GENERATION Z THE COMPLETE BOX SET: NOVELS 1-3

by Peter Meredith

  “Tell your boss to come out here,” Eve said, blinding him with the flashlight. “Tell him I’ve followed his rat into his hole as far as I’m going to.”

  “Wow,” he answered, more amazed than insulted. “I will definitely tell him that. Don’t you worry about that, but first drop the guns.” Now his pistol was aimed, the deep black bore pointed directly into Eve’s stomach. She was about to laugh at the man, only there was something in the way he held himself—He’s not afraid, because you’re surrounded.

  The voice came out of the dark of her mind. It had been the smug, overly confident, know-it-all voice of Jillybean. “Surrounded by what? Rabble?” Eve sneered, turning from the pistol and shining her light behind them. Just as she had figured, the sick and the dying had dragged themselves out of their death shrouds to see the new-comers. The ragged crowd stood thirty feet back, swaying, barely able to hold themselves up.

  “You think I’m supposed to be afraid of this pathetic bunch of…” Her mouth stopped working as she saw the first shotgun pointed their way. Slowly she revolved her flashlight. There were six men with guns; one at each corner of the building and four interspersed among the sick, using them as human shields.

  Eve would have gunned them all down, if that had been a viable option, but the four were surrounded and caught out in the open. She was crazy but not stupid.

  “As I was saying,” Brian said from behind as he pressed his revolver into the back of her head. “Drop the guns.”

  Stu and the others did, but Eve held up Jillybean’s dainty hands and turned. If Brian had expected her to be afraid he would be disappointed. Eve didn’t know fear. “Why would I need a gun to deal with the likes of you?”

  Brian wasn’t disappointed. He was impressed and eager, knowing he would get his turn with her, knowing he would have a chance to break her, to either snap her spirit or wear it away until it was nothing but a feeble shadow. It was his idea of fun.

  “You’re not afraid? Perhaps you don’t know who you’re dealing with. We’re Corsairs and you’ve made a big mistake coming here. But don’t feel too bad. It’ll be your last mistake.”

  Chapter 20

  The news that these were Corsairs had no effect on Eve whatsoever. She had known they were bad men from the very start and whether they called themselves Corsairs or clowns made no difference to her. They were men and that alone made them potentially dangerous.

  Eve always had the same reaction to anything dangerous, and that was to grind it under her heel.

  While the others couldn’t hide their fear, though they each tried with varying degrees of success, Eve still gazed on Brian Troutman with a contemptuous sneer. “You’re Corsairs? Really? That’s impressive, what’s more impressive is that you’ve managed to take over a giant, overflowing outhouse all by yourselves. I bet back when you were living in the backseat of a Chrysler with your crack-whore of a mother you never thought you could have all of this.”

  She beamed the light around at the two hundred or so wasted creatures who did not look all that different in appearance from the early zombies. They were purposely dull-eyed, carefully on guard against hope, which couldn’t be risked.

  Brian snatched the light out of her hands. “Frisk them,” he ordered the others before doing a search of Eve, focusing his hands entirely on her breasts and between her legs. She lost her mind at this, turning savage and attacking him with a raking hand that opened his cheek in three parallel grooves.

  This only excited him more. He easily swung her arm behind her back and pinned her against the wall. She snarled curses as he ran his hand over her curves without bothering with the pretense of looking for weapons. As much as he liked the cursing, she was being loud, and he gave her arm a quick jerk upward almost to the point of dislocating it. Almost.

  This shut her up and had Stu and Mike on the verge of attacking him despite the guns pointed their way. “Where’s your smart mouth now?” Brian goaded.

  “I think she might be clean,” a man said in a deep rumbling bass, from the door. Brian didn’t dare shine the light on him and the man was only an immense shadow filling the doorway. “Bring them in. Courteously, Brian. Don’t spoil my prize with those dirty hands of yours.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Brian let go of Eve in an instant. A foolish move considering Eve, on her best day, was barely civilized. She was primal. The original Eve. Her conscious was filled with only the very base emotions: hate, anger, self-love and, since it stirred such passion within her, revenge.

  The second she was released, she turned with shocking quickness and shot her knee into Brian’s groin with such savage strength that he collapsed in a ball, his breath drawing ever inwards and his face so bright red that the scar stood out like a white knife.

  Although the man clearly deserved it, both Mike and Stu cringed, while around them, the Corsairs, far from displaying an ounce of anger, burst into gales of laughter that echoed throughout the warehouse. Perhaps stirred up by their acknowledgment, Eve lifted her foot to stomp him in the face.

  “Enough,” the man in the doorway said. Abruptly, Eve stopped and followed the dark man inside. The others were forced to step over Brian who made no move to get up, but lay there breathing in hoarse gasps.

  They followed the man to an office which was strangely arrayed. One side was completely taken up by cardboard boxes, which narrowed the room into a rectangle. At one end of the rectangle was a heavy wooden chair such as might be found at the head of a dinner table set for a petty noble. It was ornately carved and padded in red velvet cushions all of which were lined in little brass studs.

  To the right of the chair, two women sat at either ends of an enormous and strangely puffed-up white couch. It was almost as if they were sitting on an anchored balloon. On either end of this monstrosity were spindly tables hoisting candles. Between the two women was several feet of shadow, a sort of no man’s land.

  The closest of the women had autumn-leaf yellow hair that glinted gold, flickering in tune with the candles. She was a small-breasted woman who tried to hide the fact by thrusting her chest out like a young cadet. Her steel collar told them she was a slave, the fact that it was a thin, demure ring, entwined with gold told them she was a favored slave.

  The girl on the far side of the expansive couch was bubbly and nervous. She gave way to controlled laughter at the slightest provocation. It was a small laughter as if she had no innate sense of humor and was worried that she would miss a joke when one was eventually told. She wore the miniest of miniskirts and the tightest of t-shirts. Her collar was so thin it would have been mistaken for a necklace had they been in a different time and a different place.

  All of this dimmed into the background as the big man took his seat on the red velvet chair, sitting in it as if he were a king. Two aggressively arrogant eyes dominated his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning forward as if he might suddenly rush on a person and club them with his huge hands. He had beautiful dark skin and a perfectly round, bald head that gleamed in the candlelight.

  The four filed in with Stu coming to stand next to Eve, who said, “My, but you are a scary one. Like the antichrist. Is that how you think of yourself? All powerful? Well, you’re nothing but a piece of…”

  “Normally, I like it when my prisoners talk,” he said cutting her off smoothly, without raising his voice. “They usually slip up and give me more useful information than they might under torture. But you? I get the feeling all you’re going to do is give me a headache.”

  The bubbly woman let out her small laughter and was rewarded when a few of the Corsairs behind the group also chuckled.

  “So, here’s how it’s going to go,” the leader went on, “I’m going to ask you questions and you will answer them, and if you lie…well, let’s just say you don’t want to do that. I can be a real nice guy, but for some reason, man! Lying just gets to me. And no, it’s not lost on me that I’m a bloodthirsty Corsair. We’re actually far more honest than one would think.”

>   “Whew, that is a relief,” Eve snorted. “For a second there, I was worried we’d gotten mixed up with dishonest murderers. Please, tell me your rapists will cuddle with me afterwards. I love a good post-rape cuddle.” Only the bubbly woman laughed at the sarcasm and then only for a few moments.

  The man steepled his fingers beneath his chin, pretending not to have heard her. “Let’s start with the lot of you taking off those masks so I can see your pretty faces.” He really only cared what the two women looked like. Pleased at what he saw, he nodded, genially. “Now, give us your names.”

  Eve paused with her head cocked slightly as if listening, however she was actually waiting. Eventually, she said, “I hate to be that kinda girl, but that wasn’t a question. Questions end in what’s called a question mark.” She drew one in the air. Now, the bubbly woman’s laugh was so small she couldn’t have blown out a birthday candle with it.

  When Eve didn’t get the reaction she’d been hoping for, she flicked her hand as if shooing away a fly. “Okay, like, whatever. My name is like, Eve and I’m like, a total Gemini. I dig black dudes but not if they’re, like, all into sports all the time. Like I care what some dude does with a ball?”

  Bubbles, as Eve had silently nicknamed the woman, was now too amazed to laugh. She was nodding her head as if Eve had just preached the Gospel.

  “Wow, you are a trip,” the man said.

  “Why thank you, big black dude,” Eve said and then hopped up, bottom first, onto the immense couch, momentarily displacing the two women on either side, who lifted slightly before settling down.

  Bubbles grinned at her. “His name is Tony Tibbs.” She pointed helpfully at the black man in case Eve was as cataclysmically slow as she.

  “Ignore her,” Tony said, and then twitched slightly as Bubbles even laughed at this. Taking his own advice, he turned to focus squarely on Eve and said, “Your name is Eve and you are the ‘girl doctor.’ Isn’t that what she told you?”

  Cast off and forgotten in the corner like an old shoe was the man who’d let them into the warehouse in the first place. He sat huddled in on himself, shaking from the disease running amok in his system. Stu glanced over and saw the fear in his hollow eyes.

  Desperately, he nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s what she said. I swear it.”

  “I didn’t lie,” Eve said. “I am the girl doctor. I’m very smart, you know about pills and gall bladders and all that. You know there are six different bladders in the human body?” It seemed like as fine a number as any and she just spat it out. “Check my bag. It’s filled with doctor stuff.”

  Tony didn’t care if there were a hundred bladders in the body. “And what makes you think we need a doctor? I’ve already taken care of the issue with everyone. It was the water. It didn’t take a ‘doctor’ to figure that out.”

  “If you’ve figured it out,” Mike said, doing his best to control his voice, which sounded high-pitched and childish. “Why is everyone still sick?” He had been about to point at the cowering man, however his shaking hand had betrayed him. Mike was afraid right down to his core and his fear was making his innards shake and vibrate. They had been caught, hooked like fish right through the mouth and there’d be no wiggling off the hook.

  The Corsairs weren’t like normal people. They had a terrifying reputation. Cruel, sadistic torture would only be the beginning. It would last as long as the victim remained screaming. When a person was reduced to an incoherent gurgling mess, a revolting butchery would follow, one they would insist on displaying for the world to see.

  That was the general fate of the men. Women, if they were even somewhat pretty, would become slaves, collared, chained, weighted down to prevent escape. Rapes and beatings would be endless. Some women went raving mad, others turned catatonic, but many learned to fake pleasure to avoid the worst of the pain, telling themselves that “someday” they’d escape but slowly, day-by-day becoming what they despised.

  All that was for normal prisoners. What would the Corsairs do when they saw the great black boat moored outside? It wasn’t hard to imagine the worst and that was what had Mike so frightened. Death in battle, fighting the undead or the Corsairs, was one thing, a noble thing if nothing else. His coming death would be everything his mind could imagine and worse.

  Clearly, Jenn had the same fears, because she was sickly pale and shaking badly. Her lower lip trembled so terrifically that she was likely beyond the ability to form words. In front of them, Stu stood stiff, taut as a spring, ready to leap. It would be an ineffectual and useless leap done only for the sake of vanity and honor. Nothing could possibly come of it.

  Stu readied himself, while, with indecent casual ease, Tony slid out a long and wickedly sharp knife from a sheath strapped to his calf. It was a deboning knife and could open Stu’s belly with only a flick of his strong wrist.

  “The water solution is a work in progress,” Tony explained, dismissing Mike and his question. He didn’t care about the boy and his useless indignation. What he cared about were the two women. They were young and that made them valuable and he was in need of any currency he could get his hands on. The one hiding practically behind the boy, doing her best not to be noticed, was pretty, there was no denying that, but her mousy mannerisms contrasted poorly with Eve. If he was going to get top dollar for her, he would have to sell them in separate lots.

  Tony leaned far forward, staring hard at Eve. “You were going to tell me why I need a doctor?”

  “Actually, I wasn’t. If you can’t noodle out how you can use someone with my unique talents, then I don’t know what to tell you, except maybe go back to your cave and try not to burn yourself if one of you accidentally makes a fire. Remember: Fire pretty, fire also ouchie.”

  Bubbles hadn’t laughed in a few minutes and took the wrong time to indulge her habit. When she tittered, Tony punched her hard in the arm. Tears sprang to her eyes but she smiled through them and nearly laughed again purely out of reflex.

  “Is that a racial joke?” he asked Eve, leaning forward, his voice full of menace.

  Eve leaned forward, too. “Yeah, it is, but don’t take it personally. You and all your friends are sub-human. You’re like the human version of dung beetles, living in a house built all of crap. Or haven’t you noticed the smell?” She paused, took a loud sniff and then screwed up her face without being in the least theatrical; it wasn’t needed. “Now, I am what one would call supra-human.”

  Tony sat back, gazing at her, his lip curled. Her haughty sneer was starting to grate like sand in his teeth. “I doubt you’re even a doctor,” he remarked, half to himself.

  “I doubt you’re even a Corsair. There wasn’t a boat out there. I don’t mean to be a stickler for definitions, but without a boat you’re just a land-douche. Maybe you should try wearing an eyepatch and saying ‘shiver me timbers’ after you rip off a fart. It’ll add to your mystique.”

  Bubbles laughed again; a half-second hiccup that nearly gave her a heart attack. She pulled away from Tony, her lips drawn down.

  “No, that’s okay,” he said, softly, relaxed now. “That was a funny one. This girl is just chock full of laughs, but we’ll see who’s laughing here pretty soon and who’ll be begging for their lives.”

  Eve raised her hand. “Ooh, pick me! Pick me! I know the answer.”

  Tony chuckled, and glanced over the four. More than the usual spunk in each; after all they hadn’t begun to grovel yet, something that became tedious after the first few minutes. “Let’s have her bag. I want to see what sort of ‘doctor stuff’ this super-human has in there. Who wants to bet it’s just a bunch of re-used tampons?”

  Now, Bubbles was on sure footing and her titter grew to a full-throated laugh as the other Corsairs joined in. Even Eve laughed. “Used tampons, that’s a good one. You’d think that potty humor from someone who lives in a toilet wouldn’t be so vibrantly fresh.” She leaned forward, eagerly, looking at the bag. “Come on, open it. I’m dying to see what’s inside.”

  Sudden
ly, Tony wasn’t nearly so keen to open the bag. There was something frantic, and beyond wild in the girl’s wide blue eyes. There was a fire in them that sent a nervous thrill down his back and he was half-tempted to have one of the others take the bag out back to inspect it, but it was too late. They were all staring at him and he wasn’t going to look weak because of a girl.

  The backpack was heavy and he quickly found out why. Beneath a layer of surgical tools and bandages he found IV fluids, each a pound or so in weight. He almost stopped then, but Eve said, “Keep going. You’re almost there. The tampon is at the bottom.”

  It wasn’t a tampon. It was a pipe bomb, and when he looked up out of the bag, he saw her holding a small walkie-talkie, her thumb hovering over the send button. “Remember when you asked who’d be begging for their lives? I think now you know.”

  “What is it?” Brian Troutman asked, stepping forward. Even quicker, he stepped back again as Tony pulled the heavy bomb from the pack.

  “You should’ve giggled at that, Bubbles,” Eve said. “I think ol' Brian just about crapped himself and I’m no great judge of humor but that would have been funny.”

  Bubbles smiled uncertainly, but the ounce of wit God had given her told her that she should be afraid. “What is it?” To her it looked like nothing more than a fat pipe with some tape wrapped around it. Perhaps a leftover piece of plumbing.

  Eve glanced at the woman, taken aback by the question, her mind teetering between personalities. How could she ask that question? It was like not knowing what an elephant was, or a fork. Slowly Eve got herself under control. “It’s a bomb, sweetie. It’s strong enough to turn everyone in this room into jelly. And I will set it off if anyone moves.”

  Brian sneered down the length of his long nose. “How do we know it’s even real? Huh? Maybe she found one from the old days or maybe she just put together a fake one.”

  Tony had been thinking along the same lines. No one had seen or heard of a bomb in years. There wasn’t an army base in the country that hadn’t been searched and re-searched a hundred times over the years.