Never Fear by Heather Graham Page A

is
left. Fuck these ISIS pigs, man.”
    Emerett looked at the girl, unsure of
what to say. He put a hand on her head, hoping she could feel his
empathy. She smiled and reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out
a folded piece of paper and handing it to him. He looked at it and
saw a Nativity scene on the front. Inside, a family stood around a
Christmas tree, Arabic script written across the inside. The girl
turned back to Baz and he smiled while she spoke.
    “ She says ‘Merry
Christmas.’”
    Emerett smiled. He zipped open one of
the dozen pouches on his plate carrier and pulled out the trail mix
he had packed in case the mission took longer than planned. He
handed it to the girl and returned the Christmas card. She smiled
and handed the snack to the woman so they could all share. Then she
showed the card to Baz.
    “ What does it say?”
Emerett said into his radio.
    “ Peace on Earth and good
will toward men. God bless and Merry Christmas.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    A FAMILY CHRISTMAS
TERROR
     
    CHAPTER
4
     
     
    “ Holy crap!” Jack
said.
    “ Yeah, that story should
have come with razor blades,” Nick muttered under his breath. “Any
more doughnuts?”
    “ I could use a shot of
brandy in my coffee.” Dan raised his mug to his wife.
    “ Way ahead of you,
sweetheart.”
    Nick looked sheepish. “I don’t suppose
you’d spare a shot for your favorite son?”
    “ Oh brother,” Nancy
said.
    Judy gave her younger son an uneasy
look.
    “ C’mon, Mom,” Nick
entreated.
    Dan said, “Why not? Nobody’s going
anywhere today. Drinks are on the house!” He waved his hand with a
flourish.
    “ There’s the Irish in ya,”
Grandpa said to Dan.
    “ Are you imbibing as
well?”
    “ Have I ever said
no?”
    “ Not that I can recall.”
He cleared his throat. “I think I would like to try my voice on the
next story.” Grandpa handed him the book just as Judy came back,
brandy bottle in hand. She laced everyone’s coffee but Nancy’s, who
had put her hand over her mug.
    “ I don’t really like
brandy. Give mine to Nick,” Nancy said. “Do we have any cherry
vodka?”
    “ Alright! Merry Christmas,
sis!” Nick raised his mug to her.
    “ I hope you aren’t like
this at college,” Judy admonished.
    “ Of course not,” Nick was
quick to assure. “I’m only nineteen, besides.”
    “ Uh huh.” Judy’s
skepticism was apparent.
    “ So, Dad, what’s your
story called?” Jack broke the awkwardness.
    “ Uh, it’s called, The Night Is Freezing Fast . Oh, I know this author. This should be good.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    THE NIGHT IS FREEZING
FAST

    THOMAS F.
MONTELEONE
     
     
    “ Oh damn!” cried Grandma
from the kitchen. “I’ve run right out of shortnin’ for my
cake!”
    “ Are you
sure? ” asked
Grandpa. When his wife cussed, she usually was very sure. He eased
the Dubuque newspaper down from his face and peeked at her through
the kitchen door.
    “’ Course I’m sure! And if
you want a nice dessert for after Christmas dinner, you’ll get into
town and get me more shortnin’! ”
    “ What’s
‘shortnin’?” asked Alan, ten years old and
always asking questions at what always seemed like the wrong
moment.
    “ But it’s a blizzard goin’
on out there! ” said Grandpa. “And it’s Christmas Eve to boot.”
    “ What’s
‘shortnin’? ” asked Alan.
    “ Rolf, if you know what’s
good for you, you’ll get into that town and get me my
shortnin ” Grandma
used her tone of voice Alan had learned long ago meant no
foolishness.
    Grandpa must have noticed
it too because he said, “Oh, all right. ”
    Alan watched him drop the newspaper
and shuffle across the room to the foyer closet where he pulled out
some snow boots, a beat-up flapdoodle corduroy hat, and a Mackinaw
jacket of red and black plaid. He turned and looked wistfully at
Alan, who was sitting on the rug watching the Baltimore Ravens play
the Kansas City Chiefs on TV.
    “ Want to take a ride,
Alan? ”
    “