From Oblivion's Ashes

by Michael E. A. Nyman

  Marshal’s response was cut off by the sound of the door closing, followed by an audible ‘click’.

  “Um,” Marshal said. “Hello? Did somebody just lock the door? We’re still in here.”

  “What?” Valerie jumped off the bed. “What did they do?”

  “Third and final gift,” Torstein’s voice said, sounding clear over the loudspeaker. “You are both being deposed for two, full weeks. This room is off the grid, cut off from the rest of the community in every conceivable way, and once I stop talking, you will be on your own. You will survive on luxury foods, expensive wines, endless diversions, and each other’s dubious company for that span, after which you will be reinstated to your old positions of authority. It will give us time to finish moving your workshop out of your bedroom, Marshal, so that it can have more room for other purposes. Like maybe sharing.”

  “Um,” Marshal said, “Look guys. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but-”

  “You can’t just lock us up like this,” Valerie shouted.

  “We just did,” Torstein said. “Don’t think that we didn’t do our research on you as well, Valerie. Didn’t it seem suspicious, all those questions that Krissy and Sophie were asking you? You two are now irreversibly on vacation. Please, try to enjoy it. There’s nothing you can do about it. We’re certain you’ll find something to do. The rest of us will just have to find a way to struggle on without you for that time.”

  “Have fun, you two!” Sophie called out. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, guys,” Brian shouted out, echoed by Kumar.

  “Fucking... better fucking...” Luca spluttered, before giving up.

  “Merry Christmas, Valerie!” Krissy shouted. “I left my handcuffs in the bedside drawer! Merry Christmas, Marshal.”

  And there followed a multitude of shouts that drowned out all coherency.

  “Torstein!” Marshal shouted again. “You can’t do this. I need-”

  “We look forward to seeing you in two weeks time,” Torstein said. “Have fun, kids. And Merry Christmas. To the both of you.”

  And the speakers went dead.

  “Torstein!”

  There was no answer. He tried the door.

  “Well, that’s it then. What do we do now?”

  “Oh, Marshal.” Valerie gave him a reproving glance as she let down her hair. “That you should have to ask.”

  Marshal smiled. He went over to the bar and took down two wineglasses. “Well,” he said, “We have been working pretty hard lately. This might not be a bad thing.”

  “Oh,” she said, opening up the wardrobe and examining the selection. “How little you know me. Trust me, Marshal, my dear. After we take that shower I mentioned earlier, we’re going to be doing some very, very bad things.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Day 225: These Things We Worship

  Krissy sat at her desk in the community’s only functioning police station, idly reminiscing on last night with Brian. It had been a lovely dinner, followed by two hours entwined together in front of The Princess Bride, a half hour of sex, and a long, shared bath in a hot tub that had been Torstein’s Christmas gift to the two of them. It was about as close to bliss as things got these days.

  Perhaps even, she considered as she touched her pregnant abdomen, a little too blissful.

  The police station was just down the hall from the Winter Bastards’ wing. It had the advantage that, for the time being, they could share resources, like the surveillance station, the prison cells, the weapons, and the body armor. In addition, availability of the Bastards themselves gave Krissy a force of trained muscle she could call on should the need arise. As a pregnant woman with only three, part-time officers under her command, this was a valuable asset. To facilitate her authority, she’d been granted the functioning rank of Lieutenant, making her not only the Chief of Police, but the second highest ranking Bastard after Vandermeer himself.

  Not that she needed it. Police work had become boring over the winter, and usually involved little more than organizing patrols and settling disputes. Even these were seldom any challenge, and served mainly as a mechanism to keep the smaller issues out of Marshal’s hair, allowing him to focus his attention in other areas.

  Not this time, however.

  As if in answer to her thoughts, Marshal strode through the doorway carrying two drinks in tall, paper cups.

  “Sorry it took me so long to get here,” he said, putting one of the cups down in front of her. “Tea for the pregnant lady, as requested.”

  “Awesome,’ Krissy said, taking the cup eagerly.

  “I’d have arrived sooner, but even with the snow gone, the streets are hard to navigate. The streets just aren’t what they used to be.”

  “No problem. How’s the transmitter coming?”

  “Not too bad,” Marshal said. “Obviously, it helps having a physics doctorate on the team. Eva not only knows more than I do, she’s also a pretty adept technician. On the other hand, there’s a whole lot of damage to repair. It took us half a day just getting the elevators up and running. As for the signal tower itself, it’s a mess. It’ll take weeks before we have it working.”

  “But it’ll be worth it, right?”

  “Definitely. If you have a resource like the CN Tower just sitting in your backyard, you take advantage. Not only will it make New Toronto’s universal WiFi run smoother, we’ll be able to throw our analog signal a whole lot further, maybe even across the whole hemisphere. And it increases our chances of locating and connecting to any satellites that might still be in operation, assuming we’re able to hack into their system.”

  “And the undead situation?”

  Marshal took a sip and shrugged.

  “No undead in the downtown area since February,” he answered. “There’s three, staggered perimeters separating our territory from the outlands. We’re calling it the ‘neutral zone’, because we’re all a bunch of nerds. Anyway, it’s taken every extra motion sensor and surveillance camera we have, but it’s about a kilometer and a half wide in every direction. Kumar and Professor Samuels are close to finishing the image recognition software that’ll make the job of watching for incursions easier. Without it, the job takes twelve people, working in shifts, to oversee everything properly, mainly because of all the false alarms from animals and blowing debris. In the meantime, they’ve made a game out of detecting and luring undead back out beyond the border, with weekly prizes going to the winner.”

  “What about our animals?” Krissy asked. “You’ve got them running loose all over the downtown area. Don’t they set off the alarms?”

  “They’re not exactly running loose,” Marshal replied. “We’ve created a network of fencing, adjoining pastures, and ‘cattle drive lanes’ through the streets, so none of them get anywhere near the perimeter. Other than that, letting them wander is part of our defensive system. We know the undead hunt by smell. They’re practically like bears in that they can ‘see’ with their noses. Animals stink, and thanks to them, the downtown is the one part of the city that smells least of humans.”

  “But I heard they were getting free,” Krissy said.

  “The pigs keep breaking out through our fences,” Marshal admitted, “and recapturing them is a real pain in the ass. Ever heard of the sport of pig calling? I hadn’t, but apparently it’s the best way of getting them back. The chickens and geese are happy to stay in their little section of the Skydome, pecking away for bugs and whatever seed we drop. For the most part, the cows, sheep, and our one goat all stay within the fences we set up. It’s just the damn pigs, so we’re keeping them penned up in the Skydome, while Derek works on a solution.”

  “Derek,” Krissy said. “That’s Jerome’s friend?”

  “Yeah. He and Cameron were the other two thirds of the rebellion against the rest of the ex-convicts in the slaughterhouse. Jerome… well, you know Jerome. He makes friends easily, and with Luca and Cesar in his circle, not to mention his skill as a mechanic, he received almost ins
tant acceptance despite being one of the ex-cons. Derek and Cameron were less comfortable and stayed behind to look after the animals. Turns out that Derek grew up near Parry Sound, where his family owned a farm. Now, he lives at the Skydome and runs our whole animal husbandry department along with Patsy, our veterinarian. Cameron, on the other hand, was a city boy, and hooked up with Kumar’s group as soon as he could.”

  “Animal husbandry department? That’s new. How many people have been assigned to it?”

  “Seventeen, so far,” Marshal said, smiling. “Second biggest department after Torstein’s. It’s mainly popular because of the animals. Some of them claim that being around the animals has a calming effect, like a psychological antidote for the apocalypse. Sophie Wyatt has been arranging class trips, at least once per week. Her kids love it. Apparently, it’s already their favorite day of the week. Anyway, with our herds growing in size the way they are, it’s becoming a pretty important department.”

  “Growing? How can they be growing? Weren’t most of the animals slated for slaughter? Doesn’t that mean they’ve been neutered?”

  “Most of them,” Marshal agreed, “but not all. The chickens are okay, and it turned out that there were a couple of egg layers among them, so Derek was able to increase their numbers over the winter. The sheep, the pigs, and virtually all of the cattle were castrated. On the other hand, there were two old, past-their-prime bulls that Derek says he might be able to turn into breeders.

  “But the real reason our herds are growing so fast is that we’ve been finding new animals, mostly starving and wandering loose. Not many, but more than you might think. The biggest score was when we found this one group of cattle scraping out subsistence at a Sobeys supermarket up by the 401. Among the herd, we found twelve milk cows.”

  “Oh! That’s right!” Krissy lit up. “I heard about that! Deana put it on the front page. It means we’re going to be able to have milk and cheese again!”

  “You think you were happy? Luca almost broke down in tears at the thought of getting his hands on fresh cheese again. Anyway, James Snake thinks they may have been in transport on the freeway when the outbreak hit the city, then broke out and found their way to the nearest food source, which happened to be the vegetable department. They were close to starving when we found them, but we’ve managed to nurse them back to health.”

  “Anyway, that was about a month and a half ago. Since then, James and Albert started making plans to send drone-supported expeditions into the countryside to search for more livestock. The upshot is that, now, it seems that there isn’t a day that goes by that they don’t return with animals, or some new location to be scavenged.”

  “I thought James’s talent was in sneaking around in the wilderness without cover,” Krissy said. “Like Angie does in the city. What does James need with drone support?”

  “He’s good, but not that good. Back in the Don Valley, he was insulated from undead detection by the weight of the city around him, and even then he was putting his life on the line going out to rescue all those people. It was only a matter of time before his luck turned. He’s an amazing talent, and we’re lucky to have him, but wide patrol is dangerous. James keeps alive by using every resource and advantage at his disposal. Especially now that he has a girlfriend to think of.”

  “James hooked up? With who?”

  “Deanna Styles, believe it or not. She was always in the hunt for news, and the wide patrols kept giving her the best material. Remember that, aside from finding animals in supermarkets, James is personally responsible for the rescue of an additional one hundred and eighty-seven more survivors over the winter. So it started with Deanna and James doing coffee whenever they’d get together, then dinner, and then, eventually-”

  “Each other,” Krissy finished. “Which reminds me. How are you and Valerie coming along?”

  Marshal smiled wryly at her. “Like you don’t know. I know you talk to her almost every day.”

  “I know her side of things,” Krissy said, “but you and I were friends first, if you recall. I want to know how you’re handling things.”

  “You mean the pregnancy?”

  Krissy rolled her eyes. “What else would I mean?”

  Marshal smiled, his eyes far away.

  “I… I don’t know, to be honest. Good, I suppose. It’s hard to think of it as real sometimes, given everything that’s going on in the world these days. But I’d say I’m pretty happy about it. I’ve started to look forward to the end of every day, when it’s just the two of us spending time together, even if it’s only for a few minutes. I’ll give you my full answer when my baby is born. How’s your pregnancy holding up?”

  “Still good, most of the time,” Krissy said, touching her stomach. “There was a moment last week when I wanted to claw Brian’s face from his body, but I burst into tears instead, and then the only thing that made me feel better was when I was in his arms. Don’t get too many moments like those, thank goodness, but they do happen.”

  Marshal nodded. “A little while ago, Valerie tore a strip off me in a five-minute tirade that used more ten-dollar words than... well, than I even know. Then, she wanted sex, like… like a whirlwind. Lots of fun, but - oh boy! - it’ll probably ache the next time it rains!”

  “More than I needed to know,” Krissy said, having already gotten the dirt from Valerie herself a couple of days ago.

  “Sorry. Just saying it’s been weird.”

  There was a silence.

  “I guess we’ve put it off long enough,” Marshal said. “Where is he?”

  “Holding cell, partly for his own protection,” Krissy answered. “There’re a lot of anger being directed his way at the moment. If I didn’t have my duty, I might have been a part of it.”

  “I understand how you feel,” Marshal said. “God married us too. Strange, isn’t it, how so many people wanted him to preside over their weddings? Elizabeth told me that, as the state, I had to be the one to imbue him with the authority. I didn’t see a problem with it at the time. He was just a crazy old man, right? How’s he doing?”

  “Dr. Burke isn’t sure he’ll recover,” Krissy said, and her eyes narrowed. “He’s starting to worry if we shouldn’t be dumping him outside the perimeter, while we have the chance. Even a fragile old guy like that could kill everyone if-”

  “We’ll play it by ear,” Marshal said. “I sent instructions to just keep him isolated and under observation for now. I’d rather not give up on him just yet. In the meantime, we should go have a chat with the accused.”

  “Oh, he’s not an accused,” Krissy said, scowling as she stood up from her desk. “He admits to what he did. And he’s pretty damn arrogant about the whole thing too.”

  “Then let’s go find out why.”

  They came to the door of the cell. Brock nodded to them as they arrived.

  “Hey, Brock. How’s he been?”

  “Bitchy,” the ex-biker said, turning to unlock the door. “Keeps making stupid jokes about wanting his lawyer. Then he’ll get serious and demand to be set free to see how his experiment is going. Did you hear that? He calls it all ‘an experiment’. I’ll say this for the guy: he’s got a pair.”

  He moved aside, allowing Marshal and Krissy to step through the door.

  “Marshal!” Scratchard shouted.

  The professor tried to leap to his feet, but was held back by the shackles that fastened him to the table.

  “Bloody Hell! Would somebody take these things off of me! What is the point of them anyway? Honestly? Do you truly believe that I have any intention of storming the door, overcoming a six-foot-three, three hundred and fifty pound ex-biker in hand-to-hand combat, and then running amok through our community?”

  “The point, professor,” Krissy answered in a dark tone, “is that you are guilty of a serious crime. Elizabeth has already ruled on your case, based on the evidence, and issued you the death penalty, barring Marshal’s intervention. The shackles are as much a statement as a precaution.”


  Marshal moved silently to take the single chair across from Scratchard.

  “Please,” Scratchard scoffed. “Let’s not play that particular game. We don’t practice capital punishment in this community. And even if we did, I am far too valuable an asset to simply throw away. Consider the amount of trouble you’ve endured saving the Winter Bastards, because you thought they were of value. Therefore, I believe I can safely tell you to go fly a kite.”

  “I think you overestimate your importance, professor,” Krissy said. “Given the severity of your crime, you might want to be a little more humble. Do you realize how many people are calling for your head at the moment?”

  “And that’s another thing!” Scratchard exclaimed. “I’ve committed no crime!”

  Marshal and Krissy stared at him.

  “Okay, okay,” Scratchard said, leaning backwards and holding up two hands defensively. “I may have strayed over an ethical line somewhere. If I have, it was an unintentional by-product of the research you assigned me. It’s expected that-”

  “This would be the research that you insisted on being allowed to pursue,” Marshal interrupted, “and which has failed to produce any results in almost three months?”

  “I suggest you check your records,” Scratchard snapped. “Thanks to my research, our understanding of the alien organism has progressed by light years. We are, even now, able to track on a flow chart, the average life-cycle that each individual-”

  “Professor,” Marshal broke in gently. “These are theories. All well and good, but they aren’t of much use to us in our situation. But, all right. Let me clarify: research that hasn’t produced anything practical.”

  “Oh? So you are questioning the value of research for research sake? I’ll have you know that the majority of technological breakthroughs throughout human history has sprung out of some form of academic research. That you would undervalue such endeavors only serves to-”