GENERATION Z THE COMPLETE BOX SET: NOVELS 1-3

by Peter Meredith

  Some were close—the buoy announcing the presence of Cone Rock was just off their starboard side, while the Pelican Harbor bell clanked off to their left.

  If the Corsairs were there, they’d know in seconds. The tension mounted swiftly and Mike kept a sweaty hand on the wheel, while Stu took up the boom rope, ready to bring it around in a flash if they saw the harbor crowded with boats. It was empty to the point of desolation. Not even the docks remained. Only jutting, blackened spears were left.

  Jillybean stared, unable to take her eyes from them. Stu nodded to Mike. They came around smoothly, heading southeast now, aiming for Alcatraz. Two miles swept under them and as it did, the tension grew. Jillybean was still staring back as they came up on the “Rock.”

  Its one dock was empty save for the Puffer and three smaller sailboats.

  “No sign of them,” Mike said, the relief obvious in his young man’s voice. “So, what now?” As he waited for Jillybean to answer, he turned the Saber up into the wind. To him, the Saber was like a falcon, most deadly when it could fly down on its prey.

  It took Jillybean a moment to come back from the dark memories haunting her. “To the bridge,” she decided. They could see its looming outline from a full two miles away; a long way for Jillybean’s needs, and things grew worse as they came up to the southern tower.

  “How far across is it?” she asked. “Anyone know?”

  “About a mile,” Mike answered. “Maybe a little less. There’s a tourist stand on this side of the bridge. I don’t think there’s any pamphlets left but there’s this big picture with all these facts on it. There’s a map of the bay that’s pretty good, too.”

  She immediately wanted to see it. Wishing he hadn’t said anything, Mike sent them on a course for Torpedo Wharf, a crumbling length of concrete a few hundred yards from the bridge. “Fenders out!” Mike hissed, not wanting to so much as scratch his boat. He had no idea how he was going to give her up when the time came.

  Once they docked, there was little danger to the boat and Mike was able to part with it temporarily. Holding hands with Jenn made the separation easier as the four of them headed for the bridge. They heard a host of unhappy zombies moaning at the crescent of moon hanging over the city, but none were along their path and very quickly they were staring up at a large faded picture of the Golden Gate.

  Using a small beamed flashlight which Stu covered with his coat, Jillybean read the dimensions with a sigh. “Forty-five hundred feet across. Damn. This is going to be impossible.” No one asked what exactly would be impossible. Too much seemed impossible just then.

  She stared at the map for nearly half an hour, muttering to herself in strange configurations of words. “Three hundred feet deep. That won’t work. What about anchoring from above? That’ll save me…seven hundred and fifty feet and the need for actual anchors. But think of the weight!”

  Without warning, she walked in a small circle, staring at her feet and arguing with herself. Finally, she stopped and asked Mike, “Are the Islanders fighters? Please tell me they are because if they’re anything like the Hill People, we can’t win.”

  “A few can fight. Half maybe. So, do you think we should run?”

  Now that she had seen Alcatraz close up, she knew that even running away was a pipe dream. “Do you really think they would pick up everything and abandon their home based on my word?”

  Mike’s mouth dropped open. “Oh jeeze, wow, I never thought about that. No, I guess not.”

  She didn’t need to ask Stu the same question about the Hill People, he was already shaking his head. Jillybean bit her lip for a moment before asking, “Okay, do you think they’ll defend their homes based on my word?”

  Stu answered this with a definite: “Maybe. It depends on what you ask. If it’s outlandish, then no, they probably won’t. Also, don’t expect them to crown you Queen. That’ll never happen in a million years.”

  For a flash, Jillybean’s eyes went black as the night and there was a snarl on her lips. She turned away, once more walking in a wide circle around them, whispering to herself. When she returned, she was holding her face in rigid neutrality as if it was a strain to hold Eve at bay.

  “And what about the Santas?” she asked. “Will they listen to reason? Could someone explain to them that once the Corsairs take us out they’ll be next?”

  Mike and Stu scoffed and shook their heads in so much disbelief. The idea was completely laughable, except to Jenn, who spoke up in timid embarrassment at going against their accumulated wisdom as well as her own common sense.

  “I had a vision before we left the warehouse. It seemed to me that there was a mingling of good and bad.” At this, both Mike and Stu glanced over at Jillybean, who was the epitome of both good and evil. “That’s what I thought, too,” Jenn said, reading the glances correctly. “But we already have her with us so why need a sign? I really didn’t know what it meant until now. Maybe, we’re supposed to get the Santas to help.”

  “How?” Stu asked. “They’re almost as evil and bad as the Corsairs. They’re like natural allies.”

  Just the thought of trying to team up with the Santas was upsetting to Mike. “Even if they did say they were on our side, they’d stab us in the back at the first chance or they’d turn tail and run. For as long as I can remember, they have always been double crossers.”

  Jillybean turned towards the dark map. She was just barely able to see the outlines of the bay. The Santas were far away to the south; nearly forty miles. “Tell me, Mike, are they mariners? Do they have boats in great numbers?”

  “Psh,” Mike said. “Hardly. They have a few sailboats but they only bring two this far north. The Air Dancer, a twenty-footer, and the Smugglers Bride, a twenty two-footer. You ain’t never seen more scratches on a boat than on those two. Oh, and don’t get me started on the weeds they drag around. Gerry the Greek doesn’t think they’ve ever had those two out of the water.”

  She took another long look at the map, saying, “Interesting.”

  “It’s not interesting, it’s lazy.” He was visibly disgusted at the idea of not taking care of something so precious. “They aren’t mariners or sailors. They are wannabes. That’s what Gerry says. But it works out for us. We’ve been safe all these years because they couldn’t do much with just two boats.”

  Jillybean couldn’t seem to take her eyes from the map. “So much at play. So much at stake,” she murmured. When she finally looked away from the map, she came right up to Mike so that they were almost nose to nose. “If given the chance, would they ever attack the island?”

  Mike made the psh noise again. “In a heartbeat.”

  “Then we don’t have a moment to lose!” Without another word, she walked straight away for the wharf, saying over her shoulder, “To Alcatraz, please. We have much to do.”

  “It’s one in the morning,” Mike remarked, yawning, his eyes dripping. “No one’s going to be awake.”

  A sudden flare of anger crossed Jillybean’s face. “Well, they need to be up. We’re going to need the Puffer and whatever other boats they have. I’m going to need twenty or thirty buoys, a mile of cable or chain. Another mile or two of rope and access to a lumber yard. Also, more barley and potassium chlorate. And we’re going to need the Fortress here as quickly as…” She had been talking faster than she could breathe.

  Stu put his hand on her shoulder. “Slow down. You’re starting to get wiggy and you don’t want Eve coming out now.” If the Corsairs were actually coming they couldn’t afford for Eve to show up. At best she would ruin any chance they had at cooperation with anyone, at worst Gerry would have them arrested—unless Eve brought one of her bombs. Gerry could be so pig-headed at times that Stu wouldn’t be surprised if he let himself get blown up instead of giving in to her.

  “Jillybean and I will deal with Gerry,” Stu said. “Mike and Jenn will go back for the Floating Fortress. Take turns napping on the way. Mike, promise me you will sleep. You know you can trust her on the bay when the w
ind’s like this.”

  Mike was sure he loved Jenn, but maybe not enough to trust her with sailing at night. Even then she was gazing up at the stars, checking to see if this was the best course of action. What if she had her mind on the signs when they tried to cross the remains of the Richmond Bridge?

  “I promise I’ll rest,” Mike swore, playing a semantic game.

  “See that he does,” Stu ordered.

  For her part, Jillybean wasn’t listening. The stress of imagining a battle in which the only outcome she could picture was death for half of them and enslavement for the rest was making her twitchy.

  Stu was more worried about her than whether Mike got his beauty sleep. “Let’s get you dressed. I want you to wear the long coat and boots that you wore the other day.”

  She thought it dreadfully petty on her part that this cut through the black haze that had been creeping along the edges of her mind. “You liked that outfit?” she asked, throwing out a baited hook, fishing for a compliment.

  “You know I did. I stared so much and so often I almost let a zombie eat us, remember?”

  As she dressed, she grinned. Don’t get loosey-goosey on us, Sadie warned. Eve is counting on it. One mistake and she’ll be out. So, lock it up until this is over. Bainbridge is counting on you.

  “Did you say something?” Stu asked from the main cabin.

  Jillybean bit her lip. “Nothing important,” she lied. She had nearly spilled the deepest secret she still held. It was one that would damn everything she had worked for. Forcing a smile into place, she breezed out of the cabin she sometimes shared with Jenn, just as the Saber skipped over a wave as she did when she was picking up a good wake on her keel. Jillybean stumbled right into Stu’s arms, hoping he would forget what, if anything, he might have heard.

  “I got you,” he said, forgetting his own middle name somewhere in her embrace. She had added more than a dab of perfume to her neck and he was startled into throwing all decorum out the window. She was so close and smelled so wonderful that he couldn’t help breath her in, his nose and lips running along her neck, her jaw until she blushed from her cheeks to the top of her breast bone.

  “Alcatraz, ho,” Mike called out, in a soft voice, causing Stu to come close to cursing the boy’s terrible sense of timing.

  Jillybean took a steadying breath and then headed up. Stu needed another minute to compose himself and, by the time he got on deck, the island was only a hundred yards off.

  “Let them know we’re here,” Jillybean ordered, all trace of the vamp gone. With her black cloak flaring behind her and her hair flicking and waving as though it were made of flame, she was a queen once more and Stu suddenly felt small again.

  Mike turned into the wind, purposely letting the sails snap and flare in imitation of the Queen’s mane. He took the Saber slowly right down the length of the island, parading her fine lines before the quickly waking Islanders. As they watched in envy, he spun up again in short, zigzagging tacks, flared his sails wide and then came racing at the dock, making the guard in the tower squeal in fright.

  None of them knew how he was able to do it, but he spun the Saber almost on her bow, working the boom like a fencer’s sword and going in a complete circle before letting her drift side-on toward an empty spot on the dock.

  Under precise commands from Mike, Stu was in charge of the main, while Jenn worked the jib, and neither could have replicated the precise movements that had caused the boat to dance as though it commanded the current, the winds and the ebbing tide.

  They weren’t the only ones impressed. There had been the thunder of boots along the dock but as the boat came drifting perfectly in, some twenty men and women stood speechless and in awe, the guns in their hands almost forgotten. The only person who did not even seem to notice the display was the Queen.

  She stood at the rail and stepped off just as Mike slipped a fender between the Saber and the dock. The fact that he was kneeling made the moment seem even more regal appearing and there were several half-whispered “Ooohs,” from the onlookers.

  “Who are you?” Gerry the Greek asked. He was equal parts nervous and impressed and it sounded in his voice. The assumption of everyone there was that they were Corsairs. It was a Corsair boat and had been expertly handled. This, coupled with her black attire and her haughty demeanor, made it a safe guess.

  “I am Jillian Martin, Queen of Sacramento and of the Floating Fortress, and soon to be Queen of this bay and everyone in it.”

  Thankfully the dark hid Stu’s clenched teeth and Jenn’s look of surprise at the proclamation. Mike was confused. Hadn’t they just agreed that she would not try to make herself Queen of the Islanders?

  Jillybean didn’t think she had much of a choice except to play up her status as Queen. Without it, what did she have going for her? An undeniably accurate charge of insanity and a slightly less accurate charge of murder.

  “She’s a Corsair!” Gerry exclaimed to a great hissing whisper from the gathered Islanders.

  Jillybean waited for the noise to subside before she stated, “No, I’m not a Corsair. I’m here to save you from them. The Corsairs are on their way. We have only a day or two.”

  Chapter 35

  “How do you know that?” Gerry asked. “Huh? As far as anyone knows, the Corsairs are far away bothering other people.”

  “I know they are heading here right this second because, I know how the Corsairs think. I know they are not going to let it be known that a handful of weaklings like the Hill People defeated them. They have gathered their full strength and they are coming for revenge.”

  The Islanders broke out in frightened whispers. “Settle down, settle down,” Gerry ordered. “She’s just guessing. She doesn’t know anything for certain. She’s probably just trying to scare us into bowing and scraping to her and giving up our freedom. Thanks for the offer to be our queen. It sounds great, but I think we’ll pass.”

  “You don’t have a choice in the matter,” she said, and her tone was frosty. “It’s up to the people to decide for themselves. As far as I can see, you are a less than ideal leader. What do all of you know about the Corsairs?”

  Although she had addressed the crowd, only one person ventured to answer. “They’s evil all the way.”

  “And will they allow a defeat to stop them from…”

  “Wait!” Gerry cried. “Did you call yourself Jillian or Jillybean?” A woman near him had a lantern. He snatched it from her hand and advanced on Jillybean and shone the light in her face. “William! William! Is this her?”

  William Trafney, the man Jillybean had saved from a certain death after getting shot through the lung, was back on the island. He nodded, saying, “That’s the girl who saved my life. She’s an expert doctor.”

  Gerry growled at the answer. “She’s also a murderer and she’s insane. And look, it’s Mike Gunter and Stu Currans, the people who stole the Calypso! We can’t trust them! They say she murdered a man in cold blood and then burnt down everything north of the bridge. She’s no queen.”

  There was a great deal of whispering and Gerry stood back, holding the light high enough to cast a shadow across her face.

  “She is a queen,” Stu roared out, shocking everyone. No one present had ever heard him raise his voice even once. “And she is not a murderer. One Shot came at her and she shot him. BUT she also operated on him to try to save him. Unfortunately, he died from complications.”

  He saw Gerry readying a rebuttal and he went on quickly, “She also saved me when some cannibals shot me in Portland. And she saved Aaron and William.”

  “Also, she saved all the people in Sacramento,” Mike said. “First she saved them from some Corsairs and then she healed like two hundred people.”

  “She did this all in a week?” Gerry scoffed. “People, we can’t believe him. Mike is no longer one of us. He is a thief!”

  Mike bristled. “We borrowed the boat to save William and Stu got shot in the process. It’s more than you did, Gerry. And
besides…” He shot a quick glance at Jillybean, who nodded once, knowing what he was going to say. “Besides, the Queen will let you have the Saber as a replacement.”

  He patted the boom as if he were giving up a child. Compared to the Saber the Calypso was little more than a rowboat. It was such an astounding offer that even Gerry looked taken aback.

  “There are stipulations,” Jillybean said.

  “Oh, here we go,” Gerry cried. “What? Do I have to bow down and kiss your feet? If so then you can go fu…”

  She interrupted him by flicking on her flashlight and aiming it directly at his face. The sharp light blinded him and he threw up a hand. “It would be wise of you not to finish that sentence.”

  “She has a flashlight!” someone said in a carrying whisper as if they alone could see the piercing light.

  “They say she can make electricity,” someone else blurted out, restating the same unexaggerated rumors that flew about her from one side of the bay to the other.

  Jenn had a flashlight of her own—given to her by Jillybean, of course—and she turned it into the faces of the Islanders crowding around them. “She also makes batteries and antibiotics that I’ve seen work with my own eyes. William knows, she cured him with some. And Mike wasn’t lying about the Corsairs. It was her plan that drove them from the hilltop and she used a bomb to make them surrender in Sacramento.”

  The word “bomb” floated around the dock until Gerry growled, “This has gone too far. What about her being crazy? What about that? Donna and everyone on the hilltop think she is crazy and dangerous. Can we really trust her?” This struck home. People had a natural fear of insanity.

  “A certain amount of instability goes hand in hand with genius,” Jillybean admitted, glad now that Gerry’s arm had grown tired and that her face was only a pale heart set against a black backdrop. If anyone turned a light on her, they would have seen her eyes flickering both badly and madly.

  The dark and the stress had stirred up Eve. She was growing inside Jillybean, who suddenly began to sense a growing anger. It was like a black steam that wafted up from her core. It only grew worse as her admission, which seemed to have amounted to a “confession” caused more whispers to ripple the night.