GENERATION Z THE COMPLETE BOX SET: NOVELS 1-3

by Peter Meredith

  He must have hit something because the boat turned away only to turn back again as a second Corsair boat whispered up on sails that were stiff as boards.

  “Everyone get down!” Jenn hissed. Some of the defenders had crept from their hiding spots and were watching the boats, perhaps hoping the two ships would begin to fight it out. It seemed this was going to happen, only then someone yelled out a series of nonsense-sounding words which were replied to by the other ship in a similar nonsense-sounding manner.

  Then both ships turned back to the island and the shooting picked up. Stu dropped one empty magazine and was halfway through his last one when a third ship came up. Everyone on the island held their breath, hoping in vain for a miracle. Then they heard the nonsense words going back and forth.

  And now they were faced with three ships packed with armed men and a seemingly endless supply of bullets.

  Their last chance at escape was gone.

  Chapter 11

  Jenn Lockhart

  As the third boat slowly drew up, fighting the light wind and a shifting tide, Miss Shay screeched in a crow’s voice: “We give up!”

  In fury, Jenn lifted up from behind the rock she’d been standing on and tried to locate the woman. The darkness was too great and she could see nothing but shadows and the occasional pale face. Jenn was tempted to crawl out from her cover, find Miss Shay and punch her in the throat. It was only a pipe dream, however.

  Jenn couldn’t even summon the courage to contradict her, mainly because Miss Shay wasn’t all that wrong. They had to give up. Jenn knew their ammo situation had been “grave” at the beginning of the battle that morning. It had progressed to “scant” and was now basically nonexistent.

  Stu was shooting the last of it in an effort to put off the inevitable. They were all doomed, but her fate would be worse than any. Wasn’t she “Queen” after all? And everyone knew that the Corsairs like to reserve their most heinous tortures for the leaders among their foes. And it wouldn’t be just Jenn, either. As a member of the Coven, Miss Shay could expect an equal share, as could Donna, and Gerry the Greek if he was even still alive.

  For maybe the hundredth time, in the last few hours, Jenn hissed, “This is Jillybean’s fault. She did this to me.”

  “She did it to all of us,” Manny Lopez sneered. Jenn hadn’t seen him cowering near her. He stank of fear, booze and harsh homemade cigarettes.

  Someone was crying nearby and someone else was cursing. Stu was taking careful, calculated shots. Each came at steady intervals and for every bullet he sent downrange, seven came back his way. It was a strange, sloth-like battle which, unbelievably, Stu seemed to be winning.

  Already Jenn heard at least three of the Corsairs cry out in pain. Still, it couldn’t last. Stu began counting down until finally they all heard the chunk of his bolt going back. He was out of ammunition.

  “Now what?” Manny demanded.

  There wasn’t much any of them could do, but wait for the Corsairs to stop shooting. Someone was being as deliberate as Stu had been, firing with dreadful steadiness. On and on it went until there came a shout and a curse from the Corsairs themselves. They were fighting each other after all! Already one boat was sagging toward shore, its deck covered with bodies.

  Stu raced over and crouched behind the rock. “We gotta make a try for that boat!” Manny started to spout gibberish that sounded like mangled excuses why he couldn’t. Stu slammed him against the rock. “Don’t even think about running away. I’ll tell them this was all your idea if you do. I’ll tell them you were king and you know what they’ll do to you. Jenn watch him and wait for my signal. I’ll shout or something and then charge. Got it?”

  Her lips were numb, and she mumbled something that sounded as though she agreed. There were people still alive and moving around on the boat. They would shoot when they saw the charge.

  Jenn had been in her share of battles, but the idea of running across fifty feet of open shore to plow into waist-deep water to wade another fifty feet all while unarmed and with people shooting at her was beyond normal bravery. It was suicide. Manny was shaking his head, his eyes huge, his forehead glistening with sweat.

  “We can’t,” he whispered. His alcohol-soddled brain made him a sloth and a layabout at the best of times, but it was clear that the horrible thought of taking on the Corsairs in such a manner, made him want to hare-off in the other direction despite Stu’s threats.*

  “It’s our only chance,” she retorted in an even lower whisper, as if she was talking to herself and not to him. It was a long-shot that was becoming longer with every passing second. Someone on one of the Corsair boats began to scream: “We surrender! We surrender!” The screams went on and on, as did the firing. With cold malignancy, the sailors on the third Corsair boat swept the decks clear of the living.

  A rough order was given and then the boat came on in a whirlwind of sails and flashing guns. It rode down on the floundering ship, killing everyone on board, before it spun around it and made straight for the edge of the island at a speed that Stu was sure would send it right up onto the seawall. It seemed to grow larger and larger.

  Stu saw his chance. “Get ready…get ready…charge!”

  Obviously caught between conflicting desires, Manny hesitated. Jenn had no time for hesitation; Stu was charging with only two others at his back. Without thinking, Jenn pulled her hunting knife and stuck it to Manny’s throat, screaming, “Now! Everyone up! Up! Up!”

  She and Manny, as well as a few others, driven by desperation, overcame their fear, ran across the rocky shore to where the Corsair boat was about to be ruined. Sailboats did not have brakes and it appeared that nothing could stop it from plowing right up onto the seawall and disemboweling itself.

  But at the last moment, the ship turned into the wind. Just like that its momentum was checked and, with just a light kiss, it nudged against the rocks hidden beneath the black waters. It was such an amazing display that Stu’s charge faltered five feet from the stern ladder.

  The pilot of the boat was already climbing down it, demanding, “Where’s Jenn Lockhart?”

  Stu stumbled and was caught by Mike. He stared into his face. “Mike?” he asked in such a state of befuddlement that he appeared to have been slapped.

  “Stu! Oh, thank God! I’m so glad you’re alive. Where’s Jenn? Is she okay? Stu, tell me she’s okay.”

  Stu did not answer. With his mouth hanging open and his head wagging slightly, he stared over Mike’s head at Jillybean. She had emerged from the dark as if birthed by the shadows. She stood tall, her black cloak whipping, her wild hair, dancing. She gazed down at Stu and the others, and especially Jenn as if she owned all of them, as if she could save them or destroy them at will. Jillybean cut such an imposing figure that Stu’s overwhelming relief and happiness at seeing Mike alive was dimmed.

  Mike didn’t notice at all and nor did he notice the knife in Jenn’s hand. He nearly impaled himself as he splashed towards her and threw himself on her in a great embrace. “I knew you’d make it,” he said, laughing and perhaps crying. His face was wet, and he was blinking rapidly.

  She stared at him for a few moments so shocked by his sudden return that she didn’t know which way was up. He kissed her half-opened mouth, hugged her as if he was trying to squeeze her guts out of her and then kissed her again. “I knew you’d be here for me.”

  “I-I-I…you are alive? When we saw the Saber tip over, I thought…” For a second, she looked as though she were choking. It just didn’t seem possible that Mike could still be alive. And Jillybean, too, for that matter. How did she survive the explosion? How did Mike survive the battle? How on earth did they manage to find each other? Jenn’s head spun and, like Stu, she felt as though she were about to fall. Even with Mike holding her, the strength went out of her legs.

  Rebecca Haigh slogged past, heading toward Jillybean, a look of rapture on her face. “It’s the Queen! It’s the Queen, everyone! It’s the Queen.”

  “She’s
going to save us,” Shaina Hale said. She was beaming, and her smile was filled with manic joy.

  In seconds, or so it seemed to Jenn, the water was filled with the worn-out defenders, all of them wearing the same quasi-religious look on their faces. Amazingly, even Donna Polston and Miss Shay wore the look—they had been saved in a miraculous fashion and appeared ready to grovel at Jillybean’s feet. The only two who didn’t were Stu Currans and Jenn. Stu’s expression was cartoonish. He might have just been whacked with an oversized mallet and the only thing missing were the stars spinning around his head.

  Jenn had no idea what she looked like. What she felt was completely conflicted. She was ecstatic to have Mike back, and happy to have boats to escape with, but she wasn’t happy at seeing Jillybean standing there, blocking the one ladder that led to the safety of the boat.

  Her position was obvious to read: Swear allegiance and live, otherwise find your own way off the island.

  Jillybean surveyed the growing crowd who came surging from all parts of the small island. They wanted to get on the boat as fast as possible, but they weren’t going to overrun Jillybean to do it. When she didn’t move, Johanna Murphy asked, “What are we going to do? Do you have a plan?”

  Everyone leaned in even closer to hear what the new plan was going to be. There was no doubt that she had a plan; Jillybean always had a plan. They all assumed it would be to escape. The only question was, to where? Some whispered Sacramento, others said, To seek protection from the Guardians, but most simply agreed that they were going “Inland” somewhere, probably far, far away.

  “What are we going to do?” Jenn asked Mike. She figured that he had some insight. After all, they’d been gone for hours and, unlike Stu, Mike was naturally chatty, and Jillybean was fond of hearing her own voice.

  “She never said,” Mike told her. “For me, it doesn’t matter. As long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.” He squeezed her again almost hard enough for her to forget everything and melt into him…only just over his shoulder, there was Jillybean, back from the dead, looking larger than life itself, looking more queenly than ever.

  Her blue eyes locked on Jenn’s and refused to look away. Jenn began to shake her head. Jillybean had no right to be up there. She had no right to look down her nose at Jenn, not after instigating a war that had crushed three different communities and killed thousands of people. Jenn wasn’t going to let her get away with it. She would expose Jillybean, but only once they were safely away.

  Time seemed to be ticking past faster and faster, and there was no telling how many Corsairs were sneaking down the causeway to snatch them up as the seconds were wasted, or how many boats were whispering along towards them, their crews silent, but eager. They couldn’t sit there forever.

  The look was interrupted by far-off gunfire. It came from the direction of Angel Island. Shaina Hale’s soft face clouded over. “Why do they fight each other? I don’t get it.”

  Jillybean seemed to have been waiting for exactly this question. “Because they hate each other,” she answered, speaking to the crowd. “The Corsairs are not one unified people. They’re not like us. They have major divisions that detest each other, and it’s my guess that they see this battle for what it is: a huge loss and a major setback.”

  “So, they’re fighting each other and we’re caught in the middle?” Manny asked. “But not for long, right? Where are we going? I don’t think the Guardians are the best choice. Everyone knows they’re like puritans or something. They don’t drink or nothing.”

  “Maybe we should ally ourselves with one of the Corsair groups,” Donna suggested. “I heard that the old Coos Bay Clan had been taken over by the Corsairs and they weren’t all bad. Only about half of them were slavers, though I guess that was seven or eight years ago and people change.”

  “They only change for the worse,” Miss Shay argued. “We should ally ourselves with the Santas. It makes sense since we’re practically neighbors. We could tell them we’re stronger than we are. I bet there’s all sorts of ammo on those boats.”

  Jenn pulled away from Mike. “After Jillybean and Stu embarrassed them, and after Mike led them into a trap? No way. The Santas have never been all that nice and they hold a grudge. No, as queen, I think the best place to go…”

  Shaina looked aghast at Jenn claiming the queenship with Jillybean standing right there. “You’re great ’n all, but she is queen and that’s a true fact.” Shaina wasn’t the only one giving Jenn a queer eye. Almost everyone around her was either smirking or cocking an eyebrow. Even Mike cast a look her way that was half surprise and half embarrassment. This was the most painful of all and it quite eroded her confidence. Feeling small and useless, she faded back into him.

  Jillybean pretended not to have heard Jenn’s declaration. “The Santas? You would have me ally myself with such weak people? From where I stand, that makes no sense at all. Ask yourselves, tonight, right at this very moment, who is the strongest group? Is it the remaining Corsairs, trying to eke out some sort of victory before their Black Captain comes? Is it the Coos Bay Clan who have been knuckling under for years? Who?”

  “It’s got to be the Santas,” Mike answered. “We saw their island. With their numbers, it’s more or less like a fort or something. You know. What’s the word? Impregnant-able.”

  Miss Shay took to nodding along in triumph, until Manny shouted out: “It’s the Corsairs, easy,” then her face soured. Most people agreed with Manny until Jillybean shook her head.

  Jenn thought she saw where this was going. She figured Jillybean was about to give a rah-rah speech designed to finish the destruction she had started. “No way,” Jenn said, shaking her head. “You aren’t going to say we’re the strongest, are you? Because that’s ridiculous. Even with the ammo on these boats, we’re the weakest of all of them.”

  Jillybean surprised Jenn with her bluntness. “You are completely right. You are weak. Look at you cowering in the water, desperate to get on the boat and run away. One thing’s for certain, you are not the same group of fighters that I left behind. Those people were warriors. Those people stood up to the might of the Corsairs and had beaten them.”

  “Okay,” Jenn said, “if it’s not us and it’s not the Santas or the Corsairs, who is it? Who’s the strongest? Who should we ally ourselves with?”

  “Isn’t the answer obvious, Jenn? I am the strongest.” Even though she had just declared herself stronger than the combined strength of the Corsairs, Jillybean’s answer was not met with queer looks or embarrassed smiles. Shaina Hale was nodding in complete agreement, Aaron Altman mouthed Yes, and Johanna Murphy looked as though she’d just experienced a God-like revelation.

  No one questioned Jillybean’s statement; not even Stu whose stunned expression was now reaching comic proportions.

  Mike only shrugged. “It is Jillybean,” he said, as if that was all the explanation needed.

  “You don’t know, do you?” Jenn asked in a low whisper.

  “Know what?”

  Did she tell him right there in front of everyone? She had no doubt that Mike would believe her, but would anyone else? Or would they all turn on “unlucky” Jenn and denounce her? She figured that they probably would. It was a strange position she found herself in: she’d been queen a minute before and now she was standing in knee-deep water, just one of the crowd…a nobody, once more.

  No one gave a fig what she thought, and that really was okay. She had never wanted to be queen in the first place. But queen or not, these were still her people and they needed to know the truth. They needed to know that Jillybean was only offering more war, a war her people were in no position to fight. What did they have? A couple of boats with only one sailor to sail them, and an extra few hundred rounds of ammo? It was meaningless in the great scheme of things.

  She opened her mouth to spill everything, but just as she did, Jillybean spoke loudly so that everyone could hear. “I know what some of you are thinking—All Jillybean is offering is more blood and fighti
ng and death. In that you are both right and wrong. You will have to fight. You are now without a choice in the matter. If we run to Oakland, all we will find is a city filled with ravenous zombies. How far do you think we will get before they notice two-hundred people? And we all know, once you start shooting it’ll never end. More and more will come. So, that leaves us what? Hiding. Hiding while winter comes down on us. Hiding while we freeze, and our supplies run out. Hiding while the Corsairs regroup and strengthen their hold on the city.”

  “But most of our fighters are dead,” Tammy Easterling called out. “Look around, everybody. How many real fighters do you see? We got Stu and a few Sacramento men, and that’s it.”

  Rebecca Haigh splashed forward. “Hold on! You got me and Johanna and Jenn. It’s not just the guys who can fight, you know. And you forgot Mike. He took on two different fleets at once. So, don’t tell me…”

  Tammy interrupted, saying simply, “It won’t be enough.” This caused a new current of whispers to race around the small bay.

  In the midst of it all, Jillybean stamped a foot down on the deck, making a hollow throom sound. “It will be enough! I promise you that by sunrise we will have secured Treasure Island, and by this time tomorrow, we will have Alcatraz as well.”

  At first there was only stunned surprise at what seemed like a complete impossibility, then cheering broke out. Jenn stood, dumbfounded as people who’d been too exhausted to stand were capering about in the shallow water. This went on until Stu whistled so sharply that Jenn was sure the dead for miles around heard him.

  When the noise sank to almost nothing, he said, “I don’t believe you.” Shocked whispering broke out all around him. In fact, a few people began to edge away as if he had become mental and it was catchy. “I don’t believe you,” he repeated, “and I won’t follow you. You are no longer my queen. You don’t deserve it.”