From Oblivion's Ashes

by Nyman, Michael E. A.

  And en masse, they were following the fleeing Americans up the freeway towards an unprepared New Toronto.

  “You called it a losing sum game, Marshal,” General Williams murmured. “You had no idea. The first time we reduced a local population to chum, the other undead would stop attacking long enough to rush in and devour the gore. It allowed us the opportunity to catch our breath, re-arm and resupply. Then, we’d rescue a few people while the central mass reformed into a new and more resilient threat. We’d destroy the new mass, even as other zombies arrived, but bit by bit, the whole mass just kept growing larger and larger.”

  “Eventually, we had no choice but to run,” Captain Marlowe explained. “We’d used up all the local munitions, and since it takes a special kind of bullet to take them down, we had to keep moving. But every time we’d leave some place in our rearview mirror, we’d leave a seriously pissed off anomaly to reform, reorganize, and give chase.”

  “It learned from each encounter,” the General said. “Of course, so did we. For example, we knew that the organism was more or less fireproof, but when you burned it after blowing it to pieces, it extended the time it required to pull itself back together. An internal chemical responds to the charring of the outer layer. The charred area becomes fireproof and resists the transfer of heat into the inner layers. The chemical retards the organism’s ability to reorganize its tissue. Or at least, it used to. The duration grew shorter and shorter each time.”

  “First time it happened,” the Captain recalled, “we thought we’d won for real. We stopped and had a celebration. But two days later, the first of the mutations rose up and started crushing our tanks like they were tinfoil. We barely escaped.”

  “Of course,” the General added bitterly, “that thing was only a guppy compared to what they’ve become now. After that first encounter, we got caught in a vicious cycle with no way of escaping. They pursued us, chasing us from city to city, and nothing we tried could shake them, and there were always fresh undead wherever we’d go. We had no choice but to keep fighting; we needed food and supplies in order to keep running, but we could only do that when the local population had been neutralized. We knew we were only making our problems bigger, but what choice did we have? The horde was always no more than a couple of days - then a day, then only a few hours - behind us. Today? I’d guess we have maybe an hour or two before they catch up with us.”

  “They’re destroying everything,” Peter said, watching in horror as a projectile of tissue the size of a van slammed into a gas station, enveloped it, and crushed it to rubble. “Every building they see. They’ve never done that before.”

  “You should see what they did to Detroit,” Captain Marlowe said, sounding grim. “They nearly had us there, but the General used the urban jungle to do a kind of hit-and-run withdrawal. We kept them busy chasing after our choppers and jeeps while our main force slipped away. They’d already taken to wrecking buildings to get at us, but Detroit was the point when they decided to eliminate any place we could be hiding.”

  “Then you may have killed us all,” Scratchard said angrily. “You taught the Swarm! You taught them to scorch the Earth, and then you brought them here.”

  “Professor,” Marshal said.

  “No, Marshal! We can’t hide from this! These fools have taught the Swarm how to find us! They’ve taught the Swarm that humans could be hiding in every nook and cranny! If they leveled Detroit, then what’s to stop them from wanting to do the same thing here?”

  “Maybe that’s true,” Marshal snapped, “but this isn’t helping anything. All they really did was fight to stay alive. You can’t blame them for that.”

  “I afraid I’ll have to agree with your professor,” the General sighed unhappily. “When we received your signal, we hoped you might have discovered some better way of killing these things. Turns out you have figured out a better way, but it doesn’t involve fighting at all. Now, thanks to us, your only chance of survival happens if we keep right on going and lead the horde away.”

  “You’d be willing to do that?” Peter asked.

  The General shrugged. “Since we’re dead either way, I can’t see any reason to jeopardize, as you put it, ‘humanity’s last best hope’. Only thing I ask is that you take on the civilians and the wounded. That would leave me with about two hundred soldiers, enough to convince the horde that it caught us when it finally does. Maybe, once we’re gone, the mutations will stop their rampage.”

  “Kumar, come in!” Marshal snapped, tapping his communicator.

  “Kumar here. What’s the plan, Mufasa? Are you running yet?”

  “Negative. We’re not running at all. Call Valerie and tell her that I want every Camoucart and Camoutruck up on the tarmac now! The first of the trucks are rolling in and, unless we can divert the oncoming horde, we only have a couple of hours to get everyone to safety. Get Vandermeer and the rest of the Bastards into action. The first wave is going to include just under six hundred, so we’re going to have a huge problem with crowd control. The rest will be coming later, so she’ll have to free up the camoufleet as quickly as possible to be ready for us.”

  “You’re kidding, right? Have you seen those-”

  “I’m not kidding, Kumar, and we don’t have time to argue,” Marshal shouted into the comm. “Just do it! Stop showing this footage to everyone and get things moving!”

  “You wouldn’t… uh, I mean, roger that, Marshal. We’re on it.”

  “You didn’t hear me right, son,” General Williams broke in. “If I don’t have at least two hundred soldiers, the mutations might smell a rat. They’re smart and we’ve been fighting them for months. Now, I don’t know if they’re going to go on indiscriminately destroying buildings after we’re gone, but if they think they haven’t caught us, they’ll never stop looking.”

  But Marshal ignored him, instead turning to Peter and Scratchard.

  “I want you two to report to Vandermeer,” he told them. “He’ll be in charge of the evacuation, along with Krissy and Luca. Make sure they coordinate with Valerie. If we use every vehicle we possess, we should be able to get everyone clear of the airport in one trip, but it will be close. Get-”

  “Marshal!” the General interrupted with a hint of irritation. “You’re not-”

  “Get the injured shipped off to the hospital,” Marshal continued, speaking overtop of the General, “and ship everyone else to First Canadian. I want every person-”

  “You’re not listening to me!” the General said. “I said-”

  “That’s enough!” Marshal shouted, turning on him. “You surrendered to me, General! Remember? Or are you going back on your word?”

  Temporarily startled, the General didn’t answer right away.

  “General Williams,” Marshal said, more quietly. “You are now my force commander, and in a couple of minutes, I’m going to need your help more than I’ve ever needed anything from anyone. But right now, if you want to save your people, I need you to stand aside and shut up!”

  Anger flashed in the General’s eyes, but instead of responding, he simply assumed an icy ‘at ease’ posture and stared straight ahead.

  Quickly, Marshal turned back to his fellow New Torontonians.

  “Pull back all drone surveillance for now,” he said. “These things are triggered by helicopters, so there’s no telling what their reaction will be to flying drones. And tell Vandermeer that I want everyone under cover in these next two hours. No exceptions. We’ll try to keep a radio contact with you on our progress.”

  “Why?” Peter asked sharply. “Where will you be during all of this?”

  “I’m leaving with the General and a skeleton force,” Marshal answered.

  “Are you insane?” Scratchard demanded.

  “Really, Marshal,” Peter said. “The community will be requiring your guidance now more than ever. It is foolish to-”

  “That’s my decision!” Marshal shouted over them both. “This isn’t a democracy! We’re in a crisis si
tuation, and I need you to shut up and do what you’re told! I have a plan, and if it works, then you should see us all back at First Canadian by some time tomorrow. Now, are we clear?”

  The two men looked at each other with an unfamiliar sense of solidarity, but neither of them spoke.

  “Good. That’s settled.” Marshal touched his communicator. “Kumar! Vandermeer is now in charge of operation Yankee Rescue. Krissy will be his second-in-command. As usual, you’re our communications center. Make sure everybody is linked in with Valerie as soon as possible. I’m leaving in a few minutes with the Americans, which ultimately puts her back in charge for the duration.”

  “Got it… wait! You’re leaving with-”

  Marshal broke the connection.

  “General Williams,” he said, turning to the American commander, “I’m going to need your people to see to a few things before we leave.”

  The General eyed him warily. “Well? Out with it!”

  “First of all,” Marshal said, “I want you to attach three squads to Vandermeer’s command. If we’re going to make the best use of the time available, we’re going to be pushing your people around a bit, and into unfamiliar situations. They will be limited to only what they can carry, with everything else to be left on the tarmac. If it’s important, then we can recover it later. It would help matters along if the soldiers telling them what to do are people that they’ve already come to trust.”

  The General hesitated only for a second. “Captain?”

  “I’m on it, sir.”

  “Wait,” Marshal called out, and Marlowe paused.

  “We’ll need one person to drive each one of your trucks out of here, and we’ll need them unloaded and ready to go in the next thirty minutes. Weapons, ammunition, and in particular explosives are all coming with us. We are stripping down personnel to the bone, with skeleton crews driving the trucks, and all of your best explosives and munitions specialists on board, preferably as the only drivers. I want to be able to create an explosion they’ll hear from here to Texas, and when we’re done, I want to be able to fit everyone left on board the choppers. Understood?”

  Interest had slowly begun to take hold of the Captain’s expression, but he refrained from comment save to glance in the General’s direction.

  “Do it,” the General said tersely.

  “I’ll issue the orders,” the Captain said. “Anything else?”

  “Oxygen masks and tanks,” Marshal said. “I know you probably keep some on board the helicopters, but a bigger supply is all around us. I saw you sending a few squads to scavenge fuel. Have them locate at least one mask for every soldier and truck driver that’s coming with us.”

  Another glance at the General received another short nod, and the Captain hustled away.

  In the silence that followed, Marshal looked around to see that everyone was still staring at him. Scratchard and Peter were still standing there when he turned back to them, though the strength of his glare was enough to put them in motion.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Peter said. “I don’t want to have to explain to Valerie, or your unborn daughter, why I let you just fly off to your death. I’d rather you shoot out my knees. At least then I’d have something to hold up as an excuse.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Marshal said, not sure if he was being honest. “If what I’m planning works out, then everyone gets to live. Now go.”

  Following Scratchard, who’d already boarded Crapmobile, Peter obeyed.

  Marshal turned back to General Williams.

  “Thank you for your patience, General,” he said.

  “I’ll say this much,” the General answered. “The loyalty of your people gives me more confidence than I’d normally have at a time like this. Loyalty like that has to be earned. But enough is enough, son. Surrender or no surrender, it’s clear that you’ve thought up a plan of some kind, and I think it’s about time you shared it with me. I’ve been fighting these things for months, so if there’s anyone who can tell you if your plan has a chance in hell of working, it’s me.”

  “No argument,” Marshal answered. “I’m sorry if I’ve been abrupt, but like you said, time is precious and I wanted to get things in motion. And yes, the most important part of my plan involves handing its execution over to you, General. If there’s anyone who can take my plan and make it actually work, it’s a West Point instructor and military tactical specialist.”

  “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. So what’s this plan of yours?”

  “Well, General, it’s kind of a variation on a tactic that we’ve been using here in New Toronto since we started having success. Our first move will be to engage the enemy just enough to convince them to chase us. We drive your entire convoy until we reach our destination, and then we let ourselves get caught.”

  The General was silent as he digested this.

  “How… how is that supposed to…?” He shook his head with a sigh of frustration. “I’m afraid you’re simply not understanding our situation, Marshal. These monsters are not the fools you seem to think they are. They have seen us. They know there’s more than a hundred of us. I’m not certain we’ll be able to fool them by splitting up our numbers this way. We’ve tried everything we could think of to outsmart them, with very little success. We used a blizzard in Michigan last year to cover our passage, and these things managed to find our trail even as much as a day later.”

  “I’d guess that they associated you with the smell of petroleum and diesel that your convoy left behind,” Marshal said. “It’s a dead giveaway, and scent is their primary hunting tool. Make no mistake, my people will be spraying down your trail, the tarmac, and the entire runway with this ammonia-manure mixture we’ve developed. Get used to that smell, by the way.”

  “Maybe,” the General frowned, “but I still can’t emphasize enough how cunning these things are. When the Captain says I outsmarted them in Detroit, he’s being generous. I’m going to tell you something that I would never say in front of the troops. We barely escaped Detroit. We should have all died. Given their obvious intelligence, I can’t help thinking that our outright disappearance won’t go unnoticed.”

  “I understand that,” Marshal said, nodding. “The solution...”

  Shouting erupted out on the runway, and he paused to look over at the frantic activity now taking place. Captain Marlowe was in close conversation with a half-dozen other soldiers, emphasizing his conversation with fast, sharp, hand gestures. One of these soldiers, a sergeant, broke away at a dash, shouting to a weary-looking group of soldiers who were sprawled on the ground smoking cigarettes. Reluctantly, but with well-heeled discipline, the soldiers pulled themselves to their feet and followed the sergeant to the recently, parked trucks and jeeps.

  “The thing is, General,” Marshal continued, “you’ve brought out the worst in the zombie organism by becoming extreme examples of the two things that provoke it the most: human prey and proximate threat of attack. And I think you’re right. They won’t rest until they’re convinced that they’ve eliminated you and assimilated your tissue. Worse news is that you’re probably also right in assuming that they think there’s more of you than there are. Your division once had ten thousand or more soldiers. That’s a lot of missing bodies we have to make up.”

  The General furrowed his brow and scowled. “So? Where is this going? Are you saying it’s hopeless? What exactly is this plan of yours?”

  “We start by launching the convoy as soon as we can,” Marshal answered, watching as several Camoucarts came speeding onto the tarmac. In the distance, he saw Captain Vandermeer listening to his communicator, even as the Winter Bastards disembarked all around him. He looked up, spotted Marshal and tossed off a quick salute, before being confronted by Captain Marlowe and a group of fifty or sixty American soldiers.

  Marshal turned back to the General.

  “Then, we’re taking your choppers, and flying off to launch a surprise attack on the horde. Naturally, I’ll leave the
organization of that attack to you, but it’s important that we hit them hard, let them recover, and then lead them back to the convoy, hopefully without taking any casualties.”

  “Is that all?” the General asked with a hint of sarcasm.

  “The point,” Marshal continued, “is to ensure that the horde’s trail never even touches New Toronto in its hunt for you. We’re still on the outskirts. The ones you killed here on the tarmac will wake up and give chase, following your trail right out of here. Hopefully, they link up with the horde and they pursue the convoy as a group. If we’re fortunate, they’ll never have any reason to believe that any of your convoy traveled another foot eastwards. As far as they’ll know, you turned north and headed west again.”

  “Which still leaves us up shit creek, son,” General Williams snapped, holding on to his temper. “The horde wants a victory feast, and I don’t have enough soldiers to even give them an appetizer!”

  “That’s okay, General,” Marshal said, watching as frightened refugees were divided up and loaded into Camoucarts. “It so happens that I know where we can find about ten or twenty thousand more.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: Day 254: Dead Versus Dead

  “They’re coming, sir,” the Captain radioed.

  “On my command,” the General replied, “and I want a quick reload after the first volley, just in case we get a second kick at the can here.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The General nodded to himself.

  “Stevens? Is your group in position?”

  “We are, sir,” came the reply. “In the bushes and ready to jump, so to speak.”

  Again, the nod.

  “St. Clair. Is your group set up?”

  “Yes sir,” answered a woman’s voice.

  “Good. Even at range, your group is likely to be the most vulnerable to counter-attack. I want one volley and you’re out, understood?”

  “We could do a lot of damage on a second volley, sir,” the woman said, sounding disappointed. “Are you sure you-”