GENERATION Z THE COMPLETE BOX SET: NOVELS 1-3

by Peter Meredith

  She was so loud that crows on the near bank lurched into the air, cawing bitterly. Although it was Jillybean yelling, she was the one who looked as though she’d been slapped. “I’m sorry about that. I really didn’t mean it. It was Eve…”

  Jenn barely heard. She was counting crows—one by one, six had flown off. Everyone knew it meant death was coming. “But they weren’t in a line. At least they weren’t in a line.” Six crows in a line was the worst of all. Her heartbeat was just starting to slow, when they caught up to the crows again, sitting on a fence that ran along the edge of the waterway. They were wing to wing, all in a line.

  She was still staring, her mouth hanging open when there came a thump from the front of the boat. Jenn smelled the sour rot in the air before she saw the putrefied corpse. It was the first of many, many corpses.

  Chapter 19

  Not counting the zombies that splashed in fits towards them, Mike counted a hundred and thirty decomposing bodies as they progressed up the canal.

  They had all been human when they died or so he judged by their smaller size. This didn’t make them any less horrible. The water had bloated them and the river rats had gorged on them, gnawing away their faces. Even the birds feasted. Above them turkey vultures wheeled in great circles, while on the water, gulls screeched and fought each other over tidbits or sat full and contented on the corpses.

  Many of the bodies had been in the stagnant water for weeks and a reeking miasma surrounded them. It was all Mike could do to steer the Saber around them. When he couldn’t avoid them, the bodies would frequently split open, erupting in a gush of decayed innards that let off revolting vapors that shimmered in the late afternoon light.

  This hit everyone hard, but the worst affected by far, was Jillybean. The slowly fading jaundice combined with her nausea turned her face a particular shade of mint green. She began muttering curses under her breath every time they struck another body. There was no getting past it, Jillybean was, minute by minute, disappearing.

  “We’re going to need her back,” Mike said, in a low whisper, when the sun was sitting on the far horizon. “Without her there’s no point of even going on.”

  Mike had been too loud for Eve’s quick ears. Wearing a sly smile, she turned to the teen. “I’ll let her out when the time comes. Don’t worry, she’ll make everything right with those morons. If there are any of them left alive.” She sneered at one of the corpses. “That one deserves what he got if you ask me. Drinking crap-water, what an idiot.”

  “That sure is a pretty sunset,” Stu remarked, leaning back against the rail, his long legs stuck out in front of him. He looked and spoke as if the last minute hadn’t occurred. “I like this mountain view.”

  Suspicion erased Eve’s sly smile. “Yeah, it’s great, what’s your point? Are you going to try to sweet talk Jillybean out of me? Do you think her love will percolate right to the surface? Sorry, cowboy, she doesn’t love you.”

  “What does she feel about me?” Stu honestly didn’t know. For the last eleven days since they had returned to the bay area, when they hadn’t been busy fighting for their lives, the two had rarely been alone and when they had been, they tiptoed all around the question.

  Eve was just about to make a snide comment; she even drew in a long breath to ensure she could get it all out because it was going to be a cut you down to size doozy that would leave Stu utterly emasculated. Then she thought better of it. Name-calling was fun, but she knew a better way to cause pain. She let the question sneak past all the seething rage and go deep. In moments, Jillybean emerged, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. The question had echoed on and on, waking her from the darkest depths.

  She dropped her eyes. “That’s not something I wish to discuss.” She said this, fully expecting Stu not to respond. He was, after all the quietest person she had ever met.

  His expression hardened, and he did not reply, however, Jenn did. “Why not? You obviously like him. We all see it. It’s not a secret. And, he likes you right back. Wouldn’t it be best to clear the air?”

  “Perhaps you would like to start,” Jillybean replied, nodding her head toward Mike. Having the tables turned on her so quickly stunned Jenn into silence. Calmly and with extreme self-assurance, Jillybean then turned to Mike. “What about you?” As she had guessed, the one person who always seemed utterly fearless in any situation was too afraid to answer.

  Jillybean said, in a low voice, “That’s what I thought. I’m going below for a few minutes. I think I want to be alone.”

  She had only taken one step down into the hold when Stu spoke. “I notice you didn’t ask me.” Her foot stopped in midair; her head was down and she wouldn’t look up as he went on, “I do like you. You’re smart, beautiful and giving. You care about people and you care about doing the right thing. And if you’re worried about your past, don’t. I don’t care about your past.”

  “It’s not the past you have to worry about,” she whispered, without looking at him. She went down into the hold and did not come up until they reached the bend in the channel where the people of Sacramento had built their stronghold in a warehouse.

  At some point, Jenn brought her a chunk of salmon she had caught before they had reached the canal. Jillybean didn’t remember eating it, but as she walked onto the deck she saw the empty plate and figured that Eve or Sadie had eaten it. One of them must have snuck out of her mind as she had meditated.

  It was full dark when they came to the warehouse. No one said a word; they just stood stiff as boards, looking at Jillybean intently, trying to see who it was running her body. For the moment, she was in charge, but she was worried it wouldn’t last. The twitches were back, her right eyelid doing a dance, up and down.

  “I don’t think we’ll need those,” she said. The other three were wrapped in their ghillie suits. “Keep the guns. Jenn, how’s the head?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Then carry my med bag, please. I’ll carry the gun. I advise that no one touch anything. If you…”

  Jenn hadn’t reached for the med bag. She was shaking her head. “Sorry, but I think I should have the gun. No offense. It-It just seems to make sense.”

  “Hey, can we wear those surgery masks now?” Mike asked when Jillybean’s teeth snapped together. “You know, because of the smell?” The stench of rotting corpses had multiplied to an unholy degree.

  Petulant, Eve roared out in hate at not being able to get a gun, and Jillybean was shaky as she replied, “Um, yes, of course. They might also lend an air of authority.” The masks could do only so much to help against the smell which had them breathing in short, tainted gasps.

  Before they slid up to the cement pier, Mike rigged out a mooring buoy using their anchor and a life vest. Since they weren’t about to swim the thirty feet to the pier, he ran a circle of rope through a loop in the buoy and after they were safe on the pier, he simply pulled the boat away as if it were on a conveyor belt. They could retrieve the boat in the same manner at any time.

  “Remember, let me do the talking,” Jillybean said. They all agreed in whispers just in case there were zombies nearby attracted by the smell. It seemed likely, as the city was flooded with the dead, who sent up a persistent wail that came to the four of them in waves, rising and falling.

  Jillybean, small, slim, and dressed head to toe in black, was a shadow and made little more noise than one as she led them down the pier to the backlot of the warehouse. Her nerves hummed like live wires and her senses were amped; she picked up the horrific intensity of the smell and paused where the pier met the land. Looking into the water, her mind blurred.

  “Utter morons,” she seethed, before she could regain herself. She turned away as the others went to the rail and looked over. There were more wretched, deteriorating bodies here. At least fifty of them, piled in a huge, vile pyramid that rose up out of the water nearly to their toes.

  Jenn turned away, gagging, regretting her dinner which felt like it was expanding inside of her, looking
to burst up out of her throat. She walked away, quickly gulping in air with Mike hurrying alongside, grateful for an excuse to be away. Stu held his ground, but did so with his teeth gritted.

  Jillybean didn’t linger, she wanted to be away from the smell as much as anyone and went to stand near Jenn until the girl got hold of herself. When she said, “I’m alright,” in a breathy, unconvincing whisper, Jillybean gave her a quick nod and turned in the direction of the back entrance, though she did not go to it directly.

  She took a slight detour, heading to a towering metal pole topped by a rack of six huge lights that looked like all-seeing mechanical eyes. Jillybean looked up the pole’s length, then tapped it lightly with a knuckle. Satisfied by the hollow sound her fist had produced, she dug in her bag and took out a half-gone roll of duct tape; she handed it to Stu along with one of her pipe bombs.

  The others looked at each other in shock. Mike found his voice first. “Why? Why do you have a bomb?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, a harsh voice erupted from Jillybean’s throat, snarling, “Shut the hell up! Who the hell do you think you…”

  Too late, Jillybean snapped her mouth shut and turned away, trying to get herself back in place. When she could, she apologized and explained, “It’s a precaution. From what you described of these people they could be getting desperate and dangerous. I’m putting the bomb here so no one gets hurt. It’ll be a warning if we need it.”

  A youthful, guilty look swept Mike. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t…it’s just maybe you should have told us.”

  “You would’ve argued with me, which would not have helped in any way. Clearly, my mental state can only be considered fragile and none of us want it to tip in the wrong direction.” She paused, looking for their nods and receiving them. “Good. Now, when I said let me do all the talking, I suppose I should have stressed the word all. If I need your help, I’ll let you know.” Her tone had been brittle and cold. She was definitely walking the razor’s edge.

  They followed after Jillybean to the rolling door they had used to gain access weeks before. There were piles of trash and crates stacked in front of it. Not far from it was another door; it was locked. Jillybean tried knocking on the door with her small fist; it made only a muffled thudding, so she used the butt of her hunting knife.

  Whispered voices could be heard beyond the door, although what was said she didn’t know.

  “They’re in there,” Jillybean remarked seemingly to herself. “Now hush and let me deal with this. You stick to medicine and bonatony or whatever.”

  “It’s botany.”

  “Same difference. I want to stretch my legs. Let me do the walking and you do the talking. What do you…”

  She cut herself off, growling through gritted teeth, with both her fists balled, the knuckles sharp and white like little mountain ranges. “Stop it, please! Both of you. All of you!” She turned to glare at Jenn, Mike and Stu, who hadn’t said a word and were now shocked into an even deeper silence than they had been.

  Jillybean recovered enough to begin an apology only to be interrupted by the sly scrape of a key in the lock.

  “Who is it?” a soft, spiritless male voice asked.

  “My name is Jillybean Martin. I’m a doctor. I heard that you were in need of one and have come to offer my services.” She had managed to corral the crazy inside of her and she certainly sounded the part of a doctor. She didn’t much look like one, however. The mask was a smart touch, but it was bookended by a flying mass of hair on one end and scruffy, black high-tops on the other.

  The door opened an inch and a pale, watery eye affixed them. “You really a doctor? You got pills?”

  “You need more than pills, and yes, I am a doctor. Please, let me speak to whoever’s in charge.”

  He hesitated, looking as though he wanted to tell her something, a whispered confession or a bawdy secret. In her state, Jillybean couldn’t tell and the moment passed. “You’ll need to put up them guns,” the man told her.

  “We’ll sling them,” Stu said. Although they had never been asked this before from the fractured group, it wasn’t an unreasonable request and the three slung their rifles over their shoulders. Only then did the man pull the door open the rest of the way, staggering them as the stench—sour feces mixing with the ripe odor of decomposing human flesh—reached a crescendo.

  “Follow me.” He left them, mingling with the dark after only a few uncertain steps.

  They did not follow right away. They couldn’t. Jenn lost her supper against the side of the warehouse, while Mike doubled-over, his hands on his knees, fighting not to lose his. Stu was staring up at the stars, blinking rapidly. Only Jillybean, who was no longer actually Jillybean stood her ground.

  Eve had taken her place. The assaulting odor had had a familiar note to it, one reminiscent of hell and Eve knew all about hell. She had been building her own personal hell for years, and this was nothing compared to it. She wanted to laugh at them and taunt them cruelly, only they were all so affected they wouldn’t have felt the full sting of her barbs.

  Soon, Eve thought to herself. Without the hated pills keeping her down, she would be spending more and more time on top and she would order the world the way she saw fit. She would order it as queen, and as disgusting as these people were, she needed subjects to rule. “Come on,” she barked, clapping her hands together twice like a football coach. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” Mike cried. “Are you kidding me? This…this is worse than I thought. We’re probably getting sick just breathing this stuff in.”

  Eve expected to have to fight him to get him in, but help came from the most unlikely corner. “Don’t worry, it’ll be okay,” Jenn told him, in a shaky voice. She had yet to affix her mask and they could see the sweat on her brow. She was so pale her pink nose stood out even in the gloom. “We’re supposed to be here. The signs all point to it.”

  A snort of surprise escaped Eve as this simple “logic” worked. She filed it away under “people will believe any old crap,” for later use.

  The odd, sick little man who had opened the door was nowhere to be seen as they entered the gloomy, cavernous building which was alive with whispers. The whispers in the dark, especially as they came from all over: in front, behind, above, were unnerving to three of the four. Eve felt right at home.

  Mike pressed Jenn to his side and although he had been told to sling his rifle, it was only barely so and with a quick move he could have it out and pointed in a flash.

  “You know you have a flashlight,” Stu reminded Eve.

  Eve pulled it out eagerly, not because she was afraid of the dark, a laughable idea, but because she figured the display of technology would overawe the “savages” as she saw them. When the light pushed back the darkness, she wasn’t far off in her assessment.

  Dozens of vile sub-humans had clambered down from their hive-like domiciles and were now congregating around the four. With the light, their fear dissipated and was replaced by empathy. They were wraiths, their skin stretched tight over weak, thin bones. For the most part they possessed blank eyes, absent of the desire for life. They seemed only to be waiting on the inevitable.

  Stu spotted Willis Firam, the man who’d been in charge the last time they had come through. Three weeks in these conditions had turned him shaky and frail. “Willis? Hey? We’re here to help. This is the girl doctor, the one in the rumors.”

  Willis appraised them with unsteady concentration, his head tilting back and forth as he squinted.

  “Don’t talk to him,” a man coming out of the shadows ordered. “He’s no one.” Willis bowed his head and pulled back into the crowd, apparently unable to withstand the man’s gruff, husky tenor.

  Eve splashed the light into the man’s face, blinding him. She caught a glimpse of dark, bulging eyes, a beak of a nose, and a white scar on one cheek before he threw an arm across his face. “Turn that damned thing off.” She held him frozen by the light for a moment longer only because she
could, and then slowly lowered the light, inspecting his person.

  He was thick set with wide-splayed legs. At his hip was an empty holster and in his hand was a revolver; a .38 with wood grips and six-inch barrel.

  “I said turn it off. Wait. You got a battery? And you waste it? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  She didn’t turn it off. Eve was not about to be ordered around by the likes of this scum. One pistol against three rifles? He was mad to speak to her that way. “I guess you don’t know who you’re talking to so I’ll let your tone pass for now. And if I need another battery, I can always make one.”

  He shielded his eyes with his hand and gazed over it, his eyes scrunched down over his beak of a nose as he tried to make out her face. He didn’t know her and didn’t know why he should. She was cute; he liked that. And she could make batteries, and he liked that even more. He missed the ease of batteries and electricity.

  “Come on. The boss is definitely going to want to see you guys.” He whistled a signal, and received one in return, causing the four to hesitate.

  “Who’s this boss?” Stu asked. “I didn’t think you guys had a single leader.”

  The man snorted in derision. “Whatever leaders they had, crapped themselves to death like all the rest.” It was a cold answer and once more the four exchanged looks.

  They followed warily as the man led them deeper into the warehouse, while all around them came more whispers. These quieted as they came to a building within the building. Before the apocalypse it had been where the white-collar workers had kept the endless flow of papers going. After, it was where the survivors stored their food and ammo. Now it was the home of The Boss.

  The man with the big nose and the sly air stopped in front of the door. His name was Brian Troutman. He was thirty-nine and had been in the Arizona penal system when the zombies had first come. “You’re going to have to drop the guns. Leave ‘em right up against the wall.” He hadn’t holstered his pistol, though it wasn’t exactly aimed at them.