Once more the Magnum ships were manned and they prepared to come rushing out. Before they could, the lead ship was hit by a torpedo. Visually, the explosion had far less impact than those from the night before, however the mental impact was far greater. The other ships spun in crazy turns, desperate to get away from the torpedoes that filled their minds but were nonexistent in the water.
They abandoned their ships and retreated to a little waterside community to await an assault that the Queen had no intention of launching. Instead she sent Leney in once more under the flag of truce. Paranoid, the Magnum leader refused to come out but said he would meet the Queen on neutral ground. He suggested the long, rocky mole that had been built as a sea-breaker to protect the entrance to the harbor.
A gravel path once used by fishermen ran across the top of it. The Queen would come by the sea end and he would come by the land end. It was agreed to by everyone except Jillybean, who was feeling utterly useless and more than a little bored. She followed along with the Queen, not really knowing if she had a choice.
The Queen and Leney landed first. She stepped off the small boat, red-eyed and stifling yawns—she had discovered that it was much easier defeating the Corsairs than it was leading them, especially over such a short period. The Black Captain had built up a system of terror to keep his men in line. All she had were her wits and her regal bearing.
Keeping the men busy had helped, but it had also forced her to keep just as busy and now she was drooping with fatigue. Still, Jillybean did not see the slightest crack in her personality. Her mind was a fortress.
Does that mean Eve and Ipes are in some sort of mental dungeon, or are they floating around here with me? Jillybean glanced around and saw no one except for the two figures who had appeared at the land end of the dock, one much larger than the other. She knew the big one.
“Gloom,” the Queen said, just as Jillybean thought the name. At Leney’s quizzical look, the Queen explained, “He’s the leader of the Santas. I had hoped he had died in my trap.”
“Well, well, well, the Mad Queen,” Gloom drawled as the pair walked up.
With him was an older man, thin and tough, his grey hair in a U around a high dome of a head. Gloom turned to him, saying, “She’s a nutter. A schizo-frenic. There’s got to be at least four people walking around in that big head of hers.”
The Queen’s only response was to snap her finger at Leney. He took a step toward Gloom, who took a step back. Leney grinned. “Don’t piss yourself, chubby. I’m just gonna frisk you. Part of the deal, remember?” Leney frisked the two and then, in return, was frisked by Gloom. The big man went for the Queen next.
“Not you. I don’t know even want to know where those hands have been.” The older man came to frisk her, but she stopped him. “And you are?”
“Captain Ryley McCartt,” he answered, remaining perfectly rigid and tense.
She put out her hand to him. “Jillian, Queen of the Bay. Do not be afraid, you may kiss my hand.” Ryley hesitated. “It’s expected with my subjects,” she assured him.
“I’m no one’s subject.”
“Not yet, and of course you have choices, although none of them are very good. I could destroy you instead; a poor choice if you ask me. Or perhaps I could let the Black Captain have you. I do so enjoy letting my enemies kill each other. It was especially entertaining watching the Corsairs tear you apart, Gloom.”
Gloom’s round face puckered. “Don’t listen to her, McCartt. Your only option is to ally yourself with me and my Santas. She doesn’t have the manpower to do much more than make threats. I’d be surprised if she’s got two hundred men.”
“Is that including the Coos Bay Clan?” she replied. “The entire band of them came over to my side last night. Then there are my ex-Corsairs.” She gestured to Leney who nodded, stiffly. “Then there’s the Hill People and the Islanders and the entire city of Sacramento.”
She sat down on a rock, stretching her legs out in front of her, completely at her ease. “I have enough men to turn the Magnum Killers into the Magnum Corpses, but I don’t want to be Queen of the Dead. I want to be Queen of the Living, and I’d like to include you among my subjects, Captain McCartt.”
“Please,” Gloom laughed. “We picked up a runner yesterday, didn’t we, McCartt? Manny, something. He told us all about what was going on over on Alcatraz. He says that you have a dozen or so Corsairs, a few chicks and some bombs. You don’t have ‘plenty’ of fighters. What you have is a set of brass balls, a pretty face and some smarts.”
He came to stand high over her. He was a veritable mountain of a man and he gazed down at her, trying to make her feel small. “Yes, you need me as much as McCartt does. If you want to be Queen of the Bay, you’re going to need a king.” Unbelievably, he held out his huge, ringed hand to her. Even more unbelievably, she seemed to be considering kissing it.
Don’t you dare! Jillybean cried, rushing to try to get in between them. This time the Queen definitely reacted; she jerked and then laughed uneasily.
“You wish to be my king and I your queen?” She stood and squared up to him, looking him right in the eye. “Interesting concept.” It looked as though she was going to say something else, instead, she walked away, stopping at the end of the mole. She took in the bay. Despite the rotting corpses and the ugly chunks of people being fought over by the gulls above and the leopard sharks below, the bay was beautiful, bathed in the morning light.
I can’t believe you’re even contemplating this, Jillybean said, standing just over her shoulder. He will screw you over at the first chance. And you don’t really need the Santas. We both know you can’t trust them.
“Who can I trust?” the Queen asked herself.
You can only trust yourself, now, Jillybean told her.
“Just myself.”
They both sighed at the same time before they turned to confront Gloom. His triumphant, gloating grin was sickening. It was almost as if he could read her like a book. “You’re in a tough position, I know. Your friends have all forsaken you. You were cast out. Banished. And now who can you turn to? A queen needs a king, and you need me and what I offer. Come, kneel before me.”
A lone gull winged casually by, enjoying the spectacle, letting out a high, squeaking laughter. The Queen glanced at it before smiling easily at Gloom. “No, I’m not the one who’s going to kneel. We’re going to do this right. If you want me to be your queen then you will have to kneel and propose properly. And I want one of those ridiculous rings to seal the deal.”
At first Gloom looked confused, then he let out a roar of laughter. “A royal marriage? You’re even crazier than I thought. You know…” He began to huff and puff himself into a kneeling position. “I’m going to demand access to the royal chambers. If you know what I mean.”
“Just give me the ring,” she said, holding out her dainty left hand. “The less talking the better.”
“I was going to say the same thing to you. Ah, here we go.” It had taken a good deal of straining to remove the ring. Now, he yanked her close. She could smell sweat and garlic. “Will you marry me?”
“What in the world?” Leney whispered, shooting an incredulous look at McCartt, who nodded in agreement. No one could have foreseen this happening and no one could have foreseen the Queen’s answer, not even Jillybean.
With a lightning fast move, the Queen pulled the sleek, razor-sharp switchblade she always carried and stabbed Gloom in the throat with it. His eyes shot wide in his fat face as he began to gurgle and choke on hot blood.
The Queen pulled her hand away from his now weak grip and stood watching him, calmly. When he fell on his face, she turned to Leney. “Get his head; I’m going to need it. And you, McCartt,” she gazed at him, expressionless, “I believe our negotiations have ended. Come, kneel.”
She held out her left hand—the bloody switchblade was still in her right. When he knelt, his eyes kept flicking to it. “You have nothing to fear,” she told him, “but if I ever order you to
frisk someone, I expect you to frisk them.”
Chapter 36
Jenn Lockhart
The view from her telescope had not improved over the last three days, although in truth, she didn’t know what an honest improvement would look like.
The black and silver flag of the Queen had gradually taken over the entire bay.
First it had gone up on Treasure Island, then the Floating Fortress, then Angel Island, then along the Oakland waterfront, then north to Port Richmond and San Quentin, where she disappeared with twenty-five ships only to return with over double the number. The day before, her flags had been fluttering down the length of the Golden Gate Bridge and on the highest peaks of the Marin Headlands all the way to the burned-out remains of Sausalito. There now had to be a thousand flags ringing the bay.
An hour before sunset, the Queen’s fleet, what had started out as three stolen boats but was now fifty-five elegant black sailing ships, had put out from Treasure Island. The entire population of Alcatraz had watched the procession as it headed toward Horseshoe Bay, where the last pocket of Corsairs remained.
With almost a hundred boats coming together in a fantastic chaotic storm of bullets and explosions, and with hordes of fighters on both sides going at it without mercy, it promised to be a great battle.
The prevailing hope was that both sides would destroy themselves. Jenn knew it was a vain hope. Jillybean had already proven herself to be the Queen of War and whoever commanded the Corsairs was certainly not her king.
With the Queen’s flags decorating the hills above him, the Corsair captain had fortified the approaches to the bay with hastily dug trenches and small redoubts made of sandbags, driftwood and parts of the burned-out buildings left over from the fire Eve had set weeks before.
This was a standard, uninspired arrangement that demonstrated he possessed no particular brilliance. Still, it would have posed serious hardships against a lesser opponent. His sea defenses, on the other hand, were somewhat laughable. Despite having heard the explosions occurring over the last few nights, he acted as if the possibility of torpedoes were still in the realm of science fiction, and he made no effort to counter them. He arranged his ships in a crescent shape within the bounds of the bay, clearly hoping the Queen would stream right in and allow herself to be trapped as the Corsair flanks closed in on her like a gaping mouth slamming shut.
Jillybean was no fool. With her enemy doing nothing but waiting for her to attack, she took the initiative by sending great clouds of man-made smoke rolling down the hills to smother the land defenses.
The smoke wasn’t what she had used in the past. Jenn turned pale as she watched the Corsairs falling over themselves in gagging, choking fits. Puking and almost blind, they crawled out of the smoke and crowded into their boats—without any hinderance from the Queen.
She could have attacked and massacred them with ease, instead she held back her forces. Only once the stragglers were aboard the boats and just as the sun set, the Queen sent three silvery tubes buzzing into the center of the Corsair fleet.
Fantastic explosions followed.
“Gawd,” Stu whispered.
“What were those things?” Mike asked, his voice nearly fully back. “I know they were bombs, but how’d she get them to go like that?”
“Torpedoes,” Gerry the Greek said, softly. His face was so slack that it looked as though his caterpillar-sized eyebrows were trying to wriggle off his forehead.
Jenn had no idea what a torpedo was. Mike nodded sagely but with an uncertain look in his eye. Mesmerized, Stu stared at the fires that had sprung up, and asked in his soft way, “Those are like swimming bombs, right? Submarines used to have them.”
Like Stu, Gerry seemed transfixed by the fires. He nodded for half a minute before he finally answered, “Yeah. If she has enough of them she’ll be unstoppable. She’ll come here next,” he said, ominously. This cast a pall of doom over the crowd standing in the cold twilight. They watched helplessly as the Corsairs gradually came to the same conclusion. One by one, white flags were sent up masts.
The one-sided battle was over and instead of both sides destroying each other, the Queen had grown even stronger. As each boat surrendered, their old flags were pulled down and the Queen’s silver crown was hoisted aloft—the last of the Corsairs in the bay area were now her subjects.
In true Jillybean fashion, she did not pause to rest. She gathered her huge fleet and with dozens of lanterns blazing on each boat, the fleet swept past Alcatraz on a parade of the bay. When the lead boat sailed triumphantly by in full view of the island, someone in the crowd asked, “What is that?” No answer was needed. Hanging from the mast of the lead boat was a limp body, swinging with the motion of the waves.
Jenn swallowed with difficulty as her throat constricted. The body was that of an executed man, his neck stretched horribly by the rope used to kill him. He was a message to anyone who was considering defying the Queen.
The crowd broke up with everyone sneaking guilty looks Jenn’s way before they disappeared. She did not return any of the looks. She stood straight, staring out into the dark, knowing that she had already lost. Her people would surrender without a fight. Their fear of death was stronger than either their loyalty or their common sense.
Jillybean surely knew this, just like she seemed to know everything there was to know under the sun. Jenn sighed.
Soon it was just her and Mike. “You should get some sleep,” he told her as he took her by the elbow, directing her to her room: one of the cells in the D Block. The recent fighting had half-destroyed some of the buildings and the likelihood of attack made it prudent to sleep in the most protected places.
Although sheets had been pinned in place over the other inhabited cells for privacy, Jenn could feel eyes on her and she gave Mike the quickest kiss on the cheek. Wagging tongues were the last thing she needed.
With the prospect of battle looming, sleep did not come easily or quickly, and she was still exhausted at daybreak when she went back up to the roof of the prison. Her stomach was in knots and her hands shook as she opened the door to the roof. In a blink, her fear turned to giddy excitement. The Queen’s ships were gone!
“Where’d they go?” Jenn whispered, slowly swinging the telescope in a 360-degree arc, stopping when she came to an exceptionally up-close view of Mike’s shoulder.
“They could be anywhere,” he said, squinting north. “You never know with her. They could be hunting down strays up by Sacramento, or they coulda put out to sea. With those torpedo things, she could easily challenge the Black Captain.”
She gave him a very Jillybean-like, “Hmmm,” as she studied the bay with more care. Yes, the ships had all disappeared, but her flags remained, flying everywhere. Along with the flags, she had left behind many of her Corsairs. They were like ants, crawling all over the Floating Fortress and Treasure Island. Seeing them brought back that nervous, sick feeling in her stomach.
Stu limped up. Despite his youth, his many injuries made him creaky in the morning. He took the telescope and trained it south. “She’s gone off to take over the Santas. Once she has them on her side, she’ll come for us. She’s too smart to go after the Black Captain while she has enemies in her home waters.” After a long search, he grunted, “She’s beyond the horizon.”
“What do you think she’ll do to us?” Mike asked, taking a turn at the scope.
Jenn noted that neither man entertained the possibility that Jillybean could be defeated by the Santas; she didn’t think it likely either. Jillybean made an ally of the night, she was a friend to fire and smoke and a lover to explosions. No one could stop her.
The wind whipped Mike’s long blond hair into his face. He yanked a handful of it into a careless ponytail, saying, “If she thinks we’re enemies, maybe she’ll…you know.”
“Kill us?” Stu scratched his stubbled chin. “I don’t know. I guess maybe it depends on who’s running things in her head. Eve might.”
“But not Jillybean,”
Jenn stated, forcefully. “She had us in her power before and she could’ve done anything she wanted. She could’ve jailed us like we did to her, or even killed us for treason.” Despite her confident attitude, she was out there at first light for a reason. What would she do with them? The question hung in her mind and spawned terrible images. Jillybean was no monster, however she was insane and there was no knowing where her unbalanced mind would take her.
“If I had to bet, I’d say banishment is most likely,” Mike said. “And since it’s like, you know, the best case, maybe we should take the decision out of her hands and, you know…” He walked his fingers along the air in front of his face.
“I’m not running,” Stu growled, “and Jenn can’t. She’s queen. If she runs, there’ll be panic. Besides, just how far do you think we’ll get in the Captain Jack?”
All three of them glanced down at the boat that had been laboriously pulled from the water two days before. It was a miracle she hadn’t sunk, and only the light seas had kept her from being dashed to pieces. Still, she wasn’t much use anymore. When they’d finally got her up on her jacks, a swimming pools worth of water had drained from the many small bullet holes dotting her hull.
There were thirty-two little spraying fountains. “It’s like a cartoon,” Gerry the Greek had said before he limped away. What he meant by this, Jenn didn’t have a clue.
According to Mike, the long splits in her seams were far worse than the holes. He had plugged the holes in a matter of hours. Repairing the seams was still a work in progress. Because of the extensive damage, the Captain Jack needed at least three more layers of epoxy, which would take another week.
GENERATION Z THE COMPLETE BOX SET: NOVELS 1-3 Page 116