GENERATION Z THE COMPLETE BOX SET: NOVELS 1-3

by Peter Meredith

  Jillybean rolled her ghost eyes at him. Nathan had done next to nothing during the battle and she doubted he’d done anything when it came to any of the other chores either. She could understand how some of the others were exhausted. The fighting had been going on for days and the stress had to be dreadful. And before that had been the arduous preparation. But to do nothing to reinforce the other areas? It was practically a sin on Jenn’s part.

  When the other Jillybean pressed him for more information, he admitted that they only had a few fighters left on either Treasure Island or the Floating Fortress. “We’ll start with Treasure Island,” she said, giving orders that seemed impossible to follow since they had all of four guns between the seventeen of them.

  But she knew the characters of the people who’d been left behind. They were the very weakest.

  Tam in the Death Rise went along a northern course, while the Hell Quake and the Rapier took a southern one. At exactly midnight, Tam lit one of the dinghies on fire and proceeded to tow it along in the wake of the Death Rise. He paraded two hundred yards off the eastern coast of the island. At the same time, the other Jillybean headed toward the western side of the island.

  Through the scope the one fuzzy blip, a cold, wet guard no doubt, left his position to go to the top of the island to watch the fire. He or she was joined by five or six others. They gaped long enough for the other Jillybean to land with eleven of her men.

  “Remember, no shooting unless I give the order,” she whispered as they headed up the hill. With the low-light scope it was easy to dodge the few guards and within minutes, the group was at the armory, Jillybean’s one-time jail. It had been almost uselessly converted back to a weapons depot.

  It held only two cases of ammo and no weapons. “Hmmm,” the other Jillybean said. “Grab the ammo. We’ll take out the guards and then go house to house. If I can remember correctly, there are only five guns on the island, but there will be crossbows, so don’t take anything for granted.”

  The guards drifted back to their positions when the fire died down and Jillybean snatched each up without any resistance. All it took was for her to use Nathan. No one was afraid of him and when he said, “Hey, don’t shoot, it’s just me, Nathan,” guns were immediately lowered.

  “What are you doing here?” Kimberley Weatherly asked, suspiciously. “I thought you were still over at Alcatraz. You looking for another place to hide from work?” She started to chuckle and then she saw the figures emerging out of the pouring, penetrating rain. “Who are all…”

  “It’s your Queen,” the other Jillybean said, coming forward. “Things have changed and for the moment, you are my prisoner.”

  Surrounded by hulking Queen’s Men, Kimberley could do nothing. She was gagged and had her hands tied behind her back, before she was led to the armory by Leney with the admonition from the Queen, “Don’t touch her. No one is to be abused unless I say so.”

  “Is this how it’s going to be…your Highness?”

  “Yes.” The single word carried with it the weight of her personality and he buckled beneath it. In short order, the guards were taken and presently half of her men were armed. It made everything much easier.

  It was so easy that the other Jillybean changed her mind about locking up prisoners who were tied and gagged and marched along to each building to convey the suggestion that there were far more attackers than there really were. In the dark no one could tell who they were.

  The “Queen”, as Jillybean began to think of her other self, used that fear and her fancy scope to round up the forty-seven people on the island. There was much grumbling and a few of the prisoners tried to run away. For the most part, they were easily hunted down. Kimberley, however, managed to get back to the house she’d been sleeping in where she had a crossbow. Locking herself in an upstairs room, she screamed out the window. “I’m not coming out! If you want me, you’re going to have to come in after me and I guarantee one of you is going to eat a bolt. Make it be you, Jillybean!”

  The Queen made one effort to talk her out of the house and when that didn’t work, she said to Leney, “Burn the house down.”

  No! Jillybean cried, rushing at the Queen. Don’t! Don’t do that to her. This is wrong. This is a mistake. I wouldn’t do that! Listen! That’s not something I would do. Jillybean was frantic and after screaming in the Queen’s face, she ran to Leney and tried to grab his arm as he darted toward the house.

  She fell right through him, landing without a splash in a dark puddle. Wary of the crossbow, Leney ducked around the house and entered in through the kitchen door where there was plenty of material to start a fire. He grabbed dishtowels and curtains and pieces of a table he had destroyed, making a pile of it all on the landing of the stairs leading up.

  Jillybean begged him not to light the mass, but he couldn’t hear her and he lit the mass, snapping open an old Zippo with a practiced flick. It went up quickly, catching the carpet and risers on fire. Jillybean was beside herself and reached out to the flames, feeling nothing at all.

  She considered going upstairs but forced herself not to. She was either a ghost or a subconscious projected imagination of herself, either way she was powerless and a trip up into Kimberley’s room would only cause her to experience Kimberley’s misery.

  Which may be what I deserve. Jillybean went to the doorway and stood in the smoke that poured in great gouts from out of the house. No, she deserves it. She stared at the dark figure of the Queen in growing hatred and when it reached its peak with Kimberley’s first terror-filled scream, the Queen looked away from the upper-floor window and stared right at Jillybean.

  There was a real connection that was broken by Jillybean’s astonishment. You saw me, she cried, hurrying over to the Queen. Or you heard me or felt me. I know it. You have to listen to me. Stop this! This is not how a real queen behaves. Killing innocent people is not how I would act.

  But was that true? Hadn’t she started a war, fully knowing that many, many innocent lives would be lost?

  The words: For the greater good, echoed in her soul and Jillybean felt a sudden chill that wasn’t wholly imaginary—the Queen’s shoulders suddenly spasmed.

  But I wouldn’t have done this, Jillybean snarled, gesturing at the house. The fire was eating it from the inside out. The heat in Kimberley’s room had to be unimaginable and the pain, unbearable. This is what a Corsair would do. It’s evil.

  Yes, Jillybean had started a war between faceless strangers, but she had done so knowing that it would, in the long run, save the lives of more faceless strangers, and her own people, of course. If the war was seen from the perspective of a CPA’s dull and dusty balance sheet, at the end of the day it would be shown to be a net positive. The fact that these were people’s lives she was playing with never made it onto the balance sheet—purposely. It would have undermined Jillybean’s convictions and made her weak.

  Burning someone alive was terrible and cruel. It wasn’t like the mercy killings that Jillybean had been unable to endure, that had sent her tumbling into the darkness of her own mind.

  This was evil and Jillybean’s mind revolted against it…except one small part that saw Kimberley’s death as also expedient. With fifteen and a half men—it was hard to count uncommitted Nathan as a full man in this circumstance—the Queen had set her sights on conquering the entire 1,600 square miles of San Francisco Bay in three days. There would be a lot more of these sorts of deaths, but in the long run…

  We become thoroughly evil and as horrible as the Corsairs, my balance sheet is tipped on its head and we destroy even more innocent lives. Jillybean turned from the fire, unable to watch it any longer.

  Around her were the forty-six people who’d been left on the island. They were a wretched and thoroughly cowed lot. The fiery execution had taken the heart out of them, turning the last bit of their bravery to ash. Had the Queen ordered her men to butcher them like cattle, they probably wouldn’t have even run away.

  The Queen stared at the fir
e as it roared and as the rain hissed, and as Kimberley’s screams became choking sobs. When these finally died away, she turned her impassive face to her prisoners. “I know you don’t want to be a part of what seems like an unnecessary squabble between Jenn and I, but your lives depend on me winning this fight.”

  She paused for effect, not expecting anyone to say anything. “But I’m tired of fighting,” Lindy Smith piped up, surprising the Queen. The seven-year-old was teary-eyed and her ash-blonde hair was nearly as chaotic as the Queen’s. “Can’t we all just be nice to each other?”

  At this, everyone glanced at the dirty pack of ex-Corsairs. For the most part, they had a haughty, feral look about them, but just a few seemed to exhibit symptoms of shame: an averted gaze or a slight reddening of the cheeks. It was something, perhaps even a beginning, Jillybean thought.

  Adroitly, the Queen picked up on it as well. “Do you know why I’m doing this, Lindy? I’m trying to make the world a better place. It’s hard. I know that these things can be very hard on us and the sacrifices can be almost more than we can bear, but we have to look to the future. We have to see that goodness will come out of this once we are united, once there are no more Corsairs or Islanders, or Hill People.”

  “No Hill People?” Lindy looked shocked at the idea. She had always been a Hill Girl and clearly couldn’t imagine being something else.

  “You and everyone here will be subjects of the Queen. And I do mean everyone. Each of you need to understand that who we are right now is not who we were twelve years ago when this all started, and it’s not going to be who we are a year from now. Some of us have done some unfortunate things that will need to be forgiven if we’re all going to move beyond the past and toward a better society. Do you want a better society, Lindy?”

  “I think so.”

  The Queen beamed down on her. “Then don’t look to the past for it. Look to the future.”

  And just like that you think your evil will be excused? Jillybean snarled.

  It was outrageous and yet, it appeared as though this was the case. A few people shrugged and more nodded and others sighed. They would do what they were told even if it meant ignoring the very immediate past in which they had been attacked in the dead of night, rounded up and forced to watch as one of them had been executed without a trial.

  Jillybean was astounded and barely listened as the Queen gave more orders.

  Except for a few of the better seamstresses among the group, everyone was sent back to their beds with assurances from the Queen that her men would be perfect angels…as long as everyone behaved themselves, followed orders without so much as blinking, and did not try to escape.

  The seamstresses were given the job of producing new flags. They were essentially the same as the old flags, just in different colors: black cloth with a silver crown. After giving the order, the Queen found an empty house, set a few homemade alarms around her door and bed, stuck her pistol beneath her pillow, and lay down.

  Jillybean wondered what she was going to do with herself while the Queen slept, but it turned out to be a non-issue. The moment the Queen fell asleep, Jillybean did as well. Hers was a turbulent and twisted night filled with strange, convoluted, and impossible to follow dreams.

  She expected the Queen to wake in an exhausted state, but she jumped up at the crack of dawn fully rested. Jillybean watched as her body went through its morning routine, part of which was to fiddle uselessly with her hair. If anything, it looked as though the Queen had worked it into a greater degree of disarray.

  Then she crept downstairs, the pistol in her hand. There was little to fear, especially from her men, who were laid out all over the house, snoring and sleep-scratching themselves. “Okay, let’s get moving!” the Queen cried, waking the house. There were groans. Few people could keep up with the Queen even when she’d only had five hours of sleep.

  “This morning we take the Floating Fortress and I call the shower first!”

  “There’s a shower?” Leney asked.

  “Of course. And each of you will be required to use it at least once a day. Leney you might need two.”

  There was a shout of laughter that Jillybean did not partake in. How do you laugh and joke so soon after you killed Kimberley? she asked the Queen, who was breezing confidently out the front the door and into a yellow morning. In the east, the sun was still hidden by a few diffuse clouds, giving the sky an interesting marigold color.

  Her stride faltered at Jillybean’s question. You can hear me! Jillybean cried. Who is that? Ernest? I know it’s you. Eve’s not smart enough. Hey, don’t walk away and don’t ignore me!

  Other than that misstep, Jillybean was completely ignored as the Queen ordered the inhabitants of the island around as if the night before had never happened. Smoke bombs of various sizes were created, as were batteries and sails and flags.

  Although the preparations were still under way, the moment she had the new flags and a few small smokers, the Queen was ready to take on the Floating Fortress.

  Stationing the three sailboats upwind of the barge, she lit off the small smoke bombs in the bows of the boats and drifted to within a hundred yards. She had Melody Rinkman paddle a canoe out to the barge with a prepared speech and the simple demand to give up.

  Melody was led to believe that the lowlight scope was actually a thermal scope and that once the smoke swept the barge its people would be defenseless against it.

  As frightening a prospect as that was, it was likely that no one believed that the Queen would resort to such behavior if it hadn’t been for the callous way she had ordered Kimberley Weatherly to be burned to death. It was obvious that Melody fully believed the Queen would carry through with her threat.

  “I’ll tell them, okay? Just don’t hurt them, okay?”

  The Queen made no promises, which only added to Melody’s fear. In twenty minutes the Floating Fortress had capitulated and not only did the Queen add five more guns to her stockpile, but also seven recruits who joined her with a great deal more excitement than Nathan had.

  “Alcatraz next?” Leney asked.

  “No. There’d be too many casualties still.”

  Leney snorted. “You’ll get a ton more if you think you can go after the Coos Bays scrubs or those Magnum jerks. I betcha they got all sorts of firepower…Your Highness.”

  She had glared at the snort and the glare had intensified when he had, at first, failed to address her correctly. Still cold, she asked, “Such as?”

  “Such as what type of guns? Oh, the same as us, just they got lots more.”

  “We will nullify their quantity with our quality,” she answered, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’m going to need you and some of the boys to go shopping for me. You can read?”

  He answered with an indignant, “Damn right I can read. I bet all of us can.”

  She wrote an extensive list of items she would need, split it into four equal parts and assigned teams that included people from both Treasure Island and the barge. Before Leney left, the Queen told the entire group that no one was to be hurt without her permission. “If anyone refuses orders, we’ll deal with them later.”

  The threat was so palpable that Jillybean felt sickened and at the same time, she saw the necessity of it. No one would run, no one would try to play the hero and lives would be saved. The Queen was proving to be brutally efficient.

  When the teams had left on the Death Rise, heading into Oakland, she walked across to Yerba Buena to the Coast Guard station and began inspecting the two dozen scuba tanks. She tested each, pulling three duds to the side. Next, she inspected the valves and regulators.

  Finally, she took the smallest tank, a regulator, a pair of styrofoam buoys, and a roll of duct-tape down to the cove.

  What are you up to? Jillybean asked. She wasn’t the only one with the question on their lips. Lindy Smith and five other children tromped along well behind her as though magnetically drawn by their curiosity.

  Lindy was absolutely eaten up
by it. She crept closer and closer until her building inquisitiveness finally overcame her fear of the Queen. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Working out the considerable technical difficulties in using compressed air as an engine for a homemade torpedo. Distance, speed and maneuverability are the keys involved. Right now we will test for both distance and speed with an unencumbered launch. Meaning there will be no vehicle or explosive device involved.”

  It’s what Jillybean had figured and she watched closely as the Queen assembled the pieces to form a clunky little vehicle, consisting of the two hunks of styrofoam taped to the tank. Next, she cut away the second stage of the regulator, which normally reduced the air pressure from the hose so a person’s lungs wouldn’t burst. The end of the hose was taped in place so that it ran directly beneath the contraption.

  She turned the top valve full over and immediately there was a sharp hissing sound. When she placed it in the water, the contraption buzzed away, bouncing with little hops over the small waves and leaving behind a tail of white foam. It ran at a respectable ten miles-an-hour for just over five minutes.

  “Almost a mile,” the Queen said. “With the bomb and a proper platform, we should make at least a third of a mile. Six hundred yards will do just fine. Now, we just need to steer the contraption properly and we’re in business.”

  “What business is that?” Lindy asked.

  The Queen, her face still stone-cold, smiled without any warmth, down on the little girl. “The business of destroying the Corsairs, of course.”

  Chapter 35

  Jillybean/The other Jillybean

  The word about the Queen’s torpedoes spread quickly and generated so much buzz and excitement that it seemed to Jillybean that practically everyone was ready to forgive her for her past “issues.”

  No longer were they reluctant workers, toiling under the Mad Queen. Now, they were building victory out of the odds and ends that were being brought back from Oakland: more ingredients for smoke bombs and batteries, floating platforms, spools of wire, remote controlled toy cars, super glue, eighty pounds of fertilizer, radios, chemicals of all sorts, and many other items that had no obvious relationship to each other.