Generation Z_The Queen of War Read online

  Colleen came rushing up again, but before she could ask, Jillybean answered in a whisper, “It’s one of them.”

  Everyone knew what she meant. Mike and Jillybean crouched, while Colleen hunkered low on the stairs. Kasie even tried to swallow her next dry heave, without much success. She belched and went through a muscular heaving despite Mike and Colleen begging her to be quiet. More shuddering thuds struck the boat. They slowed as they plowed through both the not-so-dead and the very dead, and Mike was forced to raise the mainsail.

  Now the squeaking gear seemed magnified a hundred-fold and the undead grew excited and began to moan and splash and scrape at the black paint. Still, the four of them thought they were relatively safe. The Captain Jack was a big boat and on its earlier trip under the bridge, its sides had already proved to be too high out of the water even for the largest of the zombies.

  That had been then, before they had taken on hundreds of gallons of sea water. Now, they rode low and it was quite a shock when the first slagged, grey hand clapped onto the edge near the bow. Colleen let out a muted scream and pointed, jabbing her finger over and over again at the hand, which was joined by a second and then a third.

  “Hard to port,” Mike ordered in a controlled whisper as he ran below deck; he had seen an axe amidst the mess. Now when he put his foot down, the water came up to his ankle. “Colleen!” This was less than hissed. “What the hell? Did you find the damn leak, or what?”

  “There was a small one.”

  “Look for more!” he cried, throwing aside sheets and clothes as the boat lurched and slewed halfway around. Then he saw the axe. Grabbing it, he charged back up and, although he’d been gone all of a minute, there were now six zombies trying to get on board. They were so huge that the bow was being dragged down, enabling more of the dead to grab hold.

  They were surrounded by them, and worse, the Captain Jack was floating side-on directly towards the immense south tower of the Golden Gate Bridge, where there was a huge tangle of buoys and chains and more sunken boats. There was also an unbroken carpet of corpses stretching out into the dark. The bodies rose and fell with the swell, undulating in a ghastly hypnotic dance. Jillybean stared in horror, the wheel lax in her hands.

  “Turn!” he hissed at her. “To port, damn it. Come on.” The six zombies trying to get on board were bad enough, but if they got too close to the tower, it could be sixty zombies and if they got caught up in the floating scrum…he didn’t want to think about that. He concentrated on righting his boat.

  While Jillybean was spinning the wheel, he heaved the boom around and tied it off just as the mainsail filled, taking the strain of a boat weighted down with thousands of gallons of water and tons of furious zombie meat. The old, fraying lines went taut, making a long, stiff creaking sound, then with a sharp twang, one broke.

  It was the boom rope, the one line holding the massive pole in place. Without it, the boom was suddenly free. Acting like a tremendous weathervane, it swung with gathering speed right at Mike, who was staring upward, thinking that a shroud had let go. The boom struck him flush in the back of the head, with a hearty crack, knocking him to the deck.

  The boom then continued on until it was all the way over to port, where it pitted the forces acting on the mainsail against not just the rudder, but also the tidal current. The shrouds pulled tight, vibrating with this new strain. They ran with a light zing before a second line snapped and the entire sail just collapsed, falling on Mike and covering him completely as the Captain Jack once again began drifting toward certain destruction.

  Chapter 2

  Jillybean

  For a few seconds, Jillybean was at a loss as to what to do. It was a situation that was so foreign to her that she marveled at her own uselessness in the face of rather extreme danger. Without a single scrap of canvas rigged, the Captain Jack was slewing along cockeyed to what had been their point of sailing, heading toward a great mash-up of half-sunk boats and buoys that would likely both ensnare the boat and grind it to pieces, leaving them stranded among the dead.

  Perhaps worse—she honestly couldn’t tell just then—Mike was only an unmoving lump beneath the sail, and zombies were climbing all over each other to get on board. Somewhat distantly she was aware that part of her wanted to let them come. That part of her didn’t want to face the nightmare ahead of her if they happened to live.

  How many bodies were they going to find drifting in the bay? Fifteen hundred? Sixteen hundred? And were they even then bloating like puffed-up sausages? Were the sharks feasting on them? Were the crabs using their claws like chopsticks and delicately pinching out eyeballs?

  This was her waking nightmare and what made it harder to take was that it was a nightmare of her own making. She was responsible for every single corpse they would find.

  And what of the “friends” she had left behind? For her they were an even greater nightmare. Would any of them really ever call her a friend after she had used them like pawns? After she had forced a war on them? After so many of them had died because they had trusted her? Or would they hate her with every fiber of their being? She could take it from many of them, but she felt a deep dread in her guts when she imagined the look of loathing that she would see in Jenn Lockhart’s eyes.

  It would reduce her to nothing and yet she would take it any day rather than face Stu Currans. She had warned him not to fall in love with her, just like she had warned herself not to fall for him—in vain it would seem. She didn’t need much imagination to guess how he would be. He would be cold to her, blisteringly cold.

  The only thing worse was if they were all dead. Jillybean was afraid the guilt wouldn’t just rip her apart, that was a given, no she was afraid the guilt would destroy that part of her that was still Jillybean. It would put Eve in charge…or something worse than her. There could always be something worse.

  This is why she had been so preoccupied and nervously silent during the headlong rush to get back to the bay area. She had wanted to beg Mike to slow down, while at the same time she was anxious to get back as quickly as possible. She had to accept whatever abuse was due her, make what amends she could, save those lives which could possibly be saved and then get the hell out of there as fast as possible.

  Her real family was in danger. The Black Captain’s chief lieutenant had gleefully let it slip that there was both a spy and an assassin back in Bainbridge. As far as Jillybean knew, she was the only one aware of this and was perhaps the only one who could stop him.

  She had been dwelling on all of this during the entire trip back south and it had put her into a strangely reactive state in which she found herself more of an observer than an active participant. She had stood at the wheel, robotically following Mike’s orders for half the evening and now, it was with some reluctance that she allowed their present state of danger to interfere with her guilt-ridden introspections.

  “Hey, what was that?” Colleen asked from the cabin, moments after the boom had thumped into Mike. Jillybean supposed it was quite likely that he had collapsed on deck right above her, which would account for the annoyingly high-pitched question.

  “I thought I heard…what the hell? The sail! What’s wrong with the sail? And Mike!” She had come halfway up the stairs but when she saw Mike’s feet sticking out from under the sail, she went running for him. Seeing this strangely romantic gesture struck away the visions of death in Jillybean’s mind. They were replaced by snarling loyalty.

  “He’s Jenn’s,” she said, savagely grabbing Colleen by the hood of her coat and yanking her back. Eve had been brought back into the present as well and it was her violent anger directing their hands and turning Jillybean’s tongue sharp.

  “Stay away from him, got it?” Eve ordered. “Besides, we have more important things to worry about right now.” She took hold of Colleen’s chin and shoved it towards the looming bridge tower where the remains of Jillybean’s slaughter and destruction waited to envelope them and suck them under.

  “Then there’s this little issue.” She shoved Colleen’s slack jaw in the direction of the bow, where the dead were clawing their way up the railing and were seconds from getting on board.

  “W-What do we do?” Colleen asked in a whisper as she shrunk in towards Jillybean.

  Her fear made Eve more contemptuous and a flood of snide comments roiled up from the depths of Jillybean’s mind. She bit them back, knowing that any contempt would come back to haunt her soon enough.

  Not if she’s dead, Eve remarked. Think about it. Mike’s knocked out and Kasie is so sick I don’t even know if she realizes what day it is. They’ll never know. One little nudge and we can say goodbye to Colleen and her stupid hair forever unless she comes back as one of…

  With a cranky grunt, Jillybean pushed Eve back down into the dark gulf inside of her, released Colleen and tried to give her a smile that she hoped would make up for the red marks she had left on the girl’s cheeks.

  “First off, we don’t give in to our fear,” Jillybean said, in as friendly a whisper she could contrive. The smile hadn’t worked. Colleen was moving her jaw around as if Eve had knocked it out of joint. “Second, we start being smart and that’s what means we quiet down and keep out of sight. I want you to take the wheel. Since we shouldn’t be seen, you’ll navigate using the tower as a guide point.” She pulled Colleen down.

  “But without a sail we can’t…”

  Jillybean stuck a finger to her lips. “Remember, keep quiet and out of sight. Turn the wheel all the way over and hold it there until you bring the bow almost centered on the tower, then bring it back to neutral. Got it?” Colleen took in a long breath as if her answer was going to be something more than just yes or yes, ma’am, the only two responses Jillybean would have accepted. “Good,” Jillybean said, qu
ickly.

  Even if she had liked Colleen, they had little time for niceties. The Captain Jack had taken on a frontward list as the dead piled on each other, forming a grey mound on the water that defied the laws of physics. They thrashed and fought to get at the boat, and in their frenzy, they pulled down the railing. It snapped right off, sending the beasts at the top of the mound flailing back into the water.

  Like a lively little cork, the boat seemed to bounce in the water and, once more, the deck sat even and flat. Jillybean knew it wouldn’t last. Without the railing, it would be just that much easier for the beasts to get on board.

  Sitting within reach was Mike’s scoped M4. Jillybean gave it a wistful glance, wishing she could use it, but knowing that the dark was keeping most of the dead at bay. If she started blasting away with the gun, she’d have every zombie within half a mile surging at them. No, it was a weapon of last resort. If they had any hope of escaping, she would have to deal with the dead in some other, much quieter manner.

  Leaving a frantically spluttering Colleen, she dropped low, slid under the sail and used it as cover as she crawled to the front of the boat, which was slowly coming around like the hand of a clock until it pointed to the left of the south tower.

  Jillybean could see the tower perfectly through a rip in the nylon. She could also see the front of the boat edge further and further to the right—they were now going too far! In seconds they were pointed right at San Francisco, not more than two hundred yards away. Furious that Colleen couldn’t seem to think for herself, Jillybean ripped out her knife, slit the sail enough to fit her arm through and had to fight against the sudden, near-overwhelming urge to throw the blade at her.

  Instead, she dug in a pocket, found a pen, and threw it instead of the knife; she didn’t throw it lightly either. I hope it took an eye out, Eve said, bubbling up out of the dark, as Colleen let out a yelp. For once, Jillybean agreed with her. The yelp wasn’t extensive enough for Colleen to have lost an eye and Eve sank back down into their shared subconscious, muttering in disappointment.

  Snapping her fingers, and with only the one arm showing, Jillybean pointed back the other way and then pointed emphatically just to the left of the tower. She waited until she felt the rudder bite and the bow begin to swing back. It didn’t make it nearly far enough, but this time it wasn’t Colleen’s fault. The bow was being swarmed by the dead, who were fighting each other to get onto the boat. Jillybean could feel the hull tremble and vibrate from their fury.

  You know what? They might tear the boat wide open, Eve remarked, casually, as if the fact was more interesting than frightening. It was her attempt to undermine Jillybean.

  “Unlikely,” Jillybean replied, dismissively.

  It wouldn’t take much, you know. One little crack and then…whoa, what is this?

  Her hand had come down on the handle of Mike’s axe. As Eve began to exclaim over it, Jillybean bypassed it with little thought. At a hundred and ten pounds, she was just not the axe-wielding barbarian type. It wouldn’t take her more than a dozen swings before her hands would start to lose their strength.

  No, by necessity she had to depend on guile rather than brute strength. Unfortunately, just then she found herself locked into the position of warrior. Her bag of tricks was nearly empty. She would have to fight—on her own terms of course.

  It didn’t seem like much, but she had a knife, the blade of which she maintained as sharp as any razor. It was only seven inches long, while the beasts ranged up to seven hundred pounds.

  Thankfully, they were fighting among themselves more than they were battling to get on the boat. As soon as one managed to get a grip on the edge of the boat, it was mindlessly pummeled and scratched and generally stepped on by those in the back. It was an endless cycle that Jillybean had to break before one of them actually got on board.

  The first step in winning this fight had been mostly accomplished by removing from sight the only reason the beasts wanted to get on board in the first place; living human flesh. Jillybean was only a lump of a shadow hidden beneath the black mainsail, Mike was knocked out cold and mostly covered by the other end of the sail, Kasie had managed to drag herself into the cabin, where she lay quivering in a miserable heap, and Colleen was hunkered down, steering the boat from practically beneath the wheel.

  This should’ve been enough to dissuade the zombies, but sometimes they could get odd thoughts stuck in their heads. Chances were that they had forgotten about the humans and didn’t know why they were fighting to get on board.

  The why of it all wasn’t really that important, at least not just then when all she had to fight with was the knife. She slunk to the bow, pulling the sail along with her as cover. Once there, she went to work, stabbing any hand that got to the edge. A knife in anyone else’s hands would have been next to useless and yet in her hands, it was so much more.

  She knew exactly where to aim to cause the most damage, in this case, she went for the median nerve just as it branched from the carpal tunnel, a spot deep in the base of the hand. When her aim was dead on, the hand would spring open and never close again, unable to grasp a single thing.

  It wasn’t exactly a killing strike and yet it rendered the beasts harmless, one after another. They could hold on with their other hand and make slappy gestures toward the deck, but that was it. Still, there were dozens of the beasts and Jillybean found herself in a strange version of whack-a-mole, only she was after hands.

  Hands and eyes. A number of times a face would appear, and she would jab twice in quick succession pop, pop. Without their eyes the beasts seemed lost. They would let go of the edge of the gunwale and drift away, moaning in confusion.

  Jillybean was just getting the upper hand when Mike groaned and stood straight up, looking blearily around the Captain Jack. “Whe…where is we? Are we. Where arrre we? Where’s Jiffybean?”

  Colleen was unhelpfully shushing him with unnecessarily loud shushes and pointing a finely manicured finger out from under the wheel. He missed her entirely. He was just noticing the sail stretched along the deck and was looking down at it without the least bit of comprehension in his dazed eyes.

  “Ish that the shale?”

  “Mike! Stop!” Jillybean barked. It was too late for hiding and half-measures. She saw what was coming even before he took his first uncertain wobbling step.

  The deck of a heaving sailboat, especially one that’s surrounded by hordes of hungry zombies, is not a place for someone with a concussion. Right at that moment, Mike wouldn’t have been able to walk on the smoothest, flattest putting green without falling over. His center of gravity was somewhere west of the boat. He took three drunken steps and went right over with a confused cry and an awkward splash.

  There was no question whether or not Jillybean would go in after him: that answer was an emphatic “No Way!”

  Chapter 3

  Mike Gunter

  With slow, groping hands, Mike splashed about, much like an old and dying Golden Retriever might. The main difference between him and a dog was that he was utterly surprised to find himself in the water…at night…surrounded by zombies.

  It almost felt like he had been thrown over the side of the ship while he was sleeping, or drunk. His pounding head sure made it seem like he’d been drunk at some point. And what ship was it slowly receding from him? The Saber? No, the Saber had gone up in flames. He could picture the evil greedy fire and feel the blistering heat of it like it was only…yesterday? Had it been yesterday? Or was it still today?

  Slowly it was all coming back to him: the long chase by the Santas, the battle with the Corsairs, the smoke, the fire, the intentional sinking of the Saber, as he ran her between two other ships.

  “Tha’s the Captain Ja-ack.” He heard the slur in his words though why or how he was slurring was completely beyond him, but he knew the ship at least. It was definitely the Captain Jack with its moldy sails and dry-rotted cordage and cabins that were disgusting and maybe even diseased.