From Oblivion's Ashes

by Michael E. A. Nyman

  With a quiet click, the panel swung open to reveal a hidden compartment on the other side. The interior looked snug and cozy and was well lit from lamps built into the ceiling. The floor of the compartment was all mattress, and expanded inwards a full seven feet. At the far end was a two-by-five foot flat space with a keyboard lying on it, and above it, a monitor built into the wall, with speakers, a small bookshelf, and a couple of cupboards occupying the space above.

  “Awesome,” Brian exclaimed. He leaned forward to look inside.

  “Shoes go on that shelf up there,” Torstein explained, pointing at a high shelf just inside the door. “With five foot ceilings, most people will have to crawl when they’re inside, but it’s still enough space to change and move about.”

  He flicked the light switch off and on.

  “The occupant has full control over the interior,” he continued. “There’s even a little thermostat that increases or decreases the heat output from the heaters running along each wall. There’s no air conditioning, but that’s not likely to be a concern with winter coming. The computer, however, is linked to the community security cameras, so the occupant can always see the hallways and know the threat level exiting. It’s also hooked up to the database, so they have our entire library of television, movies, gaming options, music, or digital literature to choose from. There are upper and lower level units, insulated for sound and temperature, with a sliding step ladder to help the upper level occupants reach their compartments. But that’s not the best part. See the two door handles on either side of the computer monitor at the far end?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The one on the left is for a mini-fridge, once we’re able to ship them in. The one on the right, however, is a back entrance leading to the hidden service hall behind the wall. That’s the best part of the set-up. It’s not only an escape hatch in case of emergency, it’s also the way to the communal bathrooms and showers. The hallway is completely enclosed, so no exposing yourself to danger just going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and if things get desperate, there’s a bunch of secret entrances into and out of the place.”

  “Looks comfy,” Brian said. “How much of it is actually working though?”

  Torstein raised his bottle up in a mock toast. “I think you already know the answer to that. The community washroom still isn’t much more than a glorified port-a-let. Without water tanks, pipes, or even a half-decent plumber, it’s going to be a while before you can flush without pouring in a bucket of water, which we need to conserve. We have enough solar panels now that powering the heaters and the computers shouldn’t be a problem, except for the lack of wiring and hardware. Obviously, we don’t have the fridges, speakers, or even the lumber to make any more than the sixteen we’ve built here. Give me all that, and I could have these finished up by the end of the week. But with only one Crapmobile-”

  “Eric says him and the Bastards are gonna make some hand-powered ones.” Brian pointed out.

  Torstein snorted. “Sure. Have you seen the streets out there lately? Now try pushing a thousand pounds of lumber by hand over broken bricks and rubble with nothing but car batteries to power-up your drones. Don’t even get me started on the water tanks or the concrete. It’s better than nothing, but far from a solution.”

  “I have the same problem downstairs,” Brian said. “There’s plenty of building materials on the lower floors, but the lack of electricity makes scavenging them a slow process. And we found a couple of water tanks, but without a steady supply of water, they’re kind of pointless.”

  “I’m still grateful to your department though, believe me,” Torstein assured him. “I’m sorry you had to put off your hydroponics project, but what you’re doing is a big help. Thanks to you, we’ve managed to seal off the top four floors.

  “Not with solar panels, though.”

  “Not all of them,” Torstein admitted, “but enough for now. And we can always add those in later. The biggest problem – other than the lack of Crapmobiles – is the shortage of skilled labor. Thanks to the increase in population, I have a huge workforce, but only a few who actually know what they’re doing. I’m running around like crazy, trying to teach everybody what I need them to know. You and Krissy, I trained during the hospital job. The rest...”

  He trailed off and took a sip from his beer.

  “Any promising new recruits?” Brian asked.

  “A couple of guys from the slaughterhouse, Gus and Ron. They were part of the first few to recover. Road workers. Not exactly what we need, but they have a construction background, know the culture, and they were easy to train. I’ve got them installing solar panels and power lines on a more or less permanent basis. Then there’s a couple of truck drivers who seem competent, two students who worked construction during their summers to help pay for school. Maybe a half dozen others who might prove useful.”

  “I’m mainly getting eco-chic recruits in my department,” Brian said. “There’s one or two guys, but it’s mostly female students who took a year or two in botany or did some studies in the university greenhouse. They signed up to grow vegetables and wound up doing salvage. If we ever do get to return to hydroponics, we’ll be very well staffed. But at the moment, I’m surrounded by a lot of very tired and pissed-off women, who weren’t really built for this sort of labor.”

  “Poor you. Women banging down your door? I only wish I had your problems.”

  “Really? I heard you and - what was her name? Annie?”

  Torstein winced. “Maybe, but I doubt it. For a while, it looked like we might be going that route, but now that she’s out of the hospital and working for Kumar’s crew, we hardly seem to get any time to talk anymore. She’s got all the techies to hang out with and the perimeters to watch, and I’m busy here. What’s happening with you and Krissy?”

  Brian’s face darkened. “Nothing,” he said firmly.

  Torstein shook his head. “You gotta get past the past, man. She was only doing her job, and anyway, it’s a whole different world now. She likes you, Brian. I don’t want to sound like a stereotypical construction worker, but you’ve gotta hit that. Or someone else will.”

  “I don’t know,” Brian said. “I guess. Other than Kumar, she became my best friend. And then later, when things seemed change, and we... sort of became a couple, she was like this… this angel, and… and she made me feel like I was special. When I found out it wasn’t real… that none of it was real…”

  “Who cares if it was real? She’s out there now, you idiot, as real as a kick in the head, rejecting guy after guy in the hopes you’ll come to your senses. But she won’t wait forever. And what does it fucking matter anyway? Two months ago, if you’d have told me I was going to be working side-by-side with Luca Sabbatini, I’d have called you a mental patient. And now that he’s missing? I feel like I’ve just lost a brother.”

  “Marshal, too,” Brian agreed. “And Cesar. And Jerome seemed cool. But Marshal and Luca, they were the heart and soul of the community, you know? None of us would even be alive if it weren’t for them.”

  “Yeah,” Torstein said. “It’s a damn shame.”

  Brian swallowed. “Do… do you think they’re actually dead?”

  “Probably,” Torstein said. “Marshal could make a radio out of a couple of pieces of wood and some breakfast cereal. If he hasn’t contacted us by now, then odds are that he and everybody with him are dead. On the other hand, I heard that Angie slipped out to go and look for them. That means she thinks they might still be alive, and if there’s anyone who could find them, it’s Angie. Still. I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  For a few seconds, they sat in silence, gazing at the floor.

  Brian raised his head. “Does it seem quiet to you?”

  Torstein frowned, and started off down the hall. “I didn’t call a stop to work.”

  Together they left the corridor and found work stations abandoned. Signs of work were everywhere. Tools had been left where they were, still plugged in.r />
  “Was there a zombie encroachment we didn’t hear about?” Brian whispered.

  “If there was,” Torstein whispered back, “then somebody’s in big trouble for not informing us. Wait. Do you hear voices?”

  Brian pointed. “They’re coming from up ahead.”

  Cautiously, they both went down the hallway towards the north side of the building. As they approached, the sound of a woman’s voice reached their ears. The tone was both officious and stern, and seemed to be in lecture mode.

  “… the work is completed, each of you should be well on your way to repaying the initial loan structure that Hanson Incorporated is offering you. Needless to say, you will be among the highest paid members of the community of New Toronto, and will likewise, be able to afford the best of accommodations the market has to provide. Moreover, you will not only be the actual owners of your little piece of First Canadian Lofts, the amount of space, the luxuries, and additional benefits you are allocated will be entirely up to you. Once purchased, and assuming you are not delinquent in any of your payments, your property remains yours in perpetuity.”

  “What about maintenance?” one of the workmen demanded.

  Alicia Givens met his gaze. “Maintenance, as is common in such agreements, is the responsibility of the collected property-owners association. Rest assured, however, you will be sharing the building with Peter Hanson himself. In other words, your problems will be his problems, and he will share in the responsibility of seeing them resolved.”

  “What’s going on here?” Torstein asked, with a mixture of anger and genuine curiosity.

  Alicia turned a gaze as hard as diamond onto him.

  “Ah. Mr. Mueller.” She shuffled some papers on the table in front of her. “We attempted to locate you for this meeting, but were unsuccessful. Some suggested that you might have gone looking for materials on other floors. Please, forgive us. We should have been more thorough.”

  “We were inspecting the new units,” Torstein said, irritated, “no more than a hundred, a hundred and fifty feet away.”

  Alicia looked at Brian. “Mr. Cranston. It was assumed that you would be on the hydroponics floor. We were planning to meet with you later to discuss the issue of rent.”

  Brian stared at her in disbelief. “Excuse me. Did you say rent? And how did you know my last name?”

  “We looked it up. And, yes, I said rent. For the use of the two floors you have annexed for your agricultural effort. Don’t worry. As your business lies in the best interests of the community as a whole, we will be offering you extremely agreeable terms. Practically free, for the first two years, at any rate. But this is something we should discuss at a later date. For now, my business is with the New Toronto construction firm.”

  Taking advantage of Torstein and Brian’s speechlessness, Alicia continued.

  “Once again,” she said, speaking to the group, “you are all to keep in mind that Hanson Incorporated is, by interpretation of the laws of New Toronto, the rightful owner of First Canadian Place and all the contents therein and is, therefore, fully authorized to distribute all property as it sees fit. To buy from us is to guarantee you a piece of your future. From what I understand, the first available units are coming up for sale as we speak. Is that not correct, Mr. Mueller?”

  Torstein blinked, and then folded his arms across his chest with a scowl.

  “My units,” he said, stressing the possessive, “still require some finishing touches. And they have nothing to do with you.”

  Alicia Givens gazed at him with a disapproving expression.

  “Very well,” she said, eyes flickering back to her audience. “We will negotiate an appropriate exchange for your labor, Mr. Mueller, and take possession of the existing units only upon your agreement. Consider your activities in our building suspended until such time as that agreement can be reached.”

  Torstein unfolded his arms in shock.

  “You… you want me to stop building units for people to hide in?”

  “Not at all,” Alicia said with a cool expression. “I said suspended. You cannot work here without our approval, and we cannot make use of any properties whose ownership is still in dispute. It is our intention to retain your company for the construction of future units on our properties. Due to the lack of people with your level of expertise, you will, of course, be well recompensed for your services. We will make you wealthy, Mr. Mueller. Barring your cooperation, however, we will be forced to engage someone else to develop our properties. Of course, if you force us to replace you, Mr. Mueller, you will cost this community in both quality of work and security, all in the name of your vanity. That is, of course, your prerogative. However, Mr. Mueller, you cannot stop us from building safe habitats for the community. We will build safe homes for our constituents, with or without you.”

  A thick-bodied, Greek man leaned over towards him.

  “Don’t fight them, boss,” he urged. “We can’t do this without you.”

  Torstein looked at the man with surprise.

  “Don’t fight them? That’s your advice, Gus? A few days ago, these people were starving to death in a dead world. We rescued them. And for what? So that they could lay claim to all our hard work, everything Marshal wanted to build, for their own personal profit? They’re not even contributing anything, and you’re offering to put yourself in mortgage debt to them for the privilege of owning a home you were going to build yourself?”

  “We carry with us the rule of Law, Mr. Mueller,” Alicia Givens said crisply. “It is only the backbone of civilization. Through us, any one of you can own your home, as legal in Canadian law as it is in New Torontonian.”

  “Torstein…” Brian said, reaching out for his arm.

  “And what if people don’t accept your so-called Rule of Law?” Torstein demanded, stepping forward aggressively. “For Christ sake, what if we choose to throw you back out on the streets again?”

  “Torstein!” Brian repeated.

  Alicia didn’t flinch.

  “Mr. Mueller,” she said. “Think carefully before you make a decision you are likely to regret. It is not our Rule of Law that favors our position, but that of New Toronto. If you challenge us in the face of our rights, why, then we call the police and have you arrested. If you challenge our position legally, then we meet before Justice Stewart for a ruling. If, on the other hand, you choose to challenge us physically, well then…”

  Her eyes glinted, and she glanced over to four men who’d moved to stand next to her. Tom was one of them, though he looked uncomfortable, while Mike, holding a crowbar, looked defiant. Two of the others, Torstein did not recognize, save to know that they were two of the men that had been rescued from the slaughterhouse. Each of them held baseball bats.

  “… we are well within our rights to employ bodyguards of our own,” Alicia finished. “You cannot flout the law, Mr. Mueller, and you cannot threaten to cast anyone to the zombies. Hanson Incorporated will not stand for it. The people of New Toronto will not stand for it. Peter Hanson will not stand for it. Please leave.”

  Torstein looked like he was going to speak again, but Brian’s grip held him back.

  Together, the two of them turned to leave. All around them, expressions judged him, ranging from troubled to angry to smug to indifferent.

  “And Mr. Mueller,” Alicia called after him.

  He turned to look back.

  “Please return to us when you’re ready to negotiate,” she said, her tone softening. “Your efforts on behalf of the community have not gone unnoticed. Your talent and skill is undeniable. Whatever our differences, Hanson Incorporated would welcome your participation in our collective endeavor to save the human race.”

  Torstein nodded, and then turned away.

  When they were out of hearing range, he faced Brian with gritted teeth.

  “Get in touch with Kumar. Emergency session. Now!”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Day 53: Ultimate Predator

  Valerie smiled at the audience
and tried to remain positive.

  This was proving to be quite a challenge. In between the many faces looking out from computer screens and those in the apartment’s living room, the thinly veiled hostility couldn’t have been thicker. She imagined the silent outrage that might erupt at a vegan convention were a hot dog vendor to park his cart right in the middle of their meeting and start selling street meat.

  What had happened to bring them to this point? In her opinion, Peter Hanson had happened. He and his archons were in the process of leading a bloodless coup against the administration of New Toronto, and that administration appeared powerless to stop it.

  Hmm. Powerless? Valerie considered the word. No, not powerless. More like... ‘invalid’ or ‘inapplicable’. Like holding a sledgehammer when you needed to repair a failing television.

  The problem was that, within the legal boundaries of the political framework Marshal had left behind - the same framework from which Valerie drew her authority - Peter Hanson and his minions hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t using the threat of violence to influence his followers. He wasn’t breaking any rules or endangering citizens, or at least not directly. His notion of establishing a system of currency and credit to motivate productivity was not without its supporters. Somehow, particularly among the newest citizens, a contract with Peter Hanson to buy a piece of New Toronto, even on credit, held more meaning than the seemingly empty promise to receive the exact same offering for free.

  Among those who had been around to buy into Marshal’s mission statement, however, Peter and his steadily growing gang were behaving in a manner that was just short of criminal. Torstein was demanding that Valerie order Eric and the army to assist Krissy with instituting mass arrests. Jackie, Albert, and others who’d already risked their lives for the sake of Marshal’s plans, were furious at the idea of Peter Hanson blithely claiming dominion while sacrificing nothing.