Generation Z (Book 4): The Queen Unthroned

by Meredith, Peter

  Gunner had been soft on them compared to the grueling pace he set during the next hour. There was no let up. He forced them on, sometimes dragging Mike along as he wheezed and clutched his aching side. It seemed as though they were running for their lives, but what they were running from he wouldn’t say. They barely had the breath to ask.

  The chase ended when they finally reached the sound opposite Bainbridge’s western-most point. The searchlights were dazzling even from half a mile away. Each traced a sparkling silver swath across the dark water as they swept slowly back and forth. Jenn had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “Almost there,” Gunner assured them. He cut through the brush heading along the beach for a few hundred yards until he came to a small house that had slid off its foundation and was mostly in the water. Reaching into a window, he slid out a long canoe. “I’m going to want this back, one of these days. In the meantime, you guys can use it to come back and forth. I want your first report in three days. We’ll meet here at noon…”

  A sudden splash stopped him. A shadow the size of a truck moved in the water, coming closer. Slowly, like some deep-dwelling leviathan it surfaced and came at them. The creature didn’t look much like a zombie, it looked like something out of a horror story. It was covered in green slime; the stuff dribbled from its milky green eyes and from a huge gaping mouth. Entwined in its long black hair were living strands of seaweed which hung down its back like garland. Across its shockingly broad shoulders was an old fishing net, festooned with hooks and fish heads and unspeakable trash. It almost seemed to be wearing a shawl but then it struggled on shore and they could see that the net was huge. It dragged along behind the beast like the train of a demonic bridal gown, leaving behind small, scuttling marine animals and a long vile smear that consisted of a combination of green slime, evil-smelling bottom mud and what was more than likely feces.

  “Be here at noon in three days and come alone,” Gunner said. “I’ll know if you try to pull some sort of funny business. Now, go on.”

  While they clambered into the rocking canoe, Gunner turned to face the eight-hundred pound monster. He was grinning beneath his mask.

  Chapter 38

  “Actually, we had no intention of ever surrendering,” the Bishop replied to Eve. He was unmoved by her nasty smile and was completely unafraid, even though her mental state was deteriorating rapidly. “Your threats are useless. More than useless, in fact. If you make martyrs of us, our people will only fight harder.”

  She cackled, her eyes alight with fire. “Fight harder against what? Against who? Oh, you are a funny one, your Idiocy. Do I really have to demonstrate my power a third time? I tear down your wall and you pretend it doesn’t matter. I send a few crumbs of my vast army at you last night and you barely survive. I have to wonder, is this biblical with you? Are you Peter denying Jesus three times before the cock crows? Are you the Pharaoh with the hard heart? Do I really need to bring down another plague before you let my people live?”

  “Your people?” Commander Walker growled, stepping forward, his face twisted in anger. “Your people are thieves and murderers.”

  “Yes!” she cried, throwing a fist in the air. “Yes, exactly. Thieves and liars and murderers. I think you might even call them sinners. Those are my people. Wait! I have an idea, Bishop. Since you have such a problem with sinners, I’ll take all of yours off your hands. You can keep your saints. Hmm? What do you say to that?”

  The Bishop didn’t say a word and Commander Walker looked suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Come on,” Eve said. “Here’s your chance to purify your ranks. Who among you are completely without sin? Let him throw a stone at me if he dares. That’s right, I listened when Jillybean read the good book. Our interpretations are not exactly the same on most things, but we both know that one’s right. We’re all sinners, so get off that high horse, Commander.”

  “Quoting the Bible is easy,” the Bishop stated, flatly. “And using selective verses to your advantage is certainly nothing new. What would really impress me is if you tried understanding and living up to the tenets espoused in the Bible.”

  “Which ones? There are so, so many and sometimes they contradict each other or go off on some sort of prehistoric tangent. It can be very confusing.”

  The Bishop stuck his hands behind his back, thrusting his round belly out. “Since you asked, perhaps you could consider: Thou Shalt not Murder. It’s a good start. Or maybe: Love thy neighbor as yourself.” She scoffed at the suggestion, causing him to sigh. “As I thought, you’re all talk. We’re leaving now.”

  Eve snapped her fingers at the guards, who leveled their weapons. More guards appeared at the far end of the tent. “I don’t think so. We tried to be nice about things, but you threw that in our face. I think it might be time to do things my way for a change.” She nodded at Sticky Jim, who elbowed his friend, Deaf Mick. They led an armed platoon toward the small group of Guardians.

  Among the Corsair guards was a shadowy figure, who never looked up. He didn’t seem to belong and yet no one said a word. He cast a wavering silhouette on the wall of the pavilion. It was so thin that it was as if a candle had created it. Thin shadow or not, seeing him brought a sneer to the Queen’s face. She knew it was no guard; it was Ernest, sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong.

  Be smart, he whispered across to her as Troy Holt stepped boldly forward to challenge twenty men with his bare hands.

  “I am being smart,” she snarled. She hated him nearly as much as she hated Jillybean. The difference was that she and Ernest were sometimes on the same side. And, she reluctantly admitted that sometimes he did have some good ideas. She exerted what self-control she possessed and asked, in as off-hand a manner as she could manage, “What do you suggest?”

  Show them our real army. It’ll scare them into surrender and once they surrender peacefully, we can do what we want with them.

  “What I want to do with them, you mean. And it’s my army. Don’t forget it.” He said nothing to this and she grunted like an animal, baiting him, but he was still frail and didn’t rise to the challenge. She turned from one weak enemy to another and stared intently at the Bishop, who had heard one half of the conversation.

  He stared back, unblinkingly and she saw the sadness in his eyes had returned. “Don’t get all weepy on my account,” she said. “I’m perfectly fine.” Even as she said this, her eyes flicked to the side to see Ernest hiding a smirk behind a hand. She had to resist the fantastic urge to pull out the little P238 she kept hidden in her coat and pop him a few times.

  “If you’re so fine, maybe you could tell me who you were talking to just now,” the Bishop asked. He had never believed in dissociative identity disorder, what most people called multiple personality disorder. As far as he was concerned, it had been a fad diagnosis that had caused more harm than good. In a way, it was akin to a virus in that it self-replicated. One sensational diagnosis that found its way into the public domain would spawn a dozen counterfeits. This didn’t mean he thought the Queen was acting in a fraudulent manner; no, there really was something wrong with her.

  “Don’t you dare question me when you’re the one who’s about to commit suicide,” she snapped back at him. “It’s death to defy me. And I suppose that’s your choice, but you’re going to drag all of your people down with you. Who are you like?”

  Jim Jones, Ernest answered.

  “Yes, Jim Jones. He was that crazy guy who made all his followers drink cyanide laced kool-aide. He was a cult leader. Is that what you are, Bishop? A cult leader? Have you brainwashed your followers so completely that they’ll let themselves get torn to pieces?”

  The Bishop raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said these were your people and yet you are the one threatening to kill them.”

  “My people kneel before me and if you really wish to save lives, you would be the first.” His only response was to shake his head and stare steadily into her lamp-like eyes while all around them the Corsairs waite
d ready to start pummeling the old man.

  The impasse lasted a full minute before she started hearing Sadie calling out: Jillybean, where are you. Jillybean! It sounded like Sadie was far, far away in a deep cave or buried beneath a building.

  “Okay, that’s enough. I will give you one more chance to prove you’re not running a cult. I will show you the doom that awaits you if you don’t surrender. I will show you what will destroy your town and everyone in it. Consider it a gift from me. It’ll allow you to surrender with your dignity intact.”

  She turned to Donna with half-lidded eyes. “Send Yingling out with them and get an honor guard of a hundred men so they all remain safe and sound until they return.”

  “I can lead them, your Highness,” Leney said, pushing forward. He had been ignored from the moment he had walked in and he didn’t like it. He felt like he was being squeezed out. “Yingling is a Sacramento guy. Those types don’t mix all that well with, you know, old Corsairs.”

  “They had better start mixing,” she spat, her tone cold as ice. “Or I will assume their leaders are up to no good. Are they, Leney? Didn’t you warn Jillybean about the possibility of traitors in your ranks?”

  The cold evil coming off of her sunk deep into his bones and suddenly he regretted speaking up. “It was just a guess. I know the men and they can be fickle.”

  “Fickle,” she deadpanned. “You get a possible assassination attempt from ‘fickle.’ No. Nope, that won’t do. Find me the traitors now. This morning. I want three of them in chains before lunch. No excuses.” Leney left in a hurry, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this trap. There was nothing worse in the Corsair world than a snitch; he’d have a target on his back the moment he snatched up the first man.

  The Queen watched him leave with shrewd eyes. She wasn’t as smart as Jillybean in most areas, however she had a sixth sense when it came to plots and intrigue; she could smell the evil coming off of Leney. It set her teeth on edge. When he had disappeared, she remembered the Guardians. “Donna, get these cultists out of my sight before I lose my temper.”

  The grim-faced guards began to close in and Donna was just hurrying the four Guardians away from the Queen when Denise Woodruff broke away. “Excuse me your Highness?” When Eve turned her hard blue eyes on her, Denise’s courage failed her, and her knees buckled. She didn’t try to stop herself and dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry. I can’t go with them. I have to get back to the clinic. There are people who need me. Please,” she added, subserviently dropping her gaze.

  Eve liked what she saw. She liked the fear. She liked how the woman knew her place. She liked the begging quality in her voice. There was only one thing missing. She walked over and put her left hand out for the woman to kiss it.

  “Denise,” the Bishop warned, “don’t do it. We only worship the Lord.”

  “I’m not demanding that you worship me, Denise. It would be a lie if you did. I’m asking that you demonstrate, what’s the word Jillybean would use? Respect? No, fealty, that’s it. Show me that. Show me some sort of devotion.”

  Denise closed her eyes and pretended she was kissing the feet of Jesus as her lips pressed against the Queen’s knuckles. They were surprisingly hard and her hand shockingly quick as she reached out and grabbed a hunk of hair on the back of her head. A knife appeared like magic in Eve’s other hand and was at her throat before she could blink.

  The others were caught by surprise by the move. Troy made a futile gesture towards interceding but he was ten feet away with three ugly, tattooed guards between him and the Queen.

  Eve gave him a wink as she pulled Denise’s head further back. “Remember, Denise, now that you’re on my side, never turn your back on your queen. And never say a wrong word, because I will hear it and the punishment for disloyalty is very severe. Very severe.”

  “Y-Yes, your Highness,” Denise whispered, her eyes glued to the glittering knife.

  A radiant smile broke across Eve’s face. She released her grip and helped the quasi-doctor to her feet. “There you go. See how simple that was Mr. Bishop? Think about that when you see what awaits all those people my little Denise is going to go save.”

  “I will,” Wojdan promised and he would, too. He would take into account her complete insanity and know that she could never be trusted.

  Eve dismissed them all. She didn’t trust her guards, except for Nathan Kittle and she trusted him only because he was such a coward that she knew he would never try anything. Unfortunately, he was also such a coward that he probably wouldn’t fight for her. She needed someone both loyal and willing to fight.

  Stu’s handsome face jumped to the forefront of her mind, making her smirk. “He’d be the right guard dog, but he’s gone. Who does that leave? You…” She gestured to Nathan.

  “It’s Nathan, your highness.”

  She waved a hand. “Sure, whatever. I need you to go get that stupid girl, the one with the messed up head.”

  “Do you mean Shaina Hale?”

  The name sounded familiar. “Yeah. Get her and the kid with the one arm. I know they love me. And get the guy that got it in the chest a while back. And get that Islander. The Greek guy. Make sure they’re armed. I need a little extra protection.”

  Nathan ran off leaving only her and Ernest in the tent. They stood with thirty feet separating them. It was as close as either wanted to get to the other. You should get rid of the pills. If she keeps taking them, we’ll…

  “I did something even better,” she said and laughed, deliciously. “I switched out her 15-mg pills for 2.5-mg pills. They look exactly alike, but instead of her taking thirty milligrams, she’s taking five. It’s not enough. Not even close. Wow, to think dumb ol’ Eve thought of that.”

  Wrong. She left you a giant brain to use and you’re still an idiot How can you have missed how yellow your skin has become. Because of you, she’s been taking more and more pills and now, not only does she have plenty of Zyprexa in her system, she also has all the other fillers and binders that go into the pills. You’ll kill her and yourself uselessly.

  “Oh yeah? If she has the meds in her why isn’t she here? Why am I in charge? Why was Sadie? I say it’s because she’s starting to lose it for good.”

  And I say it’s because she wants to be down there. I think she might have discovered something. Something long forgotten or something wonderful. You smelled the rolls. Don’t lie.

  She had smelled the cinnamon rolls. The wonderful aroma had filled the Queen’s trailer just after Sadie locked herself in the bathroom. Eve’s stomach immediately rumbled and her mouth had filled with saliva. These physical effects were nothing compared to the emotional ones. The scent had given Eve a wonderful inner warmth, an intimate sense of being protected, and the knowledge that she had been loved.

  All of which had weakened Eve. She had been dwelling on that scent when Sadie came roaring back to take control.

  “Jillybean can choke on the rolls for all I care. As long as I’m in charge, she can spend the rest of her life down…”

  The tent flap whipped open and in hurried Shaina Hale holding a pistol by the barrel with both hands. She was wringing it, nervously. “Hi, your Highness. Nathan said you wanted me to guard you? I told him that I can try, but I’m not so good as a fighter.”

  She took a long breath and was clearly going to go on; however, Aaron Altman came in then, a huge revolver in an over-sized holster at his hip. It made him walk with an exaggerated step, something akin to a goose-step. He went right to one knee in front of Eve, who did her best not to look as disgusted as she felt. Aaron had something brown at the corner of his mouth. It might have been from his breakfast and it might have been from something else. She found boys to be disgusting at times.

  In due time, she was surrounded by the catastrophically stupid Shaina Hale, the one-armed child, a limpy Gerry the Greek, a wheezy William Trafny and a nervous Nathan Kittle who jumped at every sound outside the tent, expecting an attack at any moment. As a fighting fo
rce they were ineptly frail and as an honor guard they were a joke. Still, they were better than nothing and better than having Corsairs at her back.

  A few miles away, Commander Walker was thinking the same thing as he marched up through the hills east of Highton. The Corsairs were a dirty lot, so much so that a scraggy-faced man named Stinky Jim was the cleanest of them.

  Their mouths were as foul as their unwashed bodies. For an hour, they made rude jokes at the Guardian’s expense. These jokes were rarely funny, which did not stop them from laughing even if the laughter was forced most of the time. The Bishop appealed to Steven Yingling, the supposed leader of the little expedition, but he was a Sacramentan and the Corsairs refused to listen to him.

  “Sorry,” he said, offering a meaningless shrug to go along with his apology. “It’s sort of expected. You are the enemy. It’ll get better when you come over to our side.”

  Troy began to bristle, but stopped when Wojdan put a hand on his arm. “There is nothing you can show us that will make us change our mind. Death is preferable to a life of sin and debauchery.”

  “I guess,” Steven answered. “We really don’t do much sinning. I mean it’s not the Queen’s policy to do evil things, you know.”

  “I suppose we have a different point of view,” the Bishop retorted blandly. “What are we going to see, by the way? More zombies? If so, we’ve wasted a trip. We saw plenty of zombies last night. We’re not afraid of a few more.”

  Steven sighed. “We’re almost there.” They had been wending their way along the face of a steep, tree-covered hill. It had all of them except for Walker and Troy huffing. When they were just shy of the top, Steven paused and looked back the way they had come. The ocean stretched wide and blue, twinkling in the backdrop. Just in front of it was Highton, looking serene. Off to the north were hundreds of tents lined up in a grid pattern.

  They all gazed back before going to the very crest of the hill. The view on the other side was terrifying. The hill dropped steeply away into something of a long gorge that ran away to the south for a mile or more. It was a third of that at its widest, though it was hard to tell exactly since it was completely filled with zombies.