The Queen of the Dead

by Peter Meredith

  Jenn pictured tiny Lindy Smith struggling beneath a heavy pack, hounded by the Corsairs on one side and the dead on the other. “They’ll never make it,” she realized. “They’d be lucky to make it fifteen miles and that’s if the dead don’t get them first. And the Corsairs have boats. Fast ones. They’ll be able to cut off any escape route.”

  “They could hide,” Stu suggested.

  “For how long?” Jillybean asked. “The Corsairs aren’t going to leave anytime soon. The bay area and Alcatraz in particular is a logical place for them to use as a base. Sure, your friends could go a day or two without fires if the weather doesn’t turn, but winter is coming. They’ll need fires to cook with and to keep warm. Hiding is a temporary solution.”

  Stu bit back on a curse as he snarled, “So we fight and die. That’s your plan?”

  Jillybean looked down at her small hands as if she could find the answers they desperately needed in its creases. “So far that’s all I have. I have my tricks which will help and if we all band together that will help more, but…” There was nothing else to add—the hard truth was that in the end, they would fight and they would die.

  She was sure the Corsairs wouldn’t come blundering in dumb this time. They would come during the day; they’d come in slow and carefully and they’d be on the lookout for the dead. Jillybean was sure they’d come with thousands of men and with their hundreds of boats they would be able to swarm in every direction.

  All of this presented a considerable military conundrum. It was a puzzle that was, at the moment, and despite her unequalled intellect, unsolvable. She had studied the situation from every angle, always coming up against the hard truth that she would be facing a force that would likely outnumber hers six to one. They were better armed and with a clear advantage in mobility.

  That mobility would make the classic tactics of using guerrilla warfare impossible. How does one win using a hit and run strategy when your enemy can hit harder and run faster?

  She had studied maps of the bay, seeing a dozen places where she could arrange to cutoff and trap large numbers of boats. But each time she saw how easily her small army could be flanked, pinned in place and completely destroyed.

  Yes, she would have deception and surprise on her side, but these would only stave off a disastrous defeat for only so long.

  All four had been silent for the last minute. Mike broke the silence by slapping his thigh and declaring, “Alcatraz is our only hope. It’s the only place where we have a chance of defending ourselves.” He snapped his fingers, excitedly. “You know what? We have more than just a chance! With the Hill People and the Islanders and all the warehouse people put together, we’d have more than enough people to fight them off. Our walls aren’t all that high but they’re thick enough to stop bullets. We can win.”

  He was so excited that Jillybean didn’t want to tell him exactly how wrong he was. She sighed and her shoulders slumped as she was about to tell him where he’d made his mistake in logic, but before she could, Mike barked, “You don’t know everything! The Corsairs don’t stand a chance if they attack us.”

  “They wouldn’t need to attack us,” Stu said, seeing at least some of the problems Jillybean had been wrestling with. “They could just surround us and wait until we run out of food.”

  “Actually it’ll be the water that goes first,” Jillybean corrected. “Unless the stores of fresh water on the island are far greater than I suspect, we’ll be dry in three or four days. Unless of course the Corsairs take a few shots at the water tower, then it’ll be quicker than that. It’s what I would do.”

  Mike, his face red and alive with anger leapt up and took a quick turn around the cabin. “Why are we just hearing about this? If you’re so smart why’d you wait until now? Huh?” Echoing Stu’s words, he demanded, “Why’d you wait to tell anyone until it was too late to do anything about it?”

  Jillybean’s eyes darted quickly away.

  I know why, Eve said coming up out of the gloom of her soul. Can I tell ‘em? Please? Let me break it to them for you. I’ll be gentle, I promise. Of course how can I be gentle when the answer is that you ain’t nothing like they think. You ain’t no good guy. You are way more eviler than me, miss thinkin’ three steps ahead.

  Chapter 33

  “Shut up!” Jillybean hissed savagely.

  At first Mike’s anger flared then he realized that the she was talking to herself and he became embarrassed for her. Still, he stood his ground, waiting for an answer.

  Gradually, Jillybean was able to overcome Eve. She did not win outright and wasn’t able to shove her down in the black with the other gibbering voices, but she came close, and managed to retain enough of herself to answer in a small voice.

  “My great conceit is exposed at last. I wish I knew everything. I wish, maybe, like Jenn, I could see the future. But this only came to me, uh lately. A few days ago when we were first on the boat. It’s a Corsair boat and I got to thinking how long it would take for them to get back to Grays Harbor and that led to the idea that they might want to come back. Then I slowly became convinced that they would definitely come back. I hope I’m wrong about that, as well.”

  Stu blew out through his nose like a bull, but he wasn’t mad at her, he was mad at the Corsairs. “You’re not wrong.” After a quick glance at Jenn, who was shaking her head, he said, “They know we’re here and they’re probably pissed off at what happened. And we all know what the Corsairs are like when they’re pissed off. They’re going to want their revenge. I should have seen it, too.”

  Jenn was tucked away in the corner of the cabin, shivering as if it were much colder than it was. Jillybean had lied with only the slightest hiccup of morality when she had said, “uh.” Everything else had been a purposeful deception.

  There was no mystical sign telling her this—it was simply fact in her mind and she couldn’t understand how no one was calling her out on it.

  “One way or the other,” Jillybean went on suddenly, her voice somewhat brassy and loud, “whether we knew three days ago or three weeks ago, our position is still precarious and we need to do all we can with the time we have left. I need more batteries, more explosives and more smoke bombs.”

  Mike touched the thin wall of his beloved Saber, saying, “Bombs? No way. Not here. You can make them on the barge.”

  Eve seemed to have been lurking for just this moment and she flashed into existence, turning Jillybean beautifully ugly. “I’ll make them anywhere I damned please,” she hissed. In seething hatred, she glared around the room until her eyes fell on Stu. “Ooh, it’s the rapist. Did she tell you yet, how long she knew about the Corsairs?”

  Stu knocked some of the dark triumph from her face by answering, “Yes, she did.”

  “Okay then did she tell you about the shipwrecked Corsair she caught and tortured for information?” A second honest “yes” from Stu had her steaming.

  Mike was too tired to deal with her and said, “You’re being a nuisance. Why don’t you go away?”

  “Why don’t you?” she spat back.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, okay I will,” he said, inadvertently wounding Eve with his indifference more than he could have with any uttered word. She sputtered as he turned to Jenn and held out a hand. “Do you want to come with me to check the anchor? I just don’t trust that darn thing.”

  Jenn thought that anything would be better than being stuck in the same room with Eve. Was she the reason why Jillybean wasn’t being completely honest? And why she hadn’t said anything before? Maybe, Jenn thought as she followed Mike up onto the deck where a sharp chill to the air had her pulling her coat tight as a second thought came to her: Eve was either the reason or the excuse.

  This struck Jenn as amazingly astute. So much so that she marveled over herself as Mike drew on a rope that ran from the Saber to the barge. He pulled the sailboat close and then held it there for Jenn to step lightly, coltishly from one to the other.

  She wanted to ask Mike what he thought
of her idea but then worried it would come across as bragging that she had thought of something really smart and he hadn’t. Besides, she didn’t have an answer to her own question and she suddenly deflated.

  The long barge with its shadowed clunky outlines was filled with quiet conversations and the crackle of fires as more soup was being heated on the deck near the front ramp. In the back, just a few feet away sat the water pumping contraption making a whirring noise as it drew water from a hose that ran fifty feet through a stiff PVC pipe out to the “clean” side of the river. The filtered water ran up to the top of the far right containers where tents with makeshift toilets and showers were set. From these, long “black water” pipes jutted far outward, extending down into the water where the current was fastest.

  The other containers were topped by heavy plastic storage boxes, each lashed down. This was where the food, firewood, weapons and ammunition was kept.

  By all appearances, the barge was already functioning with a high degree of precision. Each of the twenty containers held twelve people, and from these a container “captain” had been chosen. Their job was to adjudicate minor squabbles, set watch schedules and ensure that their container was in a proper state of cleanliness.

  Although they were crammed in such close quarters, everyone was too tired to squabble. Many barely had the energy to eat, however eating had been a direct order from the Queen and the captains made sure their people ate at least one full bowl of soup.

  While Mike checked the anchor, Jenn stood on the back ramp somewhat in awe of the barge and how quickly Jillybean had been able to make it into a floating home for two hundred and forty people. They could conceivably live on it permanently.

  They had easy access to fresh water, there were plenty of fish leaping here and there, and Jillybean had even mused earlier about the possibility of adding lights with something called hydroelectricity. They were also completely safe from the zombie menace. The barge road very high on the water and so far not a single zombie had come close to reaching the edge.

  She was contemplating all of this when Mike came up behind her, thought about putting his arms around her but then decided against it, fearing it would be too forward of him. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Not really.” Even before Jillybean’s lie, she’d had a low-running anxiety coursing through her like a dirty current. She kept telling herself that the Corsairs might not come until spring or that they might not come at all, but she didn’t believe either of these lies.

  “It’s the Corsairs and Jillybean. I don’t think she’s telling us the whole truth.”

  Jenn was surprised when he took Jillybean’s side. “Maybe, she doesn’t know the whole truth. She is crazy and she has been dealing with a lot. Banishment and fires and being all yellow and sick. And we still don’t know if they’re even coming. Right now it’s just a guess.”

  “I think it’s a fact and so does she, but I guess we’ll find out tomorrow how things stand…if we can steer this thing.” It was the wrong thing to say. He blamed himself for the problem with the barge and she could sense him stiffen next to her. She melted into him, putting her arms around him, her breath a delightful mist upon the bracing air. The barge and it’s steering problems faded.

  “Yeah, we’ll worry about all that tomorrow.” He hugged her back and although it was somewhat romantic being out on the river, the proximity of so many people made them both feel watched. Pulling on the rope, he summoned the Saber once more where they were both keenly aware of the intense quiet in the cabin.

  Mike went in first and saw Stu making the batteries, his rugged face screwed up in concentration—Jillybean had gone over the formula with what he felt had been unnecessary haste. She was on one of the couches scribbling away in perfect happiness. Jenn could see numbers and symbols and maybe a drawing.

  “How’d you get her back?” Mike asked.

  Stu didn’t look up. “I said to Eve that if she was as smart as Jillybean she could easily figure out how to fix the barge so it’ll go straight. She didn’t last a minute.”

  “I’m not fixing the barge exactly,” Jillybean said without looking up. “A real rudder could never be properly joined except in a dry dock which we may eventually counterfeit if we find a place where the difference between high and low tides are particularly pronounced. In the meantime, in lieu of a rudder we will use underwater drag chutes. Four should suffice. One on each corner and two at the quarter marks.”

  A blank silence pervaded the room and finally Jillybean looked up to see their confused faces. “It’s like this: something is acting on the barge causing it to spin on its main axis away from center. The drag chutes will counter this, I hope. For example, if the barge spins to the left we let out a chute on the right. The difficult part is deciding the size of the chutes and the materials needed.”

  Without further explanation she went right back to work, ignoring them as if they were no longer in the room.

  “Might as well lend me a hand,” Stu said.

  Mike plopped down heavily as Stu started going over the process of battery making, purposely leaving out the useless science words that Jillybean had used. He really didn’t care what electrolytes, chemical mediums, cathodes and anodes were. All he cared about was making the flashlights go on and off.

  Jenn did not sit. She stood there in the middle of the cabin, conspicuously doing nothing. She was trying to decide what to do about the fact that Jillybean had deliberately kept something from them; something that could very well lead to their deaths.

  Stu cast an eye at Jenn every few seconds, letting loose with the tiniest of sighs here and there. He understood why Jenn was upset and in truth, he was worried about Jillybean as well, and he did think she had been in the absolute wrong for not telling them earlier about the Corsairs, but—and it was tremendous but—there was no denying he was so overdosed with love that he felt practically drunk at times.

  Outwardly, he was his usual gimlet-eyed, hard as nails self but inwardly he just couldn’t stay angry at Jillybean. In all honesty, he didn’t know if she could do anything that he couldn’t get over.

  Mike was clearly over the situation as well. To him it was just how Jillybean was. She was crazy and crazy people did crazy things. He didn’t like it and frequently he didn’t like her, but as long as she was still more of a benefit than a detriment he had long ago decided it was best to just try to get along with her.

  Additionally, he was so caught up in the idea of the drag chutes that he didn’t much care about the timing of a lie. Every now and then while he worked, he would stop injecting new acid into the old batteries, and hold one of his hands out, palm down, turning it this way and that, his eyes partially closed as he imagined the barge and the action of the underwater chutes.

  Jenn, despite her friendship with Jillybean, could not let it go. “Jillybean,” she said, sharply enough to make everyone look up. “I have to know the truth. Is there any other secret you’re keeping from us? The past is the past and you were very wrong about not telling us earlier, but now I’m worried about the future. Is there anything you’re not telling us about the future?”

  “No,” she said without batting an eye. “As far as I know the Corsairs are coming after that I don’t know. We will fight and chances are most of us will die.”

  She wasn’t lying and a large part of Jenn couldn’t help feeling a desperate disappointment. “We should go over every detail and every choice left to us just to make sure we aren’t missing anything.”

  “I’ve already tracked the course of every plausible scenario and there is no outcome that…”

  “Well, I haven’t,” Jenn snapped. She regretted it immediately. “Sorry, I’m just scared. Can we just talk it over?”

  Jillybean’s eyes had gone dark, but the sincere apology kept Eve at bay at least for the moment. “Sure as long as we work and talk at the same time. I’ll make the pipe bombs if you’ll work on the smoke generators.” She knew that calling them smoke bombs would only
make Jenn skittish and slow.

  “It’ll be easy,” she added as Jenn became alarmed. “Just think of it as a pie.”

  “The math kind?” Jenn asked, hoping to God that it wasn’t.

  “No, the eating kind. And like any pie you need ingredients. We have potassium chlorate to act as an oxidizer, sugar or in this case malted barley which is the fuel for the bomb.” Jenn stepped back in alarm. “I mean the generator,” Jillybean added quickly. “And we can’t forget the sodium bicarbonate, which most people call baking soda. The bicarbonate is used to moderate the rate of the reaction and to keep it from getting too hot.”

  Jenn forgot all about the lie. She watched Jillybean gather the frightening ingredients with a dread certainty that she would find a way to mix them into an actual bomb and not a “smoke generator” whatever that was.

  Jillybean calmly assembled the first “generator” making it look so simple that Jenn thought it was something she could handle and after she did her first, things went quicker. “How many do you want?”

  “A hundred? A thousand?” Jillybean’s smile dimmed as she thought about how weak her people were. All the smoke in the world wouldn’t turn them into warriors. The bombs she had started on weren’t going to turn the tide either. She could maybe add another ten to the eleven she already had on hand.

  Unfortunately, she had no way to propel them at the enemy. Sure she could set up a rather large slingshot or use a simple catapult, but the timing with regard to the detonation would have to be utterly perfect to have any effect. And what would twenty one bombs do against hundreds of ships?

  Not much.

  They talked about the pros and cons of hiding or trying to run. It was all mostly cons however. The only pro, the delaying of the inevitable capture-torture-rape-death sequence that all of them could look forward to, was more of a mitigated con than a real positive.