Forager (9781771275606)

by Scheer, Ron

  After stopping a few of the searchers, we discovered that the mayor was at the infirmary. This gave me an idea. When we arrived, I made Sawyer wait outside. Hurrying in, I was back in less than a minute with a surprise for Sawyer.

  “That kind of forward thinking is exactly what makes a good Forager,” he said. I helped him off of his horse and into the wheelchair. He gave an audible sigh as he plopped down on the seat and put his boots into the foot rests. “Let Fred graze on the lawn, and let’s go find the mayor.”

  We searched the first floor, but he wasn’t in any of the rooms. Leaving Sawyer at the foot of the staircase, I said, “Wait here. I’ll find him.”

  The mayor was on the third floor, among the injured from the previous day’s attack. From the hallway, I watched him move from door to door and bed to bed, patting shoulders and giving encouraging words. It surprised me, especially since his daughter was missing. It probably shouldn’t have. The mayor always kept the best interests of the townspeople foremost, even if we couldn’t always see it.

  When he was done, he said, “Thank you for waiting, Dillon. I assume because of your patience that my daughter has not yet been found?”

  “No,” I said, feeling guilty again that I wasn’t searching. “This is something else. Sawyer wants to talk to you. He’s downstairs.”

  “Lead the way.”

  “Took you long enough,” Sawyer said when we finally came down the stairs. “I need Dillon to go out after that generator. I can’t do it. Not with my leg the way it is.”

  The mayor’s face turned dark red. “No! He can’t leave! He’s to be punished for his crime and he needs to be searching for my daughter.”

  Apparently, the mayor’s compassion didn’t include someone who’d shot a deer.

  “You don’t have a choice. Don’t forget, I’m a Forager.”

  “There has to be someone better suited to the task than him.” Sawyer thought I was good enough, why didn’t the mayor? “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you take one of my boys instead? They’re twice his size and probably much more capable.”

  “I’ve made my choice. I came here as a courtesy. You will abide my decision or we’ll be discussing this with the governor.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for the mayor’s face to get any redder. I was right. It went purple, deep purple, like a plum. How long had it been since someone had usurped his authority? He pointed his finger right in Sawyer’s face. “Fine, but when he gets back, I’ll deliver his jolts personally!”

  Oh, great. I just got myself thrown into the middle of their personal feud.

  Sawyer shrugged as if he didn’t care, and the two of us made for the exit. I grabbed a pair of crutches from a wall rack and was about to push Sawyer thorough the door when Dr. White stopped us.

  “Dillon, Sawyer, good to see you. How’s that leg?”

  “Not great, I’m afraid. I think the infection is getting worse,” Sawyer said.

  Dr. White turned to me and asked, “Have you checked the wound lately?”

  I hadn’t. My face warmed in embarrassment, despite having the excuse of being in the middle of a very busy day. I simply told the doctor, “Not since this morning.”

  “No time like the present. Follow me.”

  Dr. White led us into a small examination room. He asked me to step outside and wait. Standing by the door, I hoped no one would come along and find something else for me to do. Amazingly, no one did.

  No surprise, my thoughts wandered to Chane. My mind drifted back to a day shortly after I recovered from the sickness that killed my parents. I was in the Dining Hall eating lunch. I’d lost track of time, and was one of the last to get my tray. Millie ran out of apples. It happened, and usually was not a big deal. But I was younger. I’d been sick. My parents were only a week in the ground and I’d been too ill to attend the funeral. Great tears welled in my eyes and before I knew it, I was bawling like a baby. And that was when Chane came to the rescue. I’d always remembered the softness of her hand as she placed her apple in my palm. The tenderness of her voice as she said, “Here, Dillon, you can have mine.”

  I hoped she was all right, wherever she was. It shamed me that I wasn’t searching for her, but the guilt couldn’t outweigh the excitement of Sawyer wanting me to be a Forager. Even if it was only temporary, it made me feel important. It didn’t matter why he’d chosen me. I wanted to do it. More than that, I wanted to do it right and prove to Sawyer that he’d made a good choice. I wanted him to be proud of me. That thought stopped all the others. I hadn’t felt such conviction since my parents died.

  A few minutes later, Dr. White came out of the room and said, “The infection is getting worse. I’ll give it a couple days to see if his system can beat it, but if it continues to worsen, I may have to take his leg. I hate this! There’s no reason for it! With antibiotics, he’d be cured by this time next week.”

  Leaving the doctor fuming, we exited the infirmary. I was ready to take the wheelchair back inside, but Sawyer stopped me. “There’s no time like now. Hop on Fred and I’ll keep these wheels. The sooner we get started with some riding exercises the better you’ll be tomorrow.”

  The big brown horse rolled an enormous coffee-colored eye at me before she looked at Sawyer. I read the look as her saying, You’re not seriously going to let him ride me, are you?

  Sawyer wheeled up and took the bridle in both hands, easing the horse’s large head downward so that they were eye to eye. “Listen, Fred, I need him. This town needs him. And he needs you. He took care of you well enough last night. He’ll do even better when he’s trained.” Sawyer delivered the words in a soft reassuring voice that hummed. It wasn’t music to me, but to Fred…well, she gave a soft nicker that Sawyer must have taken for acceptance.

  “Okay, Dillon, she’ll let you on.” He waved toward a vacant lot. “Go over there.”

  I was limber enough, but the stirrup seemed like it was a mile off the ground. It took a moment to get my foot high enough to reach it. Sawyer looked on in amusement and let me make my first mistake.

  “Wrong foot.”

  “What?”

  “You need to put your left foot in the stirrup. That is, unless you like riding backwards.”

  It was awkward, but I managed to get the correct foot in the stirrup without falling on my face. Grabbing the saddle horn, and pulling myself up, I couldn’t believe how I towered over Sawyer. A giant to a man in a wheelchair.

  “Okay,” Sawyer said. “The reins are on her neck, and that’s all you need while you’re riding. What looks like an extra rein, looped around the saddle horn there, you can use that to lead her or tie her. Just make sure it’s something sturdy.” Sawyer wheeled away.

  “Hey, where ya going?” I called out. He didn’t answer. Instead he kept going farther and farther away. I wasn’t dumb. It only took a minute for me figure out that he was leaving it up to me to follow him.

  “Okay horse…Fred…follow Sawyer…or something. Come on…move.” Nothing happened. Of course not. I clicked my tongue. I scooted back and forth in the saddle. I patted Fred on the neck. Nothing.

  “Give her a squeeze!” yelled Sawyer, who was now a good half a block ahead of me.

  With one hand on the reins and the other on the saddle horn, I took my feet out of the stirrups and pressed both my legs tight against her body. With a surprised snort, Fred took off in a sprint. I scrunched down, trying to stay in the saddle, which—apparently—was exactly the wrong thing to do. Over the side I went. I had just enough sense to roll instead of putting my arms out. It still knocked the air right out of me.

  Climbing to my feet, I saw that Fred had stopped when she reached Sawyer. He was bent over in his chair. For a moment I was worried Fred had hit him, or that his fever was getting worse. Sprinting forward, I drew near enough to hear his laughter.

  Tears streamed down Sawyer’s face and between his guffaws, he said, “Well, we got that over with. Now let’s see if you can stay on her long enough to actuall
y go somewhere. Even from here I saw two things you did wrong. First, you took your feet out of the stirrups, and second, you squeezed her way too hard.”

  “And I’m supposed to know that, how?”

  “All right, don’t get all worked up. No one who’s ever ridden a horse hasn’t fallen off. Besides, it was funny.”

  I shuffled my feet on the road. “Some joke.”

  Sawyer held Fred’s reins while I remounted. “Now, keep your feet in the stirrups, relax the reins, and gently—gently—give her a really light squeeze with your heels..”

  I did as instructed, and Fred moved forward. Her body rolled with each and every slow step forward, pitching me about in the saddle. I tried to keep my upper body still and move my hips with her.

  “Heels out and down, toes up,” called Sawyer. “Keep your knees and elbows in. That’s it—now keep your shoulders back. You’re doing fine.”

  How was I supposed to remember all of that? For the first bit I mostly concentrated on not falling off, riding Fred in a wide circle around Sawyer, and trying to listen to every instruction he gave me.

  Rolling with Fred’s gait, I began to relax. My breathing came easier, and I realized how tightly I’d been clenching my whole body. With the stress gone from the muscles in my back, I felt the cool breeze blowing on my face and noticed the sunlight gleaming off Fred’s magnificent coat.

  “Let’s head over to the kitchen,” Sawyer said. “You’ll need supplies for your expedition.”

  It was a great idea. I really wanted to tell Millie about helping out the Forager and riding Fred. I rode Fred, and Sawyer wheeled along beside us. Remembering Sawyer’s leg and fever, my puffed-up pride deflated. “Do you want me to get off for a while so that you can ride?”

  “No, you need all the experience you can get. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  At the high school, I dismounted and led Fred to another healthy looking, if overgrown, patch of grass. The muscles in my thighs and buttocks tightened in protest.

  Millie smiled when she saw me lead the Forager through the door. Sawyer wheeled up to the end of a table and rested the crutches on the bench beside him. We were a long time past lunch, but leave it to Millie to never let anyone go hungry. She brought out a small plate of cheese sandwiches and some carrots. The three of us sat down and Sawyer listed off supplies.

  “Dillon will need food for three days, dried fruits and meats, some biscuits, nothing that will spoil.”

  Millie’s lip puckered, like she’d eaten a lemon. “I’m not sure I can do that. The mayor won’t approve. Except for those working during meal times, and the infirmary, I’m not supposed to let any food leave my kitchen unless it’s eaten out here. I want to help, I really do, but this…it’s against the law.”

  Sawyer held up a hand and a patient smile formed on his face. “Do you know the Forager’s Requisition?”

  “I guess I don’t.”

  He shook his head in annoyance. It seemed to me that he was more peeved at the townsfolk’s ignorance than at Millie personally. “It means that if I require something, It is to be given. By law I can simply take what I need, but that really makes people angry. Some Forager’s don’t care and do it anyway. To my way of thinking, It’s better to ask.”

  “I’m not going to get in trouble over this?”

  “If you do, I’ll personally see to it that the mayor misses a few meals.” Sawyer rubbed his right fist with his left hand. “His jaw will be too sore to eat.”

  Millie’s smile was better than the LEDs Sawyer had added to my RV—it lit the whole room. “You know, it might be worth getting in trouble to see the mayor take a clot in that noggin of his.”

  “So you’ll get Dillon the supplies I’ve asked for?”

  “Of course. Just give me a minute to gather them up.” Millie hustled to the kitchen and returned with a small bag of food for me, and a warm smile. “Do be careful out there, Dillon.” She gave me a pat on the cheek. “Has anyone any word on the mayor’s daughter?”

  “Not that we’ve heard,” I replied.

  “She’d better turn up soon, or she’ll miss supper.” That was Millie, always making sure that everyone’s belly was full.

  I smiled back. “She’ll come when she’s hungry.” I hoped I was right.

  Chapter Nine

  On our way out to the fields we stopped at the stables for a sack of oats. Our next stop was going to be the fields. I put the food from Millie in a saddlebag and Sawyer showed me how to secure the sack of oats behind the saddle. Then we left the wheelchair in a quiet corner beside the school. As Sawyer said, “It’s not going to do us any good out there.”

  After boosting Sawyer into the saddle, I climbed up behind him, sitting on the sack of oats. He asked Fred to trot, and I held on for all I was worth. When he asked her to go faster, her rocking canter made it easier, much to my surprise. Gradually, I loosened my grip on Sawyer’s middle and began to relax, hoping the next three miles to the field with the combine harvester would go by smoothly.

  We rode down the middle of the street, avoiding the potholes and fallen branches littering the road. The repeated call of “Chane!” chased us as the search continued. Should I tell Sawyer about my conversation with her? About how she thought things might be better in the city? I decided against it. It was too early for me to worry people needlessly. Instead, I asked, “What’s it like in the city?”

  “Actually, I prefer it out here. The city is a lonely place. There are too many empty buildings and rusting vehicles for my liking.” He shook his head. “That’s not a very good answer is it? Great wide roads crisscross the whole area. Some of the buildings encompass whole blocks and rise into the sky like small mountains. Miles of houses and businesses rest beside concrete roads and sidewalks. Let me put it this way—we can get from one end of this town to the other on Fred in no time at all. In the city, I couldn’t cross from one end to the other in an entire day.”

  I’d seen some yellowed pictures in old books of city skylines. They were big, I knew, but I couldn’t picture that many buildings in so large a space. How was it possible? “What about the people? What do they do?”

  We crossed over the railroad tracks on the edge of town. The wooden ties and steel rails remained in good shape. A red and white striped arm pointed at the sky, a lonely sentinel that could only watch as the monthly train swept by.

  “Many of them do much the same as you. They have little gardens they tend, and are given jobs to complete. Some of the jobs you’d be familiar with, like keeping watch. Other jobs, like collecting information, might seem strange to you.”

  “Do the Scavengers attack the cities too?”

  “In truth, they attack there far more often than they do in these little towns. There’s so much more there. There are more defenders there, though. Most of their raids aren’t successful, but once in a while the Scavengers will make off with a big haul. What’s your interest in the city?”

  My stomach churned at the thought of lying to him. I settled on a partial truth. “It’s just something Chane and I were talking about the other day.”

  “You really like that girl.”

  It wasn’t a question, but it seemed to warrant a response. I let his statement hang in the air too long. Sawyer turned in the saddle so that I could see his profile. “You like her, but she doesn’t seem to know you’re alive, right?”

  “Something like that.” It still amazed me that he could read me so easily.

  “Here’s a piece of advice you won’t take. Let her be, son. In a town this small, if she had feelings for you, you’d know it. Don’t let her play you.”

  I almost lurched off the horse. He wanted me to shut off my feelings. Could he do that? Could anyone? But…what exactly did I feel? I could spend hours sneaking glances at her pretty face. My eyes were like magnets, and she was the iron. More than once she’d caught me staring. Usually she’d smile back at me. Not the full-blown, mouth-open, teeth-showing kind of smile, but rather a lips-p
ressed-together, I’m-being-patient kind of smile. It would have better if she had said “go away” or “stop looking at me” or any other phrase to tell me she wasn’t interested. Instead, I got the smile.

  “Forget I said anything, kid. It’s your life. You were doing fine before I came along. I’m sure you’ll continue to be fine once I’ve gone.”

  Was he mocking me? I had been doing fine…mostly. Well, up until the incident with the deer, and the bullying by Josh and Jason, and the jolts a few weeks before…. But, Chane let me walk her home. We’d talked. That counted for something. Didn’t it?

  About half a mile ahead, I could see four men scurrying around the combine. “Looks like they’re changing the batteries again. That’s good timing for us,” Sawyer said.

  The field was about half done. On one side of the combine, I could see to the next field ready to be harvested and beyond, to a lonely ancient cottonwood tree far off in the distance. On the other, nothing but row after row of cornstalks.

  I wasn’t exactly sure why Sawyer brought me out here. I’d seen the combine any number of times. With the nine spikes that separated the rows sticking out of the corn head, the machine looked like a giant mutated beetle. The old green paint fought a losing battle against the advancing rust. Despite its ungainly appearance, the combine was probably the single biggest labor-saving device ever made for harvesting.

  We rode right up to the men, who had just finished changing the batteries.

  “Hold up a second, guys. I want Dillon here to see that alternator. He’s going out tomorrow to try and find a new one. He’s got to know what it looks like, and how to remove it.”

  “Why ain’t you goin’? You’re the Forager, ain’t ya?” Charlie Meyer said. He took off his red baseball hat, wiped his brow, and after putting the hat back on, stood there with his thumbs in the straps of his overalls.

  “Took a bullet in the leg during the attack yesterday. It’s all I can do to sit a saddle and coach Dillon here,” Sawyer said.

  “That so? Well, come on, Dillon. We gotta keep this old lady movin’, so let’s make this quick.”