Generation Z (Book 6): The Queen Unchained

by Meredith, Peter

  No one even blinked. They were too busy trying to take out the next torpedo. Not wanting a repeat of the last explosion happening even closer to the Revenge, Mike called for another net. Then, as he noticed their speed dropping, he ordered the forward mainsail raised.

  The sailors worked with one eye on the torpedo and one eye on their job. Mike pretended that it wasn’t even there, streaking through the water at them. He refused to even acknowledge it and calmly ordered a turn back to port. The fish was netted and spun off at a sharp angle, and was left in their wake.

  “Clear the deck!” Mike commanded as a fresh wave of bullets sizzled through the air, passing between the boom and the rail. “Everyone to your stations and get down.” Bullets began lashing the deck, drumming across it like heavy rain. They were being targeted and Mike ordered a further shift to port and there in the smoke he saw the big catamaran, streaking along. It ranged up and ran parallel to the Revenge, its near rail lined with Corsairs, each rattling off bullets.

  They hadn’t yet figured out not to fire on the up-roll and most of their rounds were whipping over head.

  The Guardians got the better of the ship to ship duel. They were armored and disciplined, and firing from a prone position meant they were smaller targets. They’d also had some practice on the small torpedoes, and were able to time their shots. They fired unflinchingly and when one was hit, another rushed up from the galley to take his place.

  Mike stared across the short distance at his counterpart, who was almost his exact physical opposite. The Corsair captain was a big-bellied creature with a wild thicket of black hair hiding his features from the nose on down. His eyes were just as dark. They did not hold an ounce of mercy within them. Ten years of murder, rape, torture and unabashed cruelty had burned all the humanity out of this beast of a man. Mike realized that he would never stop. He was evil and lived to unleash his evil on the world.

  “Helm hard to port,” he said, deciding that he needed to stop this man personally. Capturing him could very well end the battle.

  The boat should have heeled over to the left at his command and when it didn’t, Mike turned to see Ren on her back, choking on blood. Forgetting his command, he dashed to her and saw she had been shot just below the notch in her throat.

  “Ren! Ren, hold on.”

  She pushed him away just as a bullet blasted off one of the spokes of the wheel. He looked over and saw the Corsair captain holding a scoped rifle. Grinning, the man ejected a huge brass shell casing and rammed home a new round.

  He’s going to kill me, Mike realized. And maybe I deserve it. Maybe this is my punishment for screwing up and getting everyone killed last night.

  Instead of cowering, Mike stood up straight as the man aimed and fired. Mike was knocked off his feet, and the world spun above him as he lay flat on his back. Oddly the only pain he felt was to the back of his head. Slowly he sat up and looked around, noting that the Queen’s Revenge was charging hard to starboard away from the Cat.

  From her back, Ren had kicked the wheel over, turning the Revenge so violently that it had thrown everyone. Now the ship was shooting out of the protection of the smoke. Mike scrambled to the wheel and heaved in neutral. “Kill that man!” he cried, pointing at the Corsair captain. Six guns opened up on the man; all missed. Behind him, his helmsman was shot through the eye and when he fell over the wheel, the Cat made its own hard turn, coming within feet of crashing into another Corsair ship and nearly causing both to broach.

  Smoke rolled over both a second later and Mike found himself on his hands and knees leaning over Ren. Above the mass of red, she was perfectly white. “Ren? Ren?” She was beyond answering. Instead of calling for her to be removed, he slid her to the side.

  “She hated going below for anything,” Mike said to one of the knights. “Her place is here.”

  “Sure. I just wanted to say we’re through the smoke. You didn’t seem to notice.”

  Mike hadn’t noticed. He patted Ren’s cold hand and stood. His fleet was gathering half a mile distant. He counted twenty-seven. One was missing. An entire crew was dead and probably a lot more besides. And for what? What had been gained?

  “Does anyone know how many we got?” he asked, wondering if even fifty ships would be worth it.

  The sailor who had been in the bow called out over the wind. “I saw eight that won’t ever sail again.”

  The crew cheered while Mike whispered, “Just eight? And maybe one of those is our missing ship.” Seven to one was a minor victory, but it didn’t seem worth it. “Maybe that’s the best I can hope for.”

  “Now what?” one of the knights asked.

  “We go back in.”

  Chapter 36

  West of Puget Sound, Washington

  The attack ended when Gunner fell just ninety yards short of the rocket launcher. It was tantalizingly close for Emily and the dozen or so Islanders who had carried the fight as far as they had. They might have gone further, but Emily Grey wouldn’t leave her father to die alone, and none of the others had the courage to venture through the tall grass and expose themselves. They knew what would happen if they did. Gunner’s bleeding body was proof that death awaited anyone who left the forest.

  During those crucial minutes when the war could have been won by a handful of daring people, Emily had been busy trying to plug the many holes in Gunner’s body. As she worked, she tried to urge the others forward; none moved and the moment and the opportunity passed.

  Hundreds had been slain or lay bleeding, and all for nothing.

  Emily would have cursed them and called them cowards, but in her heart she knew they had given everything they had just to get this far. And now it was over. Soon, the Black Captain would launch his counterattack, which would easily split the Islanders in two. Those that didn’t immediately surrender would be driven, screaming out into the desolate mountains of western Washington.

  They’d be hunted by man and beast, and Bainbridge would be left undefended. The rockets would open a hole in the wall and her mother would be forced to surrender.

  It was all very much a foregone conclusion. The Islanders were already defeated. She could see in their eyes that they had given up, which was something that was beyond her understanding. Didn’t they realize what would happen if they refused to fight? Their women would be raped until they couldn’t walk. Their children would be sold off to the highest bidding pedophile to live out their lives in a living hell. The men would suffer days of cruelty and torture. Any that lived would be used for sport. Some would be used as live targets for the Corsairs to practice on. Some would be sent to the arena, where they would be forced to fight each other to the death. Some would be chained up outside the walls and eaten by zombies while the Corsairs laughed and made bets on which of them would live the longest.

  Even Emily, a sheltered eleven-year-old girl, knew what was coming. It would start with her father if she wasn’t there to protect him. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Dad,” she whispered to him as she cinched another bandage down as tight as she could.

  “Go. Leave.” His voice was soft and wet. He had blood in his lungs but lacked the strength to cough it up.

  Emily glanced up over the height of the grass. The Corsairs and their mountain bandit allies were rushing in to fill the void between her and the launcher. They were gathering in numbers. It wouldn’t be long. She swept hair from her father’s brow. “They won’t hurt me. Joslyn said I was valuable because I’m the Governor’s daughter. It’s why she kidnapped me in the first place. So, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “Wrong. He should worry about you,” a voice spoke from behind her. It was a jittery, confused voice. “Whatever cache you had is gone. All gone.”

  Behind Emily, were four people crouched in the grass. Their eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, and the mismatched rags they wore were filthy and smelled of bog mud. The smallest was a grubby child with a gold collar around her throat; she looked like she was on the verge of pass
ing out and kept jerking awake every few seconds. The next woman had matted black hair and a heart-shaped face and might have been pretty if one could look beyond the caked-on dirt and the exhaustion. The third was young and old at the same time. She might have been in her twenties and she might have been sixty.

  The last person was a cripple, who groaned as she set aside her crutches. Emily wasn’t even sure she was a girl at first. She had been shaved bald and it seemed as though every inch of her was covered in green-yellow bruises, partially healed lacerations, and crusty blood. There was something familiar about her. It was her eyes. With the new morning light shining into them, they shone like brilliant sapphires.

  “Jillybean?” Emily asked, her voice both horrified and amazed.

  “Who? Jillybean?” the cripple asked. “Is that me?”

  The black-haired young woman rolled her eyes and sighed, wearily. “Yes. You’re still Jillybean and I’m Colleen. Why did you bring us here for God’s sake? You said you were taking us somewhere safe and this ain’t safe.”

  Jillybean nodded, remembering. “There’s only safety in victory.”

  “But I’m so tired,” the little girl said in a sleepy whisper.

  “Me too, Leah.” Jillybean took a huge breath and tried to force her eyes open wider. “Emily, it’s you. What are you doing here? Where’s Gunner? Did he make it? And where’s…” She stopped as she realized who the bloody heap in front of Emily was. “Oh, Grey look at you,” she said, dropping to her aching knees. Her shins and knees had been bad forty hours before when she had escaped from Hoquiam Now, after the unending trek across the state, she could barely walk.

  Gunner laid a hand on her knee. “Get her out of here.”

  “I don’t want you to worry about her. I’m here. I’m back.” She crushed the heel of her hands into her bleary eyes for a second, trying to force herself awake. “He is right. We need to pull back. This assault has failed. Emily, I’m going to need some men to help move your father. Hurry and find me at least four.” As Emily dashed away at top speed, Jillybean looked around at the few people who had stayed. She saw Debbie Meredith hovering uselessly over Wayne French. “Miss Meredith, let’s move Wayne back to where you kicked off the attack. Kerry, Colleen you two can help.”

  “Oh great,” Colleen muttered. “I’m so lucky.” Despite her whining, she helped to half-drag and half-carry Wayne French to the rear. Leah walked away with them, her pointy chin touching her chest and her eyes mostly closed.

  Jillybean did not wait for them to leave before she turned back to Gunner. Her old friend was losing blood at a scary rate. Grunting in pain, she pulled the pack from her shoulders and found the rudimentary first aid kit she had put together. Inside were scalpels, bandages, iodine, a suture kit, IV tubing, two bags of normal saline, and a small bundle of surgical tools.

  She immediately removed the improperly placed chest tube, put her lips to it and blew it out, and set it in a better position.

  As the fluids drained from the pleural space around his lungs, the effect on Gunner was immediate; he could almost take a full breath. “Take Emily and go,” he whispered. “Leave me. I’ll cover you.” When she shook her head, he grabbed her hands. His were large but weak and she could have pulled away easily. “Please. We both know I won’t make it this time. There’s still a chance for you to retreat.”

  Jillybean pushed his hands back onto his chest and pulled out the IV. “Retreat? I didn’t come all this way just to retreat. Hold still. Ah, there we go, IV started, now let’s see what’s under this bandage. Oh, boy. Your brachial’s been severed…again. I swear I’ve sown this up for you twice already.” It was indeed an ugly twisted root-like artery. Just like the rest of him, it refused to die.

  “Have to retreat, Bad ground,” Gunner hissed, his battered face squinched in pain. She had just laid aside the flesh so she could get at the bullet wound. The hiss became a groan as she dug forceps into the meat of his arm to clamp the ruptured vessel. “Too flat. Soldiers have lost fighting spirit. Have to make…run for it.” The last few words came out quieter and quieter and then he slipped into unconsciousness.

  The flatness of the land wasn’t a problem for Jillybean. With all the underbrush, she could maneuver deceptively if she wished. The problem with their position was that the peninsula was too long. She wouldn’t be able to fight in front and hold her flanks against an amphibious attack at the same time.

  Even Ipes saw the possibility, which meant it was glaringly obvious. Listen to him, Jillybean. He knows what he’s talking about.

  I’m with Ipes, Eve said as Jillybean fished out a needle and thread from her kit. We chose Captain Grey to lead our soldiers for a reason. He’s the expert in all this. You, Jillybean have gotten by on luck for too long.

  Wearing a black look to go with her black attire, Sadie suddenly dropped down next to Jillybean. Since when are you on Captain Grey’s side, Eve? You said he was, and I quote: ‘He’s as stupid as he is ugly.’ I’m with Jillybean.

  So, you’re saying you’re still a suck-up, Eve remarked. There’s nothing new about that. What is new is that Grey has finally come up with a sound idea. So, it’s a tie. Two against two. I say we ask Emily.

  The girl had just come rushing up with two men who kept so low to the ground they reminded Eve of monkeys. She bit back the obvious insult and instead tried to shape Jillybean’s bruised lips into a smile. “Hey Chica. I see you brought the help. Good. Good. So, Gunner wanted us to retreat and we think that’s just a peachy idea, right? You’re on board with that, right?”

  “Me? I guess so. If that’s the best plan. But what about the rocket launcher? The Captain has been shooting rockets at the wall and he’s on the verge of knocking it down.”

  “The what? The rocket…oh right, the rocket launcher. Don’t you worry about that. We have a plan for that, but retreat first, right? Okay, good. We’re all in agreement, so let’s get out of here. You guys grab a hold.”

  The two men started forward, but Emily jumped in front of them. “Hold on. What’s going on? You’re just going to leave his arm like that?”

  Eve strained to hold onto her smile. “I have it in the inferior triage position. Okay? I think I know what’s best when it comes to this stuff. Now, let’s get moving.”

  Emily stood her ground. “Triage position? You never taught me that. What’s it mean? It sounds German.”

  “German?” Her sapphire eyes grew confused and cloudy. “It’s not German, it’s…it’s French. It…it comes from the verb trier, meaning to separate, sort, sift or select. And it has nothing to do with this. Damn it, Eve! Stop messing around.” Jillybean was back and immediately dropped down to her knees, grimacing as she did. Her hands went back to work repairing the artery, moving faster than Emily had ever seen her stitch.

  “That was Eve, wasn’t it?” Emily asked. “I knew you weren’t you. You would never call me chica.”

  “I might in a different setting. Not in this one. Eve’s being a pain in the butt as usual. How’s your mom? Everything good with her? What about Neil? Did he make it back?”

  “Yeah, Neil’s back, and my mom is okay, I guess. What’s going on with you? Why was Eve so eager to retreat? What is she afraid of? The rocket launcher?”

  Before answering, Jillybean lifted herself up so she could see over the top of the grass. The sun was a hand’s breadth over the horizon and lit up her face perfectly, showing off the brilliant green and yellow bruising. It also showed a deep purple band around her neck. It looked to Emily as if she had been hung.

  Jillybean eyed the Corsairs being rushed into a defensive line around the launcher. Further back were their black ships fighting a head wind as they came up to the docks. Beyond them the sky had grown from a shimmering pink to a deeper red.

  “Sailors take warning,” she whispered and then smiled. Without looking away from the sunrise, she answered, “As always, Eve’s afraid of doing the right thing.” A sigh drained the smile from her face and she looked back down
at Gunner. “Hand me a bandage. Good. Let’s hope that holds.” She gave Gunner another quick once over before she looked up at the two men. “Good morning Herald, Will. Could you use his jacket to pull him along? That artery of his can’t be yanked around.”

  Herald and Will didn’t look like they wanted to grab any part of him. At the same time they were Islanders and knew Jillybean’s unstable reputation. Besides that, they were eager to get as far away from the Corsairs as they could. They tugged the unconscious man along with Emily hurrying in their wake. Jillybean took much longer, crutching over the broken ground and the dead Islanders.

  Emily was sickened by the corpses. She knew each and every one of them. Colin Mills was a fisherman; he wrote cowboy poetry. Vida Lenore was the equivalent of a post-apocalyptic housewife. She had two kids and yet, she had fought like a she-bear for the last two days. Aaron Sindt was in the ninth grade and had perfect teeth, strangely thick mustache and a honking big nose. He had tried to ask Emily out once, but had botched it so badly she had felt compelled to turn him down—and now she wished she had said yes to him.

  There were so many dead.

  She was in a state of shock when she got back to their original line. And she was not the only one. The attack had been a failure on more than one level. Not only had they failed to destroy the rocket launcher, the attack had drained the will to fight out of them. Retreat seemed to be their only option and yet, Emily knew that retreat meant defeat.

  “We have to make another try for the rocket launcher,” she said when the talk of running away came up.

  “What?” Debbie Meredith cried. “Are you insane? Forget the launcher, we have to get out of here before they attack. That is our only option.”

  Almost everyone agreed with her, most angrily so, as if their defeat was Emily’s fault. They glared at her and a few cursed her under their breath.

  “And where would you go?” Jillybean asked, her voice just as clear as the morning light streaming in through the trees. Despite her bald head, she hadn’t been noticed by most of them. Now they stared at her in astonishment.