From Oblivion's Ashes

by Michael E. A. Nyman

  “Over the course of time, however, her attitude softened. You simply couldn’t get rid of the Monsters, for one thing. They were everywhere. They were persistent, creative, and funny. And that was the second thing. Sometimes life as a Princess could be quite dull, and Monsters were masters of the unpredictable and fun. As she grew older, quite a number of Monsters approached Princess Hope, eager to entertain her. Some Monsters would take her to exotic places, while others had the skill to craft magical things. Some Monsters were magnificent physical specimens that could climb tall mountains while others displayed intellectual talents that caused her head to spin.

  “It didn’t always work out, of course. Like the Queen had said, Monsters could be quite dumb sometimes. One of them left the headless carcass of a full-grown deer on her doorstep as a gift. She was quite angry about that. Another Monster thought to impress her by beating up any other Monster that tried to come near her. Strong words from Princess Hope sent that Monster packing. Other Monsters smelled real bad, or were too moody, or simply loved the fact they were Monsters so much that they had little time for anything else.

  “There was one Monster who proved unusually tenacious, and seemed to always be around. Unlike the other Monsters, this one endured her bad moods, her mercurial nature, her sharp tongue, and kept coming back. It wasn’t the biggest Monster in the world, though it seemed pretty big to Princess Hope, or the smartest, though it was smarter than most. Sometimes, late at night, it would stay outside the walls by her home, howling at the Moon with its great, leathery lungs, and Princess Hope would become quite annoyed. It brought her all sorts of Monster gifts, like animal teeth, and bits of string, and the jeweled bones of the southern opal thrush, some which pleased Princess Hope, and some which did not. The best thing it brought her was a curious sense of happiness and comfort whenever it was around. It wasn’t long before Princess Hope began thinking of it as her Monster.

  “Princess Hope’s Monster was quite a card. It was funny, and could make her laugh so hard sometimes, that her stomach hurt, and it was noble, in its own, monstrous way. Unlike many of its kind, it was kind to animals, and it worked with other Monsters to care for aged Monsters, who could no longer hunt. Like many Monsters, her Monster was immensely strong, and could smash trees or crush stone when a rage took it, but with her, it was always as gentle as a kitten. As far as she was concerned, he was quite a special Monster, and she was, in fact, quite proud of it. She would brag to the other Princesses, and they would all agree that she had found herself a good one.

  “Late one night, she was wandering around outside the walls, unaware of her own danger. She had spent so much time having fun among the Monsters that, for that one unfortunate evening, she forgot all the warnings her father gave her. She forgot that, for all their funny ways and great capabilities, they were still Monsters.

  “Now, as I’ve already explained, the vast majority of the Monsters were of no threat to Princesses. However, Monsters were still the most dangerous creatures in the world and, in the dark, late at night, some indulged their more savage instincts. Three of these spotted Princess Hope and began to follow her, and like the predators they were, they attacked her when she was at her most vulnerable.

  “Princess Hope fell beneath the weight of her attackers, convinced that she was going to die, when all of a sudden, the Monsters were lifted off from her. Her Monster had arrived in the final seconds and rushed to her defense. In a towering rage, her Monster tore at the three assailants, bludgeoning them, savaging them, and battering them, over and over again. The other three Monsters fought back, and her Monster was horribly wounded in the fray. Nevertheless, her Monster refused to be defeated, and continued to fight, and the badly injured attackers were driven away.

  “Princess Hope wept over the tattered body of her Monster, running her fingers through the fur that was matted with blood, caressing the horns to which still clung the flesh of their enemy. How she managed, she could never quite recall, but somehow she heaved its immense body up to its feet and, with its long, ropy arm slung over her shoulder, she managed to get her Monster back to her own bedroom. Other Monsters approached with curiosity during the long journey, but she sent them scurrying with a single roar from her throat.

  “Back in her room, she gazed down on her Monster, lying near death on her bloody sheets. Its breath was fast, and it heartbeat weak.”

  “And that’s when she saw it.”

  “What?” Angie asked, when God paused in his story for a sip of water. “What did she see?”

  “It’s kind of hard to explain,” he answered. “For the first time ever, she looked down at the Monster, and… his appearance seemed to blur. A handsome young Prince with eyes as dark as coal and hair like black sable was looking up at her from the place on her bed where her Monster had been. The furry coat had opened up to reveal a lean, hard, well-muscled chest the color of sandalwood, still damp from sweat and blood. Glittering in the dim light, those dark eyes gazed up at her with such love and passion, that Princess Hope felt her heart freeze inside her chest.”

  “Wow,” Angie said. “A Prince, eh?”

  “Yes,” God said, shrugging. “That’s the story, anyway. Princess Hope had wondered through much of her life where they were. Surely, she thought, if there were Princesses, there logically had to be Princes, right? And that’s when she stumbled on her theory that the Princes of the world were ensorcelled, cursed to live among the Monsters until rescued by a Princess, although this didn’t occur to her until later. She had fallen in love with the dying Prince in her bedroom, and when his injuries forced him into unconsciousness, she got down to the job of nursing him back to health.”

  “So they fell in love,” Angie guessed, “they settled down to doing what Princes and Princesses do, and they lived happily ever after. Wow. That’s original.”

  “Actually, no,” God said. “Unfortunately, that’s the wrong fairy tale. Yes, they did fall in love, and they did spend some wonderful time together, but soon, the young Monster got better, and pretty quickly, her Prince turned back into a Monster.”

  “Oh,” Angie said. “Well, that sucks.”

  “Yes. But she never forgot. She’d always been fond of the Monster, but somewhere under that horrible exterior, she knew, there was the Prince she had fallen in love with. He was in there, somewhere, and she knew she could have him back if she could just draw him out again. Of course, the Monster objected, and sometimes threw terrible tantrums over her treatment of him, but Princesses are used to getting their way. Most of the time, the Monster was simply hopeless, flopping on the ground to play with the pets, tracking mud and other more unpleasant things all over her palatial, royal palace. But every so often, she would catch a glimmer of his presence, sometimes even for an entire evening, and the handsome, young Prince would emerge, looking at her with wounded, love-struck eyes and making her heart race.

  “The years went by, and Princess Hope’s fleeting romances with her dark, enchanted Prince produced children, whom she adored. The Monster remained, though she never gave up on the Prince she knew him to be. Not that she minded the Monster, most of the time. She liked how she could warm her toes in his fur, and the way he just seemed to collapse in front of the fireplace at the end of a busy day. He was great with the children, and played with them until they giggled and ran around with abandon, almost as if they were little monsters themselves. But she never forgot her dark Prince, and as nice as the Monster was, she never stopped looking at him and seeing the potential he had inside of him. In her eyes, he would always be a Prince.

  “One morning, many, many years later, Princess Hope awoke and staggered off to her bathroom. The Monster lay asleep nearby, and she paused to look him over. He had grown old, her Monster. He was neither as strong nor as vigorous as he used to be, and his fur was slowly turning gray. The Prince, whenever he appeared, looked more regal than he once had, with iron gray temples and the noble bearing that reminded her of the King, her father. Her heart warmed as she l
ooked at him.

  “She reached the bathroom mirror, and stopped dead at what she saw.

  “Her skin had grown wrinkled and scaly, and her once luxuriant, blonde hair was ratty and gray. Warts and moles were growing on her skin and stray hairs were sprouting in all the wrong places all over her body. Wrinkled hands like claws reached up to touch her face, distorted and horrible under the pale, bathroom light. To her horror, she realized that she was no longer a Princess, and that she was no longer beautiful. She had become a Monster. And in a fit of anguish and self-loathing, she punched the mirror with all her Monster strength and drove a hole through the wall like it was nothing more than breadsticks.”

  “But she wasn’t a Monster,” Angie said. “She just grew old. I… I think.”

  God winked at her.

  “Princess Hope collapsed into tears,” he continued, “and sank down onto the bathroom tiles in despair. It wasn’t just that she was ugly now, or that she had left the race of Princesses and become a Monster. She knew that it was Princesses that Monsters were attracted to, and that now she was a Monster, her Monster wouldn’t want to stay anymore. Monsters fought Monsters, were sometimes friends, but they never, ever loved them. So she wept and wept, shuddering with her grief.

  “A light touch on her shoulder caused her to look up, and to her amazement into the dark, concerned eyes of her King. No longer a Monster, he lifted up her monster body and held her close, and then leaned back so that she could look deeply into his eyes. They were warm and friendly but, to her shock, she could see in them her own reflection. She gasped as she saw only her own beautiful, younger self, looking back at her, caught like a fly in amber inside the crystal darkness of her Monster’s adoring eyes.

  And in that flash, she remembered her own monstrous behavior over her lifetime, her tantrums and her rages. She remembered seeing Princesses running among the Monsters, and Monsters, like her father, living lives among the Princesses. She remembered joining in the fight that injured her Monster on that terrible night, and then carrying him on her shoulders like he was made out of tissue, all the way home, and she remembered roaring at the other Monsters so ferociously that they scattered out of her way. She remembered her children, and the endless interchanging transformations back and forth again to little Monsters.

  “And then, in the arms of her Monster at that very moment, like she was coming out of a dream, she realized that she was a Monster, and that she had been a Monster her entire life, and a very powerful one at that. At the same time, however, there really were no such things as Monsters or Princesses, only dreams in the eyes of those who love them. Underneath all the glamour, they were all nothing more than people, rulers of the planet, yet slaves to their own nature. The dread or wonder of such things was the fancy of a much younger person. And finally, with this crucial piece of wisdom, Princess Hope had grown up to become a Queen.”

  He finished the story with another sip of water.

  “That’s it?” Angie asked, considering. “Not a bad story, I guess.”

  “Thank you,” God said. “I’ll admit that it loses something in a world filled with super-strong, flesh-eating zombies, but the underlying message is the same. Monsters and Princesses are products of perception, my dear, and what we fear or worship is actually a facet of our own minds.”

  “But there are real Monsters out there,” Angie protested.

  There was a knock at the door before God could respond, and the door swung open.

  Paul leaned into the room.

  “We’re headed back to First Canadian Place, God,” he said, smiling. “If you want, Krissy says that we can drop you off at the Hospital on our way.”

  “Thank you, Paul,” God said. “I’ll join you in a couple of minutes.”

  The tall man left.

  “I wish I had my omniscience back,” God said with a frown. “There is something about that man that makes me strangely uneasy. Hmm. Yes, Angie. Like the story said, there are Monsters everywhere. Marshal and Luca are Monsters. Kumar and Valerie and Krissy and Paul are Monsters. The criminals we caught are all Monsters, and the poor, innocents we rescued are too. I’m a Monster. And so are you. It’s in our nature, you see, and there’s no point hiding from it. You’re not just a Princess anymore.”

  He smiled and stood up.

  “My dear, it’s been splendid to see you, and I hope to visit again soon. No doubt, we’ll both be watching the news of Marshal and Luca’s situation with great concern. Let us both hope for the best.”

  “Situation?” Angie asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, I’m sure,” God said, giving a last wave as he stepped through the door. “You just stay inside the castle and take care, my dear.”

  Angie sat in silence, wondering at his words.

  So. I’m a Monster, she thought. If I am, I’m a pretty little one, with diabetes. She frowned. On the other hand, I do own a big, shiny knife now, and I held off Danny when he wanted to hurt Jackie. And as for Amber…

  The fear rose up inside her again, and she felt the impulse to jump back into bed and watch some more television. But just as suddenly, something else inside her roared with outrage, and the fear vanished.

  And then, absurdly, her stomach growled.

  She laughed out loud, and put on slippers. Food, at least, was easy prey, and with a sense of purpose, she strode out and into the hallway.

  She felt lighter somehow, and far less moody. For the first time in days, she considered the possibility of venturing back outside the apartment again. The heck with Amber, anyway. She couldn’t travel the city, outsmarting the zombies. She’d been stuck inside that horrible place, a prisoner like all the others. In fact, if Angie hadn’t been so crazy in trying to sneak through the place to begin with, she’d never have caught her.

  She entered the kitchen, went into the walk-in fridge and pulled out some cold chicken. There was also a big Tupperware container filled with cold pasta that she was too lazy to heat up, so she plopped a scoop on her plate, grabbed a can of diet coke, and headed off to the living room to eat.

  “… still not answering,” said a voice ahead.

  Angie slowed down in surprise, recognizing Kumar’s voice. He sounded gloomy, for Kumar at least. Of all the new people since the time when it had been only Marshal and Luca and her, Kumar had always been the most cheerful. Along with Gladys. And God, of course.

  “Are you sure it’s not just a technical problem?” the voice of Valerie replied, sounding hoarse, like she’d been crying.

  Angie started forward again, still listening as she came around the corner.

  “Wildly unlikely, at this point,” Kumar was saying. Angie saw that he was slouched on the couch, staring off into space. Across from him, curled up in the big, plush chair, Valerie sat, covering her eyes with one open hand. “Marshal built all this stuff, and he’s got everything he’d need on board with him to cobble together a brand new one from scratch if he had to. He’s had more than enough time. He wouldn’t miss a call-in under any circumstance, and now he’s missed two. I’ve tried everything I can to reach him, but there’s just no response.”

  A feeling like electric ice seized Angie’s stomach, and her heart thumped in her chest. The words she was hearing spilled over her without meaning.

  “I just can’t believe it,” Valerie said, raising her face and wiping away tears from her eyes. “It’s… “

  Her gaze fell on Angie.

  “Angie,” she said, and Kumar looked over. “You’re… you’re up and-”

  “What’s happened to Marshal and Uncle Luca?” Angie asked.

  Silence greeted the question.

  “Are they okay?” she demanded, setting aside the tray of food. “I heard you say you couldn’t reach Marshal. What happened to him?”

  “He’s…” Kumar said, pausing as he searched for words. “We don’t know what’s happened to him, Angie. We haven’t heard from him in almost two days.”

  Angie felt the news
like a physical blow.

  “So let’s go and find out what’s happened,” she said. “What are you waiting for? Paul said Crapmobile’s headed back to First Canadian Place. Why? Why aren’t we piling on board and driving off to wherever his last known location was right now?”

  She tried not to shout those last two words, but failed.

  Kumar and Valerie looked at each other unhappily.

  “We can’t, Angie,” Valerie said carefully. “We-”

  “What do you mean that you can’t?” Angie snapped, her voice rising in anger. “Can’t? What if he’d said that word when you were trapped in the subway? Or when you were hiding in your… your marijuana farm, Kumar? You’d both be dead if Marshal had said ‘can’t’! He could be dying! He could need our help! He could be-”

  “He told us not to,” Kumar said, shrinking down as if her words were physical blows battering him into the couch.

  “So what?” Angie shouted. “Who says you have to listen to him?”

  “Angie, honey,” Valerie said, leaning towards her. “I know you’re upset, but-”

  “I’m not upset,” Angie said, turning on her. “I’m angry! How could you not go and get him? And Uncle Luca? After everything they’ve done for you. How could-”

  “Angie!” Valerie shouted, her voice like a drill instructor, despite the redness of her eyes. “Stop talking and listen for half a second!”

  Angie fell silent, her eyes hard and unforgiving.

  “I would go and get him, honey,” Valerie said, her voice softening again. “But we’re not even getting a signal. Do you know what that means? It means that something is wrong with their transport. If Shitbox isn’t responding, it means that something has attacked it badly enough to destroy its communication array. We don’t know what.”

  “So? We go out and-”

  “That means that we only have one powered transport left,” Valerie continued. “Whatever it was that happened to them could also happen to Crapmobile. It’s our last way of traveling the inner city, Angie. We’re planning to build some hand-powered versions, like what you, Marshal, and Luca first started out with, but honey… we now have over seventy mouths to feed. Can you imagine the state we’d be in if we lost our only powered transport?”