Tis’ the season for a TerribleMinds.com Writing Challenge.

“Twas the Night Before Christmas…”

Caleb slept the best he could by the fire’s dying coals, but true rest evaded him. He hated dreaming, because they were always warm, happy and full of bright lights. Even as he had good dreams, the reality of the world clawed through it like the cold.

Fitful, he awoke to check on the children. Rachel and Thom slept peacefully cocooned in their sleeping bags. Thom clutched the blue Power rangers to his chest. He reached past his rifle for the Geiger counter to take a radiation reading. He flipped the switch, but the dial didn’t light up. He flipped the switched several more times, but it the batteries were dead and the machine was useless. For all he knew, the westerly winds could have blown a radiation could on top of them and they were already dying. His family could be camped in a hotzone.

That figures. He squatted by the fire, dropped the Geiger counter in the dirt and considered his limited options. By morning he would lead his remaining children south, following the dried riverbed formerly called the Mississippi River. There he hoped to find a farm collective that would, mercifully, take them in. Supplies were down to two cans of beans and three rifle shells to last them at least ten days of travel. He hadn’t seen so much a scrub hare in five days. It wouldn’t have mattered since his fingers were too cold to aim the rifle straight.

Three shells. He looked at his children’s peaceful faces, and shook his head to drive the horrible thought away.

Something, someone stirred in the dark woods. He grabbed his rifle and shuttled out of his sleeping bag. He aimed at the darkened woods where he reckoned the intruder approached. Heavy steps came closer. He tuned his ears. There was only one, a big man, who sounded like he struggled against a heavy pack. He could be a friendly, only looking for a warm fire to bed down. Yet, he had to meet even one.

In the forward darkness, a large body appeared. He was indeed a large, fat man, which was odd since he rarely saw a well fed man.

“Hold right there,” Caleb said, not loud enough to startle the children.

“I mean no harm,” the husky man said. He stepped forward, his face lit by the coals. He had a long snow white beard and kind green eyes. He wore a red cap fringed with white fur, and his jacket was red as well. “Mind if I share your fire?”

The fat man let a large red bag roll off his back and onto the ground, squatted by the fire and warmed his hands in the coals.

“I didn’t invite you,” Caleb said and stepped closer. “Find your own fire.”

“I don’t mean to impose. I just wanted to rest a moment. I have so many rounds to make. I’ll be on my way soon enough.” The fat man looked at the children, and Caleb caressed the rifle’s trigger.

“Rachel,” the fat man said as he pointed to Caleb’s daughter. “And Thom.”

“How the hell did you know their names?” Caleb stood over the fat man, rifle muzzle inches from his white whiskers. The fat man smiled, unthreatened.

“The same way I know yours, Caleb.”

“Have we met? Did we know each other in Chicago?” Caleb lowered the rifle and backed off three steps.

“You wanted Power Rangers, but your dad drank away the Christmas money. You woke one morning to get the newspaper to find the whole set at your front door. The news people came out saying some Secret Santa was leaving gifts for needy children.”

Caleb looked at Thom. When the government forced them to vacate their house, he took his four power rangers. He lost three, but gave the blue one to Thom, to at least have…something.

Caleb half raised the rifle. “No. You don’t really exist.”

“Maybe I don’t. Sometimes, maybe I need to.”

“I’m dreaming or I’ve finally gone crazy.”

“Be thankful you still can dream,” the fat man said. “Things will get better, but you have to believe remarkable things can still happen.” He reached into his bag, and pulled out a small package wrapped in bright green tinsel. He placed it next to the fire. He rose, stretched, and then pulled up the large bag and heaved it over his shoulder.

“Well, I must be going. So many appointments. Thanks for the warm up.” The fat man turned and lumbered into the forest.  Keeping his rifle trained on the path where the fat man left, Caleb walked to the package. He poked it with the rifle a few times.

Quietly, he squatted by it and tore off the wrapping and opened the lid off a small white box. Inside, was a pair of “D” batteries, the kind the Geiger counter used. He grabbed the Geiger counter, replaced the dead batteries with the new ones. He took a fretful breath and turned it on and took a reading. The glowing needle only showed negligible radiation. They were safe.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he awoke to the children opening a can of beans and stoking the fire. “Morning, Dad,” Thom said.

“Go easy on the beans. It has to last us,” Caleb said.

“Look!” Rachel said. A large, six point deer stood ten feet in front of the campsite. It haunches were full, muscular and delicious looking. More than enough meat for the rest of the trip. Caleb quietly took the rifle, sighted on deer’s heart and squeezed the trigger.

He decided they would rest here for the day, fill their bellies and recover their strength Caleb cut a fat hunk of venison off the spit and presented it to Thom. “Thom, did I ever tell you how I got that Power Ranger?”