Next to her, Stu’s fierce glare could be felt across the water. He hadn’t changed much at all. For such a young man, he had always been grim. Grim and tough.
And handsome.
The thought had not come from Ernest. It had come from somewhere deeper—from Jillybean? “Please come back,” Sadie whispered.
“Hey!” Leney hissed in his own whisper. “It’s time. Give the order or I will.”
You can’t let him get away with that, a strange multi-toned voice said inside her head. It was as if eight people were saying the same line all at once. She heard Eve’s strident voice and Ernest’s softly evil one, and Ipes slightly nasal tone, and even her own quarrelsome, incredulous teenage one. The one voice she hadn’t heard was Jillybean’s.
With the words ringing in her head, Sadie turned to Leney. “You’re going to do what?” Sadie hadn’t known she was going to say this; she hadn’t planned to say anything and nor had she planned to go for the closest weapon within reach: Leney’s hunting knife. She was no longer in charge. The body was up for grabs and had they been alone, it would have been a tussle to see who came out on top.
But she wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by enemies. The ex-Corsairs weren’t her friends or her allies, they were lions—mangy, dirty, vicious lions for sure, but they were still lions. They would turn on her and eat her if she ever showed weakness. Luckily for her, insanity was not a weakness in their world.
Leney knew he had overstepped his bounds. He saw his death in the twitchy look in the Queen’s eyes. There was a shrieking, dangerous madness in them. The sort of madness that would completely ignore the boatload of ex-Corsairs who had known, feared and respected Leney for all these years. These were hand-picked men; they would kill her if he ordered it. That madness in her simply didn’t care.
For the briefest of moments, he considered killing her. He had always planned on it, when she had set things up properly, that is. Once the bay was fully under control and they had their running water and their electricity just like those softies up in Bainbridge, he planned on taking over. He would rape the crap out of her and then turn her over to his men, because that was the right way to do things.
That would be hard to do if she kept embarrassing him left and right. He would lose the respect of his men; just like the Queen, he knew his men were little more than animals. They had to both fear and respect him if he was going to lead.
It would be easy to kill her. She was a tiny thing, surrounded and weaponless, while he had the M4 in his hands and a Ruger SR40 at his hip. All this went through his head in half a second. The problem Leney faced was all of that went through her head as well and it went through it in a tenth of a second. Even tipping the edge of crazy as she was, she knew what he was thinking even before he thought it and in a shocking blur of motion she was on him, almost hugging him and then sliding around him as he tried to spin. The rifle at his shoulder slowed him just enough that she had his knife at his throat before he could do more than flail and squawk.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked in the softest, silkiest, coldest voice he had ever heard. “Give the order or I will; is that what I heard come from that woman’s mouth of yours? Say it again so everyone can hear you. Come on! Say it again and we’ll kill you.”
Just then, Leney regretted the razor edge he had put on the knife. He was already bleeding. Leney knew she could plunge the blade seven inches deep in a flash, just as he knew that a great part of her wanted to. He had no choice except to grovel. Swallowing his pride, he said, “I’m sorry, your Highness. I didn’t mean it. You give the orders around here, not me. I know that and I really am sorry.” Someone snorted laughter and Leney felt his ears burn in shame.
“Is this funny to someone?” she demanded. “Who is it? Who finds insubordination funny?” No one was willing to admit that they did. They dropped their gaze and shrugged. She glared at the shrunken men around her, the knife’s edge quivered as the hand holding it shook and the arm tensed. Blood trickled down Leney’s collar, collecting in a pool in the hollow of his throat.
“Okay then. What about this? Does anyone find this funny?” Before Leney could do a thing, she drew the knife across his throat. Her hand had been shaking before, now she was in complete control and the blade never went more than an eighth of an inch deep. For a second, it looked like little more than a red line, then the blood came in a wave, hot and wet, drenching his shirt.
Nothing vital was touched, yet Leney’s knees gave way and he fell, gasping. She stood above him, her black coat flapping and her hair undulating with the wind. The boat had been quiet before, now nothing could be heard except for Leney’s ragged breathing. He was having trouble understanding that he was still alive.
“That was your one warning, Leney,” she said. She wasn’t Jillybean just then or even “The Queen.” She was a strange amalgam of churning personalities, each one desperate to be heard and felt and noticed. They had one thing in common, they were angry. Even Sadie was angry. Her life had been taken from her. Snuffed out by men very much like these pirates. Deep in her heart, she hated them as much as Eve did.
Together they pulled the rifle from Leney’s hands and ordered another sailor to take his Ruger. “Man the wheel and do as I command, without question. Do you understand?”
Leney bowed his head and was thankful she accepted that. He didn’t trust his voice just then, afraid that it would crack and that she would hear the seething anger within it. With one hand at his bleeding throat, he went to the wheel and shoved aside one of the sailors. He didn’t know which because he wouldn’t look up.
Staring out of what felt like a dozen eyes, the Queen watched him for a few seconds and then casually tossed the bloody knife into the ocean. The ripples it made were quickly left behind as the Hell Quake sped along, keeping pace with The Wind Ripper, which hadn’t deviated her course an inch in the last few minutes. The predicament the Queen was in had not changed either.
We need to sink her, Ernest said. You all see why.
There was a murmur of agreement, but not from Sadie. She was mentally weak but also loyal to a fault. She wouldn’t kill Jillybean’s best friend or the man she loved or even Mike, who she knew butted heads with Jillybean more often than not. They had been friends. It wasn’t something you threw away.
Ipes lined up with her way of thinking, while Eve went with Ernest. The other voices inside her were too small to make a difference.
“We need Jillybean,” Sadie murmured, bringing the heavy binoculars up to her eyes. She thought she knew one way to bring her back: Stu Currans. She centered the field glasses on the rangy Hillman and felt nothing but a twinge. Next, she scanned Jenn and felt the same result.
You’re wasting time, Ernest snapped. The Corsairs are getting angry.
There was something of a hissing buzz going on behind her and it only got worse when a low cloud momentarily blocked sight of The Wind Ripper. The sailors feared that they would lose their prize and weren’t exactly pleased that their queen was being unnecessarily crazy. So far, her insanity had either been entertaining or had worked to their advantage somehow. This felt different to them and different almost always meant worse.
For Jillybean, the vagueness of its mainsail in the mist was actually very familiar and it brought her back more than anything had. Sadie could sense her deep inside her mind.
“It’s not a dragon…”
It’s a sailboat. The whispered words were now in her ear and they were in Jillybean’s voice, or rather her voices. There was the child Jillybean, whom Sadie had loved and protected when she was alive. And there was Jillybean’s normal voice, which Sadie would describe as know-it-all but impish at the same time. Finally, there was her imperious voice. This last had been the loudest.
“Yes, it’s a sailboat and look who’s on it,” Sadie said and once more panned the binoculars across the deck, pausing on Jenn and Stu the longest. She only gave Mike a quick look and yet the sight of him dragged Jillybean almost all t
he way back.
That look…
Sadie swung the glasses to the handsome mariner again. “What look? What look are you talking about?”
“It’s his look of intense concentration. He wears it when he’s feeling the ocean and the rudder and the wheel. They’re not giving up, Sadie. It’s something else.” Jillybean was concentrating so intently on Mike that she didn’t even realize she was on a boat or that Sadie and the others had sunk back down into her subconscious.
When she did realize it, she felt terribly lonely. She didn’t even have Leney to keep her company.
And right there, almost close enough to call out to, were her friends. It would have been disastrous to call out to them and worse to attempt to capture them. Ernest’s idea of sinking the ship was so farfetched as to be ludicrous. Sailors love boats. They’d be the last people to sink a boat without proper reason and if Jillybean gave the order, she would lose even more standing in their eyes.
No, Jillybean’s only real option was to discern what Mike was going to do and react to their benefit before he could make his move. They had no hope of escape, otherwise. She studied Mike, his expressions, his moves, even his lips when he spoke, and unfortunately could not tell what he was up to beyond waiting.
He was holding steady, biding his time, obviously waiting for something to happen. Jillybean swung her gaze straight west, however the low clouds kept her from seeing anything.
“Leney! What is The Wind Ripper’s best point of sailing? What direction?” He swung his arm to the right, to the north. “And ours?”
“With this wind? I’d say almost dead south, your Highness. Now compared to her, it’s a whole ‘nother story. Compared to her, this is it. That’s why I was trying to warn you, your Highness, she’s sprightly. She really might get away.”
Jillybean drummed the rail with her fingers. Had she not been in the process of hounding her only friends to their deaths, she would have enjoyed the cold breeze and the chill spray in her face. She had been so deep inside of herself that normal tactile sensations had been impossible. Everything she had touched in that strange dream world had the quality of a stale memory.
“So, it would seem she could get away if she were trying,” Jillybean said, mostly to herself. “Which begs the question, why isn’t she trying? Why expose themselves to possible death or capture? Are there any rocks or islands ahead of us?” All the sailors on deck shook their heads. “Then there’s only one possible reason for their actions: we are being led into a trap. Leney, please turn us due north.”
The possibility of a trap killed the swagger and bravado among the sailors. Their eager smiles vanished in an instant. “Uh, your Highness?” one of the closer sailors asked in a meek voice. “We live south now. San Francisco is south. And begging your pardon, if there’s a trap shouldn’t we be, you know, getting out of it?”
She smiled benignly at him. “If we were craven, afraid of our own shadows, then maybe we would. You fellows aren’t shy, are you?” Once more the crew shook their heads in unison and some even looked offended at the suggestion, and yet when she turned to gaze through her binoculars at The Wind Ripper, they all craned their heads to look westward to see what might be coming for them.
Nothing could be seen through the low-hanging clouds. If there was a trap, its jaws were not yet ready to close.
Who is out there? Jillybean wondered as the Hell Quake swung north. Corsairs more than likely since Mike was still flying the black flag. Were the Guardians out in force, it would have made sense for Jenn to fly her white and gold flag or perhaps no flag at all.
“Leney, strike our colors and prepare…” He froze, wearing a puzzled look. “It means that I want you to take down our flag. I would’ve thought you knew that term, though I suppose it is more naval than strictly nautical. Get one of the old Corsair flags ready. You know, just to amuse our unseen guests.”
The word amuse was muttered in a circle around the boat by the sailors until it came back to Jillybean. Leney was more confused by the word than he had been by the term colors. “Why would we want to amuse anyone? If the Black Captain is out there, he’s not going to be amused.”
“It’s just an expression. In this case the word is synonymous with confuse. If the Black Captain is indeed out there, he might see our old Corsair flag and hesitate. Sometimes even the slightest hesitation is the difference between life and death.”
“Ahh,” Leney exclaimed, as did many of the other sailors when they understood. Jillybean thought it comical how just the idea of such a simple ruse was enough to fill her men with new courage. She held her smile in place though she wanted to roll her eyes. To keep the urge from becoming a reality, she glassed The Wind Ripper.
Mike had changed course along with them, heading northwest, opening up more distance between the two boats, and giving himself more options. Soon, he’d have enough room to tack back toward land at great speed, or turn north with a bigger lead, or suddenly dip southwest and try to hide among the low clouds.
“If there’s someone else out there, which would he do? If they were still feeling the effects of the poison, then fleeing toward land would be the last thing they…” A distant shadow behind one of the clouds stopped her. Its darkness swelled to take over the cloud completely. It’s the dragon! was her first thought, and in a way, it was.
The Black Captain had arrived in person and not only had he brought a fleet of a hundred and twenty ships, he had also brought a storm with him. The clouds began to fuse into one immense grey bank as the wind began to blow and the rain whipped.
“Run up the black flag!” Jillybean ordered as she caught sight of the first sail. The Corsair flag went up so quickly that someone might have thought it had been there all along. She had the binoculars pressed so tightly to her eyes, she couldn’t blink even if she wanted to—more sails could be seen gliding through the clouds until the grey bank was nearly dark as night.
“Should we come about?” Leney asked. The clotted cut at his throat was all but forgotten as he held the wheel with both hands ready to spin it, and there were twice as many sailors needed to heave the boom around.
“Not yet.” Had they been alone on the ocean facing the Corsair fleet, she would have gotten out of there as fast as possible, but she had to worry about Jenn, Mike, and Stu. They were clearly playing the frightened mouse fleeing the cat. They needed to be chased just a little longer to give them a chance.
Mike now had a three-hundred yard lead and he edged The Wind Ripper to a north-by-northwest heading. As if she couldn’t see the dozens of Corsair boats crowding in on a converging tack to intercept her, Jillybean changed her course to match his. Slowly, she counted to twenty as around her the tension and the fear began to build. Someone hissed a curse.
Jillybean turned to look at the offender with a cocked eyebrow. He had been one of the more eager torturers of the spies; now he couldn’t look up at her and all she saw of him was a lesion-covered bald patch. She snapped her fingers at the man standing next to him. “Hit him.”
She turned to stare back at the Corsair ships. There was a thud and a grunt. Neither had been very satisfactory. “Again. Harder.” There was a hardy thump and a much heavier groan. “Good enough,” she said, before turning to one of the sailors at the stern, “Get a smoker ready. Sticky Jim, get my flag ready; I want it hoisted on my command.”
Everyone expected her to turn around then and get the hell out of there, however she waited until the lead Corsair boat was only a half mile away. Only then did she begin barking out orders: “Come about, Leney. Get us out of here! Sticky Jim, strike those colors and hoist mine. I want this deck cleared this instant. All nonessentials get below.”
“Y’all wants me ta light the smoker?” the sailor at the back end of the boat asked. It was Sticky Jim’s near toothless friend. He was so ugly that Jillybean had trouble looking at him in his tattooed face.
“Yes. Light it and let her go, but don’t cut the tether. I want it to drag for a bit.” The t
ether was ten feet long. Because it was so close, from a distance it would look as though the boat itself was on fire. The Black Captain would not be fooled by it. By now she figured he had accurate intelligence concerning her methods.
The billowing smoke and the clouds obscured their vision of the chasing boats but not before she saw Mike bringing The Wind Ripper around as if he too were giving chase. It was a smart move and she grinned, appreciating it, knowing that he would use the first bank of clouds they came to make a course change and run west. With that in mind, she had Leney head for the thickest and lowest hanging clouds in their general direction.
They went into it with only a quarter mile lead on the lead Corsair boats. Already some of the pirates were taking a few ranging shots.
“Cut the smoker!” she ordered after a minute in the cloud. The moment it was away, she barked, “Hard to port!” The boat swung east with the wind on their stern; it fairly hurled them along, though in the clouds as they were it was hard to tell exactly how fast they were going. The few men on deck were stone silent, listening for anything that might suggest the Corsairs were catching up. In a stage whisper, Leney suggested adding a third jib. It boosted their speed by a knot and when they finally burst out of the clouds, they seemed to have left their pursuers far behind.
“Point us south,” she told Leney, gesturing at another set of low-hanging patchy clouds. She turned to Sticky Jim’s friend. “Get another smoker ready, if you please.” It pleased him so much that he showed her all of his remaining six teeth in a big lunch-delaying smile.
Everyone except Leney and Jillybean was looking back and when the Corsairs groped out of the clouds, they groaned even though the Hell Quake had a half mile lead on them.
“You boys worry too much,” she said, cheerfully, laughing at them. Unlike everyone else on board, the sight of the Black Captain’s fleet was an unlooked for godsend. Nothing else could have saved her friends, who were well on their way to escaping, or so she figured from the lack of gun shots—they would not have allowed themselves to be taken alive.
Generation Z (Book 4): The Queen Unthroned Page 14
