Generation Z

by Peter Meredith

  By then, Jillybean had pushed them into the channel, where they began to pick up speed and pull away from the docks. The firing died away and Jenn changed her aim to the wall, once more taking shots at anyone who poked their head up. Even with the scope she missed every time.

  She was changing to another magazine just as bullets ripped through the Saber from behind. Splinters filled the air as a scream erupted from inside the cabin. That scream, so unexpected, froze Jenn as the air crackled and cracked around her.

  A boat was seventy yards back and there were at least eight guns blasting away from its deck. Their only saving grace was that it was a dark night. The black hull and sails of the Saber blended so well with the darkness that when Mike heaved the rudder over and they cut to the left, the bullets whipping downriver missed by twenty yards. Jenn held her fire, knowing they would orient on her muzzle blasts.

  Mike kept the boat as close to the far bank as possible and only swung back at a bend in the river. It was here that Jillybean had stashed the dresser drawers filled with oil-soaked kindling.

  Jenn suddenly saw, with amazement, that Jillybean was still in the skiff, running alongside the Saber. Jenn had assumed she was onboard As Jillybean passed them in the skiff, she reached out and grabbed the first and buzzed back out into the river, hauling the chain of them along until they stretched almost from bank to bank.

  She lit the first and it burst into flame. The fire traveled quickly along the oil-soaked line of sheets, catching each drawer on fire until they were all burning. The captain of the boat following them panicked and, instead of braving the shallows on either side of the line, he tried to turn around. He heaved the rudder over, fighting against the wind and current which swept him broadside into the line, engulfing him in a flaming hug.

  In no time, the forty-foot boat was on fire, lighting up the night. Behind it, more boats could be seen shoving away from the docks. They clogged the river as the first few were hesitant about passing the burning boat. This gave Jillybean time to catch up in the skiff. She thudded its prow into the sailboat’s stern adding the power of the little electric motor to the overall thrust.

  “Ahoy, Saber,” she called. “Is everyone all right?”

  Jenn glanced down at herself. Everything had been such mayhem and confusion that she honestly didn’t know. She was shaking like a leaf, but other than that she was fine. “I-I think I’m okay, but there’s someone hurt in the cabin. A girl I think.”

  “Probably a slave,” Jillybean said in a carrying whisper. “Tell her to hold on. Once we get Stu on board, I’ll take care of her.”

  After a deep breath, Jenn swung the cabin door back and looked inside. The Saber was actually thirty-two feet from stem to stern and a small kitchenette and crowded “living room” greeted her. Propped against a stiff-looking couch was a woman. In the dark, only her eyes really stood out. The rest of her was a bloody mess.

  A bullet had unzipped her cheek from her lip to her ear, while another had punched a hole in her stomach. She looked at Jenn and cried, the tendons of her neck sticking out like pulley wires.

  “W-We have a doctor,” Jenn told her. “Just give her a few minutes.” There was nothing Jenn could do for the woman except watch her die and it was the last thing she wanted to do. “I’ll be right back.” She fled on deck just as they cleared the mouth of the river. Stu, sitting on the bobbing cart was anchored perfectly along the path of the wind and Mike bore down on him so quickly that they almost crashed.

  They slowed down just enough to let Jillybeancatch up and for Mike to throw a line to Stu. “Jenn, take the helm,” Mike ordered. “Keep us pointed southwest.” With the Saber plowing on into the dark, Mike pulled the cart in close and Stu began tossing everything up to him. It wasn’t easy. The chop in the harbor bucked the sailboat up and down and a few of the jugs of waters and two of the packs fell and had to be left behind.

  On the other side of the boat, Jillybean climbed onto the deck just in time to see the second pack fall.

  “Get that one!” she screeched. Stu dropped a crate and lunged for the pack, but because of the cast on his leg, he missed. Jillybean ran to the back of the boat, watching the pack sink. “We have to turn around,” she said. “That, that, that was my pack. It had my pills in it. You know, the pills that make me, me.”

  “Don’t stop!” Mike bellowed as Jenn started to shorten sail. “Our lead is razor slim. We’ll get more pills. I’m sure they’re everywhere.”

  Jillybean shook her head. “They aren’t and even if they were, they wouldn’t have been stored correctly. They’d be useless. I’ll use the skiff and I’ll be right back.”

  Mike grabbed her. “No, it’s too slow. You’ll never catch up. Go below and take a look at that girl. She needs you, Jillybean.”

  Slowly, hesitantly, Jillybean went down into the hold. She seemed even more unsure of herself than Jenn. Mike watched her and cursed, before hissing to Stu, “Hurry!” Stu began throwing items as fast as he could and when the cart was empty, he climbed the rope to the deck where he lay panting.

  “You better go check on her,” Mike said to Jenn. “I’m worried about her.”

  Not as much as me, Jenn wanted to say. She went down into hold where Jillybean was kneeling next to the woman. Jillybean had her flashlight set on the floor, pointed into one of the crates. “You okay?” Jenn asked. When Jillybean looked up, one of her eyes went to the woman and the other went to Jenn.

  Jenn had never seen anything like it. She couldn’t help her reaction: she gasped and leaned back.

  “What does this say?” Jillybean asked, holding up a small bottle. “Is it morphine? I can’t tell.” In one hand was the bottle and in the other was a seven-inch hunting knife.

  “First, tell me what the knife’s for.”

  Jillybean’s right eye slipped from the bleeding woman and now they were both focused on Jenn. “It’s for her. She needs to die.”

  Chapter 34

  Jenn Lockhart

  “Eve?” Jenn asked.

  The girl rolled Jillybean’s huge eyes. “Of course, it’s me. Jillybean is too weak for this. She knows this girl ain’t gonna live but she’s still going to waste supplies on her. Those are supplies we need for your friends, Jenn. So, don’t give me that look. I’ll make it quick. It’ll be a mercy.”

  She took a step toward the woman and Jenn slid between them. “Please don’t. We can figure something out beyond murder, right?”

  Eve’s eyes flashed. “Murder? Murder? Is that what Jillybean said? But do you know what she’s done? Huh? Do you know what she did to the Believers? Do you know how many thousands of them she killed? And do you know what she did to the River King and his people? Have you even heard of them? Probably not because she killed them all.”

  Jenn started to shake her head, which only made Eve laugh. “You don’t know her like I do. You don’t know that the only reason Neil keeps her around is to use her. He needs her genius, but he doesn’t care about her and never has. Do you know that the first time he met her, he tried to trade her? He tried to trade her like a slave.”

  “I-I didn’t know that, but, but that was then. We have to deal with right now. Put down the knife and bring Jillybean back. We need her help. And, and besides, you probably don’t know the first thing about how to kill mercifully. Do you even know which cranial nerve to cut?”

  “Oh, Jenn,” Eve said, holding back laughter. “You’re a freaking riot. No wonder she likes you so much. The cranial nerves are in the head, duh. You can’t kill anyone by stabbing them in the head. Not unless you get them right at the base between C1 and, and, the uh.” She touched the back of her head, a touch of confusion in her blue eyes.

  On a hunch, Jenn said, “It’s not C1, it’s C4.”

  “What? No, that would cause a loss of, um, what is it? The diaphragm? Is it the diaphragm that would be impaired?” Jenn had no idea what a diaphragm was, but she shook her head. “Then what is it? A C3 break usually affects breathing and the victim would
likely require a ventilator, unless…” She sucked in a breath and her jaw came unhinged so that her mouth came open.

  “Jillybean?” Jenn asked.

  The girl nodded, then looked at the knife in her hands. “Did I kill her?” she asked, in a strangled voice. Tears were already streaming down, running lines through the mud on her face, making it look as though something had clawed at her. Jenn told her no, and slowly Jillybean turned to look at the bleeding woman. “Okay good.”

  She knelt and the woman whimpered, holding up bloody, shaking hands. Jillybean took a deep breath and, still dripping tears, said, “It’ll be okay. She’s gone and I won’t hurt you. See?” She tossed aside the knife. “Now let’s see what I’m dealing with here.”

  Jenn had to hold the woman’s hand, otherwise she would shake and cry. Her name was Kim Marino and Jenn had no intention of leaving for long, she just wanted to find out what was going on with the Corsairs. Mike was a good captain, perhaps the best alive, and yet his only crew member was Stu whose cast could be heard thumping and scraping along overhead.

  It was only when Jillybean hooked an IV up and injected a strong sedative into it that Jenn was able to pop her head out of the cabin. “Where are we? Are we still in the harbor?” She heard a bell off to their right; it had to be a buoy.

  “Almost out,” Stu said. He was so pale that his eyes looked like a doll’s button eyes in his white face.

  “Let’s switch. You can keep an eye on Jillybean.”

  He dragged himself down into the kitchenette. Jillybean took one look at him and cleared a spot on one of the stiff couches. “You’re overdoing it, Stu Currans.” She took his wrist and held it in what to Jenn looked like the least romantic handholding ever. “Yep, your heart rate is over ninety. Let’s get you hooked up, as well.”

  Where Jillybean had been extremely clinical with Kim, she was sweet and gentle with Stu, and Jenn felt it was safe to go on deck. Mike didn’t give her a moment to even say hello. He had her rushing about the deck, tying down the skiff that had been hauled up, bundling rope that was strewn all over the deck, and hunting down bullet holes to see if they were drawing water.

  She found two below the waterline that she plugged with wads of cloth. When she went back on deck, she found Mike in a sweat working three sails against the wind and trying to slip through the narrow mouth of the harbor. Bells, warning of sandbars, were ringing to the north and south, while behind them to the east the water was crowded with lights. Hundreds of them.

  The Corsairs burned candles on deck to keep from running into each other as they tacked back and forth. The closest of the lights were maybe only eighty yards away.

  “Use the gun,” Mike said, “but wait until I say to fire.” She brought the scoped M4 to her shoulder and took aim at the closest of the boats which was on a similar course. She sighted on the helmsman. “Go,” he said a moment later. She fired three times, the man fell and complete chaos ensued.

  Mike spun the wheel and the Saber turned neatly just as dozens of guns opened up, firing in the direction they had been going, ripping up the water behind them. The boat Jenn had shot at yawed away from the wind while at the same time its crew, along with all the other crews doused the candles. In the narrow channel, a crash was inevitable, and Jenn watched through her scope as two boats plowed straight into each other. The two boats became locked and, as the smaller took on water and began to sink, it dragged the other down with it. Between them, they blocked the narrow channel.

  Jenn went to high-five Mike but the Saber hit a small wave and she fell into him. The high-five became a long embrace that was interrupted by a fast approaching sandbar. Mike sent the boat on a diagonal course out of the harbor.

  “We made it,” he grinned. “We’re free.” Jenn wanted to hug him again, but held off. If they were in fact free, their time together was almost over. She looked to the stars for a sign and saw nothing but pretty lights.

  There were no omens save for the wind. As much as Jenn wanted to prolong this last part of their trip, the wind hurtled them along, shooting them down the coast. The weather was beautiful and the Saber was the finest boat she’d ever been on. Still, she worried about the future they were speeding towards.

  Without her medicine, Jillybean grew edgy, her mind slipping from personality to personality as she struggled to save Kim. The slave woman had been shot in her guts. On that first night, when Jenn went in to check on her, she found Jillybean covered in blood, her hands deep in the woman’s bowels, picking through what looked like a mass of giant white worms.

  “I can’t do this,” Jillybean whispered to Stu. “We should let Eve have her.”

  Stu was as bloody as Jillybean. Under the blood, he was a greenish shade of pale. “No. Never give in to her. Besides, the bleeder’s right there. You can get it.”

  Jenn fled back on deck. By morning the surgery was over. Kim was in a coma, barely holding on. Jillybean, covered in blood and foul-smelling body parts, walked up out of the hold. As though she were sleepwalking, she went to the prow, stripped away her clothes and flung them into the ocean.

  “Will you come back for me?” Before anyone could answer, she dove into the water. Mike had been studiously looking away, now he cursed and struggled the boat around.

  She went into the water as Jillybean and came out as Sadie. “Did you get a good look, Magoo?” she asked Mike after they had pulled her naked but clean from the cold water. Jenn threw a blanket over her while Mike turned red. This had Sadie laughing. “Magoo, you’re a real boy scout, aren’t you?”

  “Stop calling me Magoo or I’ll toss you off my boat!”

  Sadie laughed at this, which only had Mike getting even angrier. He held up a balled fist in front of her face. “Scary,” she drawled. “Here’s something even scarier.” Casually, she let the blanket fall away. His eyes went wide for a second before he made a choking sound and looked up at the mast. When he did, Sadie kneed him in the crotch. As he doubled over, she slammed an elbow into his jaw, sending him sprawling.

  Stark naked, she leapt on him and grabbed his face with both hands, her sharp thumbnails hovering millimeters above his eyes. “Never raise a fist at me again, Magoo. Never. This will be your only warning. Do you understand?”

  “Jillybean,” Stu said in a tired voice. He had hobbled up from the cabin. “Let him go.”

  “Not until he promises me.”

  When Mike finally made his promise, she jumped up as if nothing had happened. Jillybean didn’t reappear for another three hours and when she did, she begged Mike for forgiveness. When he reluctantly forgave her, she turned to look at the cabin door as if it led straight into hell. Stu coaxed her in saying, “She needs you.”

  On the second day, Mike tried to make landfall. Kim and Jillybean, when she was Jillybean that is, were going downhill. Jillybean desperately needed her meds while Kim was bleeding internally and needed a stable platform so she could be opened up again.

  He turned the Saber towards the shore and as they got close, the waves built up so that they felt as though they were on a rollercoaster. It was when they were on the peak of one of these waves that Jenn looked north and saw the tips of sails—black sails.

  She screamed a warning and Mike flew into action, bringing the boat about and racing her south. “Did they see us?” he asked. Jenn had no idea.

  Jillybean was forced to operate on Kim under the same terrible conditions and somehow, she was able to locate the bleeders and stabilize the woman. Kim even woke in the late evening. She was weak and her eyes kept sliding away from Jillybean’s face, but she managed to say, “I’m Kim Marino. Don’t forget me, please.”

  Jenn didn’t think she would ever forget Kim. Her nose was crooked from an old break, she was missing most of her teeth and her skin was splotchy with partially healed bruises. Her life among the Corsairs had been one long nightmare.

  By sunrise of the third day, they saw the hills of Capetown jutting out into the ocean ahead of them, while behind, slowly materi
alizing in the grey light were black sails, looking like bat wings. The Corsairs had almost caught up with them in the night. They were only two miles away.

  “God!” Mike cried and ran to let out the foresail. “Jenn! Help me! Point us right at that rock.” In the distance was a little spit of a rock called Sugarloaf Island. It rose up out of the water sixty or seventy feet, while studded around it were smaller but no less dangerous spires, any one of which would turn the Saber into nothing more than a pile of kindling if they hit them. On a lee coast it was dangerous and stupid to try to thread those needles. It was, however the straightest route home. The Corsairs slowed and swung west to avoid them.

  Once clear of the coastal rocks, the wind was almost at their backs and Mike piled on all the canvas he could. They were flying along and still the Corsairs gained on them.

  “The math isn’t in our favor,” Jillybean said. “They’ll catch us.”

  “Tell me,” Mike ordered. “Break it down for me.”

  She looked at him with her head cocked like a dog that had just heard a far-off whistle. “It’s me, Jillybean.”

  “I know!” he snapped. “Just tell me the math.”

  “Uh, okay. It’s not that hard: speed equals distance divided by time. They’re covering more distance in the same amount of time. Is that what you want to know? Or do you want to me to tell you about the square footage of their sails in relation to wind and weight? To put it simply, they have bigger ships and thus have bigger sails. This gives them a thrust to weight ratio advantage.”

  Jenn picked up her rifle and used the scope to get a close-up view of the ships. “The ships in front are much bigger. Fifty-footers at least, and their sails look huge, but they’re not going that much faster than we are. Why?”

  “That’s because they have correspondingly more weight to…” Jillybean stopped and stared at Mike. They wore identical looks. “We have to lighten the load! Mike, tell us what to keep and what goes.”