make shift offices to counsel around the encampment.
More survivors gathered and organized. The first actions by many were to form a search party. Going around towns and checking every house for survivors. Some parties left notes taped to the door with the amount of deaths and survivors. Almost always just having deaths to report. No one really knew why they posted the findings on the door. Maybe some kind of hope that it would make some difference.
Those in the search parties always went still and solemn if you asked about it. Most had stories of finding children sleeping next to the rotting corpses of their parents. Elderly individuals who relied on their partner or caregiver stuck in chairs or were deathly sick. The search parties would remain whenever survivors were found. Allowing them to collect a few belongings before one of them walked back to the makeshift shelter.
It wasn’t a search party that found Dan and Phil, however. They had walked out on their own. They had finally run out of food. Phil’s migraines had gotten worse. They needed medicine, food, and clean water. They figured they were immune at this time, but even if they weren’t, they refused to hide in the house and die quietly.
Most looked at Dan and Phil with contempt at first when word got around about this. People who watched their parents or children die, lovers without their other half hated them for being lucky. Dan and Phil understood. It is why they chose to settle in an abandoned house nearby the settlement, rather than taking shelter in the large community center. They needed to be alone and process as much as the other survivors.
As time passed and people began to cope, the survivors began to warm up to Dan and Phil, though. Large grief support groups popped up. Anyone who had a job or specialty before it happened offered their skills to the small community. Those who had skills that didn’t contribute much to survival helped in other ways.
There was some rebuilding. Sunday markets were everyone’s favorites. Large trading posts where people traded goods. At first it was trading necessities, trading matches for a water filter, an extra blanket for shoes that fit.
As everyone settled and had their own, small amount of necessities, the Sunday markets became more trading with items that colored life again. Many elderly people who survived and couldn’t do much work crocheted and knitted clothing in exchange for goods. Now in the depth of the English winter, they were always crowded every Sunday, usually running out of products within a few hours.
There was a new stall, however, this Sunday. Covered with red and green paint, in sloppy handwriting read a sign that said “Christmas Supplies.”
Former teachers who took in the young child survivors had had child after child get sad when it started to get cold. The teachers eventually discovered this was because all of them celebrated holidays when the weather turned like this. It hit them the hardest that their family was gone and they were just surviving.
All of the teachers had come together and agreed to let the children create holiday related items, with some help from artists and the elderly knitting group, to set up a Christmas stall for all of December. They took payment in anything that would help children learn. Books, writing supplies, craft items, paper, anything.
It set off something in the community that everyone had pushed away so long ago. Hope, celebration, enjoyment of life. The stall was swarmed and barren by the time Dan and Phil had reached the market the past three weeks. They decided to get up before sunrise since it was the last Sunday before Christmas.
They were one of the first customers who arrived at the stall. It made sense why the line was always so long. The stall was magical. Decorated with both professional and childlike art. Strings hung all around with paper cut out in the shape of lights. Though it was labeled as a Christmas stall, there were items for all holidays, including winter themes.
Dan and Phil were utterly overwhelmed. They wanted everything and decided on nothing. They spent at least twenty minutes in the stall. Touching almost every knick knack and smiling at each other. Though nothing hit the spot they were looking for.
That was until they were sorting through the ornaments on a faux tree in the corner. It was adorned by felt creature ornaments. Dan and Phil crowded the tree, finally knowing what they wanted. Their hands skimmed each item, before both of their fingers landed on the same thing. Two felt frogs on a ski lift together. They looked at each other and began to crack up. If didn’t make any sense. They had never been skiing together and were not ones to do so.
“Aww. Look at the gay frogs. They’re just like us.” Phil cheered quiet enough just for Dan to hear.
“Is that really what you want?” Dan chucked as he turned to Phil.
“As if you don’t want it too.” Phil quipped back.
“Maybe.” Dan fondly chucked as Phil kissed him on the cheek.
That used to be something that would be saved purely for behind closed doors, maybe witnessed by a few close, trusted acquaintances. But if they had learned anything about the apocalypse, it was that they couldn’t keep wasting time being scared. Each day wasn’t promised and they refused to spend it scared.
It definitely helped that people didn’t have time to be homophobic during the rebuilding of society in the post-apocalypse.
They walked towards a child stationed at the payment center in the stall. An adult stood behind her, but let the child take the lead.
“Find everything you wanted?” A small voice asked.
Both of the boys cracked a large smile. “Yes. Thank you for asking.” Phil replied. They both looked up to the adult behind the child, who mouthed ‘thank you.’
“One frog ornaments!” The girl called out, before scribbling something illegible on the paper. “Payment please.” She followed, holding out a flat palm.
Both of the boys smiled again, reaching into their bag and pulling out an old notebook they found in the abandoned home they lived in. “Is this good?” Dan asked as he handed over the book.
“Yep!” The little girl exclaimed as she shook her head up and down. “Thank you! Come again!” She called out, waving goodbye to them.
The boys made there way back home as the sun began to set with the winter time. Not wanting to waste more matches than needed, they quickly worked, pulling up a log to sit on and grabbing a few blankets. The stove still worked, allowing the two to boil water. Stacy from the kitchen, who they had grown close to, gave them some packets of hot chocolate for free. Dan quietly prepared them as Phil set up the scenery. Dan walked out and sat on the log, putting one of the blankets around him as he watched Phil try to find a way to put on the felt ornament without weighing the small plant down.
Eventually he figured out how, slowly backing away and sitting next to Dan on the log. Dan handed him a cup of hot cocoa as he draped a blanket over him.
They remained quiet for a moment. Just staring at the small tree-like plant in front of them, adorned with their small, frog ornament. They took time to admire it, think about how they too were growing along with the little plant. How they could now start to hold the weight of a small, felted ornament. And how with more nurturing and time, the plant along with them would grow big and strong. Maybe not as big and strong as the trees, but enough where they could find that feeling again of decorating their own tree at home with a collection of ornaments.
They remained in silence for a few minutes, purely just to hear the breathing of the other. It was a habit they had since developed. Sometimes just needing a reminder that they both were still alive and together.
“Do you miss how everything was before?” Phil finally cut the silence.
Dan snorted. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” Dan nodded with each syllable.
Phil sighed. “Aren’t we supposed to have some great grand lesson out of this, teaching us that the material things don’t matter as long as we have each other?”
Dan took a moment to think about what Phil said. “I have been thinking the same thing, honestly.” Dan admitted. “I keep waiting to feel it, but I wake up every morning feeling the same way.”
“Me too.” Phil murmured.
Phil’s head suddenly perked up. “All of this, it’s kind of like that Sisyphussy guy you told me about one time.” Phil mused.
“Sisy-fucking-what?” Dan took his head off of Phil’s shoulder to glance at him.
“That, uh, that story…” Phil trailed off, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember.
Dan looked to the side, thinking for a few moments. “…You mean Sisyphus?” Dan finally spoke.
“Yes!” Phil clapped. “Sisyphus. The boulder guy.”
Dan snorted into Phil’s shoulder. “I guess, it is a bit like Sisyphus.” Dan took a moment to follow that line of thought. “We miss so much of what used to be and everything really sucks now, but it’s impossible for us to go back and the only choice we have now is to be happy or sad.”
“See! I listen to you sometimes!” Phil chirped.
Dan giggled into Phil’s chest, slapping him lightly. “I’m glad you’re able to connect my ramblings to help me feel better about being alive in the post apocalypse.”
The sun started to set and the wind blew slightly, causing the frog ornament to sway in the wind.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had the Christmas spirit.” Phil commented as he continued to stare. “It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to celebrate anything.”
“Well, we’ve been in nothing but survival mode for the past five years.” Dan commented. “Things are finally stabilizing, at least as much as they can in a situation like this.” Dan shrugged. “Stacy told me she confirmed for sure that telephone lines are being built around the country and in a few months, different survivor groups will be able to connect.” He added on.
Phil reached for Dan’s hands and began playing with his fingers, a nervous habit. He knew Dan was telling him this to cheer him up, but it made dread form in the pit of his stomach. “I’m scared of that.” He whispered out like a confession.
“Scared of what?” Dan clasped his hand over Phil’s to stop the nervous habit.
“For things to stabilize. To go to anything remotely normal.”
“Why?!” Dan exclaimed.
Phil paused, looking down to his feet.
“Because then it’s going to be real.” Phil blankly stated. “It will be something that actually happened. We will actually find out everyone we loved died. The world collapsed. And we just have to be okay with it.”
Dan didn’t miss a beat and quickly replied. “I don’t think anyone is expecting anyone to be okay with it.” Dan thought out loud. “Everyone here is grieving still. Everyone.”
“But when we rebuild things. When things go back to normal. Living in buildings, having jobs, getting electricity and internet.” Phil made some hand gestures. “We’re moving on.” His voice cracked. “Dan, everyone we know is dead. I know we hope our family is okay, but still, our friends, our neighbors, everyone we’ve ever worked with. They’re dead. At least when we’re stuck in some post apocalyptic camp where there’s no food or electricity we can pretend we are still in the tragedy. But if things go back to normal… isn’t that leaving everything behind?”
Dan resituated himself, furrowing his brows to make sure Phil knew he was thinking, not ignoring. He turned back towards the felt ornament, watching as it swung a bit more as the wind picked up. The cool air causing him to unconsciously snuggle closer to Phil and bring the blanket tighter to himself.
“Then what’s the other option?” Dan finally asked out loud. “We just talked about Sisyphussy,” Dan let out a chuckle. “If we stay in the tragedy, everything is tragic until we die. If we allow ourselves to move on, to go back to somewhat normal life… Phil that’s the only way we can survive after this.”
Phil swallowed hard. “You sometimes wish we didn’t?” Phil asked. “Survive, I mean.”
“Yes.” Dan quickly responded. Despite the grim nature of the question, they both had thought about it more times than they could count. “But we did. And I’m slowly trying to accept that.”
Phil nodded and turned back towards the ornament. “That ornament is so fucking stupid…” Phil trailed off as he pointed out to it, laughing a bit. “It’s just…” Phil turned away, blinking away a few tears.
“I know.” Dan finished his thoughts. “Me too.” Dan confirmed. “It’s more than just an ornament. A symbol of us surviving and thriving or some bullshit like that.”
Phil let out a small laugh, rubbing his face into Dan’s neck a few times.
“I’m so thankful we made it through together, Phil.” Dan cut in. “I wouldn’t have been able to have gone through this without you, you know?” Dan tapped Phil’s knee. “I’m talking about Sisyphus and acting like I know all these answers, but I wouldn’t be saying half of this shit without you here. If I didn’t have you here, I don’t think I would have…” Dan trailed off.
“Me too.” Phil completed his thought.
“The first time I actually enjoyed Christmas was when I went to your family in 2009. Before then, it was just some annoying day I had to meet with relatives that made me so insecure and anxious. And it was so foreign to me when I came over for Christmas and you and your family were so excited to celebrate together…” Dan reflected. “As much as I like to act like an asshole, Christmas became my favorite time of year because of you. Because you convinced me to change my perspective and to go about Christmas in a way that didn’t make me feel like shit.” Dan paused, squinting for a moment. “I was going to make some grand point, but I kind of forgot.”
Phil fell into a fit of giggles as he wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist. “We’re going to get through this, aren’t we.” Phil asked as he gripped Dan tight.
“We will. We don’t have any other choice.” Dan completed. “Do you want to move back to the house if we can? Go back to decorating our tree like we used to?” Dan continued.
They knew that was a long time away, if that would even happen in their life time. It was one thing to have electricity and clean water available at the settlement and have a few phone lines that connected the few dozen camps around the whole country and being able to go home to the home before it all began. But that didn’t matter.
“Absolutely.” Phil affirmed. “Even if we go back in, like, July. I still want to turn music on and wear fluffy pajamas and drink hot cocoa and decorate the tree.” Phil went on as he recalled happy memories.
They let out genuine smiles as they held each other tight, the chilly air starting to penetrate their blankets and sweaters knitted by the elderly members.
“But in the mean time…” Phil continued. “We have this.” He reached out and touched the frogs. “Two little frogs, swinging in the wind, trying to survive. Just like us.”
Dan snorted. “They’re a bit small to be just like us, but I get what you’re saying.”
Phil playfully punched Dan. “And over time, this plant will grow stronger and we’re going to give it more ornaments. And when we finally go back home, we will take it with us.”
“What, so you can finally kill it?” Dan cut in with a smile.
“Fuck you.” Phil playfully giggled into Dan.
Silence fell over the two as the sun dipped behind the trees. They watched as the plant moved more and more as the wind blew harder and harder. Yet no matter how hard it blew, the frogs remained attached. The sun dipped below the horizon and the two began to shiver, hot cocoa long gone to substitute as warmth.
“We should go inside.” Dan eventually commented.
“Yeah.” Phil agreed. “Five more minutes.” He asked.
“Five more,” Dan agreed.
There were no lights or songs playing on the radio. They didn’t have a fancy tree with a collection of ornaments. But they had each other and a shitty little felt frog ornament, and that was enough.
“Merry Christmas, Dan.” Phil murmured before they stood up.
“Merry Christmas, Phil.”