Giggling, the girls scattered like startled quail.
Kip let herself sink into her Little space. She was the captain, after all. “Joy, you get the pillows. Kenzie can grab the blankets. Tildi, you collect all the stuffies.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.” The girls copied Kip’s salute and scurried to carry out their assignments.
“I’ll grab Puff. A dragon should come in handy for sure.” Tildi skipped toward the stairs.
As they all divided to conquer, Kip realized she had no way to write anything down. “Tildi, where are your colored pencils?”
“Oh! They’re upstairs in my room. I’ll bring those back with the stuffies.”
That would mean she couldn’t draw out the bunker and patrol schedules until Tildi returned. Kip’s chest tightened. She needed to be doing her part while all her friends were doing theirs. It was only fair. Her part was important. “Can I come up with you and get them?”
“Of course.”
Kip took off toward the stairs, slowing only when Trace spoke. “No running in the house, little fox. And hold onto the banister.”
Trace was getting into the role of Daddy General much too soon, despite the tingles the protective nature of his order gave her. Slowing, she called back, “See? Bossy.”
Loud enough for everyone in the house to hear, he added, “Everyone, pile what you collect at the top of the stairs. Once you’re finished,Iwill bring them down. You don’t want to patrol the bunker with a hot bottom, but that’s exactly what will happen if I catch you carrying armloads of supplies down by yourself.”
Kip hoped her friends were listening because her Daddy sounded serious.
She stopped mid-step. She’d called him Daddy in her mind without thinking. That gave her pause. She was getting in way too deep.
Once she retrieved Tildi’s colored pencils, she busied herself designing the bunker and planning out the times and routes for their patrols. She wasn’t about to let her friends or Santa down.
Soon, the girls were back. Tildi introduced her dragon, Puff. Joy brought her platypus, Puggles. And Kenzie brought Sir Fluffenbottom the Bear, Sergeant Sparklehooves the Unicorn, and Private Pickles, the One-Eyed Alligator.
Trace helped drape the blankets into a sagging, glorious tent, flashlights clipped to chair legs, casting shifting constellations on the underside of the oak tabletop. Stuffies stood sentinel at eachcorner. Kip taped the map to a table leg with a strip of painter’s tape stolen from Ruby’s junk drawer.
Once the bunker was set up, they all huddled inside so Kip could explain her map. Well, almost all of them were inside. Daddy General Trace had to sit just outside the bunker in the doorway because his head scraped against the underside of the table when he tried to enter, dislodging all the blankets, causing a major fort failure.
Kip tapped the diagram, pointing out each of the patrol routes around the lodge. “The dotted lines are color-coded by day. And theseXsmark the spots we’ll use our ’noculars to look for monsters who might try to stop Santa on Christmas Eve. Wait, do we have ‘noculars?”
“Nope,” Kenzie said. “But we can make some out of some of the glasses. We have tons. All we need is a glass cutter and some wire.”
Trace’s brows shot up. “Let’s make them out of plastic cups instead.”
Sensing the need for compromise, Kip nodded. “That would be easier to wear around our necks in case we need our hands to fight the monsters. Now, we’ll also look for monsters and Santa’s sleigh in the sky on Christmas Eve. Any questions?”
Joy raised her hand. “I have a question. What is the name of our bunker?”
Kip tapped her chin. “Private Joy brings up a good point. Our bunker needs a name. Any suggestions?”
Kenzie’s hand flashed up. “We can call it the Bad Bitc?—”
Trace ducked into the bunker, broad shoulders folding like origami. “Do not finish that statement, MacKenzie Claire. Unless you want to spend today’s patrol time in the stockade.”
With a pout, Kenzie nodded. “It was just a suggestion.”
“Suggestion denied. Let’s break out some of those MREs. You can discuss the name over your snacks.”
“That’s a great idea.” Joy clapped her hands. “I think we’ve earned it.”
“You definitely have,” Trace agreed. “Here are your water and rations.”
“Daddy!” Kip said with a giggle. “This is apple juice and granola bars.”
