The Last Christmas On Earth

"Are you sure?"

"Yes ... I think so ... I don't ... I don't know, I don't remember."

"Did you destroy the plastic?"

Harry nodded, then put his hands behind his back and started looking at his shoes, waiting for the well-deserved reproach.

"But why ..." his father simply asked him.

"They tricked you, that model is fake. The Room of the Sun and that of Knowledge in the Sphinx are missing, and then the Chamber of the Zed is missing in the pyramid of Cheops »Harry explained to him leaving him for the umpteenth time with his mouth open. James appealed to all his inner strengths to be able to not lose patience, in a few hours his son had made him take a series of terrible fears as well as having destroyed a pair of two-hundred-dollar glasses and a three-hundred-dollar model without count the fishing rod still to be recovered. He waited a few moments; when he was sure he would be able to support the rest of the conversation without exploding, he asked him the question.

"But how can you say that?"

"I ... I know it and that's it!" Harry answered with a hint of presumption in his voice, then looked again at the confusion that reigned in the bedroom and made a displeased expression. "Dad, what's going on?" He stammered, running to take refuge in his arms for protection, and James felt helpless.

"Sorry I'm late," Larry said as he entered Helen's office. He was gasping and his belly still bobbed because of the run. He had a hem of his shirt out of his pants and was sweating profusely. Helen replied with a shrug, continuing to scratch her little finger, he wiped his neck with a handkerchief and adjusted his thinning hair in a kind of comb-over.

"Hey, what happened to your finger?" He then asked troubled, now the first phalanx was almost completely peeled and the outer surface was so livid that it seemed as if it would begin to crumble any minute now.

"I have no idea, but it's nothing serious... I think it's mycosis or psoriasis caused by stress or something like that. It started to bother me last night," she replied nervously. She was full of problems, but all of them seemed to notice only his stupid finger.

"It will be as you say a small thing, but in your place, I would put a plaster on it. This environment is very dusty and it certainly won't help you heal."

"Thanks for the advice, I'll do it later."

"Well. Why did you call me?"

"You'll see it in a minute, I hope you haven't had lunch or that you've already digested it," she said standing up.

"I don't understand," said Larry, perplexed.

"We're going to take some samples from a couple of fresh autopsy corpses," Helen explained to him as she started walking down the hallway leading to the morgue.

"Wait a minute," the chemist replied, stopping in the middle of the corridor.

"You know that for these matters we need the authorization of the judge, right?" He said taking advantage of the pause to take off his shirt, although the air conditioning was at full power, he had not yet managed to stop sweating and the fabric was annoyingly stuck to the skin. Helen nodded.

"And if the corpses are fresh from the autopsy that authorization you haven't got yet, isn't it?" He insisted. From behind the glass door of the office, Joe, who was struggling with his computer research, leaned forward to look at them. Apparently, Larry had spoken too loudly, Helen looked sheepishly at Joe and he replied with a half-smile and then turned back to his stuff. Helen took Larry by the arm and dragged him to a corner where no one would see or hear them.

"Those corpses have something strange, probably that something is the only clue we have about their death and I am convinced that you are the only person who can figure it out."

"Are you crazy? Have you forgotten that I work in a paper mill?"

"And have you forgotten that this is not the first time you are consulting us?"

"You're right," he agreed, "but I've never seen a dead body so close. It would be better if you entrusted yourself to a professional ... and then you could at least wait for the judge's authorization, what's all this haste?"

"I fear the clue may vanish before the sheets are ready ..."

"But, what's it about?"

"You'll see it with your own eyes."

"What if someone finds it out?"

"I will take all the responsibility."

"Does this mean I will work for free?" Larry guessed slightly disappointed. Helen replied with a forced smile and he looked at her indecisively. "All right," he said after a moment, continuing to walk, "but I only do it because you're my favorite sheriff!"

Helen made him sit in an empty room next to the morgue and went to make sure no one was there, then went back to call him and when they were inside she bolted the door from inside.

"Is it really necessary?" The man asked uncertainly.

"It's better if nobody knows we're here," she said, and Larry nodded unconvinced.

"You will not like what you see," she told him to prepare him, arriving in front of the cold rooms.

"Don't worry, my stomach has never betrayed me," he assured her, hoping that it wouldn't be the first time. "But let's see to hurry, I don't like this place," he added. Helen took the drawers that contained the corpses out of the cold room and removed the sheets, fixing Larry's eyes.

"My God, what reduced them like that?" He exclaimed turning to look somewhere else and instinctively taking a step back.

"What do you mean?" Helen asked, turning, and seeing the dead bodies she let out a groan. The two corpses were in the process of mummification, their faces were already dug by very deep furrows and their orbits seemed almost empty, the bones protruded overwhelmingly from beneath the skin throughout the body and the stitches of the "Y" incision on the chests were completely loose.

"There are two options, or this is a nightmare or I'm just going crazy," she murmured.

"What the hell ...?" The chemist said as soon as he caught his breath.

"I don't know ... they've been dead for two days and now it seems like a few decades have gone by. There is not a single minute to lose, "she replied, reaching for the electric panel.

"Wait, what are you going to do? I do not..."

"I have to turn off the lights."

"Are you kidding? Do you want me to shit myself?"

"It's the only way I have to show you what I have to, but I can't force you. If you don't feel up to it, we'll leave right away, I didn't expect to find this situation," she said discouraged.

Larry thought about it for a moment. "Do what you have to do, but do it as quickly as you can, I can't wait to get out of here!"

"Me too," she replied, hastening to turn off the light and, although much less intense than a few hours before, the corpses immediately began to shine.

"Do you see it?" Helen asked him, raising the switch.

"Of course I see it ... but what is it?"

"I was hoping you would tell me. Certainly, it is not radiation, it is a kind of very fine and adherent powder. That's the thing you'll have to analyze," she said, pulling a nylon bag and a pair of scissors from a pocket. "Forgive me, I'm doing this for you," she murmured approaching their bodies; she cut a few strands of hair and put them in the bag with trembling hands, then handed them to the chemist. "You have to get to work right away, the glow is already much less intense than this morning and I hope it won't disappear completely right now," he said. Larry chewed his lips in puzzlement, he had no idea what he could get out of it. "Then I have to run home and get to work right away," he replied, checking that the zipper on the bag was tightly closed and walking towards the exit.

"Larry," Helen said after she closed the door.