Memoirs: A BWWM Fantasy/Sci-Fi Collection

VIII. Epilogue: Oasis

"Did you find anything?" I asked, white nails clicking CD cases back one by one.

"Nope," Sam replied as he searched the Pop section one last time, "This place got hit pretty hard, I doubt anything we find intact would play."

I balled my hand into a fist and slammed it into the concrete pillar beside me, leaving a crater as I blew a sprig of hair from my eyes. While we'd searched through every used electronics store in the city, Dangerously in Love still eluded us. I crossed my arms with a pout, and Sam walked over to comfort me.

"It's just one album, Jazzy," Sam said as his mighty hands massaged my shoulders, "We found B'Day and that greatest hits collection for Destiny's Child, so you're doing much better than me. I still haven't found anything from Survivor."

I sighed and started the trek outside, stepping over the fogged remnants of the store's shattered glass to what was left of the parking lot. Mr. Smith XXIII clicked towards us on his spider legs, scrunching down to peer at me with his camera head.

"Greetings-masters. Was-your-excursion-successful?" he asked.

"No, Smith, we didn't find it," Sam said as he came up from behind, "How did things go on your end? You find the confetti?"

"This-unit-is-happy-to-report-its-task-was-completed. Confetti-acquired."

Sam pointed at Mr. Smith XXIII with an optimistic look, but I only pursed my lips in melancholy. What good was confetti in world without Beyonce's best album?

"This-unit's-power-is-low. Request-permission-to-seek-recharge-station."

"Permission granted." I said sullenly.

Smith gratefully skittered away to find one of the many outlets we'd set up for him around the city, and despite my disappointment, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as I looked on what had once been the ruins of a great metropolis.

Okay, there was still some tidying up to do in Oasis, but compared to how the city looked when Sam arrived last year, it was immaculate. In eleven short months, we'd driven out the bugs, stockpiled enough supplies to last through another apocalypse, and even restored some basic functions thanks to the robots we'd fixed up. I didn't care for Sam's naming convention, but I couldn't fault his expertise with machines.

Yes, everything was running smoothly, and that meant I had nothing left to occupy the time between now and the wedding.

It was inevitable from the moment I'd brought Sam to my makeshift safehouse that we'd end up together, but he never pushed things. He was a perfect gentleman through and through, and we only grew closer as we repaired skyscrapers and obliterated hives. I couldn't say for certain what the future held, but I knew that I wouldn't trade Sam for any other man. He was everything I needed.

And I knew I was everything he needed too.

"So... it's half past 2 and confetti was the last thing we needed," Sam said nervously, "Do you want to go ahead and start?"

I looked up at the sun's light through the haze of gray clouds, wishing I had the patience to tell Sam to wait until the evening like we'd originally planned. I thought I'd be able to wait once the day finally arrived, but each second seemed to last forever. I wouldn't make it another hour, much less four.

"Alright. I'll be there at 4," I said, "Don't be late."

Forty-five minutes later, I found myself in front of a department store mirror, simultaneously proud and despairing of my choices in a dress. It was hard enough finding one that fit when I was 6'5" and had curves for three; but factor in the delicate constitution of wedding fabric and the vast stretches of time since they'd been made, and I'd been left with precious little choice in what to wear.