From Oblivion's Ashes

by Michael E. A. Nyman

  With a chill that reached deep to the core, Peter looked around and saw all his men looking at him.

  “Is it true, Mr. Hanson?” one of the men asked. “Are you the one who had the computers sabotaged, just so you could blame it on Kumar?”

  Peter just stared at him.

  “And was it you who started the rumor that they got rid of Marshal and Luca?” he pressed, lowering his taser.

  “Oh, well now, Don. That one could still be-”

  “It’s Tom!” the man bellowed, taking an angry step towards Peter. “Tom Barone! And did I stutter? I asked you a question, Hanson! Did you make up the rumor?”

  “What’s going on in here?” Martin Phillips asked, entering the room, followed immediately by Alicia Givens. “Franklin! Control your thugs, or you’re fired!”

  A long, angry hiss escaped the big man like steam escaping a tank engine.

  “Fuck it,” he said, reaching to his belt and pulling a knife. With a quick, efficient move he bent down to cut Krissy’s bonds, freeing her hands.

  “Sorry, chief,” he told her.

  “It’s all right,” Krissy answered in bemusement.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Martin demanded.

  Franklin ignored him, turning to cut Vandermeer’s bonds only to find that they were already loose. Eric smiled up at him coldly.

  “Carry on, Captain,” Franklin said, throwing his knife down so that it stuck point first into the floor, and stepping back. “I don’t want it to be like this. I didn’t know what I signed up for, but I won’t be a part of it anymore.”

  “I’ll triple your pay,” Peter said desperately.

  “Fuck you,” Franklin said, glaring down at him. “The truth is I never liked you. You’re everything I’ve always hated, but at least I respected your professionalism. Now? I don’t know what you are.”

  He turned to Valerie.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Hunter. You’re right. I am more than a thug.”

  “Did you kill Marshal and Luca?” Tom demanded, taking another step towards Peter, who stepped backwards in horror.

  “Of course, I didn’t!” Peter shouted back.

  “Officer Richardson,” Alicia said, turning on a bemused Krissy. “Do your duty and protect Mr. Hanson.”

  “Well, gee, I don’t know,” Krissy said, half-smiling. “I was relieved of duty a little while ago. Not sure if I have the authority anymore.”

  “No one is hurting anyone,” Valerie said, raising her voice. “Settle down, Tom. Peter had nothing to do with their disappearance. Marshal and Luca took Sh- our other vehicle across the city to obtain the engines to make more… vehicles.”

  She sighed. “You know, we really should change those names. That joke is getting old.”

  “Everyone carrying a taser,” Vandermeer called out. “Now would be the time to lower your weapons.”

  “Don’t do it,” Peter shouted, jumping up from his chair and stepping quickly over to Marty and Alicia, each of whom still carried tasers of their own and did not look ready to lower them. “You are all under contract.”

  “Give it up, Peter,” Valerie said. “You have to know by now that you can’t…”

  All of a sudden, Angie stomped into the room.

  It happened so unexpectedly that, in spite of all the tension, everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at her in shock.

  Muttering and grumbling to herself, the girl pushed her way past a startled Martin and Alicia in order to get to the kitchen. She was filthy, covered in mud from head to toe, and clearly in a foul mood. If she noticed the standoff in any way, she didn’t show it as she turned the corner and headed for her bedroom.

  “Angie?” Valerie said, her eyes wide.

  “Hi, Valerie,” Angie mumbled, shaking off her cloud for the briefest of moments. “’m dirty ‘n tired. Need a shower. Stupid zombies. Frank’s back. See you.”

  “Frank?” Kumar repeated in shock. “I thought she went out looking for Marshal. Hey, Angie wait!”

  But she was gone.

  “Did that just happen?” Brian asked.

  “And what?” Kumar added. “Did she go out and rescue Frank by mistake?”

  “Hello?”

  The familiar voice call out from the front hall, and the sudden pull in Valerie’s heart could have rung the bells of St. Mary. Hope filled her chest so hard that it hurt.

  And then, there he was.

  Marshal stepped into the room, a little taken aback by the crowd, but not noticing the tasers. He was filthy, his clothing torn, and his hair was a tangled mess, but as his eyes – oh, his beautiful eyes - studied the line-up of faces in obvious confusion.

  His face lit up.

  “Valerie!” he cried out when he saw her. “You’re okay. Sorry we’re so late! You wouldn’t believe what we’ve been through! Anyway, we’ve been trying to warn you that we were returning all day, but for some reason we couldn’t get through to you. Kumar and I will have to look into that. We had the worst time this last week and a half, but it’s been worth it! We have fifty-two new Tesla engines! Jerome and Cesar are parking them in the gymnasium along with everyone else as we speak. Not all of them just the engines, either. Most of them, we actually had to drive! And we have the sales records for the purchase of sixty more throughout the city and surrounding countryside. And two thirds of these are within-”

  “Welcome back, Marshal,” Peter interrupted, sensing opportunity. If he could only convince this man of his authority, then the day could still be won, whatever that... that horrible woman forced him to admit. His eyes searched out the remaining men with tasers, drawing strength of composure from the fact that a good number still seemed inclined to follow him.

  “A hero’s return, without doubt,” he said, stepping forward and clapping Marshal on the shoulder. “Allow me to personally assure you that you will receive top dollar for each of those Teslas. You and yours should be the richest citizens in New Toronto, richer even than me, which is only right and fair given what you’ve done for the community. On behalf of all New Toronto, I thank you.”

  Marshal looked over at him with an expression that was so bewildered that Valerie almost burst out laughing. Oh, how she wanted to kiss him right now - and she could admit it now that he was back from the dead - but nothing, no romance, was worth interrupting what promised to be an overwhelmingly entertaining next few minutes.

  “Er… Thanks,” Marshal said, his eyes flickering back and forth between Valerie and Peter with uncertainty. “Uh… well I, uh… I can’t take all the credit. I mean, we… uh..”

  “The fuck is going on here?” Luca grunted in surprise as he pushed through the door. Martin and Alicia were unceremoniously knocked aside.

  “Luca!” Kumar shouted, echoed by Krissy and Brian.

  “Sorry,” Luca said to Martin and Alicia. Then he scowled as his gaze took in the tasers. “Put those fucking things away! They could go off by accident! Hey everyone! This guy here is James Snake! He saved our lives, and he’s good fucking people! Anyone who’s got a problem with him has a problem with me!”

  “Hello,” James said. His gaze took in the numerous tasers. “Strange welcome.”

  “James was the leader of a large group of refugees that were hidden down in the Don Valley,” Marshal told Valerie. “They were losing people at a rate of, like, three per day, and they had no chance of surviving the coming winter. Thanks to them, we were able to get all the Teslas back. You have to imagine it! Fifty-five of us, piled into cars, with Shitbox leading the pack, and thirty drones in constant operation luring zombies away and clearing our path as we traveled. I can’t believe we made it-”

  “Fifty-five!” Peter Hanson exclaimed. “Do you mean fifty-five people?”

  Again, Marshal looked confused.

  “Eighty-three, actually,” he said, looking Peter up and down with growing curiosity. “Eighteen of us manned Shitbox, which was central dispatch for the fleet of drones we had to use. Anyway, they’ll all be joining us now-”


  “Out of the question,” Peter said firmly. “We haven’t got the room or the resources. They’ll have to go somewhere else.”

  The temperature in the room experienced a sudden drop by several degrees.

  “Um. Excuse me?” Marshal asked, turning his full attention towards Peter Hanson. “I’m sorry, but we haven’t been introduced yet. I’m Marshal Einarsson.”

  “Peter Hanson,” the ex-billionaire said with his best scowl. “I’m the new administrator of New Toronto, legal owner of First Canadian Place and most of the downtown core. My apologies, Mr. Einarsson, but there have been a number of changes since your disappearance, up to and including the ownership of this apartment. It was passed by inheritance to the Administration as the center of governance, and that title has now passed to me.”

  “Is that so?” Marshal asked, and his eyes became a shade more grey.

  “Indeed. Rest assured, you will be well cared for, Mr. Einarsson. Our community has need for its heroes. At least one entire floor of First Canadian Place, I think, should pass into your possession, above and beyond the compensation for your tremendous gift of salvage. We must discuss your future ambitions.”

  He turned a dark gaze upon James.

  “But as to these…” He searched for a word. “… supplicants, we cannot help them. Indeed, they are, by all rights, our competitors for the limited resources of Toronto. And yet, in gratitude for their assistance in salvaging the Teslas-”

  “Valerie?” Marshal asked. “Could you explain this?”

  “We rescued Mr. Hanson from the top of his own building,” Valerie explained, enjoying the moment. “Upon his rescue-”

  “Now, see here,” Peter interrupted. “I was… oh!”

  The muzzle of Marshal’s handgun was suddenly pressed up against Peter’s left nostril.

  “I was speaking,” Marshal said, “to Valerie.”

  “Yes, of course,” Peter said hastily.

  “Meow,” Kumar said with a smirk.

  “Mr. Hanson claimed ownership of most of the downtown core, citing his company’s partial ownership and using your own laws as a lever.”

  “Elizabeth?” Marshal’s voice had become dangerous.

  “It’s true,” Elizabeth said, suddenly sounding worried. “I’m sorry, Marshal, but the strict interpretation of your laws made him the sole owner and us into trespassers. I didn’t like it, but my mandate was to uphold the law. Your laws.”

  “What she said,” Krissy said with apprehension, when his attention turned on her.

  “Fine,” he said, lowering his gun and looking at Peter with a new respect. “You all did well. Who knew, right? Mr. Hanson, you have my apologies.”

  Peter straightened. “No, no… the misunderstanding was very reasonable.”

  “No. I’m sorry. As the sole authority over New Toronto, the dictator, if you will, I hereby expropriate all your real estate and possessions. They’re mine now. There. That makes it official.”

  Peter’s eyes goggled at him. “Pardon?”

  “You can’t do that?” Alicia Givens protested.

  “Elizabeth? Can I do that?” Marshal asked, his gaze meeting those of the men still holding tasers with a look of challenge.

  Elizabeth blinked and then laughed.

  “Why yes, Marshal,” she said with an amused look of relief, “You can. ‘The Law Above all Laws’, you called it – essentially, the powers of state – gives you the right of expropriation. And I wrote it into doctrine. And here I remember how angry I was when you insisted.”

  “Now you know why I felt it was necessary,” Marshal said, “and why I told you that the departments would one day make me obsolete. We have a broken state at the moment, vulnerable to any kind of opportunistic douche bag that comes along. Until our new state can stand up under its own weight, I am the state.”

  “You won’t get away with this!” Peter shouted. Beside him, Martin raised his taser and pointed.

  A gargantuan, hairy hand came down on Martin’s wrist and squeezed until the taser dropped to the floor.

  “Hey, James!” Luca shouted, looming over Martin and Peter like a gargoyle.

  “Yeah, Luca?” asked the First Nations Huron, who now held a rather large knife up to Alicia’s left temple and stood, positioned to guard Marshal’s back.

  “There any dentists in your crew?”

  James looked thoughtful.

  “Actually, yes,” he said. “Dr. Berlin. Little Jewish guy who had a house down in the valley. Does good work, from what I hear. Used to travel to third world countries. Dentists without borders, or something like that.”

  “Good thing,” Luca said menacingly. “Because if I don’t see a lot of tasers hit the ground in the next couple of seconds, he’s going to have a lot of charity cases to choose from.”

  A loud clatter sounded out as every taser in the room hit the floor.

  “Officer Richardson! Captain Vandermeer!” Marshal barked.

  Krissy leapt to her feet and Eric Vandermeer fired off a first class salute.

  “Arrest these people,” Marshal said. “You were here and saw everything. Use your discretion on who deserves what sort of treatment. Elizabeth! Take charge! Everyone is to be detained until I’ve debriefed with Valerie - my vice-dictator - on what steps I should take. I want to get to the bottom of this, and I want it done now.”

  “Yes sir,” Eric shouted, holding his salute. “Good to have you back, sir. The Winter Bastards are yours to command.”

  “Welcome back, Marshal,” Krissy said, moving in for a hug.

  And then, they were all welcoming them back.

  Chapter Thirty-One: Day 75: The Rise of New Toronto

  Marshal pulled out his key ring and selected one from the bunch. Before him was a large, recently installed, hardwood door. It was the kind of door that might have commanded a four-figure price tag before the apocalypse, the kind that said ‘No you don’t!’ to any action hero thick enough to try and kick it down.

  He inserted the key into the shiny new lock and opened it.

  The room inside was well furnished, but in a haphazard fashion, as if the decorators couldn’t be bothered to feng shui. Tables were pushed up against walls, oddly placed bookshelves extended into open air, and disconnected, office-cubicles sat forgotten in strange locations. A fancy couch facing a television screen, a recliner, and several lamps were left in the center of the spacious room with no attention to efficient use of space. Wires were like jungle vines, left hanging and uncoiled all across the floor like snares for unwary feet.

  And on the far wall, a perfect, camouflage-ready, luxury, king-sized bed was sunk into one wall, the only surviving legacy of the room occupant’s past glory.

  Marshal spotted Peter immediately, seated in the recliner with a thick book and reading glasses. Closing the door and locking it behind him, he made his way across the floor, grabbing an upright, office chair as he approached. Turning it around, he sat on it with his arms folded across the back, a few feet away from his captive.

  “Come to gloat, young man?” Peter asked without looking up from his book.

  “Is that what you’d do?” Marshal asked curiously.

  “Possibly,” Peter answered. “If our positions were reversed. True matters of hierarchy are psychological, and it never hurts to reinforce such relationships in the minds of all participants. Still. It seems petty.”

  “That would be my thought,” Marshal agreed. “Didn’t Napoleon say something about that?”

  “Absolute power requires absolute pettiness,” Peter said, his eyes flickering up over his spectacles. “I am impressed, Mr. Einarsson. You are, it seems, more than just a jumped up electrician.”

  “If I am,” Marshal said, “then it’s because I’ve been forced to jump. How are you enjoying your accommodations?”

  “My accommodations?” Peter removed his glasses and looked around. “You mean my prison cell? It’s the room I chose for myself when I owned it all, and it’s lovely, if a littl
e less developed than I’d hoped it would be by now. And, of course, there’s the little matter of the locked door.”

  “For your own protection.”

  “Ah. Yes. ‘My own protection’. Funny how ‘my own protection’ involves my being under lock and key for… what has it been? Two weeks, now?”

  “Sixteen days,” Marshal answered. “And yes, it is for your own protection. The Winter Bastards send their compliments, by the way. Thanks to you, there’s finally someone the community hates more than them.”

  “Now I understand the complete lack of visitors” Peter said, setting aside his book as the anger reached his face. “Sixteen days. Plenty of time, it would seem, for you and your administration to assassinate my character.”

  “You did that all by yourself, Peter,” Marshal answered. “Word of your attempted coup, along with all those secrets Valerie got you to admit, made its way around. You lost the majority of your support right there.”

  “That infernal woman,” Peter growled, remembering. “A credit to her duplicitous nature. She outmaneuvered me, I’ll admit it. You chose well in designating her as your replacement. Torstein would have been so much easier to manipulate.”

  Marshal nodded absently, distracted.

  “You and she are becoming a couple, are you not?” Peter inquired. “I mean that things have not yet had the opportunity to-”

  “We’re… sort of a couple now,” Marshal admitted, rubbing his neck. “At least, I think we are, or could be. We talk about it, but then I always have to do another fifteen hours of wiring, or hook-ups, or training, or settling disputes. And as for her, she’ll be checking inventories, organizing labor, prioritizing agendas, not to mention sorting out my itinerary. The end result is that we’re both so busy that when work is over…”

  “… romance is the furthest thing from your mind,” Peter said with a nod. His mind flashed back to his own wife, a stranger in later years, and the two children he hardly knew. “Power and purpose. They are hard on matters of the heart. You start out believing that they will liberate you to do as you please, and soon discover that they are mistresses who will share you with no one.”