“Kay? Are you kidding me?”
“No, I wish I was. Kay may not be the smartest, but she’s reliable, and when the time comes, I’m going to need to have guaranteed votes.” Veronica’s blue eyes narrowed. Deanna patted her hand. “It’s not the same with you. I trust your judgment. Most of the others on the council put personal ambition ahead of anything else. I have to be able to counter that if it comes up. Besides, the positions will be temporary until the November elections.”
Veronica looked unhappy with the entire affair. “I don’t like this one bit,” she said. “Kay is a lamb and I don’t want anything to happen to her. It wouldn’t be right. She’s already gone through so much.”
Deanna’s politician training kept her from lashing out—didn’t Veronica remember that her old friend Deanna had gone through her own problems? She had been raped countless times, and she had been beaten and abused, and her husband, the one truly good man left in the world, had been killed by bandits. Her first child had been poisoned in her womb, and now her second had been kidnapped.
Deanna’s smile was hard as rock as she asked, “Haven’t we all been through so much?”
Veronica felt the rebuke and agreed to hunt down Kay and to make sure she was presentable; sometimes she missed her lips when putting on lipstick.
Back in the mists, Deanna hurried to the New Peking Panda where the members of the council were glad-handing it with the forty or so people hanging around, waiting for the session to start. Three of them had actual business with the council. Another eleven were almost permanent fixtures at the meetings; it was a form of entertainment for them, Deanna supposed. The remainder were split into two groups: they were either there to put themselves forward as a prospect for one of the two council seats that needed to be filled, or they were supporters of the former.
Deanna was accosted the moment she stepped inside. “Governor, my friend Matthew McElderry would be perfect for the At Large position. You know Matthew. A great guy and last year he came in second in the pie-eating contest at the fall festival!”
“Of course, I know Matthew,” she said. “He might not have won the medal, but he was the people’s champion. I’ll give it some thought.” Or not. Pie-eating, though grand in its own way, was not a qualification for public office.
Another hand was thrust at her. Deanna tried not to flinch. “Linda Witaker, ma’am. I’m so sorry about what happened to Emma. As a mother, I know the pain you’re going through. I just wanted to put my name out there for the Chief of Housing and Infrastructure position. I was in apartment leasing before.”
To keep from glaring, Deanna gave her an overly large smile. Her eyes crinkled to slits. “Lisa, was it? I’ll keep you in mind.”
“No, it’s Linda.”
And my daughter’s name is Emily! she wanted to scream into her face. “Okay, sure thing. Hi Raul. Hello Wendil. Mr. Perkins, it’s great to see you made it. Have you ever missed one of these? No. Ha-ha.” And so on. Normally, Deanna was in her element during these meetings. She had a natural way of putting people at their ease, while at the same time making them feel important. That morning she would have rather spent the following two hours chewing on tinfoil.
She had to appear as if in serene contemplation as each would-be councilman stood, fidgeted at the podium, made a brief, stilted speech, was seconded and then sat again, usually in a lather of sweat. An hour into the ordeal, Veronica and Kay slid into the back of the room. Veronica looked somewhat alarmed at the idea of having to make a speech. Kay was abjectly terrified.
Deanna wasn’t about to ruin her chances by having either of them give impromptu speeches. That would be disastrous. Instead, she waited until the last person had finished rambling to thank them all and to let them know that the council’s decision would be announced as soon as possible. This precipitated a great deal of milling about, during which the council retreated to the back room to hash things out.
It was there that Deanna made her recommendations. Normally, she played politics with her choices, doing her best to curry favor from one group or another, or trying to balance the council itself. Since the Governor had a greater say in these things, and could only be overridden by a unanimous vote, her choices had always been passed without issue.
This time, it would be different.
“Kay Gallagher?” Rosanna Landeros looked shocked, something that Deanna didn’t think possible in someone so stern. Her one extended eyebrow sat halfway up her forehead. “Isn’t she…a little slow?”
“Shy, is how I would put it,” Deanna replied. “Shy or not, she’s a hard worker and takes direction well.”
Soft, meek Jonathan Dunnam, who really was shy, began to stutter, “But, but, but, Kay? I suppose I could back Veronica, maybe, but, but, but, Kay? I really think she may not be cut out for the job.”
Andrea Clary, who was not cut out for her own position as Chief of Logistics, stood and planted both fists on the table, striking an aggressive pose. “I know Kay very well,” she declared. “She’s a sweet, sweet girl, and you can call her shy all you want, which doesn’t change the fact that she is terribly slow. We all know it.” She raised a hand and stared around at the other four council members. “I say she’s a firm no. All in favor of…”
“You’re out of line,” Wayne French said, cutting right across her without raising his voice. “Have I had my say? And what about Karen?” Properly chastised, Andrea sat down. Wayne and Karen had the same mind as Jonathan; a yes for Veronica and a no for Kay. A vote was taken and Kay was a firm No across the board, while Veronica received four of five positive votes.
Although Deanna got Veronica on the council, losing Kay was its own rebuke. She had thought that since they were in something of an emergency situation, she’d have more of a free hand. “So much for including them in on Operation Otter Pop,” she muttered, as she made her way to the restaurant’s main room. “In fact, it’s probably better this way.” It had been a long shot to think that she could count on five politicians to risk everything on a pick like Kay.
Kay was overjoyed not to have to sit on the council. Veronica, on the other hand, followed Deanna back into the room as if she were walking into a morgue to identify a body. “For now, just agree with everything I say,” Deanna told her.
As much as Veronica loved Deanna, she hated the idea of being someone’s puppet, and initially she resented being put in the position of “toady” as she saw it. Andrea’s sneer, Rosanna’s cold reception, and Wayne’s darting glance at her bosom certainly helped to relieve any hard feelings, however. It was Karen Hentz who cemented the fact in Veronica’s mind that she had just sat down at a table of snakes.
Up until that moment, Karen had been the councilman with the least experience and now she wanted to lord it over Veronica that she was the newbie. “I say we let our newest member suggest a qualified person to fill the last seat at the table.”
Veronica had no idea who was qualified for anything and she spat out the first name that came to mind, “Matthew McElderry.” He had been out in the main dining room, kicked back in a chair, letting his friend go on and on about what a great guy he was.
“The pie guy?” Karen laughed, earning her a smile from Andrea. “No, we’re looking for a serious candidate.” Just like that, Veronica and her choice were dismissed. She simmered while Deanna looked as if nothing unusual had happened.
Deanna sat placidly listening to Karen until she brought up Colin Mills, the man she wanted to nominate. The governor drummed her fingernails on the table and said, “Colin is an interesting choice. Wasn’t he one of Eddie Sanders best friends?”
“Best friends? I don’t know about…”
“Yes, he was. I remember they were almost inseparable. I distinctly remember that. Hmmm, best friends with a Corsair spy? And say, weren’t you and Gina close?”
Karen turned pale and began shaking her head. “No. I-I-I wouldn’t say we were especially close. I saw her sometimes around…”
“No, you t
wo were close, which is why I think it’s strange you would nominate Colin. Won’t it just remind everyone just how close you were with Gina?” The threat was clear. Deanna was not going to let anyone bully Veronica.
Poor Jonathan was so put out by the display of political intimidation that he simply passed on his chance to nominate someone. Andrea and Rosanna suggested two different people who had given speeches in the outer room, while Wayne surprised everyone by suggesting Deberha Perkins.
“The sheriff?” Andrea asked. “She hasn’t exactly done a stellar job lately.” Andrea snuck a glance at Deanna, who had been thinking Deberha had done a terrible job. Perhaps as a dig at her, Andrea went on, “But I suppose she is hard-working and does connect with the people well enough.”
“She does,” Wayne agreed. “And after these last few weeks, I’ve been thinking about moving her on. Let’s face it, as an investigator, she’s in way over her head, but she would be perfect for an At Large position.” And he would be getting rid of a liability. He was Chief of Island Security, and as such, the sheriff answered directly to him. When she looked bad, he looked bad.
Deanna weighed the different prospects of each candidate, including the two dozen in the other room. What she needed more than anything was someone she could count on to have her back when war was declared. She hoped she could count on Wayne, especially since he was the closest thing to a military leader among them. He had been a naval officer at the outbreak of the Apocalypse, and although his job had been in high-tech communications, he was still a cut above the few soldiers among them that had managed to survive.
“I think Wayne might be right about Deberha Perkins,” Deanna said. “She’s steady.” It was about the only compliment Deanna could come up with that wouldn’t twist the truth into a knot. The real reason Deanna wanted her was because Deberha had been almost the only person to completely side with her during the past week, and she figured that loyalty which was rewarded would only increase in measure.
The vote was unanimous in Deberha’s favor.
Deanna wrapped up the meeting quickly afterwards. She had work to do. She had to figure out how Jillybean planned to blow up the walls surrounding Bainbridge. Operation Otter Pop was only a theoretical concept, a quirky idea that was never ever supposed to see the light of day and had it been anyone else putting it forward, the concept would have remained strictly in the realm of conjecture.
“Except this is Jillybean we’re talking about,” she said to herself as she entered the fog and headed north. Jillybean had clearly foreseen the danger posed by the Corsairs and she had never been one to wait around for a dangerous situation to unfold. “No, she’s taken steps, I’m sure of it. Unlike me, she did something.”
But was it a good thing? Picturing the walls stuffed with dynamite sent a cold shiver down her back. Can I deliberately take down our only defense? It was a realistic question with only one answer, “I don’t know.” Deep down she knew it was the only way to make her people into warriors again. They had already suffered every affront a civilized people could possibly take, and where was the clamor for war? There wasn’t even a clamor for an apology.
The people of Bainbridge had sat back in silence after being exposed to murder, kidnapping, and political assassination. They had become weak, spineless sheep, and yet, Deanna knew they would come after her if they found out what she was planning. They would probably do more than banish her, they would turn her over to the Corsairs. It would be the ultimate betrayal and they would do it because it was the most gutless thing they could do.
Chapter 6
Hoquiam, The Lair of the Corsairs
Jillybean woke in increments, her huge, luminous blue eyes only slowly coming into focus. The air was cold and ugly-smelling, the cement beneath her colder still, and for all of a second she thought she was waking up in her cell. Then she saw the pool of blood inches from her hand. Confusion swept her until she gradually came to realize that she was still in front of the doorway of the Lutheran church.
“But I fell.” The memory of dropping away into the great dark void inside of her was crystal clear. “Shouldn’t I be somewhere else? Shouldn’t I be gone?” The only thing she could think was that she had been kicked out of her own personal purgatory and now she was back. “I’m back too quickly,” she whispered, tasting bitter resentment on her tongue. “What’s the use of being crazy if I still have to deal with this? I should be back in the darkness. That’s where I’m supposed to be!” She had once feared the darkness; now she craved it so badly that she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will her mind away from this world.
A sudden crack of a whip was followed by a harsh, slashing pain across her back. She gasped and then groveled before the blood stain, “I want to go back, please. Please! Eve? Where are you? You win. I don’t want this!” All around her the crowd hooted and laughed at her misery. Only one in those hundreds did not.
Eve sneered out from between two drunken bandits. She had her arms slung around their shoulders. Don’t be such a whiner! You wanted this, remember? You wanted someone to love you, remember? Back on Bainbridge, you thought you were so lonely. You thought you’d been “overlooked” by the boys, and what did you pray for?
“I wanted a real man.”
And that’s what you got. Eve pointed toward the church, but Jillybean didn’t dare look up, knowing that Stu’s mistreated body hung above her. Seeing him would be more pain than she could bear. It would be worse than any torture she’d yet received. She would die without dying.
“What did she say?” someone screamed over the crowd.
A gruff voice right behind her replied, “That she wanted a ‘real’ man!” This brought on a slew of unfunny jokes, and dozens of men volunteered to show her what a “real” man was. Jillybean shut them out. She shut out everything, or at least she tried to, but the blood called to her. She reached out and touched the tacky red puddle. It was Stu’s blood. He had come back for her and he had died for her.
Just like always, this was what love got her: blood splattered on concrete, a body being devoured by flies, her soul crumbling away.
“But now it’s over,” she tried to tell herself. “There’s no one left who will die for me.” It was something of a relief. Not a great relief, of course, since there were still plenty of people who were going to die because of her.
Don’t think like that! Sadie cried. She too was in the crowd. Like the ghost she was, she slid through an impossibly narrow space between a pair of Asian slave girls who had been given atrocious bowl haircuts. Yes, people will die, but it’s not because of you. It’s because of the Black Captain. He’s to blame. What you’ve done is give your people a fighting chance. You’ve shown everyone that the Black Captain can be beaten. Now, Jenn will be able to…
“Shut up!” Jillybean cried. The crowd thought she was yelling at them and only laughed louder. “I don’t need a feel-good speech from you, Sadie. I messed up, okay? This isn’t what winning looks like.”
This was the opposite of winning. And yet, victory had been so close. She knew where she had miscalculated, she had vastly underestimated the Guardians’ dedication to pacifism. All of her rather amazing insight into the human mind had failed in the face of religion.
“Jenn won’t be able to do anything. There will be no alliance and the Captain will swoop in and pick them apart.” But it didn’t have to be that way! The San Francisco Bay area could be easily defended. She pictured it: the key would be holding the bridge. With it, no invader could safely enter the bay without looking over their shoulder, wondering when their one escape route would be slammed closed behind them. Then there was Alcatraz. With a little forethought, it could be unassailable, even with very few defen…
Ipes was suddenly right in her face, poking his bulbous nose into her pert one, jarring her back to her reality. We have to move, Jillybean. Listen. Within the cruel laughter of the crowd, there were cries of: She’s just sittin’ there! Whatcha waitin’ for? Get her again with the whi
p!
Get up, please. Ipes threw himself at her, trying desperately to lift her arm. Come on, Jillybean! It’s just a few more feet. His hooves were soft and weak, and utterly useless; his frightened, desperate insistence was much more substantive. She didn’t want the whip again. It was a hateful thing.
Despite the pain that lanced through her body—her back was on fire from the whip, her feet ached from her beatings, her throat was choked by the golden collar and the weights chained to it—she pushed herself back to her feet, stifling a cry as she did. The crowd seemed disappointed that she was able to stand. And that was good. She had nothing left, no hope, no love, no friends and no family, and really no reason to live except to hurt the people who had done this to her. That desire for vengeance was thoroughly laced throughout her black soul. A fiery hatred had taken root, its tendrils going deep. It was Eve’s doing and for once Jillybean was perfectly fine with her cheap thrills. She was just surprised at how quickly the utter loathing had filled her.
“What time is it?” she asked Ipes. “How long was I out?” It felt as though a great deal of time had passed since the Captain had set the hellish crown on her head, and yet the clouds above were as still as they had been, heavy and close, pressing down on the world.
Only a few minutes, he paused and pressed his hooves into his round belly, noting dejectedly how easily the fur squished inward. I think we’re going to miss lunch just like we missed breakfast.
“I don’t think I could eat anything, anyway.” She was directly in front of the doors now, with the body of the man she loved nailed right above her. “What do you think is going to happen in there?”
Nothing good, Ipes whispered. Look behind you.
She chanced a look back and saw thirty or forty unhappy men shackled and chained. They were lined up in ranks of three and, like her, they had been recently shaved and not by a barber with a razor and a delicate hand, either. It looked like someone had used an old dull, serrated bread knife to do the job. They were naked and stood in a stoop, covering their genitals and shivering as the crowd jeered.
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