Generation Z (Book 6): The Queen Unchained

by Meredith, Peter

  “And I will frisk you as well,” Bishop Wojdan said.

  Leney gazed at him in amusement. “Sure, why not? You’re surrounded by a thousand guns, but let’s worry about me. Are you also going to frisk the Captain? Because I’m going to warn you he’s armed.”

  Wojdan looked embarrassed. “I suppose not, however, I should check for body armor.”

  Neither frisking uncovered anything and Jillybean walked up to the Black Captain. He bowed from the neck up, a whiff of cologne coming off him. “As always, your Highness, you are utterly unpredictable. Who could have foreseen this? You asking to resolve our differences with an old-fashioned wild west shootout. Especially after what happened to poor Stu. Shot down right in front of you. Scared you, did it?”

  “May I see the guns? I’d like to choose one if you don’t mind.”

  The coat he wore was long and black, very similar to hers. He drew it back from behind with his left hand and then, quick as lightning, he snatched an ivory-handled .44 caliber Colt out with his right. For a moment it was pointed right at her heart, its barrel shining like white fire. He turned it up and emptied the chamber before he offered it to her butt first.

  “And the holster. I want to check both. You’re right handed?”

  “I can shoot equally well with either hand,” he answered as he undid the buckle of the holster and handed it over.

  She strapped it on and slid the Colt snugly back in place. It was a big gun and when she gave it a draw, she fumbled it. “It’s a little different from what I’m used to.” She tried the same move he did, pulling her coat back. When she snatched the gun out, she aimed it right at his grinning face and dry fired until the cylinder had gone all the way around.

  “And that’s about as close as you’re going to get to actually killing me,” he told her. She switched the gun to her left hand and fired again into his face. He only shook his head. “Do you really think you have a chance? You’re playing a game here. I know it, because I know you. Supposedly, you’ve thought this all out. So, what is it? Do you have a spy in the crowd who’s going to do your shooting for you?”

  “No,” she answered and handed him the empty gun. “My plan is to shoot you myself. Right now I want you worrying, and wondering, and trying to guess what I’m up to, which is exactly what you’re doing. And now you’re wondering what I’ve done to your gun.”

  He had just opened the cylinder to inspect it. She laughed at him and held out her hand. “The other one please.”

  “You don’t need to see the other one. This one is fine.”

  “You’re already afraid. You’re thinking I have duds stashed up my sleeves. Or I’m going to put a metal pea down your barrel. Or I have a drone high overhead ready to…”

  He almost looked. Everyone in the crowd looked up, but he didn’t. He stared right into her eyes. “You didn’t say ‘Simon Says’.”

  “A drone at a thousand feet is a speck. Lucky for you I don’t have one. Let’s see the other gun.” Slowly, watching her the entire time, he dropped the shells from the pistol and handed it over. “And the holster,” she said.

  “Why are you prolonging this? Is the cavalry coming to save the day? Is that what you think is going to happen?” She only grinned a Cheshire Cat grin as she buckled the holster in place with the pistol tucked under one arm. She then tried a fast draw, once more snapping the Colt in his face. He pretended to yawn. “You’re getting boring. Or are you afraid? Perhaps we should postpone this for a few weeks.”

  She switched hands. “No. I’m just about warmed up. You see, I don’t think you’re as fast as you think.” She snapped off a few more rounds at him before tucking the gun up under her chin as she went to unbuckle the holster. “Stu surprised you didn’t he? I saw that look on your face when he got off that shot. If his aim had been just inches…”

  He snatched the Colt from under her chin. “I’m starting to think I’m not dealing with the real Jillybean, and guess what? I don’t care. I’ll kill whoever you are.”

  “And I don’t think you’re ambidextrous. I think you are a tiny bit slower with your left hand and that’s all the edge I’m going to need.” She put out her hand for the right-handed holster. He handed it over but hesitated giving her the pistol—he still believed she had secretly monkeyed with the guns somehow. It was the way she had acted. The obvious distractions, the way she made sure to lock his gaze so he couldn’t see what her hands were up to.

  “You should be scared,” she told him, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “The trap is already in place. The toxin-laced needle is n the holster. The contact poison is on the grip of your gun. Will it just paralyze the hand or will it go right to your central nervous system and freeze you in place? That’s what you’re asking yourself. What did she do? Is there really a drone so high that no one can see? Is there a shooter in the house down the street? There has to be, because she would never challenge me one on one.”

  He looked down at the twin Colts and she wasn’t wrong. He knew she had done something, or was about to do something. For the first time in his adult life he was afraid to strap a gun on.

  “Is this really the man you fear,” she asked the Corsairs. “He’s afraid to fight a girl.” She shot him a quick look. “Now I’m goading you to fight. Does that mean I really want you to or do I want you to chicken out? What were you saying about postponing this for a week?”

  He couldn’t postpone now. He would look weak. He couldn’t afford weakness, but at the same time, he knew she had done something. He knew it as a complete and utter fact. Her smile told him so.

  “Did you know I was expecting us to end up right here?” she asked. She looked up and down the block, in truth seeing it for the first time. “Well, to be honest this was the third place on my list. During one of my escapes I mapped out the streets and I figured we would be right here.”

  “You’re lying.” It felt like a lie.

  “Then why haven’t you given me a gun? Everyone’s waiting. Pick one and give me the other. Come on, let’s do this.” She strapped on the holster and once more put out a hand—and it was steady as a rock. She even turned it over for him to see that there wasn’t a quiver in it. “If you won’t give it to me, give it to my man. You trust a bishop, don’t you?”

  When they first came up, the Captain had got a chuckle out of seeing the portly priest in his gold robes, fear sweat in his thin hair, his wormy lips set in a grimace of fright. Now he saw the man in an entirely new light—anything could be under those robes. And was he even a bishop?

  “Leney will load the guns,” he said, thrusting them at his second. “Your man can watch.” The Colts were on the hood of the car, shining beautifully. The Captain poured the rounds into Leney’s hand and then buckled on his holster. All the while Jillybean stared into his face. She was daring him to lock eyes with her—so he would miss something. What? His eyes shifted to where Leney was sliding the fat bullets, one at a time into each cylinder.

  Once he was done, he spun each cylinder then snapped them closed. Jillybean gave him a wink and cold sweat broke out down the Captain’s back. Leney had been the first man to turn against him and the first man to turn against her—had that been a fake? Was he still loyal to her? He claimed to have captured Gunner and saved the Captain’s life, but was that true?

  “Let me see that gun,” the Captain said in something of a whisper. He took it gingerly and looked it over. There was nothing wrong with it. So why is she smiling? Why’s she so confident? What is she up to? She always has a plan. This was a mistake.

  “Are we going to do the usual twenty paces?” Leney asked, making him jump. It was obvious.

  The look of murder in the Captain’s eyes was also obvious. What if I just shoot her? Who would care if I broke a rule? I break rules all the time. Deep down he knew he couldn’t shoot her out of hand. She was nothing but a girl and if he murdered her there would be talk…and there already was talk. And there was also the chorine gas. Was that real? Could she do
it? Yes. There was no denying it.

  “Here, I’ll take that,” Leney said, gently taking the gun from the Captain’s hand.

  “Make it ten paces,” Jillybean said, with that damned “I have a secret” smile still on her lips.

  Once more she was putting his courage to the test. At ten paces even a blind man would hit a target more often than not. A ripple of unease ran through the crowd. Their leader, once cold as ice, once the baddest man on the planet, was afraid of a girl. His deep dark skin had always been as dry as velvet, but now there was a sheen. His eyes had always held mocking mirth, but now they shifted back forth. His hand had always been steady as a rock, but now he fumbled with his buckle. Gone was the whiff of cologne and in its place was the sick smell of fear.

  “It’s about time,” Jillybean said, she put her arms out at shoulder height and began wiggling her fingers. “Here’s your chance to kill me like a real man. Face to face. No tricks.”

  It was exactly what he had said to Stu Currans right before their duel. The Captain raised his arms as well and stared across at Jillybean as Leney sunk the .44 into his holster. The weight of it should have been reassuring, except it felt too heavy. It felt as if…

  Jillybean interrupted his thoughts. “What am I going to do with you afterwards, Leney?”

  He had been about to holster her Colt and now he looked alarmed and cast a quick peek at the Captain. “All you’ll be doing afterwards is decorating the pole I shove up your ass. You’re going to be the star of a one-woman parade.” Ignoring Bishop Wojdan completely, he showed her the full cylinder, snicked it shut and rammed the gun down, making her tilt heavily.

  “If it’s any consolation,” she said to the Captain, “I won’t do that to you. Your body will be burned with all the rest.”

  The Captain noted that she hadn’t said: If I win. He didn’t say anything, he only slowly began to lower his hands and bring them in.

  She mirrored him. “Would you like to hear what my trick is?” Though he remained silent, he was desperate to find out. She let the seconds drag out before saying, “I’ve been playing you. This is all a head game. There are no needles or snipers or drones. I just wanted you to feel fear before you died. I wanted you to feel what he felt.”

  “Too bad it didn’t work,” he replied, faking confidence, faking his usual devil-may-care smile, pretending that his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it’s thrum in his sweat-slicked hands. He didn’t believe her. Yes, she had been playing head games but only to distract him. There was something else in her…

  His eyes went wide as he saw in the lower half of his vision her right hand drop to the butt of the Colt at her hip. The move was so casual, so slow. Like a snake with a wounded bird, she had been trying to beguile him with her astonishing blue eyes. And it had worked! He was a fraction of a second behind her as she pulled the big .44.

  She had gotten the drop on him, but he was deadly fast. He had practiced this move thousands of times and had killed nearly a hundred men in duels just like this. His body took over. His reflexes were like lightning. His hand was a blur as he went for his gun.

  Jillybean did not hurry. She knew that hurrying would cause mistakes and despite all of her precautions and her trickery, she couldn’t make even the slightest mistake. Her hand went to the butt of the Colt, it closed on the grip and she yanked it out in one smooth motion. She fired too fast, however and her first shot whined off the pavement in front of the Captain’s feet. She fired again, the bullet passing next to his left hand as he clawed at his holster.

  At first, he thought that he had been the one to go “too fast” if there was such a thing. His hand had gone to the grip but as he went to draw the Colt, it hadn’t come out as it should have. It was stuck! She or Leney or the stupid fat priest had done something, not to the gun, but to the holster!

  “No!”

  Her third shot punched a hole straight through him just below the left side of his ribcage. He stumbled back while she marched forward, pulling the trigger over and over. The screaming lead pounded into him hot as the sun. The last three shots all hit center mass. But he did not die, not yet.

  He lay on the pavement, staring up at her as tiny ghosts slipped from the bore of the Colt—his Colt. “You…cheat…” he whispered.

  “I certainly did.” She had pulled off a feat of sleight of hand in front of five hundred people with the knowledge that if she’d been caught they would flay her alive. Earlier on the boat, she had slit the pocket of her long black coat and had tied a thumb-sized cellophane baggie on the inside of the leather with a single thread. Inside the baggie were black-dye, water and Cyanoacrylate—the powder form of super glue.

  All she had to do was drop it into the holster and keep him talking while it set around the barrel of the Colt.

  But she couldn’t have him talking now. “Finish him, Eve,” Jillybean whispered. Hideous laughter erupted and her world began to swim in darkness, but she didn’t let her mind go completely dark. Jillybean wanted to be there when the Captain died. She deserved that much. She stood back and watched as Eve raised the heel of her black leather boot and brought it down on the Captain’s face, breaking his jaw in two places. She could have made his death quick by going straight for his throat, but this was Eve. She was going to make it last.

  Epilogue

  The Courageous, Grays Harbor

  “Neil will always have a place among us,” Knights Commander Troy Holt said. In spite of the pain, he stood as straight as his shining spear. His back was a deep purple where Gunner’s bullet had crashed into his armor, but honor wouldn’t allow him to complain. “He may not look like a Guardian…” He caught himself too late. “Sorry, your Highness. He may not look like a knight, but he has the heart of one. No one can doubt that.”

  Troy had been a Guardian for half his life and knew it was going to take some time to get used to the new name: he and his brothers in arms were now Knights of the Queen and Cross. It had a nice ring to it.

  “Ha!” Neil cackled. “My heart is black, rotted and worm infested. Speaking of which, when’s my next shot?” He really did have heartworms and was getting “dog shots” every three days. Three had become something of a big number for him and he could never remember which day he was on.

  Jillybean had been looking out over the harbor at nothing in particular. The smoke from the funeral pyres, which had filled the sky for days, were now only a grey haze above Hoquiam. When the knights had swept in to take control of the city, they had discovered so many, many dead bodies. Most were little more than moldering bones with scraps of flesh curling about them. There had also been a terrible number of fresher, maggot-ridden corpses. Too many slaves had been quietly strangled by their masters during the first days after the Corsairs had surrendered. Strangled so they could keep their master’s evil secrets.

  It could have been worse, she told herself. Hundreds had died but thousands had been saved.

  “Tomorrow,” she told Neil. “Don’t worry, I have your shots packed. Your flea powder, as well.” He cackled happily at the joke. He liked any joke that he understood, funny or not.

  “I don’t see why he can’t come back to Bainbridge with us,” Emily said, once again. It was her constant refrain. She wanted everyone to come back to Bainbridge to be one massive family, and she couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to.

  Many of the freed slaves did indeed want to. They liked the idea of running water, electricity and the safety of the high walls. But there were some who did not like the inherent weakness of its government. They knew that Deanna would not be governor forever and the council system had proven to be weak.

  Their other choice was to go south to Alcatraz. Although it was thought to be a somewhat bleak hunk of rock, its young Queen was said to be able to see the future. She also had hundreds of dashing knights pledged to serve her, and she possessed the only fleet on the Pacific coast. For the slaves either choice was something of a dream come true compared to the nightmare t
hey’d been living in.

  “I will come back,” Neil told her. “I promise. Once we have my cure and I get back to being deadly handsome, I will zip back across the country on a rocket.”

  “And you’ll bring back Aunt Jillybean?” Emily raised a soft golden eyebrow, striking a pose that made her look like a slightly smaller version of her mother.

  For Jillybean, neither Bainbridge nor Alcatraz was a true option for a home. In the north, she had always been considered dangerously insane. She was something of a human pit-bull. She had been chained by loneliness, and ignored until the citizens decided that it was okay to unleash her on their enemies. To the people of the south, Jillybean was just plain dangerous. She had driven the Hill People from their homes with fire simply to show them how weak they were, she had crushed the Santas under her heel without effort, she had destroyed the Guardians’ wall with god-like insolence, and she had turned the Corsairs into her personal storm troopers to make herself queen.

  Yes, people were glad that she had saved them from the Black Captain, but they were even more glad when it was rumored that she and Neil were leaving to find a cure for his “minor skin problem” as he referred to the zombie virus coursing through his veins.

  “She’ll come back,” Neil told Emily. “Trust me. She’ll come back if only to see how big her zombies have gotten. You will remember to feed them every day?”

  Emily groaned.

  “What this?” Deanna demanded, jumping up from the soft bench she had been sharing with her husband. “Who’s going to be feeding what zombies? You’re not talking about those…those monsters in Jillybean’s school, are you?”

  “It’s for science,” Emily stated with a little smile for her mom. The smile turned to a glare when she looked back at Neil. “And it was supposed to have been a secret. But it’s okay, mom. It’s perfectly safe. And Aunt Jillybean says it’s good for me to be around zombies. It’ll make me less afraid in the future, you know because I’ll be used to them.”