I wave to dozens of other survivors whose names I don’t even know.
Cheers fill the hallway of the saucer.
My family hugs me. Human and robot alike.
It’s wonderful. A beautiful intensity.
Happiness.
I can’t seem to do much of anything but smile and nod.
Jade appears at the far end of the saucer hallway. Her in a new mechanical suit that’s actually human-shaped and–sized. My daughter is curled up in the crook of her left arm. My son in her right. Both cleaned of viscera and gore.
Still look like pudgy little monsters, though.
She offers both babes to me. Says, “Don’t fuck this up.”
I arch my eyebrows at her. “Gonna do my best not to.”
I take my children. My kin.
They’re quiet but aware.
Their eyes pan across the whole scene.
They reach for Plissken. Play their stubby hands over his frame. Coo.
He says, “Hello, little ones.” Dips his forecurve toward em. My mutants.
They clamp pudgy fingers around his saucer frame.
I say, “That’s Uncle Plissken. He saved the whole world. Which ain’t half-bad for a library drone.”
The babies gurgle.
I tell the crowd: “They need their mom.”
Slink back into DeVille’s room. Nudge the door closed with my heel.
I lay both children in her arms. She laughs and coddles em. Rubs her nose against theirs. “You made it. You really made it.” She kisses their foreheads. Their cheeks. Looks to me. Squints. “We never talked about names.”
I shrug. “Didn’t feel like there was any time.”
DeVille sets our children against her chest. Holds both tight. “I know what you’re thinking, I think. And I’d be fine with it.”
“You sure?”
“Kiss me.”
I lean over DeVille. Press my lips to hers. Watch her eyes.
Watch her smile.
She’s sure.
* * *
DeVille holds my shoulder. Stands behind me in the captain’s chair.
The forward viewscreen shows the darkness of space. The emptiness. The forever of the universe.
I say to her, “Where do you wanna go?”
She says, “Anywhere but here.”
I chuckle. Sniff.
Bounce baby Jack on my right knee.
Baby Catarina on my left.
The whole universe opens up before us.
Planets are streaks of light. Nebulae blossom and fold. The colors are magnificent. Blooms of orange. Blue. Green. Purple.
It’s gorgeous.
Jack and Catarina coo. Their eyes wide with the fresh experiences of being alive.
I pat their little chests.
Nod to Plissken.
Turn the commander’s chair so my two little ones can see what’s really important.
Wile E. Coyote chasing the Road Runner. Inventing traps that’ll never work. ACME logo over the jetpack that’ll invariably explode at the wrong time for our furry antagonist.
I mean, really, that poor bastard can’t win.
Not even once.
My babies gurgle and giggle and clap their tiny hands at the colorful display.
That alone lets me know I’ve made a few of the right choices.
I struggled.
I fought.
If nothing else, I tried.
I tried.
About the Author
William Vitka is a writer and journalist. He’s written for The New York Post, CBS News, Stuff Magazine, GameSpy, On Spec Magazine and The Red Penny Papers to name a few. He is currently a writer for Permuted Press, Post Hill Press and Curiosity Quills. He doesn’t think any politician can be trusted and believes there is always more blood for the blood god.
Kill Machine (The Hroza Connection Book 6) Page 19