Dusk

Ken stood on the front porch, staring up at the sky. The cold night air around him wavered, streaked with strokes of rainbow, and at this point, he couldn’t remember what it felt like before.

This was it. The final day. The horizon he’d been running toward all this time. But now that he reached it, he found his heart pounding in his chest, beating into his ears the rhythm of apprehension.

But as much as the looming catastrophe weighed on him—as much as he wanted to know that he would live—he had accepted the uncertainty. He had absolute faith in his daughters’ and his own work. And he was happy to stake his life on it.

He turned on his heel with the help of his crutch, pushing through the resistant night air and heading back inside.

He kicked off his shoe, pushing it neatly into a row with its pairs and the others by the door, and then hobbled into the kitchen. Through the door to the living room, he saw his daughters both sitting on the couch. Alice was dressed in her finest anime print pajamas, but May wore her usual getup. Alice clutched her favorite stuffed animal—a zebra with rainbow stripes—and May in turn clutched Alice.

“How are you guys feeling?” he asked, filling a glass of water from the tap.

“Ready.” May smiled thinly, but it wasn’t enough to hide her apprehension.

“I’m afraid.” He walked into the living room, plopping down on the couch cushion next to them. “But… I’m also ready. And I’m just thankful we’re here together.”

In the middle of the room, the machine he’d constructed at May’s instruction chugged away. The gears in it turned, causing it to emit a clicking that melded with the staticky noise of the final extirpation, combining to a constant low hum.

“When is it gonna happen, Dad?” Alice asked, sniffling as she turned to him.

“Soon, honey. Just a few minutes.”

“I guess… we didn’t really have time to get Christmas gifts, huh?” May smirked, but tears fell from her eyes.

Ken shook his head. “We have a couple great gifts here, that I promise you.”

May cocked her head, raising her eyebrows.

“The greatest gifts I received in my entire life were you two. And I am sorry that I left you because I lost sight of that. You didn’t need protection. You needed me, and I wasn’t there. And for that, I’m so sorry.” He felt the tears welling in his own eyes now. “And now, you both have given me forgiveness.

“And even though I don’t have any physical gifts to give you except this thing,” he continued, gently tapping the humming box with his foot, “I hope my love can substitute.”

“It can, Dad. It has,” May said, smiling through her tears.

“I love you, Daddy,” Alice sobbed. “And I love you, Sis.”

May nodded, pulling Alice close to her. “I love you so much, Alice.”

Ken felt the shaking, warbling air begin to increase in intensity. Tendrils of rainbow danced around them, swaying in the uncertain light. They touched at his surroundings—especially the machine, as if taking stock of its adversary.

Ken leaned over, wrapping his children in an embrace, and squeezing them as close to himself as he could. “It’s starting soon. Any minute.” He kissed them both on the head. “Merry Christmas. I love you both so, so much.”

They both nodded, tears streaming down their faces.

And as Ken closed his eyes, the vibration against his skin intensified. It sent ripples through his clothing that he could feel on his skin. His hair waved above him, carried by the discordant shifting of the air around it.

He opened his eyes again.

The three of them floated through the air, carried on a current of swirling rainbows that licked at them from beneath.

Ken turned his gaze to the device he’d built. It thrummed away, and he could hear it even over the sonic typhoon rattling in his eardrums.

As if knowing his intent and challenging him to try it, he fell slowly through the air, coming to a stop precisely in front of the box.

With a final heave, he threw a lever on its side into the open position.

A pulse of white light exploded from the device. Ken closed his eyes, memories of his daughters running through his mind.

And he felt… nothingness.