“No,” he said with a sad smile. “I reject it out of hand. All of it, including your offer to help. We will not be beholden to the likes of you. Our wounded would gladly give up their lives rather than be used as bargaining chips.”
Sadie didn’t know what to say. “But you will all die. I’ve seen it, your Excellency. I’ve seen how she…how you will die. You have to surrender,”
He shook his head, making his jowls swing. The sad smile assumed shades of grief, as if death was inevitable. “No, we do not have to. Your threats are meaningless, your Highness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we do have work to do.” He bobbed his head and started to leave.
Tell them to stop! Eve raged in a voice that had grown from sinister and silky sweet to thunderous. It left Sadie swaying.
“Wait,” Sadie said, her voice embarrassingly soft. The Bishop turned and blinked at her, expectantly.
Make them stay, damn it! You have guards, use them.
Sadie held up a finger to the Bishop and then turned around, hissing, “I can’t. They have immunity. How will it look if we invite them here and then turn around and jail them?”
Who said anything about jailing them? Eve answered with a laugh. It was the laugh of crows haranguing each other over a field of dead bodies, and it rang in Sadie’s head. It soon became deafening.
“Your Highness, we will not be abused,” the Bishop said, his voice barely audible over the crowing laughter.
“Just a sec,” Sadie said, weakly. “I just got to hold on. Eve can’t keep it up forever. I just…”
As the room watched in dreadful fascination, the Queen’s right hand lifted, hung suspended in the air for a moment and then went whistling in a vicious arc hitting her own cheek. The sound of the slap was so loud it was shocking.
“Jillybean!” Donna cried and jumped forward as the Queen collapsed. Donna tried to help her up, but the younger woman shoved her away.
“Don’t ever call me that again,” Eve snarled, getting to her feet. Her face was throbbing and her balance was a little off. Still, she wore a genuine grin. “Now, where were we? Yes, you were going to surrender.”
Chapter 37
Gunner lifted the mealy apple up under the cloth hiding his face and took a bite. The others, especially Jenn, could barely stomach the apples, but he didn’t mind them a bit. He was missing so many teeth, he liked his food mushy. Like an old man, he thought to himself.
This soured him on the apple and he pegged it at a tree. When it hit the trunk dead center, it exploded. “Enough sitting about. We gotta get. I don’t have all day.” They were a straggly trio, so battered that the girl was the strongest of the three and was the last to stand. She was squirreling her partridge bones in a small bag that she kept tied at her wrist.
“Rolling ‘dem bones,” he cackled. “I shoulda kept the beaks and the feet for you, like they do in the deep, deep south.”
Jenn and Mike weren’t exactly sure what he meant by that. She thought he meant Mexico and Mike thought it was South America, which stretched so far south that the summer became winter, or so he had heard.
Stu understood the reference. “Are you from the South? You don’t have much of an accent.”
Gunner laughed again in that strange wheezing mad cackle of his. “Not much of an accent! Ha-ha! That’s rich. What kind of accent does a man with no lips have? I sound exactly as I am: ugly. There’s no pretending otherwise. Now, let’s cut the chitchat.” The morning was still sharply cold and he wrapped his ugly cape of fur and crow feathers tighter about him before heading once more to the northeast.
Things were exactly as they had been the day before. In spite of his immense handicaps, Gunner marched tirelessly, while behind him Mike labored along in pain, Stu limped, and Jenn made sure to hold back even a hint of complaining. She was tired and ragged, but at least she was whole.
As the day progressed, the land gradually became less and less hilly and by afternoon they had reached a broad valley that had once been prime farmland but was now becoming a bramble-choked wilderness. At the far end of the valley was a deserted little town. Mostly deserted, that is. It had more than its share of the dead, most of them on the larger side since they had been grazing up the valley throughout the fall.
Jenn hoped they would try to creep past along the forested edge of the town where there was more cover. Gunner had a different idea and took them right down the heart of the town, slipping from house to house and from car to car. He had a knack for avoiding the dead, without which they would’ve been doomed.
As far as Jenn could tell, they were in the center of town when Gunner suddenly crawled beneath a jumble of wrecked cars. “What are you guys waiting for?” he asked in a whisper. “We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?” Mike wondered under his breath so that only Jenn could hear. “Almost to his trap?” It sure felt that way to Jenn. Things got even sketchier as she crawled through a narrow gap beneath the vehicles and emerged behind a crumbling fence.
Right on the other side of the loose boards was a pair of zombies. Jenn froze, afraid to move.
One of them had once been a black man; as a zombie it was many colored: strangely pale in spots, hugely scarred and grey in others and dusky brown everywhere else. Its hair was outrageously knotted and shaggy as an unshorn ram. The hulking thing next to it was faceless. Its features had been eaten completely away and now, after it pulled up a hunk of weeds along the aged fence, it shoved them down into an obscene hole where its cheeks and jaws had once been.
The sight was so horrific that Jenn feared she was going to vomit. Gunner seemed to like what he saw. “Proper watch dogs,” he whispered before shuttling to his left where there were even more gaps in the rotted wood. He dug around in the overgrown weeds with his good hand until he found a stone which he heaved back and threw. It sailed over a rusting derelict van with broken windows and thocked loudly as it bounced off the front door of a house across the street from them.
The two barely humanoid beasts spun about and began to groan and shamble their way to the house.
When their backs were turned, Gunner darted in his crab-like manner through an opening in the fence and crept toward the house beyond. It was a long, low ranch with dirt-filmed windows and a gaping wound in front where a door had once been. A zombie had torn it and its frame right off the brick. The door sat, poking up from an out of control rhododendron that was slowly taking over the house. Already the bush was strangling the two back bedrooms and overflowing the driveway.
Gunner paused in the doorway to listen for a few seconds before heading further inside. Jenn followed right on his heels. She had seldom been in houses as gloomy as this one. The only light that made it inside had to fight tooth and nail to get through the overgrown trees and bushes and the thick dirt covering the windows.
They did not go deep into the house, stopping at an open bathroom door a few steps away from the kitchen. Gunner went in and came out with two stoppered bottles of what Jenn assumed was wine. It was actually fresh water. Gunner drank heavily from one bottle, finishing it in front of their eyes. He didn’t hand over the second.
“I think now is a good time to talk payment,” he told them, using the cloth covering the lower part of his face to wipe his ruined chin.
“Hold on,” Stu said, coming to stand between Gunner and Jenn. “We told you our story, just like you asked. We don’t owe you anything.”
Gunner’s dark eyes crinkled and Jenn could sense the evil smile radiating from beneath the veil. “You need to go back to school because you got a bad case of being an ignorant dumbass. You told me a story to get you outta that pipe and because I had saved you from those earlier zombies. But what about all my time and troubles before and after?”
Stu could only fumble out the truth: “We told you everything we know and we don’t really have anything of value…except the boat.” Mike sucked in his breath, looking as though Stu was going to hand over his first-born child.
“That’s not e
ven yours to give,” Gunner told them. “You stole it. Kinda makes it fair game. ‘Sides, I doubt you’ll ever see it again. Do you plan on trying to make it back to that boat any time soon? If so, what are your chances that you’ll make it past the Corsair’s lair? No, sorry, you can’t pay with other people’s money.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Jenn asked, crossing her arms in front of her. “You know we have nothing. You must be fishing for something.” She was afraid that he would ask for her. She was even more afraid that if he did Mike and Stu would be dead in seconds.
It took Gunner a second to realize what she was asking. “Don’t be stupid. I coulda had you whenever I wanted. No, I need more information. It’s how I make my living. I’m the man who knows things. Sometimes it’s big things, like how many ships the Corsairs have or how far the Portland radiation belt has drifted. Sometimes it’s just local gossip. Who’s dating who? Who’s expecting a baby? Who’s been messing around, or who’s about to propose. You’d be surprised what people would pay good money for. Besides, I wasn’t lying when I told you I was lonely. Knowing things helps me feel, I don’t know, connected.”
“I guess the only thing about us you’d like to know is that me and Mike are sorta an item,” Jenn said. “Things have been so topsy-turvy that we really haven’t gone on a real date. Unless you count that dinner.” Mike shook his head; the dinner had been a complete fiasco.
“No,” Gunner said, pointing the lip of the empty bottle at Jenn. “It doesn’t count if you tell me stuff I already know. It’s obvious you two are moony over each other. And it’s not the past I want either. It’s the future. I want to know more about Bainbridge.”
Stu’s dark eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. We hope to live there and we aren’t going to go there as spies. No. It’s out of the question. Name another price and we will pay it, obviously not right away, but over time we’ll pay it.”
Gunner didn’t hesitate. “Ten-thousand rounds of ammunition.” Mike’s eyes shot wide, while Stu’s narrowed even further until they were just slits. Gunner shrugged, making the hump on his back jerk up. “You said name my price and that’s it. I’ll take a thousand a year for ten years and I won’t even charge interest, which is mighty fine of me.”
“Be serious,” Stu growled.
“I am serious. I’ve saved your lives more than you know. Remember that Corsair back at the pond? You ever wonder where he went? You ever wonder why all his buddies didn’t show up and drag you out of that pipe? I’m the reason why, thank you very much. I’ve fed you, dressed you, kept you alive, and brought you all the way up here and this is the thanks I get? You can keep your stories. I’ll take the money.”
Jenn looked back and forth at Stu and Mike, hoping one would know what to say or do; however, both were just as lost as she was—Gunner had just admitted to murdering a Corsair for them. It made her feel dirty. “It’s just a lot of money,” she said, in a small voice. “I don’t think we can do a thousand a year.”
“You’re going to have to figure it out because if I don’t get paid I might go looking elsewhere for money and the Black Captain doesn’t ever forgive and he doesn’t forget. And not everything is as perfect as it seems on Bainbridge. One day you might wake up and it’ll be just two of you. A few months go by and then it’ll be one.”
Stu pushed forward. “You evil son of a…”
In a black blur, Gunner dropped him with a punch to the chest. It was a quick, savage blow that felt like a kick from a mule. Stu’s face went bright red as he struggled to breathe through lungs that were crumpled and convulsing. Gunner stood over him. “Don’t ever walk up on me again, boy or I will break that pretty face of yours wide open.” He turned his hard, horrible gaze on Mike and Jenn. “You’ve heard my offers. Pick one.”
Jenn’s shaking hand spidered down Mike’s arm until she found his; it was clenched into a useless fist. He was furious, but also embarrassed that he had stood meekly by instead of going to Stu’s defense. With his broken ribs, fighting was out of the question. If he had taken a punch like that, the bones in his chest would’ve crumbled like twigs.
“We won’t tell you military secrets,” Mike said, forcefully through clenched teeth. “We can tell you some gossip just like you said, but we won’t be real spies.”
Gunner’s scowling eyes suddenly crinkled. “How tough was that? Huh? Here, have a drink.” He handed Mike the other bottle and then reached down and heaved a still gasping Stu Currans to his feet. “Now we can be friends again. What I want to know first is about the Governor. Is she still popular? When is she due for reelection? Will she win? Who’s her opponent? What are they like? Do they drink, cheat, gamble? Do they have kids? If so, what are their hobbies?”
“Hold on,” Stu said, as evenly as he could with his diaphragm still hitching spastically. “All that seems a lot like spy-work to me. And what happens if maybe we start by giving you a little information and then you want more. Then what?”
“You can say no,” Gunner said, sounding reasonable. “And don’t get your panties in a bunch about the other stuff. I didn’t ask about what sort of weapons they had or what their tactics are. What I’m asking for is all background information. None of it is exactly classified, you know what I mean?”
“It does sound a lot like gossip to me,” Jenn volunteered. “I don’t think anyone would really care if this is all we’re telling Gunner.” Even though it was the truth, she felt slimy saying this. No matter how this was coated, it was obvious he was a spy of some sort.
Gunner ducked back into the bathroom. He came back out with another bottle and a plastic bag bursting with walnuts. “Exactly. You’ll see. Those guys on Bainbridge are talkers and so what if you become talkers, too. Now, eat up.” Three of the fingers on his good hand were little more than scared-over stubs, the ends blackened like old cigars. Although he could grip his battleaxe without a problem, walnuts were another story. They spilled from his hand. Jenn bent quickly as Mike made a slow gesture to pick them up. She was about to sweep them into her hand when she saw that they had fallen in a ring.
Another circle, she thought. But what did this one mean? She didn’t know. Seeing as it was in connection to Gunner, she figured that it meant something bad, and yet she felt a strange reassurance. The circle was another sign and it had come to her unbidden. It was something of a relief.
Absently, she ate the walnuts, picking lint from the handful. The group ate and drank for a few minutes in silence before Gunner suddenly said, “I have to go make sure our route is clear. There’s a lot of unsavory people in the north these days. I think your friend’s antics have attracted a lot of unwanted attention for Bainbridge. The Black Captain gets his revenge one way or the other. Remember that the next time you see her.”
After he left, Mike asked, “Was he talking about Jillybean? I doubt we’ll ever see her again. What do you guys think?”
Stu’s rugged face clouded over. He didn’t say anything, so it was hard to tell whether he wanted to see her or not. It seemed both ideas were painful to him. Jenn suddenly knew what the ring of walnuts meant. “We’ll see her. I’m pretty sure of it.” But would it be a good thing? She had barely been holding onto her sanity the last time they had seen her. The stress of war could have sent her over the edge completely.
If so, Jenn feared for the friends she had left behind.
No one said a word. They sat in the dark hall in a thoughtful silence until the thoughts faded into a drowsy, unthinking lethargy. Eventually, Mike stood and helped Jenn to her feet. “Let’s find a couch or something more comfortable than this floor.” The three wandered into the living room where they each found a spot to wait. Stu, alone on a heavy chair, Mike and Jenn on the couch facing him.
Jenn slept against Mike’s shoulder and was out for a few hours before a distant crackle of gunfire woke her.
“That’s at least two guns,” Stu said. Chances were, it meant a fight.
Gunner showed up a while later, drying blood on his c
loak and a snarl on his lips. “We can’t wait until morning. We have to go now. Come on, kiddies. The tide waits for no man, right, Mike?”
“It doesn’t. Are we taking a boat?”
“How else did you plan on getting to Bainbridge? It’s still an island.” Gunner didn’t wait for them to wake fully, but was out the door in seconds. They crossed the yard, ducked through the fence and crept under the piled-up cars. Instead of popping up on the other side as expected, Gunner slithered down into an open pipe that Jenn had seen earlier. At the time she had feared what might come out of it. She had never expected to go inside.
The small pipe led to a larger one—a slightly larger one. Although she could walk hunched over, Mike had to move somewhere between a crawl and a scamper and poor Stu, who was even bigger, had to crawl on his hands and knees. Because of his hump and deformed back, Gunner seemed no taller than Jenn and yet he had the mass of a much larger man, and even though he filled the tunnel with his bulk, he moved with surprising speed.
It was difficult for Jenn to keep up, and Mike trailed far behind her. They were underground for half an hour and when they finally came up out into the cold night, even Gunner had to take a moment to stretch his twisted joints. But it was only a moment.
Stu was still wincing and cracking his back when Gunner forced them on again. They went due north until they ran into a black stretch of still water. Jenn asked if it was Puget Sound to which Gunner only grunted, “Around here it’s all the same water.”
He took them back up into the forests a little ways and then went on a course parallel to the stretch of water for another three miles. They were dog tired but he wouldn’t let them rest. He was filled with an unnamed urgency that was bothersome right up until they heard gunfire off to their right.
It was very close. It was hard to judge at night, but Jenn guessed the shooter was no more than a hundred yards away.
Generation Z (Book 4): The Queen Unthroned Page 36
