Generation Z (Book 4): The Queen Unthroned

by Meredith, Peter

  “Curiouser and curiouser.” She stood back from the Accord for a few minutes, knowing that something was off, that something about the moment wasn’t right.

  Murmuring a low, “Hmmm,” she picked up the keys to the car and sat down in the driver’s seat. A glance showed her the wooden blocks she had glued to the gas pedal. Everything was ready to test the effect of a 50-50 mixture of regular unleaded gas and jet fuel on an average car.

  She was ready, yet she hesitated. Somehow, she seemed to know what was going to happen even as she turned the key. The engine purred into life and yet, disappointment cloaked her as she sat there waiting. “Waiting for what?” she wondered. The answer came almost as soon as the words left her mouth. The engine coughed, chugged, coughed some more, wheezed, and then stopped with a jerk that shook it on its wheels.

  “At least it didn’t get blowd up,” she said. “Somehow I just know this is Ipes’ fault. He probably jinxed me with his…” She had just been climbing out of the Accord, but froze, wide-eyed as she spied something moving in the mist out beyond the fuel truck. At first, she thought it was a dragon, its wings stretched thin and membranous, like a monstrous bat’s wing.

  The sight of it struck a nausea-inducing fear into her. She nearly crawled back into the car and only just managed to keep her wits about her; she’d be trapping herself if she went into the car. A better idea was to hide beneath a car, it would allow her to run in any direction.

  Quick as a squirrel, the little girl dropped and scooted beneath the car, getting more dirt on her dress in the process. She didn’t care since she was very close to puking all over the dress anyway. A moment later, her fear reached its peak as she saw the dragon wing slip silently to the right and then around the back of the car. It was circling her! Turning on her stomach like the hands of a clock, she followed the wings and discovered something almost as horrible as the wing: not only had Ipes disappeared, the fuel truck had as well.

  It was just her, the deep haze and the dragon.

  Jillybean wanted to rely on logic, only it felt like she was in some sort of dream state, where anything could and, apparently was, happening. She was terrified almost beyond reason. Reason had always been her strongest defense and it suggested that she was either in the middle of a dream or trapped in a dissociative state. It was also reasonable to assume that actual physical danger was highly unlikely since in either the dream or the dissociative state, the terrifying illusions were the product of undue stress and could not cause actual injury by themselves. Though in case studies of patients with classic signs of pathological…

  “Wait. Hold on. I’m seven.” She looked at her small hand and saw the day-old dirt and the amateurishly painted fingernails. It was the hand of a seven-year-old. “If I am seven, how do I know anything about a dissociative state? I didn’t begin studying psychology until I was nine.” Oddly, this knowledge was immediately helpful because it meant she was either dreaming or in a dissociative state just as she had predicted. Her stomach-churning fear became only a nervous thrill that kept her breathing high in her chest.

  Hoping she was in a dream, she crawled out from the Accord to confront the dragon. “Are you a talking dragon? Do you like to be petted?” Warily, she began to edge into the mists, hoping to catch sight of the creature. It was an elusive thing and acted even more frightened of her than she was of it. It kept just out of sight, always showing little more than a bit of a black wing.

  With her frustration mounting, she charged at the creature as fast as her little legs could carry her until she brought it to bay, and in the dim mists, she saw it wasn’t a dragon at all. It was…

  “It’s The Wind Ripper, alright.”

  Sadie felt a moment of confusion as her mind blurred. Jillybean had been right there, so close to the surface that Sadie felt her peering out of her eyes. Then she was gone again, and Sadie was alone with a bunch of vile, barely controlled, barely civilized, and barely potty-trained pirates; they kept peeing over the side of the boat. She wasn’t the most squeamish of girls, still she ordered them to hold it while she was on deck.

  Next to her, Mark Leney had a pair of binoculars up to his eyes. Beneath the black plastic, his face was a mass of unruly beard, twisting white scars, blue-green tattoos, and yellowed teeth—he didn’t look completely human. “She’s sitting strange. I don’t like it, your Highness.”

  When he handed Sadie the binoculars, she wiped the lenses furiously as if Leney had some sort of eye kooties, which he just might have as far as she knew. She took a long look as the sailors on board The Wind Ripper seemed to be taking their time raising the mainsail. “What don’t you like? Isn’t this pretty much where we were told the boat would be? I think I wouldn’t like it if it wasn’t here.”

  They hadn’t been told in the traditional way. Horrible, horrible torture had been used to pry the information out of the spies. It had been so bad that Jillybean had fled rather than face it, leaving Sadie in charge. It was a sickening, thankless job and she would have passed it on to Ipes if she could have, only he was with Jillybean playing house or skipping stones.

  Eve had jumped at the chance at being in charge of their body. That wasn’t going to happen if Sadie had anything to do with it. And that left Ernest Smith. The phantom was in among the Corsairs, dressed like them, laughing when they laughed, peeing over the side of the boat, trying to blend in. At forty-two feet, the Hell Quake was a good-sized boat, though with so many people on board it seemed small and crowded. Ernest moved through the men, taking their bodies and using them to grin up at her with that sly, knowing grin.

  “What I don’t like is why aren’t they in the harbor?” Leney replied. “That’s where we were told they’d be. Why sit out here?”

  “Zombies,” Sadie said. “Maybe there were too many in the harbor. They said it was more like a lagoon than a real harbor.”

  Leney made a face as if he wasn’t buying it. “Maybe, I guess. But what explains all that, your Highness?”

  Sadie really didn’t know what “all that” entailed. As far as she could tell, the boat was getting ready to flee. Yes, they seemed to be moving a touch slowly, which Sadie chalked up to a nearly complete lack of wind. There was so little wind that the mists barely stirred, and the Hell Quake’s mainsail sagged in a sad, jowly way. She only lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. This lack of a response was not what he’d been expecting, so he gave her a long, deep look.

  He knows you’re not her. The words came from the crowd in a soft whisper. He knows you’re faking it. And soon they’ll all know and then what will they do? What will they do to you?

  That was best not thought about. She was, after all, one rather small woman. “I’m not a sailor, Leney,” Sadie said, arching one of Jillybean’s soft eyebrows; she was only eighteen and these were still somewhat downy. “Why don’t you tell me what you think I’m missing?”

  “Sorry, your Highness,” he said, quickly dropping his gaze. “They are moving slowly. I know Cannan, he would’ve had every stitch of canvas going by now.”

  “You don’t think he’s on board?”

  Leney took the binoculars back and studied the distant figures. There were only four of them on deck, moving slowly about. Where were the other three? Dead? Eaten by zombies? He shook his head. “He’s on board, all right. Cannan liked a weak crew. Not physically weak, but weak-minded; you know, like cowardly a little. They’re more afraid of him than they are of any zombie.”

  “Soooo, what?” she asked, once more taking hold of the field glasses. “What’s got you spooked?”

  A low growl escaped him. “I don’t know. It seems impossible, but maybe it’s a trap. Maybe they smoked us out somehow or were tipped off. I’d like to suggest we try to get seaward of him, that way we won’t be trapped close to shore if they are trying to pull us in.”

  It seemed like a sound enough idea and Sadie agreed. She stepped away from the wheel and the commotion, leaning against the gunwale with one leather-clad foot on the lowest rail. Her
ex-Corsairs either ducked back into the hold to get out of the way, or sped about sending up a pair of triangular jibs at the front of the boat to get all they could out of the slack wind.

  Half a mile ahead of them, The Wind Ripper was one step ahead and had their own jibs flying.

  The chase was a slow one with each boat gaining a few yards here and losing them there. At times Sadie could have walked faster than the boats and for a girl who could run faster than the wind, the chase was an achingly dull one. It didn’t help that Ernest Smith kept whispering his terrible thoughts into her head.

  He wanted in. He wanted to slither his way into Jillybean’s mind and once there, he’d never leave. Sadie hated him even more than she hated Eve. At least Eve had reasons for the way she was. Eve claimed she was the first. In fact, she claimed to remember being born, which was really weird to Sadie. It was a story she never wanted to hear.

  At some point years before, Jillybean stopped denying her connection with Eve. Sadly, the two would never be separated. Eve was Jillybean’s ID, that part of a person’s psyche that is the source of their bodily needs, wants, desires, and impulses, particularly their sexual and aggressive drives.

  It was true, Sadie thought that Eve had the mindset of an infant. She could be annoying and overly demanding and nasty—but she was a million times better than Ernest Smith. Ernest was inexplicably evil. He wanted ultimate control. What he would do with it once he got it was anyone’s guess. The last time he’d been in control, Sadie hadn’t just drowned in the darkness of Ernest’s subconscious, she had died. It was even more than just ceasing to live, it was almost as if she had been eradicated.

  Nothing was worse than Ernest, so it was an embarrassment that he was getting into Sadie’s head and wearing her down. He had a comment for everything and his voice kept getting louder and stronger, while hers felt weaker and even less decisive than usual. She wished Ipes was there.

  You’re just going to go along with everything Leney says. He says jump and you have the Queen asking: How high? He says go to seaward and do you even ask what’s out there? Is there an island we can crash into? And now it looks like you lost them.

  “Huh?” Sadie had been staring into the grey sea. Looking up, she saw that the mists had solidified into heavy clouds and that these were moving southwest in a tearing hurry. Her wild hair began to swirl around her head and at the same time the Hell Quake’s sails began to fill and snap. Someone was elbowed and cursed at to: “Stop the damned luffing, Greenie!”

  The boom was edged back until the sail was tight and there was a fair-sized collar of white water on the bow.

  The boat then grew eerily quiet as thirty sailors strained to hear anything from the now invisible Wind Ripper. “They’re listening for anything that might suggest a course change, your Highness,” Leney explained. “That damn Cannan is a slick one. He might double back on us, or he might head north.”

  “Or he might just keep going,” another sailor added.

  “Not likely,” another hissed. “Everyone knows the Wind Ripper’s best point of sailing is beam on. He’s not going to let us eat into his lead by sticking…”

  Leney whistled low and sharp, quieting the crew. “Zip it! Keep your eyes open and your ears sharp.”

  You too, Ernest said into Sadie’s ear, causing her to jump. After the jerk, which everyone saw, she stared straight ahead, afraid to look back. You should be afraid. You should be very, very afraid. If you’re not careful, missy, and you look too crazy, they’ll turn on you. They’ll string you up from the mast. Say, have you seen the mast? Do you know what those stains are? Those reddish-brown stains? Kinda looks like old blood to me. What do you think?

  Sadie couldn’t help it and she began staring up at the mast. There were stains up there just like Ernest said there would be.

  He will parade you all over the bay, so everyone will see, so everyone will know. She wanted to ask who would parade her. But you already know who. Leney. He already speaks for Jillybean. It’s almost like he’s the real leader here. There’s only one thing stopping him from taking over.

  Suddenly, she felt a noose around her throat, choking the life out of her. Her fingers dug and tore at the rope as her feet kicked wildly and her body writhed. She swung like a pendulum as the deck shifted back and forth far below her toes…

  “There she is,” Leney said, pointing.

  In a blink, Sadie was back on deck, her hands at her neck where the straps of the binoculars had been twined around her throat. She gagged for air and then had her breath stolen a second time as she saw a dragon’s wing in the mist. “What?” she whispered, as her world greyed out. Ernest was in her head now, banging on the door to her mind. “No,” she whispered, blinking rapidly, finally seeing the dragon’s wing for what it really was: The Wind Ripper’s mainsail.

  A cheer went up all around her. It was drowned out by the laughter inside. They’re after blood and they’re going to get it. And you’re going to have to watch and smile and call for more. Just like last time.

  “I don’t know if I can do that again.” She knew she was weak. She had courage enough for ten men and was faster than anyone alive, but she wasn’t mentally tough. It had always been a failing that she had tried to hide.

  You can’t hide it from me. I know all your secrets. I know what you’ve done. I know what you really are. You’re not a ghost. You’re nothing but a wisp of an illusion that Jillybean uses to hide…

  “I need to use the bathroom,” she said to Leney. Her voice had been as thick and as croaky as a frog’s; Leney hadn’t heard; he was busy barking out orders and swinging the Hell Quake straight north, racing after The Wind Ripper, which was only three hundred yards away and making a poor showing of it. The smaller boat had turned to tack straight east only to unexpectedly spin right around and shoot west.

  It almost looked as though it was charging right down at them. All around her, men were either laughing or pulling their guns from their backs. The words, “Suicide run” and “We got ourselves a turkey shoot,” vied with Ernest’s nonstop blathering. It was enough to drive a girl insane.

  She tried to flee down into the hold, but the stairs were clogged with greasy grinning sailors, their bloodlust showing along with every yellowed tooth.

  Just let me in, Ernest said. Let me take care of this for you. You’ll be able to relax. All your worries will be gone. Doesn’t that sound great?

  It did. It sounded wonderful, except for the sick excitement in his voice. And what would Jillybean say? “I just need time to think, okay?” It wasn’t okay. There was no place and no time to think. The Wind Ripper had made another turn so that the two ships were running parallel courses two hundred yards apart. All around her men had their weapons up and ready to fire.

  “Just say the word.” She thought it was Ernest saying this and she ignored it, but it was Leney. After a moment, he took his eye from his scope. “Your Highness. Give the order now, before it’s too late. Their boat is faster than ours. If we don’t get ‘em now, they could get away.”

  She was being pushed from one side and pulled from the other until she felt stretched and thin, and about to tear. It seemed her only choice was to order the murder of these Corsairs or have Ernest do it. She couldn’t let him in, no matter what.

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she called out. “Ready! Aim!” She paused to put the heavy binoculars to her eyes. The first thing she saw was Jenn Lockhart. The young girl was bedraggled and pale, and hardly looked like herself. And next to her were Mike and Stu, ragged and exhausted.

  The sight of them sent an electric jolt through her. She jerked, nearly dropping the binoculars in the process.

  “Wait,” she whispered. Someone mistook the command and a single rifle fired. The bullet missed wildly, but that didn’t stop the rash of goosebumps that flared over every inch of her flesh. “Don’t shoot, damn it!” She pressed her eyes deeply into the binoculars, unable or perhaps unwilling to believe what she was seeing.

&nbs
p; Was it really Jillybean’s best friend? Was that the man she loved? Or am I crazy? she wondered. Am I seeing things? It definitely looked like them. But they weren’t acting like themselves. Mike was a great captain, why wasn’t he fleeing into the remains of the mists to get away? Why was Stu seemingly giving up? Why was Jenn standing as tall as she could, making a perfect target of herself?

  “They want to die,” Sadie realized.

  And they’re going to one way or another, Ernest whispered. And they’re going to take us with them. Don’t you see what’s going to happen when your men see that Jillybean didn’t really kill them? They are going to come after us, and you saw what they did to those spies. It’ll be ten times worse for you.

  A shiver went up Sadie’s spine. “So, what do we do?”

  We have to sink that boat! Give the word to fire, quick. Then just tell them to keep shooting until it goes down. It’s our only chance, Sadie. And this is their only chance at a quick death. Jenn might be your best friend, but you know deep inside what will happen if they’re taken alive.

  Chapter 14

  “What the hell are you waiting for?” Leney demanded. He had a bead on the short pale man and needed only the word to blast his beardless face in.

  Sadie was looking at the same person through her much more powerful binoculars, and even though she had her great mass of auburn hair pinned up under a hood, there was no mistaking Jenn Lockhart for a man. She was just about the last person Sadie expected to see on a Corsair boat out in the middle of the ocean. The fifteen-year-old had changed. The poison she had taken had worn her down and aged her. She seemed sad, as if she was ready for the death that was coming.