GENERATION Z THE COMPLETE BOX SET: NOVELS 1-3

by Peter Meredith

  We’ll see, Ernie said, and faded away, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

  It was quiet for a minute as everyone considered Eve’s words. Then Mark Leney said, “You’d think it would be easier to kill another queen. You know because of, like competition and crap like that.”

  Across the hall from Eve, Tam had his hands dangling easily through the bars of his cell. “Naw. I seen this new queen. She’s a kid. She doesn’t got the guts.”

  This statement had the other Corsairs sitting up on their bunks. A desperate Leney asked, “You saying she won’t kill us then?”

  “Naw,” Tam said. “The bitch is right about one thing, the new queen will kill us. But I bet she kills you, too, Your Highness.” His sarcasm made a few of the less frightened Corsairs laugh. “I think that maybe you’ll get a little poisoned something, something in your oatmeal one of these days.”

  “If I thought that for even a second, I’d be over the next horizon by morning. And yes, I can escape if I choose to. They couldn’t have been more obvious with the key. Jillybean has the shape memorized. But it won’t be necessary since I’m supposed to have a public trial. I can picture it. The evidence of my guilt is scant and will be easily outweighed by what I can offer. Does anyone think two-hundred frightened little hut-dwellers will want to take a chance on a new and very inexperienced queen?”

  Leney cleared his throat and said, “They might. You never know. I mean that’s an awful bet to lose. It could be your neck getting stretched right along with ours. Picture that.”

  “After destroying you schmucks in battle after battle? After showing that I can make bombs and medicine? After saving who knows how many of them? No. It’s been a day and they’re probably begging for me to be reinstated. And what did I do anyways? Nothing. It was all that damned Jillybean.”

  They all knew how crazy the “Mad Queen” was and a few of the Corsairs sniggered, making Eve want to tear down the door and beat them to death with it. “Laugh all you want, but I’ll be queen by tomorrow and when I am, I’ll make sure to postpone your deaths long enough to hear you each begging to die.”

  “We’re not laughing,” Leney said, quickly. “No one is laughing. We wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Not to the rightful queen, right guys?” His kissing up, and the reason behind it was so obvious that even the dimmest of the Corsairs caught on and each agreed with one too many Your Highnesses.

  “Enough!” Eve barked. “So, all of you wish to have me as your queen? Interesting. You know I plan on destroying the Corsairs? Well, actually, I plan on destroying the Black Captain and becoming queen in his place. Look what I did to his mighty armada with this bunch of weaklings. Picture what I could do with the Corsairs as my army. Bainbridge would fall, as would the Santas and the Guardians. From there, it’ll be east until we have all of America.”

  “We can help you, Your Highness,” Leney said. “Just get us the hell out of here and we’re yours.”

  “No. You’ll be mine now. I want each of you to swear it and I want each of you to realize what the penalty for crossing me is.”

  Leney cleared his throat again. “I guess you’ll kill us, right?”

  “Yes, and your friends, and your girlfriends. I’ll kill anyone you’ve ever smiled at. Ask the Azael if you think I’m kidding. Oh right, they’re all dead because of me.”

  “I swear it, Your Highness,” Leney was quick to say. “I’m your man. I swore it before and I’ll swear it again.” The other Corsairs were quick to agree, each taking turns to swear allegiance.

  Eve rubbed her hands together in dark glee. “Good, now prove it. Prove your complete loyalty. I want one man from each cell to be killed. Choose however you wish, but know this, any hesitation will be judged accordingly and your loyalty doubted. You may begin.”

  For two seconds, there was complete silence, then came a great uproar. Screams and yells and orders hollered in great voices filled the dungeon. At the end of the cellblock was a single door which opened into a little room where guards sat playing cards. After a few seconds of the chaos, the door burst open and in rushed Nathan Kittle and Miss Shay, each clutching M4s in sweaty hands.

  “What’s going on?” Miss Shay demanded. “What’s going on? You three get off that man!”

  The Corsairs did not stop and with Nathan and Miss Shay uselessly pointing their weapons, three men were punched, kicked and strangled to death. All the while Eve sat back on her bunk with a wide grin on her face. She only stirred when Miss Shay ran off, calling for Jenn.

  Jenn arrived with five others, including a ghastly pale Stu Currans, who limped along very slowly. “What happened?” Jenn demanded. She looked tired, the skin on her face stretched tight.

  Eve took a deep breath and said in a voice she hoped sounded like Jillybean’s: “I can tell you what happened, my old friend. They had a…a squabble amongst themselves. It was seemingly an argument about escaping. Those internally dead males wanted to break out, however, the others were fearful of the uh, consequences of said actions.”

  A sigh escaped Jenn as she rubbed grit from her eyes. “No one is escaping, but if you want to kill each other, that’s fine by me. Just try to do it quietly next time.” She cast an eye in Eve’s direction. “I know it’s you, Eve. You aren’t nearly as smart as Jillybean.”

  “And yet, I’m smarter that everyone on this island combined. What does that say about all of you?”

  Jenn shrugged. In her puffy, down coat the move was barely discernible. “Your trial will be in a couple of hours. I’d suggest you let Jillybean defend the two of you. I don’t mean to be rude, but everyone likes her more.”

  “Maybe they won’t today. Maybe they will see her just like you see her. You hate her, don’t you?”

  “I’m too tired to hate anyone.”

  Eve had never been that tired in her life. Hate came second nature to her; as easy as breathing. It’s why she couldn’t bring herself to let Jillybean out. She sat in her cell for another hour as the walls dripped water and the pipes sang unearthly songs. A storm had been raging, battering the island for most of the last day, but it died as soon as Colleen White came for Jillybean. Colleen was flanked by Stu and Mike. None of them were armed.

  “Jillybean?” Colleen asked.

  “Nope. It’s me, Eve. You know, the innocent one? Whatever Jillybean’s done is on her.”

  Stu stared daggers at her. “That’s not how this is going to work. If either of you are found guilty of anything, you’ll both suffer the consequences, so figure out which of you is going to be in charge.”

  “And you won’t try to bring her out?” Eve asked, silkily. “Don’t you love her? I can recall when you said it with such feeling and now, nothing. What a lie you must have been telling yourself. Or are you lying now? Or is love just a shadow to you? Extinguished with a candle.”

  “We’re not supposed to talk to you,” Colleen told her. “Just come along.”

  Eve walked next to Stu, who went stone-faced and furious. Mike, silent, his neck bandaged in white, looked askance at her every few steps. It wasn’t many steps before they spun up the spiral staircase and then along the empty cellblocks to the dining hall.

  Since it took so many of them to guard two islands and the Floating Fortress, there were only a hundred or so people sitting on folding chairs, all pointing to three tables set at one end of the room. It was a wet evening and the only light in the hall came from the candles set on the three tables.

  Eve had one all to herself. Stu went to the second one, while the third remained empty at the beginning of the trial.

  Jenn, now laden with stress to go along with the dark circles beneath her eyes began, “We all know why we’re here and I don’t want to drag this out any longer than we have to. We all have numbers. If yours is drawn out, you will be one of seven to decide guilt or innocence. It’ll take four votes, one way or the other.”

  Colleen brought a bag and Jenn dipped her hand inside and withdrew number twenty-eight. Gerry the Greek raised a hand.
“That’s me.” Slowly, he hobbled forward. Jenn didn’t wait and pulled out number fifty-one: Miss Shay.

  Eve groaned. She was O for two. Gerry and Miss Shay were both staunchly anti-Eve.

  “Number Twenty-one.” Tammy Easterling’s shoulders slumped before she made a groaning, prolonged effort to stand; she wouldn’t look at Eve as she made her way to the table. A thin, still somewhat wobbly Sacramento woman named Melissa Chatman was called next. She had long dark hair and sad dark eyes. She glanced once at Eve, once at Jenn and then stared at the floor as she walked down to the front.

  It was obvious that she didn’t want to be a part of the trial. The same was true for the next two. Ashtyn Bishop, a timid seventeen-year-old Islander who had been dragged from the wreck of the Rapier the day before only to be practically drowned in the Red Pill ten minutes later. Claudia Stephens, still with haunted eyes and looking somewhat waterlogged from her near death experience at the base of the cliff, was the sixth person.

  The last person chosen convinced Eve that she couldn’t stay. Colleen White stood and swept down the aisle with a look of haughty contempt directed right at Eve.

  Ernie Smith, appearing like a ghost, floated behind Colleen. I tried to tell you. Now, do you want my help?

  Eve turned away and found Ernie standing by her side, wearing faded jeans and a green turtleneck. He raised a ghostly eyebrow. “What do you want in return? Nothing’s free in this world.”

  Joint custody of Jillybean’s body. All I’m asking is to make some changes that will help us all. That’s more than fair if you ask…

  A snarl twisted her lips and she almost screamed at the man. Instead she spun around and cried: “This is a conspiracy! It’s a set-up. You’re all in on it! Look at this jury. It’s pathetic. You’ve chosen only the mentally weak and people with an axe to grind and, in Colleen’s case, both at once.”

  “They are not mentally weak!” Jenn roared, her voice echoing in the mostly empty hall. “And everyone has an axe to grind with you, which is all your fault, not mine. You did this, you and Jillybean. You lied and tricked us into war, and if you had any sense, you would get out of my sight, Eve, because I am this close to gagging you and finishing the trial with you hogtied in the corner.”

  Eve’s face twisted into an intense look of hate. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Test me. Say just one more nasty word. I dare you.”

  The stress and exhaustion had fallen away and Jenn stood robed in queenly power that no one, not even Eve could deny.

  Without another word and with only a sly, knowing smile playing on her lips, Eve slipped away, hiding in a dark corner of Jillybean’s mind, leaving Jillybean abruptly back in charge of her mind. Most of the time, there was a murky transition as she climbed into the driver’s seat. On this occasion, she blinked and went from sitting in a lonely dank cell to being in the dining hall in front of a hundred people. She jerked, almost falling out of her chair.

  Jillybean looked down at herself, confused by the pink warmup suit, the hall filled with anxious people, Jenn’s lethal glare, and when had it begun raining?

  Like a preacher in front of her congregation, Jenn stood before the hundred spectators, gazing with hard eyes at Jillybean. After a long look, she arched an eyebrow. “Jillybean?”

  “Yes,” she answered, guardedly.

  “It’s good that you’re back. I didn’t think it would be fair if she was running things, because this is your trial and…and we all agreed that it’s gonna be…” Again, she faltered and it took her a second to compose herself. “I’m afraid you will be on trial for your life. What you’ve done goes beyond simple banishment. You’re gonna be put to death. Sorry.”

  Eve raged inside, making Jillybean’s eye twitch. It went ignored. “And who will be my executioner? Stu?”

  “No, I will be. It’s only right that a queen slays another queen.”

  Chapter 31

  Jillybean

  “Calling yourself queen is a bit premature, don’t you think?” Jillybean didn’t let Jenn answer and spoke again as soon as she opened her mouth. “You have set things up nicely. You have what looks like a handpicked jury, you have my jilted ex-lover as prosecution, and you’re both judge and executioner.”

  The word executioner hung between them, awkwardly. It seemed like a heavy word, a foreign word, with a meaning that was greater than either of them knew. Jenn looked away for only a second before she forced her eyes back. When she did, they were hard little chips of ice.

  “So, this is the tough Jenn,” Jillybean remarked, unfazed by the cold eyes. Being confronted with death had become routine enough that Jillybean wasn’t exactly worried. In fact, a part of her worried more for Jenn than for herself. Executions, legal or not, were hard on truly good people. “It’s very impressive. No wonder Eve ran away. How do you plan on doing the deed?”

  “Poison,” Jenn answered, holding up the same small vial Eve had threatened her with. “Since this is the deadliest poison known to man, I think it should be able to kill a queen.”

  “A good choice,” Jillybean admitted. “It’s fast-acting and there’s no real mess, except the body, of course. If you don’t mind, I’d like a midnight sea burial.” She gave Jenn a smile which wasn’t returned. “You know you’re missing one thing.”

  The cold look disappeared, replaced by doubt. Jenn gazed around, her lips moving as she mentally checked off the components of a trial. “Oh right, a defense lawyer. I didn’t even know that was a thing. Donna suggested one, but I didn’t think you would trust anyone but yourself.”

  “I trust that in the end you will do the right thing, Jenn Lockhart. I think a defense attorney should always be present in a public trial and it should be someone of the defendant’s choosing.”

  Jenn considered this with a shrewd unbelieving cast to her eyes; it was obvious that she was trying to figure out what angle Jillybean was playing. Finally, she said, “Okay, I guess. You can choose anyone except the people up here, and whoever you choose has to agree.”

  “All perfectly reasonable,” Jillybean acknowledged, with a frustrated nod. She had been planning on asking Colleen White, mostly just to get her off the jury. A visceral animosity radiated from Colleen and seemed to be infecting the others, who were seated in an odd, nervous clump on one side of the jury table. Grouped as they were, they looked like a bizarre take on DaVinci’s Last Supper.

  Jillybean gave them each a perfectly calculated smile before she surveyed the room. These were supposed to be her people, but they had that same guarded, untrusting look about them that Jenn had worn for the last two days.

  The look was regrettable. They appeared physically and mentally weak. The confidence from their victories replaced by suspicion and exhaustion. A voice from inside Jillybean asked, Is it even worth it at this point? It was Sadie, who was thinking that it might be smart to run away.

  Jillybean cleared her throat to quiet her down. She would not run. She would win her trial, regain her throne and restore hope. In her mind, the trial would be the simplest part. All trials were made up of facts—true facts and perceived facts—and she was a master manipulator of both.

  The defense attorney was a prime example of the perceived fact. She really didn’t need one to represent her; she needed one to change people’s perception of her.

  Although she knew exactly who she was going to choose, Jillybean made a point to walk among her people, wearing a confident smile, as if the entire trial was little more than a formality and that she didn’t really have any concern about the outcome.

  After a tour of the gathered people, Jillybean announced, “I have made my choice. I would like Aaron Altman to defend my honor.” Just as she had expected, this elicited a gasp from the entire hall, which was followed by a rush of whispers.

  “Hold on. He’s only a kid,” Jenn protested.

  She had chosen Aaron for three reasons: to mitigate his mother’s role on the jury, to evoke sympathy, and to use him as a human advertisement demon
strating her life-saving powers. It also helped that he adored her and was making cow-eyes at her, and that he thanked her profusely, repeatedly saying, “My Queen.”

  “He may be only a child,” Jillybean said to Jenn, loud enough for everyone to hear, “but the trial and its outcome concerns him as well. And besides, it’s an easy case and I trust him to defend me.”

  “With my life, my Queen,” he agreed, holding his thin body erect. Miss Shay made a face, then began pointing at Aaron’s head, where his hair was sticking up in a particularly egregious cowlick.

  Stu, his left arm strapped to his body, sat rubbing his forehead with his right hand. “I’m fine with it. This is an open and shut case. There’s not much to defend…I mean, she has a lot to defend but no way to do it. We have her confession already. Did you or did you not sic the Corsairs on us in the hope that we would go to war with each other.”

  Jillybean deflected the question by gently pushing Aaron in front of her. “We’re starting already?” he asked, still trying to slick his hair down. “I didn’t know we were starting.” In his nervousness, he assumed the posture of a whooping crane, bent over slightly, his shoulders hunched. He whispered to Jillybean, “I don’t know what to do.”

  “It’ll be okay. Just do what I ask of you and we’ll be fine. Step one: say I object to the question.”

  He looked over at his mom before declaring in a piping voice, “We object to the question, because it’s stupid. I don’t care what everyone says, the Queen would never do any of that. She saved us from the Corsairs. We woulda been dead without her. Okay?”

  Jenn, looking a little confused by the objection, said, “No it’s not okay. She has to answer the question.”

  Aaron turned to Jillybean. She gave him a nod and a wink before standing. “The answer is no. I did not sic the Corsairs on anyone.”