Christmas Kill

Part 1

'You better not pout, you better not whine, You better take care or you're gonna die, Santa's rotting corpse is in town.'

'You really can't sing, can you?'

Buddy looked up from where he'd unloaded a bundle of blankets from our latest haul onto the floor. 'Hey, I've been told I've the voice of an angel,' he protested. I gave him a dubious look and carried on dicing the vegetables.

Since leaving Edinburgh we'd travelled north, bound for the supposed safety of the Highlands. Currently we were holed up in a small cottage at least five miles north of the city, in the middle of nowhere. Apart from being abandoned when we showed up, the place was in pretty good shape. We'd come to being used to no electricity so when Buddy tried the lights and we remained in the darkness, we weren't surprised. However, the front and back door were sturdy and had thick bolts that would withstand a DF attack long enough for us to decide whether fight or flight was best.

Picking up one of the blankets, he began folding it and started singing again. A different tune this time. 'Jingle bells, what's that smell, my body's rot away'

'Why are you singing macabre Christmas songs?' I ask, putting the cubed potatoes into the small pan, ready for boiling.

He gave me a vacant look, reminiscent of one of the DFs. 'Uh, because it's Christmas?'

I frowned. 'No, it's not.' I stared down at the black and white lino, trying to remember what the date was. God, what was the date? The first reports of the undead happened on Boxing Day last year. Initially, people put it down to drunk revellers or jokers. That was until someone filming one of these jokers on their phone camera had his neck chewed out. No one was laughing after that. Had almost a year past already? I thought time flew when you were having fun, not striving to stay alive.

'Yeah, it is. Well, it's definitely December. I've been trying to keep count of the days, except sometimes I forget. Ballpark figure - it's mid to late December,' he explained, and went back to his folding.

I looked out the kitchen window. An inch of snow lay everywhere. Had been like that for the past two days. 'Merry Christmas,' I muttered, staring at the desolate landscape. A year since this new world came to order. I thought back over the past twelve months: watching the footage of the first attack on YouTube, joining up with that first group, heading out on my own, terrified out of my wits and then hooking up with Buddy before holing up in Edinburgh for a bit, where we met Donna, Miles and Nat.

Buddy had moved silently across the room and now stood behind me. I could see our reflections in the glass. Three stocky candles sat on the shelf opposite, each aflame and lighting the room.

'Merry Christmas,' he whispered before kissing my earlobe. 'Damn shame we don't have mistletoe.'

I leant against him. 'You need mistletoe?'

'Not me personally, no. But it would give your boyfriend an excuse to kiss you.'

I rolled my eyes. Not this again. 'Miles isn't my boyfriend,' I told him in a hushed tone.

'Yeah, but he'd like to be,' Buddy teased, his grin visible in the glass. 'I bet he lies awake at night imagining he's making love to you instead of me.'

'Maybe he's imagining he's making love to you instead of me,' I shot back, smugly.

'Maybe. And if I ever getting a liking for old, Eton cock, he'll be the first person I go to,' Buddy mused. He squeezed my arse, leaving his hand cupping a cheek. 'But for the moment, you're too delicious to ignore.'

I smiled. 'Are you getting a bit excited, Chad?' I asked, using his real name.

'I'm always excited when I'm near you, Elizabeth,' he countered.