Generation Z (Book 4): The Queen Unthroned

by Meredith, Peter

  “If you had seen the…the squalor and the filth they’d been living in, I think you would understand better. They were desperate people. Desperate for leadership and medical attention, and someone who could handle the Corsairs. Jillybean was all three. And there was something else about her.” He broke off, momentarily, and gave Jenn a glance. “Something that made it seem right.” At first, he didn’t add.

  Before he could begin again, Mike butted in to tell them about the Floating Fortress, which he described as a “miracle.” He then went into too much detail explaining how they managed to wrestle the ungainly barge back to the Bay area in time to confront the Black Captain’s armada.

  “The fleet was immense,” he told them. “The entire bay was filled with black sails and clouds of smoke…and bodies. They were floating everywhere.”

  He tapered off, allowing Stu to tell about the next series of battles, which he did in one sentence. “The Corsairs came again, more this time, and Jillybean was able to defeat them and ultimately turn many to her side.” Twenty-one words to describe the tremendous clashes in which hundreds had died.

  It took longer to tell how Jenn came to be queen and, as he spoke, he grew quieter until recounting Jillybean’s treachery became too much to bear. His words faltered into nothing and Jenn had to take over. She told a much deeper story that had the seven on the edge of their seats. Just like Stu, she hit a point where she couldn’t go on. For her, it was drinking the poison.

  Her flesh was awash in a sea of goosebumps and she could feel her heartbeat throbbing in her temples as she remembered feeling the cold hand of death come over her.

  Mike dutifully finished up and managed to restrain himself concerning their escape on The Wind Ripper. As much as he wanted to praise the ship’s heroic lines and the way she handled in a crisis, he didn’t want to bring up the death of Rob LeBar at Jenn’s hands. The word murder kept creeping out of his subconscious and he was afraid he would accidentally say it.

  He also didn’t mention Gunner. Their harrowing flight from Grays Harbor became instead, a simple walk north where they “found” a canoe that brought them across the Sound.

  When he had finished the tale, the room went silent as Deanna leaned back in her chair, her elbows propped up on the armrests, her fingers steepled beneath her chin.

  “This is good news for us, right?” Norris Barnes asked after the silence had carried on for over a minute. He was a politician and he felt the need to fill any lull in a conversation with the sound of his own voice. “Kind of a two-birds-with-one-stone situation. Jillybean gave the Black Captain a good spanking, which is good, and now her dream, or whatever it is, of world conquest is over. She can’t beat the Guardians.”

  “Yes,” an older man agreed in a solemn tone. It was hard to take him seriously as he wore an orange tuxedo. “Their wall is said to be almost as big as our own. Torpedoes are impressive and she should be rightly commended for figuring them out. But they aren’t much good on land. With the height of their walls, the Guardians should be able take out any catapult, or what have you that Jillybean might bring to play.”

  At this, Stu smirked and Mike rolled his eyes. Jenn sat up straighter, saying, “I don’t think any of you know what Jillybean is really capable of. The woman I know will have destroyed that wall days ago.”

  “I agree with Miss Lockhart,” Deanna said, as she got to her feet. “I was with Jillybean and helped her destroy the River King’s bridge. And I was with her when the Azael were defeated. A wall will not stop her, not even our own. The question we should be asking ourselves is where will she strike next? If it’s Jillybean who is queen, she’ll destroy the Corsairs once and for all. If it’s Eve, she may be coming here.”

  This cast a gloom over the room, while outside drums beat chipper cadences, and happy-sounding horns blared.

  It all washed over Deanna. “I would like to talk to these three alone. The rest of you go and enjoy yourselves. Oh, except you, Perkins. I’m afraid I’m going to need you to do an inspection of the guards on the wall. We all know they’ve been drinking so don’t be too hard on them. Just make sure they cut it out. I doubt Jillybean would come here, and if she did we’d have plenty of notice. It’s just best to be on the safe side.”

  When her counselors were gone, Deanna drooped. Even her golden hair looked as though it sagged in spite of the great deal of product she had put in it. “Come with me.” She led them through the empty mansion and down into the basement. For the most part, it was finished with plush carpets and pictures on the walls and rooms with silent televisions or empty fireplaces. In the very back; however, where the furnace roared and spiderwebs dominated, the floor was cold, grey concrete.

  In the furthest corner, in a room that had once been used for storage, they found a version of Neil Martin, chained hand and foot to the wall. His eyes were blood red and his skin the color of old oatmeal. Emily was in the room reading to him. She looked as tired as her mother.

  “What happened to him?” Jenn asked, stopping in the doorway.

  Neil glared. “What’s it look like? And what’s with the get up? White was never your color, Jilly.”

  “This isn’t Jillybean, Uncle Neil,” Emily said, staring at Jenn in disbelief. “This is that girl that Jillybean ran off with. That’s you, right?”

  “It is her,” Deanna told her daughter, “And I think she can explain why you were attacked, Neil.”

  “Why I was killed, you mean,” Neil snarled, jumping up and straining at his chains. “That’s what they did to me. I’m dead Deanna. Look at me. You and I both know what’s going to happen. All the pills in the world won’t to stop me from becoming one of them. I can feel it getting worse, Deanna. I can feel it in me.”

  Deanna almost touched him, but pulled her hand back. “I understand, Neil, but you need to pay attention. Focus. Jillybean has gone after the Captain and has defeated him in a number of land and sea battles. So, I think it’s safe to say…”

  What color there was in Neil’s face drained away. “It was the Captain. I see it now. He’s trying to get to her through me.”

  “Are you sure that’s what happened to you?” Jenn asked. “Jillybean is days away. She probably doesn’t know a thing about what’s happened to you.”

  Neil made a growly noise in his throat. “You don’t know him like we do. He’s a hateful man. He’s diabolical. Killing me is an insurance policy just in case she comes north. She’ll send a boat for me and when she finds out I’m dead, there’s no telling what will happen to her.” Everyone in the room had a very good guess. The stress she was under already had her teetering. Neil’s death might send her over for good.

  “Then we better keep you alive,” Deanna said. “One of Gina’s pumpkin pies might do the trick. I’ll go see if she has any left while these three tell you what’s been going on.”

  Gina Sanders was always in the running for best pumpkin pie and, at this time of the year, she was sure to have seven or eight either on a rack cooling or waiting to get into her oven. They were Neil’s favorite because she added just a touch of rhubarb.

  As Deanna hurried up to the Sanders’ home, she saw Eddie standing on his stoop, a cigarette in his hands. The cigarette was almost all ash and had singed the hair off his knuckles. He didn’t notice. He was staring down at something tucked under the lip of his welcome mat.

  When she got close, she saw that it was a picture of his son Bobby. The toddler was dressed as a scarecrow and sitting on one of the floats. His smile was wide and bright. The picture couldn’t have been more than an hour old. Pinned to it was a one-word note that read: Tonight!

  “What’s going on tonight?” Deanna asked. He clearly hadn’t seen or heard her coming, and yet, he didn’t flinch. As if he were crawling out of a trance, Eddie slowly lifted his chin. He looked even worse than Neil. He was pasty white with drooping bags beneath his hollow eyes. Although Deanna had her hands full already, she asked, “Is something going on with Bobby?”

  He nodded
without looking her in the eye. “Y-yeah. W-we are in need of a babysitter. Do you think Emily could come over? Just for an hour or so.” He might have looked doped up, but his heart was racing as she frowned and fumbled for an excuse.

  “No, sorry. She’s, um, um, grounded. T-That’s why she’s missing all the fun. Sorry. Really. She’s going to be stuck at home tonight. Maybe her friend Bernice might be able to help.”

  “It has to be Emily,” he said, the words spilled out of him fast and harsh. He was as desperate as he sounded. The picture, the second he’d received, was a stark, unvarnished threat to his son’s life. “I-I just say that because Bobby loves her. You understand, right? The way kids can be. Maybe you could see your way clear to letting her out for a few hours.”

  “I wish I could,” Deanna said, and meant it. She felt terrible that Emily was stuck with Neil so much. “I just can’t. She needs to be alone to think about what she’s done. I hope you understand.”

  Unexpectedly, Eddie brightened. “Of course. I understand completely.” It had just dawned on him that this was better than he could have guessed. Emily would be alone while everyone on the island was out partying. It would be the perfect time to take her.

  Chapter 46

  Before Jenn peeled the white dress away, she stared at herself one last time in the mirror and wondered if she would ever be this pretty again. The moment the dress was hanging on the closet door, she looked like her old self—a somewhat cute and nice girl. And that was okay. She liked being that person. It was easy.

  Being a queen, even a parade queen, was harder than it looked.

  What was infinitely harder was being questioned by the being that had once been Neil Martin. Neil was no longer the kindly older uncle, trying to hide his middle-aged paunch beneath a sweater-vest. He was sharp and angry. He would rage one second and pick apart her words like a surgeon, the next.

  Somehow, he could sense an equivocation or a half-truth and when he did, he would pounce, as if he were uncovering a great betrayal, when it was usually Jenn simply softening her words to make Jillybean look less psychotic.

  The interrogation, for that was what it was, took two hours and by the time they were done, all three were exhausted. Lack of sleep over the last few days combined with too much pumpkin beer had them looking for a place to crash at three in the afternoon.

  “You’ll stay here,” Emily determined, without asking her mother. Deanna had returned only briefly with a pie in one hand and a cake in the other; both orange. She was gone again in a flash, late for two different events. Emily was used to her schedule and took over the duties as lady of the house. “We have loads of room and you already know about Uncle Neil, so it just makes sense. Oh, hey, I forgot. He is supposed to be, like this big secret, so promise me you won’t say anything to anyone.”

  They had mumbled promises and stumbled upstairs. Jenn was given the one spare guest room on the second floor while Stu and Mike were forced to climb to the third floor. Like old men, they sighed as they went up.

  Emily ran around in a perfect state of happiness, making sure her guests had everything they could possibly need: all the proper toiletries, pajamas, towels for showering, hot cocoa, wine, extra slices of orange-frosted cake in case they got hungry, and so on.

  Over the last week, she had been stuck in the house, dealing with Neil. It went without saying that she loved him, but that didn’t make the minutes drag any less. Now, she had a real queen staying with her! One who had been on real adventures!

  Jenn had singlehandedly fought giant zombies, she had battled pirates on the high seas, and had waged war against the fearsome Corsairs. She had faced death a hundred times and not only had she come away with barely a scratch, she seemed to have blossomed in the face of danger.

  To top everything off, she had found a handsome mariner who loved her.

  And Jenn wasn’t all that much older than herself! After her guests were asleep, Emily wandered around the house, doing the chores that she had put off for the last week. She wanted everything to be perfect for when “The Queen” woke. As she worked, she daydreamed of being on an adventure, of slaying zombies by the dozen, of whisking sailing ships out from under the noses of the Corsairs, of finding a courageous man, who would risk everything for her.

  She was just mentally describing the man—tall, of course, strong without being hulking, brave, a gentleman—when someone tapped on the front door. It wasn’t a proper knock. It was more of a light, nervous tapping, and Emily guessed it was a child.

  It was Eddie Sanders, looking strange…and frightened. He was pale and there was sweat in his thin red hair. His washed-out blue eyes kept shifting around, looking behind him and then to the sides and then behind her. “Oh, hi, Mister Sanders. Are you looking for my mom?” Emily checked her watch and was surprised to see it was seven and already fully dark. “I think she’s at the high school for the potluck. Is there something wrong?”

  Oddly, the question seemed to excite him. “Yes. Something is wrong down by the docks. Can you help me? It won’t take long.”

  Emily frowned. “The docks? I-I don’t know anything about boats. And besides, I can’t leave, sorry. We have guests.”

  Once more Eddie looked past her and into the house. Other than a single light in the kitchen, the mansion was dark. He cocked his head, listening. Except for the steady tick of a grandfather clock, the place was silent. “Are they here?” He had heard about the new comers; everyone had. A hundred rumors were circulating about them, each sillier than the rest.

  “They’re upstairs sleeping. They had a hard time of it getting here.”

  “If they’re sleeping it should be fine,” Eddie insisted. “Like I said it should take two minutes tops. And it’s not about boats it’s, uh, it’s fish. Danny won’t help me unload them and everyone else has been drinking.”

  Her frown deepened and now there were three little lines marring the space between her large eyes. “Fish? You need help with fish? There’s a wheelbarrow in the shed out back. You can use that. I’d help, only I can’t leave.”

  Eddie Sanders was an average sort of man, not very tall or intimidating. He was also a nice guy, who no one ever had problems with. Emily had never felt even a smidgen of fear around him, until just then. Something was wrong about him. He leaned in close; she could smell sour sweat and gin. “It’s important. Please.”

  The fear in her ticked upwards. Eddie might be average for a man, but he was still much bigger and stronger than her. And yet, this was Bainbridge. Nothing ever happened on Bainbridge. She summoned her courage and gave him one of her mother’s fake politician smiles.

  “I can’t. Not right now, but when my mom gets home I might be able to.” She began to shut the door when he unexpectedly stuck half his body in the doorway. Her fear began to peak and she felt a scream building in her throat. “Mr. Sanders, please. You’re not supposed to be in the…” His hand, clammy and cold, snaked forward and clamped down on her wrist.

  “You’re coming with me,” he snarled, yanking her out onto the porch.

  Although caught by surprise, the eleven-year-old was not slow to react. She had her father’s reflexes and her mother’s instinct to fight when cornered. She went for the eyes.

  Eddie had expected her to pull back or scream. The last thing he figured she would do was attack. Still, the eyes were difficult to claw out when the opponent was on his feet. Nails raked his face, digging groves and bringing up blood. It hurt but he could still see well enough to spin her around and slam her into the door.

  “Settle down! Or so help me…”

  There would be no settling down. Except for a vague notion of rape, which seemed so far-fetched she didn’t really entertain the thought, Emily had no idea what Eddie wanted. In her mind, he had simply “gone crazy.” She spun in his grasp and raked his face a second time. When he leaned back away from her clawing hands, she broke from his grip and darted inside. She tried to slam the door in his face, however, he charged and slammed his we
ight into the door, sending her falling back.

  Nimble as a cat, she tucked into a ball, rolled and was back on her feet, racing for the stairs. He was closer to them and cut her off. As he did, he reached behind him and pulled a pistol on her. “Emily, settle down, please,” he said. “I need you to come with me. If you do, no one will get hurt.”

  She didn’t believe him, not for a second. Slowly, step by step, she began to back away. “You won’t shoot,” she said, pointing at the ceiling. “They have guns and they know how to use them. So, no, you won’t shoot.” It was a good lie and for a second, he glanced up. In that brief moment, she took off, running mindlessly for the back hall, inadvertently trapping herself.

  When she realized this, she dashed for the basement stairs. Everything was dark, and she had to run by memory, dodging the little side table along the wall and narrowly missing the partially open door as she made the turn and went down.

  Eddie clipped the table, slammed into the door, and then practically fell down the stairs. Still, he raced on, desperation feeding him speed. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, it sounded like he was right behind her and as she sprinted down the basement hall, she wailed in a terrified voice, “Neeeeeil!”

  Right before she made it to the very back room, she dug the keys to Neil’s handcuffs from her pocket. He was on his feet when she threw herself inside. “It’s Eddie!” is all she had time to say as she tossed the keys at him. She then turned and launched herself at the door. It was an inch from shutting when Eddie crashed into it from the other side. The door smashed into the side of her head and shoulder, knocking her down.

  “Get back!” Neil seethed, momentarily forgetting the keys in his hands. In his sudden rage, he felt strong enough to break the metal with his bare hands. He strained against the cuffs, his veins bulging and his eyes strangely alight with fever. The flesh on his wrist began to part and dark blood trickled down his hand.