GENERATION Z THE COMPLETE BOX SET: NOVELS 1-3

by Peter Meredith

  She snorted again out of spite. As far as snorts went, it was quite satisfying and she added a “humph,” for good measure as she went to the tiny backyard of the house where there was an overturned patio set. One of the chairs was bent in half while the other had a moldy old cushion covering it. Cutting it away, she sat down to wait for the leader of the Corsairs.

  He was not long in coming. After a day of stunning reverses, he seemed undone and came creeping out from around the lit-up house with his hands up. “Hello? Hello? My name is Captain James Fisher.”

  “A little closer,” she called to him. She had a perfect view of him in the scope. “That’s close enough. Take off your jacket and your shirt and turn around. Come on, while we’re young.”

  “I’m not armed. There’s no reason for me to be when I have fifty men at my beck and call.”

  She only gave a single grunt in response until he was half-naked; she’d been watching the lit house to see if the Corsairs were going to pull anything on her. They weren’t, which meant the jackass thought he could handle her on his own. She was just thinking a bullet through his knee would set his mind straight on who was queen when Ernest whispered in her ear: Stay composed.

  Although Ernest’s body was stretched out in an old wet pile of leaves next to the house, his shadow was still hanging around her and when it spoke it was with the soft sound of a crow’s wing flapping. Remember you are a queen. You need to act like one.

  Behind Ernest’s voice were other sounds: the gibbering laughter of a lunatic, the screams of someone being skinned alive, a child crying. It was as if Ernest’s shadow stood in an open door and on the other side were all the strange things and creatures that Jillybean’s broken mind had created.

  It was difficult for even a crazy person like Eve to take. She shuddered and twitched at the sounds, and it took a great effort not to waste a bullet shooting the shadow. She tried willing it away, but that only made the laughter and screams louder.

  Her only choice was to pretend none of it existed at all, which killed the satisfied, orgasmic feeling she’d got from shooting Martin and put her in a foul mood. She barked at Fisher: “Put your shirt back on. What are you, like sixty? Your skin looks like old cottage cheese. Oh, that’s much better. Now, kneel so I can accept your surrender.”

  “You honestly expect me to kneel?”

  “It’s not your only option.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “You would kill me? And then what? Have you given any thought to what will happen if you do? Do you think my men will sit back and take it?”

  The way he had emphasized “any” had her aiming at his belly, pretty much where she’d shot Martin. Hold it together, Ernest begged. He may be right. Killing him may set off a panicked stampede or inspire them to a desperate defense.

  Another growl and another twitch as the madness around Ernest swept over her; she especially hated the lunatic’s laugh. It was high and keening, and very familiar. Was that her own laughter? Was that how she sounded when Jillybean stuck her down in the blackness?

  Ernest chuckled at her. Are you just now realizing there are consequences to everything? If so, learn the lesson quickly because if you shoot Fisher you’ll make everything worse for yourself.

  Slowly, she uncrimped her finger from the trigger. “Fine. I get it, Ernie. I shouldn’t have shot you, now shut up while I deal with this guy.” Ernest said nothing and the strange sounds grew muted. She turned to Fisher and after a deep breath, she addressed him, “I think you need to come to grips with the fact that your world has changed dramatically. Your men are now my men. Your life is now mine to do with as I please. The Corsairs are about to be destroyed, and your only option is to get down on your knees and swear allegiance to me.”

  “Oh really? And what about my hostages?”

  She paused, wondering whether the Corsair was trying to make a joke; she was a trifle disappointed to discover he wasn’t. “You have hostages?”

  “Eleven of them and I swear to God I’ll kill them, one by one, if you…” His night-eyes must have adjusted well enough for him to see the glint of steel as she pulled her hunting knife.

  Tossing it at his feet, she ordered him to, “Go slit their throats. We’ll finish our conversation when you’re done.” He stood looking at the knife in surprise. “Go on. What are you waiting for? Didn’t you swear to God?”

  “Hold on a sec. You do realize that those are your people?”

  “Yes, MY people. My people to do with what I wish and right now they are getting in the way of your surrender. Listen, twat, I will not be blackmailed or threatened. Ever! So, either go kill them now or shut up about them. And I should warn you that I hold a grudge. Apart from thinking you could threaten my people, you have twice suggested that I’m stupid.”

  The Corsair looked around in confusion, not so much at what she’d said, but what his reaction should be. She could tell that he had not been prepared for anything like this seemingly mad queen.

  Good move, Ernest said, from the shadows. You already have the upper hand and making him beg for forgiveness will only extend your power over him. Very smart. Very, very smart.

  “Yes,” she purred, enjoying the rare compliment, despite the shrieks and laughter that had swelled loudly along with it.

  After a long sigh, Fisher started to apologize, but she cut him off with a sharp snap of her fingers. She pointed to the ground. With death as his only other choice, the Corsair knelt and apologized. “While you’re down there, I will accept your surrender. It will be unconditional.”

  “But…” He stared around at the house and then down the row of dinky little yards. “But you’re only one…person.” It was clear he’d been about to say “girl” and had adroitly changed it to “person.”

  “I’m the same girl who just killed seventy of your guys. And I’m the same girl who destroyed your first army three weeks ago, and I’m the same girl who destroyed your second army yesterday.” Eve felt a twinge as Jillybean started to come awake. With a growl, Eve shove the girl back down. “I am the Queen,” she added, talking to both Jillybean and the Corsair, “And you will accept that.”

  The man couldn’t hide the calculating look in his eyes. Eve laughed at him. “What a hero you’d be if you could take me down; it’s what spinning around in that dull mind of yours. What? Do you think you can pretend to surrender and then take a shot at me in the dark? I say try it and see what happens. I’ve had tougher men than you try to take me out. Remember the Azael? Remember the River King? Remember the Colonel. And there were others as well, and I ground them all under my heel. You’ll be no different, except I’ll be able to take my time with you. I’ll be able to make you cry.”

  Fisher’s smile became fixed. She was pretty sure he didn’t know what to believe; and that was okay. He would eventually, if he lived to see daylight, something Eve hadn’t decided yet.

  “Well, let’s see how this all plays out, shall we?” she said, casually. “Step one, you release your hostages.” He immediately started to sputter something about guarantees. She brushed that talk aside. “One way or another, you’re going to have to trust me. Either trust that I will kill all of you if you don’t obey or trust that I won’t kill you if you do. Now go, and choose wisely and quickly. My patience is wearing thin.”

  It wasn’t just her patience that was growing thin. Her mind felt stretched like gauze. Inside her Jillybean was trying to climb back up out of the darkness. Like so much in life, possession was nine-tenths of the law, and Eve possessed their body at present and she wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

  It was a battle that she won mainly because she was actively working the body, slipping away and creeping around from the west until she was so close she could throw one of her heavy smoke bombs at the target house. She could easily hear the heated arguments going on inside. Some wanted to fight, some wanted to give up, and some wanted to make a swim for the “safety” of the mainland.

  Then came a hushed conversation. They
were making their plans.

  Fisher thought they had a chance to escape or to kill her. It was almost ludicrous, but she didn’t laugh and her smile was completely without humor. There was a sweet, dark joy inside her at the thought of killing so many. “They deserve it,” she whispered, although in truth she didn’t really need an excuse, not when everything was so perfect.

  The wind, what little there was, came from behind her out of the west and when she lit the first of her smoke bombs and chucked it like a football, the black clouds that came hissing out of it, drifted right across the house the Corsairs were holed up in, enveloping it completely.

  There was a shout and then, one by one, the curtains were pulled back and ghostly white faces peered out—they were blind but she could see like it was broad daylight.

  Chapter 17

  Eve

  The huge volume of smoke dousing out the stars and limiting vision outside the house to a few inches, caused panic in many of the Corsairs. Two of them had escaped what had been a massacre the last time they had ventured into the smoke, while most of the others were survivors of Jenn’s battle on the causeway, which had been terrible for her, but altogether appalling for them. The panic infected them as well.

  “It’s not too late!” someone cried, “We can still give up.”

  “Forget this. I’m not gonna fight. They got high-tech scopes! We’re sitting ducks. I’m with Ron…”

  A sudden rifle blast was followed by thirty seconds of chaos. A couple of dozen gun blasts erupted, intermixed with screams and yells; then someone broke for the back door. The person ran helter-skelter into the side of the house, rattling the loose siding and falling heavily. He picked himself up and ran along the fence until he found the gate and then raced through, screaming, “I give up! I give up!”

  Don’t shoot him, Ernest said, quickly. Eve had the instincts of a hunter and the hunger for the kill of a serial killer. She had centered her sights on the Corsair with no other thought in her head except to slay. It would be so easy, even with the crappy bullets—and she was sure he deserved it. He was a Corsair, wasn’t he?

  Don’t.

  “Fine,” she snapped. She would do anything to stop the hoarse screams that were now coming from behind Ernest’s shadow. There was a thumping sound that came with each scream, almost as if someone was hammering railroad spikes into a person using a wooden mallet—it was a sound that, once it was heard, couldn’t be forgotten.

  Eve had heard that exact sound first hand; she had caused the sound; it had been gloriously satisfying then. Just then it made her shiver.

  Instead of shooting the figure, she bellowed, “Stop right there! Hands in the air. Now, for the rest of you! Send out the hostages one at a time or I will start killing.” There was another conversation within the house. It was brief. Seconds later a string of people came out, walking with mincing, frightened steps, their hands thrust forward like blind people.

  “Jillybean? Is that you?” a familiar man’s voice called out. “Which way do we go? We can’t see anything.”

  It made her blood boil to be called Jillybean. Her sudden fury was almost enough to put a bullet in his face. Don’t, Ernest warned. Remember who they think is queen and remember what they think of you.

  She knew exactly what they thought of Eve. They thought she was the crazy one. “That’s because she trashes me every chance she gets. She blames me for everything, which isn’t fair. I barely ever even get to come out…”

  “Jillybean?” the man called again. He was scraping along the fence with one hand, while pulling a child after him with the other. The child was half his height and walked with a strange, chimp-like waddle. It was off-putting, and Eve’s lip curled as she imagined a monkey’s head, sprouting from a human neck.

  “Is this what I’m going to be queen of? A chimp-boy, Corsairs and a bunch of losers? Ugh. Over here,” she said at last, reluctantly. The eleven hostages, many of them limping, all of them hacking and coughing, pushed through the smoke.

  Other than the chimp boy, who was actually a girl of about ten, they were all just as she imagined: filthy, ugly losers. Eve barely gave them a glance.

  “Now I want the first ten of you!” she yelled to the Corsairs. “Bring ammo but no weapons. Hands above your head. Single file. Follow my voice. And don’t even think about running because I will hunt you down, and I will stick your head on my wall.”

  Careful now, Ernest said as around her, the ex-hostages glanced at each other in alarm.

  “I’m just throwing a scare into them,” Eve explained, trying to find a smile in her that wasn’t tinged with disgust. “I don’t really mean it.”

  “You can line them up against a wall and riddle them with bullets for all I care,” the man with a familiar-sounding voice said. He had a familiar face as well. “You didn’t see what they did to Monica. In fact there are some we’ve got to deal with.” He ran a thumb across his throat.

  Eve nodded in approval. “Soon,” she told him, forgetting her promise in her eagerness to draw blood.

  These are your jackals you’re threatening, Ernest reminded her.

  “Right. I keep forgetting.” It was the dark and the smoke. It reminded her of being stuck down inside Jillybean where everything was battle and blood, where nothing made sense except survival.

  The first ten Corsairs came out of the smoke. Like jackals before a lion they cringed. She liked it. Turning to the familiar-looking man, she handed him her pen-light and said: “You, search them. I don’t want any surprises, so strip them if you have to.”

  “Jillybean, it’s me, Gerry the Greek.”

  The name meant nothing to her. “Mmm? Oh, right, Gerry. With the scope everyone looks alike. Oh, and Gerry, don’t call me that ever again. Call me, ‘your highness’ or maybe ‘your majesty.’ I haven’t decided which I like better.”

  She paused, giving Gerry plenty of time to choose which. It took him a moment too long. “Uh, yeah sure, uh, your Highness.”

  “That was a little better,” she said, making it clear that she wasn’t exactly thrilled with how long he had taken to use a proper title or with his delivery. She dismissed him with a shooing gesture and bent back over her rifle. “Now I want ten more! Carry empty rifles above your heads. Single file.”

  They came through jittery and nervous, like the others. In seconds, they were stripped, not only of their weapons but also of their clothes. Now that he had the upper hand, Gerry was vindictive. Normally, Eve would have been appreciative of such tactics. “Sorry, Gerry. I gave them my word that I wouldn’t hurt them. Besides, they’re mine now. If anyone is going to hurt them, it’ll be me.”

  She had the last group come through the smoke: six healthy men and three wounded. “There’s three more who can’t walk,” one of the men said.

  “That’s too bad,” Gerry said. “We got our own wounded. Jill…the Queen looks after us first.” All of the ex-hostages glanced at Eve, who did a little double-take as she realized that they were expecting her to heal them.

  “You know I would, buuuut.” She dragged the word out as she searched for an excuse.

  Ernest was quicker than her. Tell him that you don’t have your med-bag, he said and she barely noticed how his voice still had the feathery, crow’s wing quality to it and, what was more, she was getting used to the madness coming from the doorway behind him.

  She snapped her fingers, as if to say: aw-shucks. “I would but I don’t have my med-bag. Maybe when we get back to that other little island.”

  “Yerba Buena?” Gerry asked. Although she had no idea what it was called, Eve nodded. He seemed to think that was no problem. “Just send someone to run and get it. Who’s with you? Stu? Dango? Manny? Jenn?”

  Eve glanced back the way she had come, only realizing at that moment that Jillybean had come alone. Why alone? And why come at all? For the hostages? She searched her hazy memory and found nothing concerning hostages. Vaguely, she had a notion that Stu was hurt and that Jenn had somehow forced Ji
llybean’s hand in some way.

  “It’s why I wanted to kill her,” she said, under her breath. Jenn was getting too strong—it was a weird thought. Eve shook her head to clear it. “I came alone. Everyone else was too afraid and didn’t think you were worth it.”

  Gerry was so shocked that he stepped back into the little deformed girl, stepping on her foot without noticing. “Even Mike?”

  This sparked a new memory: Mike’s pale face over a gaping hole in his neck. “No, he tried, but he and Stu were shot and Jenn, well, let’s just say she let a petty personal difference get in the way of doing the right thing. So, I came alone. It was no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Gerry cried. “There had to be a hundred of them.”

  “Yeah, something like that,” she answered, nonchalantly, taking full credit for Jillybean’s bravery. Not only did this get the ex-hostages’ tongues wagging, the Corsairs were equally impressed.

  I believe you just killed three birds with one stone, Ernest said.

  “You bet your ass,” she said to herself. To the others she said. “So, I think we should pack up what we can and get back. We can have the Corsairs carry the badly wounded. Most of you look all right, though.” To any one else they looked like they had just survived a very harrowing and narrow escape, but to Eve they looked like they were wallowing in self-pity.

  It was a cold thing to say and Ernest had to remind her that it wasn’t something a queen would say. The rebuke did not sit well with Eve and if she had known how to hurt the ghost stalking her, she would have done it in a snap. Instead she grudgingly added, “All right enough to make it back, I mean. Sorry to sound so cold, but no one else is coming to save you, so we’re going to have to rely on ourselves.”

  Two of the Corsairs had to be left behind; one of whom was Captain Fisher who mewled and begged for help. Eve told him they’d send people back for him, something she had no intention of doing. Another three or four used the dark and the confusion to run away. The rest walked in a huddle under the watchful and angry eyes of Gerry and the ex-hostages.