From Oblivion's Ashes

by Nyman, Michael E. A.

  Marshal threw his face into his hands, trying to wipe away the numbness that seemed to have taken over his face. He was surprised to discover his eyes were wet. When did that happen?

  He shuddered.

  “I said,” he groaned, as Luca returned, “that I will never drink Kraken rum again. It is totally fucking with me. I feel like Scrooge, facing his sins. I’m actually seeing people.”

  Luca laughed.

  “Yeah,” he said, studying the label, “Well, you wouldn’t be the first guy to find his ghosts waiting for him in the bottom of a bottle. It’s half the reason people drink. We gotta get more of this stuff. Fuckin’ elixer.”

  “I think I’ve had enough,”

  “Of course, I’ll pour you another glass,” Luca said happily, filling both their glasses.

  “No seriously, I’m seeing things… dead people and…”

  “Listen,” Luca said, lifting his glass and raising it as a toast. “I know it’s hard. Killin’ somebody shouldn’t never be easy. But you did what you had to do, and that girl is fucking lucky that you did. Keep that in mind, and get past it, because there’s going to be a lot more shit to shovel before it’s all done.”

  “Okay,” Marshal agreed, feeling obliged to accept Luca’s toast, and taking another drink.

  “And in the meantime,” he continued, “maybe you should leave any future encounters with guys like Duster and Ted to me. I got a whole skill-set available that tends to be a lot less lethal than yours. There’s even a good chance that, with proper application of those skills and maybe a dash of patience, I could even convert the odd one or two of them back into being model citizens.”

  He cracked his knuckles like an explosion of gravel.

  Marshal nodded, even as the clouds started to gather.

  Through his fog of awareness, an urgent signpost lit up.

  “Listen,” he said, reaching out to grab his friend’s massive forearm, “Luca. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t never have…”

  “Forget about it,” the big man interrupted. “Was worth it, just getting all this out into the open, and anyway, it all kinda makes sense now. You’re probably worried that I’m gonna come in and try to take over, right? I’m a fuckin’ criminal, right? Maybe that’s something that should get dealt with now, too.”

  It occurred to Marshal that Luca was caught up in the coils of the Kraken too, and he held up his hands defensively. “No, no, Luca. It’s not necessary to-”

  “Na, nah,” he said, holding up one finger and shaking it at him. “We need to clear this up now. Trust is our most important asset, okay? Should be obvious. The fact that you got it in you to kill me as quick as blinkin’ only makes it easier.”

  Blood drained from Marshal’s face. “Honestly, Luca, I don’t think I could ever-”

  “Shaddup,” he interrupted. “I know you wouldn’t. But it matters to me that you could. Understand? ‘Cause that’s part of the way these things are done. I ain’t never been a boss. Stuff I know how to do, I do well, but when it comes to the big decisions, the way to go forward, well, it’s not my thing. I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m a soldier, not an officer.

  “So here’s how it’ll work. You’re the boss. You do what you gotta do to save humanity, since that’s the racket we’re in now. I’ve got your back. I’m more comfortable taking orders than giving them anyway. And all of this?”

  He waved his hands around at the apartment.

  “It’s yours,” he said.

  Then he grinned like an idiot.

  “See. That’s what Frank was comin’ to tell you that day of the outbreak. And I was gonna come and celebrate with you! He was gonna give you the deed to this place! Lock, stock, an’ fuckin’ barrel! I’ll bet that if you look down in his SUV, you’ll find all the paperwork.”

  Dumbfounded and drunk, Marshal jerked backwards in surprise.

  “No shit?”

  “It’s true,” Luca said. “Your dad… shit, I’m not supposed to talk about that…”

  He pulled himself back together, but only partially succeeded as the coils of the Kraken yanked him underwater again.

  “Anyway…”

  His eyes fell on the kitchen, and with a look of horror, he jumped up and ran off to do battle with the status of the food. A few moments later, he returned.

  “Food’s ready,” he said, licking his lips. Then he shook his head, as if to clear it. “Fuck! This stuff… I can’t tell my hands from my fuckin’ elbows! Anyway, the place is yours. Only, as your best friend, adopted brother, bodyguard, spiritual advisor, and fuckin’ gorilla, I retain the right to crash here, eat your food and drink your booze, in perpetuity. And one final thing: family comes before everything else. Is it a deal?”

  Drunken tears welled up in Marshal’s eyes, but Luca held up a finger.

  “Fuck off. Let’s eat.”

  The dinner that night would have done any of the Sabbatini restaurants proud.

  Outside, in the streets, the zombies continued to prowl, unaware of the festive atmosphere that resided within the sanctuary that was the apartment.

  Chapter Nine: Day 21: Big Ideas and Beginnings

  “You’re leaving me behind?” Angie said, her voice full of protest. “You said you wouldn’t do that anymore. Remember how you needed me at Luca’s yard?”

  “Actually,” Marshal said, crouching down in front of her and looking up into her eyes, “I remember how I told you to run for it, and you disobeyed. I’m not saying that it didn’t turn out okay this time. But the fact remains that we’re still new at this whole ‘sneaking through the wasteland’ thing, and any disobedience is likely to get us all killed.”

  And, he added privately, you’re only twelve years old.

  “Besides,” Luca said, “it’s not like we’re going anywhere new. We’re just picking up some crap and hammerin’ in some new cameras. Boring shit. Wouldn’t you rather stay home and watch Lord of the Rings? Or... Marshal says you’re into fairies. Whoa! Look at that! We got Disney over here! Fucking Tinkerbell, and... and what’s that one with the snow and the big cat and all the fucking talking animals, Marshal?”

  “Um. Chronicles of Narnia?”

  “Yeah! Fucking Narnia! Or what about Buffy the Vampire Slayer? You could... y’know... make a day out of it.”

  Angie glared at them both with betrayal, but said nothing as she turned and stomped away.

  “I promise,” Marshal called after her, “we’ll bring you along the next time we go anywhere cool. Believe me… this is just a milk run.”

  “I’m telling you, Marshal,” Luca said, as the skid lift lowered Crapmobile down to ground level. “You’re lucky that twelve-year old girls don’t come with laser beams for eyes, or else we’d be two smoking piles of ashes on the floor right now.”

  Marshal nodded. “I’d rather she be mad at me than dead.”

  “I guess,” Luca said. “I ain’t no parent, but I’d say that you’re using the wrong strategy. You want her to stay at home? Then tell her that you want her to come along. She sits around in zombieland for a day, and boom! She gets board or scared, and decides that she wants to stay home, right? Classic parent kung-fu.”

  “Not Angie,” Marshal said, confident that he was right. “You have no idea how brave this kid is, or how creative. She won’t get bored or scared, and if we bring her along, she’ll want to get out of Crapmobile, just like she did at your yard. She could have gotten herself killed there, and it would have been my fault.”

  Luca considered this, and then shook his head.

  “I don’t know, Marshal,” he said. “Who knows how things might have turned out if she hadn’t been there and called out your name. Shit got pretty weird there for a minute, and one of us coulda got killed. You know what I mean?”

  “Luca-”

  “I know what you’re gonna say,” Luca said, holding up a hand. “You don’t want kids wandering around loose during a zombie apocalypse. And not interferin’ would be like... some kind of child abu
se or something. But at the end of the day, which way is better? Letting her come along, helping us, learning with us how to navigate the wasteland and getting better at it each day? Or hiding her away, all alone in a luxury apartment that she can’t ever leave, where she learns nothin’?”

  Marshal mulled this over as he steered Crapmobile out into the back alley.

  “I see your point,” he said. “I’ll give it some thought. We’re about to deploy our first ISU. Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Let’s get as close to the wall as we can,” Marshal said.

  The ISU was Marshal’s acronym for his new invention, the “Independent Surveillance Unit”. It was his own design, and he’d considered the name for quite some time before settling on it.

  He’d engineered it using a tablet, a pair of security cameras, a car battery, a light bulb, a solar panel, along with various components and signal boosters. It’s purpose was to expand the viewing range around the vicinity of the apartment and its nearby streets. The tablet was its brain, not only switching the light bulb on at night and managing the two, adjustable cameras, but also linking it to the apartment’s mainframe with enhanced wi-fi. All of it ran through the car battery, which was constantly being replenished from the one-meter square solar panel that was welded onto the roof of the ISU’s protective housing. If energy use outpaced energy input, say at night or on cloudy days, the whole device could be shut down until the battery was recharged. It all culminated in an independently powered surveillance system that could be accessed and controlled from the apartment.

  Installation was made easier by attaching extra, camouflaged blankets to Crapmobile’s back hatch. These could be unfurled when the hatch was open, creating a private space to work in. Each unit seldom took longer than twenty minutes to fully install, but with the added tension of zombie-Frank’s ritualistic patrols, it required three hours to install six of them.

  After the last ISU was mounted, Marshal parked Crapmobile within range of the apartment’s wi-fi, and then spent another fifteen minutes furiously tapping away on his keyboard. Finally, he was finally rewarded with a series of crystal-clear camera angles that filled up one of the dashboard’s main screens.

  “Dornack Street, north and south,” Marshal said, tapping buttons. “The back alley, both directions.” Tap, tap. “Spadina and College, over here. All the way to Mortimer. We are now able to know, with a high degree of certainty, the location of every zombie in the vicinity of the apartment.”

  “That,” Luca said, “is fucking awesome.”

  “And that’s just the beginning,” Marshal said, feeling an enormous surge of pride. “There’s almost no limit to the number of these things we can build and link into our mainframe. In the long run, if we add in a shadow network of hidden, bluetooth speakers and motion detectors, we’ll have the ability to track, monitor, and manipulate any undead within our range. We could actually see a day when it’s safe to walk outside again. Think about it!”

  “Not paid to think,” Luca said. “But it does sound awesome, if it works.”

  “Why wouldn’t it work? It’s going to take time, but it’s not as if we have much else to do. And the payoff would be astronomical. Our greatest weakness is the threat of being detected, and that we risk instant death around every corner. But if we build this network, we’ll never have to worry about the undead sneaking up on us again. They won’t be able to hunt us because they straight up won’t know we’re even here.”

  “You don’t think they’d come back after getting lured out?” Luca asked. “You said these Swarms were smart. How do you know they won’t figure out how they’re being played?”

  “The Swarms are smart,” Marshal agreed, “and we’re going to have to be careful whenever we interact with them. But it’s a different kind of intelligence than we’re used to, because they only have it for short periods of time. The individual zombies aren’t perceptive enough to realize that they’re being manipulated, so they won’t have any problems to report. And the Swarms won’t be able to improve their perception because they won’t be getting the reports telling them that there’s a need. Put it together and its a blind spot you could hide a city in. If we’re careful, they won’t even know the clear zones exist.”

  “Fucking genius,” Luca said, shaking his head. “Gotta hand it to you, buddy. You got some big ideas. We should give it a name, like... the circle of ignorance or something. ‘Course, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Yeah,” Marshal admitted. “Me too. But it’s a start, and it’s better than doing nothing. One way or another, if we’re going to survive as a species, we’re going to have to find a way to beat these things, and fighting them directly just doesn’t seem possible.”

  The next stop was to return to the Techie Direct, where they deployed a flying drone for the first time. Modified and upgraded, the drone was equipped with an onboard camera, a mini-speaker, salvaged and adapted from a tablet, and an automated flashlight that was hooked up to the underside of the carriage. They were able to fly it into the store, with Luca calling out to the zombies.

  Luca brought a whole new dimension to zombie-calling.

  “Hey! You fucking shitheads! You asshole, motherfuckers! Yeah, I’m fucking talking to you! I am officially inviting you to come over and suck my fucking espresso bar! Come and get it, you shit-eating, ass-licking cocksuckers!”

  “Don’t overdo it,” Marshal said. “I’m going to lure them over to the next block. And you’d better be ready to clean up your language if we decide to bring Angie along.”

  Luca ignored him, caught up in some form of mobster therapy.

  The zombies responded, charging off in whatever direction the drone led them, pursuing the disembodied voice with all the focus of a cat chasing a mouse. Luca’s voice drove them into a hunting frenzy, looking everywhere for the human they could hear but not find. The drone itself went unmolested. Since it neither smelled nor looked like a human, and since the Swarm had made no deductions regarding flying drones, the zombies paid it no more attention than they did the birds in the sky.

  “This is fucking incredible,” Luca said, covering up the microphone. “How did you come up with this idea?”

  “I’ve had plenty of time to observe them,” Marshal answered. “Just make sure you stop every so often. If they think they’re chasing you, fine. If they think they should have caught you, and you keep talking, they’ll call for a Swarm. And that’s the last thing that we need.”

  “Amen, brother,” Luca said.

  With the local undead distracted by chasing phantom voices one street over, Marshal put on his camouflage blanket and went to work. Luca watched the monitors and kept the zombies busy enough to keep them away.

  This time, Marshal ‘shopped’ with more efficiency; making four trips in and out in half the time it had taken the day before. Loaded up with tech, they headed off for Luca’s auto yard. Marshal also picked up a state of the art computer as an apology gift to Angie, adding in a few computer games he thought she might like.

  They made it to the auto yard a little after twelve, driving Crapmobile around behind the building. After scouting for undead, they cleared some debris from the big garage doors that led to the chop shop and drove right inside. With Marshal flying surveillance throughout the surrounding yard and neighborhood, Luca was able to freely move throughout the garage that had once been his prison.

  The first thing he grabbed was the Tesla dual-motor, electric engine, muscling it’s diverse parts onto Crapmobile’s skid using a combination of levers, straps, and sheer, brute strength.

  “This is it?” Marshal asked, gazing at the engine eagerly.

  “One of three,” Luca grunted, taking a break. “One was pulled from an accident on the 401. The other two were brought in by one of our ‘car acquisition specialists’ about a month ago.”

  “Translation,” Marshal said, “car thief.”

  “Maybe,” Luca admitted. “Okay, probably.
But it might also have come our way as payment for a gambling debt. Anyway, this one was supposed to have been fresh out of the dealership, so it’s the best we’re likely to get. I’ll be honest with you, Marshal. The tech on this thing is pretty fucking complicated. If you didn’t have that degree in electrical engineering, I wouldn’t even bother.”

  “We’re lucky to have it,” Marshal said. “First time I’ve seen one up close.”

  Luca shrugged. “There’s a dealership up on Lawrence and Don Mills. I got the address somewhere in my files. But since that’s a forty-five minute drive on the freeway-”

  “It’ll be some time before we’re able to make it up that far,” Marshal said. “On the other hand, if this works, then it’ll be on our list of things to do. I can’t begin to describe all the uses we have for a functioning, motorized vehicle that can safely take us through zombie-infested territory.”

  “It’s gonna have to,” Luca said. “Even if the zombies didn’t go batshit every time they hear an engine, every non-electric car in the world is gonna be fucking useless. After about six months, gasoline starts going bad. Maybe a year, if you got the right storage conditions. We’re sitting in the biggest fucking elephants’ graveyard the world has ever seen, only it’s made out of cars.”

  “We’re getting pretty heavy now,” Marshal said. “Is there anything else you’ll need?”

  “Shitloads,” Luca replied, getting up and heading for the back hatch again. “Do a scouting run, just in case, and I’ll go get the rest of it.”

  Somewhere around two in the afternoon, they departed the yard, heavily loaded. The Tesla engine occupied the center of the skid, and had been the cause of some serious time-loss, as existing cargo had to be repacked all around it. The trip back to the apartment was grueling, and the sheer weight forced the two men to take several breaks. Soon, the interior of Crapmobile smelled like the inside of a locker room as heat and sweat started to build. The wheels began to seize, making it harder and harder to push their way over bumps or obstructions on the road.