GENERATION Z THE COMPLETE BOX SET: NOVELS 1-3

by Peter Meredith

  “Thirty? I was thinking more like two hundred. Yes, two hundred would reduce this little island to shambles. You see, I don’t trade my bombs, I blow ‘em up. It’s much more satisfying than being a mere shopkeeper or merchant or whatever it is you are. Buy high! Sell low! Money, money, money. Gimme a dollah, my baby needs her medicine. Pathetic.”

  She spat the last word contemptuously before her eyes narrowed. “That’s right,” she said, snapping her fingers. “Jillybean called you an opportunist. That’s even worse. You’re like a vulture, getting fat on roadkill.”

  He needed another breath before he was calm enough to say. “I dabble here and there, that’s true, but what I really do is gamble. Are you a gambler, Eve, or just a talker?”

  This was a challenge and her eyes sparkled. “I like games and I love risk. What do propose?”

  “Texas Holdem’,” he answered, without hesitation. It was one of a thousand variations of poker with the major difference being that there was no limit to the bet size. He explained the rules as one of his men ran off for a new deck of cards. “We’ll each start off with a thousand in chips. Whoever runs out first loses. I’ll put up my 23’ boat, the Windy Rose against whatever bombs you brought with you, agreed?”

  He held out his big hand and she was quick to snatch it up. “The Windy Rose? Agreed!” A crowd of Santas saw the handshake and many of them tried to hide their smiles. Gloom was an excellent card player. He could read people like a book and had such a wealth of experience that he had seen every combination of cards, chip stacks and players that was possible.

  Quicker than Stu could believe, chips were handed out and cards dealt. This was not part of any plan as far as he knew, but he was forced to watch in shock as Eve proved to be a player in stark and embarrassing contrast to Gloom. She was a gambler through and through. To her the game consisted solely of luck and dash. She splashed her chips around without a care in the world and for a while her luck was good and she gained a sizable lead.

  Gloom was not the least perturbed as she cackled and scraped the chips towards herself. Despite his losses, he had not misplayed a single hand and given the same circumstances would have played them in exactly the same manner. Knowing that skill would eventually win out, he kept playing his way and, although things see-sawed back and forth, he eventually gained the upper hand. Holding aces, he theatrically hemmed and hawed for half a minute before he shoved all in with the best possible set of cards.

  Without hesitation, she went to reach for her chips. Stu had to step in. “Eve! What the hell are you doing?” He had played the game many times before and his appreciation for Gloom’s skill was well grounded. He had clearly baited Eve and she was snatching up the poisoned hook.

  “Unless you put up a stake, stay out of it, boy!” Gloom growled. The crowd of Santas around them had grown so that it filled the room and part of the hall. Now, they hissed in anger at the clear violation of game etiquette. All of which should have told Eve to put on the brakes. Instead she matched the bet and lost. Gloom was all smiles as Eve cursed like a sailor.

  Stu was just beginning to put together a plan that would allow them to give out their precious bombs without getting ambushed and snatched up as slaves, when Eve suddenly cried out: “Double or nothing!”

  Chapter 39

  Stu was rendered speechless as Eve went on, “I’ll put up my boat for the Windy What-not and the bombs.”

  “Done!” The two shook hands while half the Santas cheered and the other half crowded the windows to see what prize Gloom was going to win next.

  “Before you start, can I talk to her for just a moment?” Stu asked and then didn’t listen to the answer as he hauled Eve away. She fought him until he hissed into her ear, “He’s cheating.” They went to a side room where she ordered two people out as if she were their queen.

  They left, laughing at her. She wanted to charge after them, but Stu pulled her around. “No! Forget them. Gloom’s cheating. He’s been running pot odds, but we can turn it around on him using reverse pot odds. It’s sorta complicated, but you’re smarter than he is so pay attention.”

  He went on to describe made-up ratios, statistics and fractions until her eyes glazed over. He knew there was a way to play “perfect” poker by constantly calculating and recalculating every decision in connection with the myriad of possibilities available, but he had never played that way, and nor could he describe it that way. Still, he knew enough to weaken Eve’s hold and to draw Jillybean out.

  “We’re doing what?” Jillybean asked, in shock. “I’ve never played poker before. And we can’t back out? Maybe you should play for me.”

  With Gloom on a streak, there was zero chance of that happening. “We’ll try that, but if he doesn’t go for it then let me go over the basics. I trust you.” He ran down the essentials and never once had to repeat himself or give more than a cursory explanation. Next, he explained the way Gloom had been playing, which was called tight-aggressive, meaning he didn’t throw money at poor hands, but when he had good cards he played them like they were monsters.

  “You should play that style as well until you feel comfortable, then loosen up,” he advised. She asked a few more questions before Gloom sent someone for them.

  Gloom was shocked by the complete change in the woman’s tactics and for a few hands he laid off, fearing that he was being conned in some fashion. It wasn’t as if Jillybean had become an expert at the game in ten minutes, but she proved too smart for trap after trap.

  She proved amazingly adept at sniffing out his bluffs, while he could do the same for her. For an hour they went back and forth, neither giving or taking much. Then she ran up against three straight hands of just terrible luck: three kings losing to three aces, a run of two cards giving Gloom an against-all-odds straight when they were both certain he would lose, and lastly a miracle two of diamonds to give him three-of-a-kind on the last card.

  Stu had been watching with eagle eyes and there had been no cheating involved. From then on, Jillybean grew more and more flustered until Eve was on the verge of coming out again. It wouldn’t have mattered. With her confidence blown, the game ended quickly.

  Gloom sat back, a smarmy grin on his face, his hands behind his head. “And that’s why they call it gambling.” He stood and shoved his knuckles into his back, pushing out his huge, velvet-covered belly. “Now let’s see that boat.”

  Jillybean was still treading water, barely keeping her head above the dark waters of her mind. “We’ll need a ride north first.” Gloom snorted and she begged, “Please. It’s important.”

  “Not to me it isn’t. What? Did you think I would forget all those snide-ass comments? Beg somewhere else, girl.”

  They were utterly screwed. It was nearly thirty miles back to San Francisco. It would take them at least two days to get back and even if the Corsairs hadn’t attacked by then, the time away might very well undermine everything Jillybean had built up. And that was if they were allowed to walk away.

  Matthew Gloom was not Tony Tibbs and Eve couldn’t read him. Chances are they would all die in a fiery blast.

  “It’s my turn to play,” Stu said, quieting the room. “All or nothing. We become your slaves if we lose. There are four of us, young and strong, and she,” he indicated, Jillybean, “can make those bombs and a lot of other stuff. It’s why she became queen.”

  “Four people?” Gloom asked, then corrected himself. “Four slaves, I mean, against two gorgeous, fantastic boats and who knows how many of these bombs? Hmmm.”

  Stu nodded. “I understand. You think you’re going to lose, too.”

  This caused a roar of laughter, forcing Gloom to accept the game. Stu should have been completely overmatched. He had seen the terrific pressure Gloom put on Jillybean as well as the subtle traps he had used against Eve. He knew his limited experience was nothing compared to Gloom’s.

  But he had his own advantages. For starters, the very fact that he had seen the pressure and the traps was something. Wh
en he sat down he was prepared, while Gloom looked across at an utter blank of a man. Stu was naturally so quiet and still that Gloom could not get any sort of read on him.

  Stu stared out with dark eyes and whether he won a hand or lost one, he did not flinch or blink. Raises, calls and folds were made with that same economy of movement and lack of emotion. Bluffs were made with that same unblinking stare. Because of his stone-cold look, Stu could bluff while Gloom could not. Stu had no extraordinary ability to ferret out Gloom’s tells, but Jillybean was right there and whenever Gloom attempted a bluff she would lean her knee against Stu’s.

  The game ground on for an hour and as it went on, Gloom grew more and more furious as Stu dodged every trap. Finally, Gloom himself was trapped. With a scream of rage, he kicked over the table a second after Stu had laid his cards down. The spurious charge of cheating was on Gloom’s lips but became mangled by his furious cursing which only grew worse as both Stu and Jillybean said nothing and sat motionless.

  “You are a dead man!” Gloom roared, his face going purple, the veins thick as fingers, bulging out from his skin.

  Stu was unmoved. He sat, casually staring upwards, as whispers of confusion and shock went round the room. The Santas had never seen Gloom beaten so easily and it hadn’t been just the man either, the woman had outplayed him as well and only bad luck had sunk her. There could only be one explanation: “They cheated!” someone yelled.

  The Santas, all eleven hundred and twenty of them, were gamblers and most of them would cheat their asses off if they could get away with it. Still, to be publicly castigated as a cheater was bad news and not to deny it was even worse. Stu said nothing, while Jillybean only arched a single eyebrow over a quickly flickering blue eye as her right hand went slowly and obviously to one of her detonators.

  The whispering grew until it was like harsh static all around them and few people heard Gloom say, “You wouldn’t dare.” Just to the side of the overturned card table was the bag of bombs.

  Eve was almost all the way back and she wanted to blow them up right then and there—all she could envision was the joy of being in the heart of the blast warm and finally free forever. “Don’t tempt me,” Jillybean said. “A part of me really wants to do it.”

  Gloom didn’t know if she was lying or not. She no longer seemed as guarded as she had been during the second half of their game and he thought he could read the hunger for death in those crazy eyes. He hesitated. Was this another bluff? It had to be, and yet… “Shut up!” he bellowed, stretching out his long arms. He couldn’t think straight with all the noise plus the immensity of his anger. He was missing something in all of this.

  Why had the girl come? For her boats? With just a bag of bombs to bargain with? It didn’t make sense and neither did she. The only thing that truly did was: “You’re crazy,” he said.

  “Yes.” The word needed no adjective, no embellishment. “Now show me the Windy Rose. Show me MY boat!” She stood and there was no need for any particular ability to read people to see the insanity. Her maniac’s grin and the fever in her eyes caused those crowding near to back up a step. Stu, looking poised, but feeling nervous as hell, grabbed the bag and followed her as she pushed out through a set of French windows onto a huge, sun-warped deck that had once been a source of pride and vanity to its long-dead owner.

  It creaked and swayed under the weight of the crowd as it followed them out into the early night. The boats were mere shadows and even if he wanted to point out the Windy Rose, Gloom couldn’t.

  “Well?” Jillybean demanded.

  “Well what? If you want the damned boat, go get it yourself.” Gloom was in a bad way. He had never been in such a state of confused anger in his life. The embarrassing loss was bad enough, but on top of it was the constant ridicule she had heaped on him all night. With every second he was losing face; he wanted her far away and at the same time, he wanted to break her in two. He could break her if he wanted to. She was so small and if she didn’t have the bombs…

  Were they even real?

  “I want you to show me the Windy Rose,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “It’s a damned piece of crap,” Gloom lied. The Corsair who had owned it before had made up for its lack of size by making sure it was the nicest boat in their fleet. “And you can sink in her for all I care.”

  Jillybean turned to Stu. “What do you think? Should we blow her up?”

  As always, Stu was slow to answer and, before he could, Gloom, looking mad himself, demanded, “What did you just say?”

  Stu finally said, “I think so,” in his slow drawl. As much as he hated the idea, it was part of the plan.

  The crowd, on pins and needles to find out what was going to happen next, hissed in low whispers as those in front passed along info to those behind. Jillybean put up her hood where the radio headset was sewn in and asked, “What’s the number, Jenn?”

  Gloom was almost as caught up as the crowd and he started looking from Stu to Jillybean, going back and forth until he heard a tiny voice say, “Number four. You’re good to go.”

  “Number four,” Jillybean said and took up the detonator with the bold 4 written on it in white ink. “We don’t want to get the wrong detonator,” she told Gloom with a wink and a jutted chin toward the bag Stu carried.

  “You’re bluffing,” he said.

  With the sweetest smile, she held up the detonator and pushed the send button. Immediately the night exploded into light and fire, and a shockingly loud blast that shook the windows and rolled around the bay like a single immense thunder clap. Everyone on the deck gasped and surged backwards. Screams broke out and people were trampled as some fled inside, while others stared in fascinated horror.

  When Gloom recovered from his shock, he could only wag his head and ask, “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Because I can!” Jillybean yelled, her fist curled around another detonator. She was about to go on in a crow’s screech when Stu laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. He squeezed, gently, reminding her of who she was. Only she knew his intimate touch. It helped, a little.

  With yellow blobs still in her vision and the specter of darkness lurking inside of her, Jillybean recovered enough to repeat, “Because I can,” in a softer voice. “These boats are mine. I defeated the Corsairs, not you. I am Queen and you are nothing.”

  Gloom balled his fists and although they were huge and scarred, she laughed in his face, daring him to punch her, but he couldn’t while she held the detonator. “What are you waiting for?” she asked around a wicked, smarmy grin. If he had been thinking straight, he would have seen the grin was also a bluff. It was imitation, only. “Go on. Hit me and see what happens.”

  Slowly, he dropped his fists while at the same time his lips screwed up in savage hate. Everyone was watching and they saw that he was powerless against her.

  “Good boy, good doggy,” Jillybean said in a strangled voice—Eve was so close it felt like she was crawling up her throat like a thick, dry snake. She swallowed, loudly. “These are my boats and half are rigged to explode and when they go boom, they’ll take the other half with them. Do you understand?”

  “Not really.”

  “And that’s why you were chosen. Go ahead, Stu.” Gloom was still blinking, feeling slow and stupid, when Stu slung the bag around his shoulders. The two hustled him down the stairs of the deck while his people watched without lifting a finger. “You’re kidnapping me?”

  She snorted at this. “If your people would actually pay a nickel for you, I would consider it, but look at them.” Stu pulled him around so he could see three hundred people, his people, watching from the safety of the house. Watching, but not lifting a finger.

  “You see? You’re impotent now, nothing but my little bitch. I will be back for the rest of my boats. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. Your job is to have them in the water and ready to go. Is that understood?”

  Hate boiled in him and he had visions of burning the boats righ
t there in the middle of the bay or, better yet, sailing them against this little bitch of a queen. “I’ll get them ready. Don’t worry about that.”

  The last word had just left his mouth when a black boat suddenly appeared, whispering right up to the dock. The bag was pulled roughly from his shoulders and before he knew it the Queen and her stone-faced man were gone, the boat gliding away like a giant black swan.

  “Any pursuit?” Mike asked.

  Jenn was watching through the starlight scope. “Not a thing.”

  “Still, to be sure,” he said, letting out the main completely. “Stu, you wanna get the jib?”

  “One sec.” He looked Jillybean in the eye. “Is that you in there?” She nodded and then hugged him, holding him for so long that Mike grumbled something and went to let out the jib himself.

  They were still locked in an embrace when Mike went back to the wheel. “So, did it work? Does he hate our guts?”

  Jillybean looked over Stu’s broad shoulder. “Enough to kill.”

  “So, the right amount?” Mike joked. Jenn’s look went from tired to tired and glum. “It was a joke. Look, it’s going to be fine. You saw their boats. They’ll never be able to catch us. I bet even Stu can out-sail them.” He laughed at his own joke and was the only one who did.

  Jenn was sure she wouldn’t be able to find anything funny until Mike was safe. They would all have dangerous parts to play in the battle, but his was the most like suicide.

  A moan and a splash in front of the Saber quieted them. In seconds they were amidst a school of zombies and were rocked and buffeted despite the size of the boat. They were tense, ready to hack or shoot, knowing that it wouldn’t take many of them to swamp the boat.

  Then they were clear and slipping north with a gentle five knot wind almost directly on their port beam. Jillybean yawned, which was followed by one from Stu. “We should rest as much as possible,” she said.