Forager (9781771275606)

by Scheer, Ron

  “Why don’t you cut to the meat?” Sawyer said. “What makes you think we’ll do anything you request?”

  The leader wore black jeans with a pair of chocolate-brown chaps. Her electric-green shirt shone clean and new. Over it, she wore a thick black vest. It looked like it might have been bulletproof, like what policemen used to wear.

  Compared to her guards, who looked like they’d spent the afternoon wrestling in the dirt, she was as clean as an angel. She looked like one, too. Proud, high cheekbones cradled her oval face. Her full lips partly hid her perfect teeth. Jet black hair spilled down her back. This beautiful, yet somehow ordinary, woman could have fit in our town as easily as the mayor’s former wife.

  “My name is Rasp,” she said. “We will bring up six trailers. We need meat, corn, wheat, cheese, and fruits and vegetables.”

  I looked over at the mayor. His face turned the same shade of purple as when Sawyer usurped his authority back in the infirmary. “For the last time, what makes you think that we’ll fill these trailers of yours?”

  Rasp leaned sideways in her saddle. Not so that she would fall off, but enough so that we could see the second rider behind her. It was Chane.

  Chapter Eleven

  The afternoon sun glowed, turning the air a perfect temperature. With the soft breeze arching the tall grass alongside the road, I’d have called it a flawless fall day, if not for Chane being held ransom by Scavengers.

  “Chane,” I choked out. Both the mayor and Jason called her name, drowning out my desperate voice. Rasp leaned sideways to give us a good view. Chane’s hair and clothes were covered in dirt, leaves, and grass, but otherwise she appeared unhurt and calm.

  Relief flooded through me at the sight of her. A cleansing sigh came up from deep in my lungs. Chane hadn’t been playing games or hiding from her father. My shoulder width grew a little knowing that I’d done the right thing to keep our conversation private.

  Anger replaced the relief in a single breath, and it roiled through me making my teeth clench. How had the Scavengers caught her? What did they do to her? Why was she so dirty? The image of a sneaky Scavenger coming up behind her filled my head. Chane struggling to fight him off, the pair tumbling to the ground, until at last the Scavenger trussed her up like a chicken ready to bake. Blood rushed through me so hard the thud of my heartbeat sounded in my ears.

  I drank in the sight of her, but the glimpse didn’t last long enough by far for my taste. No tears stained her perfect cheeks. There were no frightened trembles or pleas for help. Me, I would have been shaking so hard they would’ve tied me to the saddle just to keep me upright.

  Sawyer looked over to the mayor and his son, and then tilted his head back toward me. “The prodigal daughter has returned?”

  “Yeah, that’s her,”

  “I take it you’re the same group that attacked yesterday?” the mayor asked.

  Rasp managed to look almost ashamed, but she spoke in a clear, no-nonsense voice. “Yes, we lost a lot of good people in that attack. Fortune smiled on us in the end, though.” She pointed her thumb back at Chane.

  The mayor cocked his head to the side, trying to speak around Rasp. “Chane, are you all right?” His voice held steady, but I heard the wrenching of his heart in the question.

  Chane poked her head out from behind Rasp’s back. “I need a bath and a change of clothes, but I’m all right.”

  “They haven’t hurt you?”

  “No…well…I got knocked to the ground when they captured me.”

  “Then get down off that horse right now! Get over here before somebody does get hurt!” the mayor yelled.

  Yeah, like that’s gonna work. The mayor’s earlier purple face seemed calm and placid compared to his now bulging, angry eyes, but I seriously doubted he’d convinced Rasp and her cohorts to let Chane go.

  I ached to speak to Chane. I wanted to tell her that I’d been worried about her, or that I’d spent a good part of the day looking for her, that I’d kept our conversation private, or to tell her she’d be okay. Maybe if we’d been alone, I’d have been able to get some words out, but with all the people around… I couldn’t find the courage to speak.

  “Chane is not going anywhere,” said Rasp. “Her wrists are tied. Other than a brief struggle when we captured her, we haven’t hurt her. As long as you comply, she will remain unharmed.”

  So she was tied. I probably would have been blubbering like an idiot. Chane was as calm as the breeze.

  “You let my daughter go, now!” The mayor raised his rifle and pointed it straight at Rasp’s chest. Jason leveled a pistol at the guard on the left. Both of Rasp’s guards drew their own rifles and pointed back.

  Everyone was armed and ready to shoot except Sawyer and me. His weapons were still strapped to Fred’s side. We’d be the first ones dead. I tucked in behind Sawyer as far as I could, and poked my head out just enough to see.

  “Dad, stop it! This isn’t helping!” Chane shouted. I was surprised at the calm forcefulness in her voice.

  Rasp made a lowering motion with her hand to her two guards. Without hesitation, they complied.

  “Your daughter’s right, you know. How good of an idea do you really think that is?” Rasp unflinchingly pointed her finger at the mayor’s and Jason’s guns. She sounded like a teacher, no, my mother, as if she was instructing a child. The calm patience on her face destroyed the threat. Being held at gunpoint clearly had no effect on her. Or, if it did, I sure didn’t want to play poker with her, ever.

  Rasp pointed to her vest. “Bulletproof, and besides, if the bullet has enough punch to penetrate the vest, it will go through me and hit your daughter. That would be a shame. How do you think you’d do living with that guilt the rest of your life?”

  The business end of the mayor’s rifle nosedived. His face went white. Not pale, not gray, but white, like the inside of a radish. Jason, after a short pause, lowered his own gun.

  My stomach was an empty pit, and weakness filled my elbows and knees. How much worse was it for Chane’s father?

  The mayor turned to Sawyer. “Aren’t you going to do something? You’re a Forager. Kill that witch and get my daughter!”

  I felt Sawyer wince. What exactly did the mayor think Sawyer could do? Rasp surely recognized the clover insignia on his green hat marking him as a Forager It hadn’t even fazed her. She knew she had us by our throats, or rather, by Chane’s.

  Sawyer looked the mayor full in the face. “If you want to get your daughter killed, then by all means don’t use your brain. If however, you would like to see her unharmed and returned to you, I suggest you listen to what Rasp has to say.”

  If Sawyer was trying to redirect the mayor’s anger, it worked.

  “You’re about worthless, you know that?” the mayor said.

  “Getting mad at me isn’t going to help your daughter. Get yourself under control before you make this situation worse.”

  Worse? How could it get any worse? Never mind, I didn’t want to know.

  Everything was quiet for about a dozen heartbeats. I held my breath. Some of the others probably did too, waiting to see what the mayor would do.

  His eyes dimmed from a raging inferno to a bed of white, hot coals. It was an improvement, though not much of one. From between clenched jaws he said, “Fine, I apologize. What do you suggest we do?”

  Sawyer kept his voice calm and pointed at Rasp. “Honestly, Harold, I don’t think there’s much we can do. I think we better listen to what she has to say.”

  Rasp sat on her horse, nodding her head. The thin, pressed look of her lips suggested she was pleased. “You have two days to fill these trailers. Meet me back here an hour before dusk on the second day. No tricks, no weapons. Remember, I’d rather not kill this girl, but if we don’t get that food, she starves along with us.”

  As helpless as I was, I wondered how much worse it was for Chane. I wanted to do something, anything, but what? Jump off the horse and try to free Chane? Outfox the guards with my spe
ed? Create a distraction that would get me killed? None of it would work. Rasp’s guards would fill me with enough lead to start their own smithy before I got three steps.

  There was nothing left to say. There was nothing left to do. Sawyer turned Fred and we rode back to the house. The mayor and Jason stayed a moment longer. The mayor said to Rasp, “If you hurt her, I’ll personally boil you in corn oil and burn what’s left.”

  “As long as you comply with my demands, no harm will come to the girl.”

  He brushed Rasps words away as if they were pesky flies, and spoke to his daughter instead. “Chane…don’t do anything to make them angry. We’ll get them their food, don’t you worry about that. Stay safe, I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  Chane nodded. A tear fell from the corner of her eye. “I’ll be all right, Dad. Just give them what they want and they’ll let me go.”

  Jason spoke for the first time since calling out Chane’s name. “Hang tough, sis. We’ll see you soon.”

  “Thanks, Jas,” she replied.

  I let out a heavy breath when the mayor finally turned his horse and rode after us. Rasp wheeled her own mount and rode off in the opposite direction, her guards following. We now knew where Chane was, but I wondered if it might have been better if she’d left for the city.

  I didn’t know the count of our stores and whether they could handle the Scavengers’ demands, or how Chane would react to being held captive for two more days. The only thing I knew was that we needed to get her back, and the only way that was going to happen was for everyone to pitch in and fill those trailers.

  We rode back to our defenders, who had grown to quite a crowd. Our meeting with the Scavengers was unusual, and the townsfolk knew it. An air of curiosity whispered through them.

  By the time the mayor reached us, his color was back to normal and he rode steadily and confidently in the saddle. He stared at the crowd for a moment before speaking. “The search for my daughter is over.” He pointed at the retreating horses carrying Rasp, Chane, and the two guards. “They have her.” The crowd gasped, people turning to their neighbors in shock. “They will be bringing up trailers. In order to get Chane safely back, we will need to fill those trailers with food.”

  He went on tell those gathered the specifics of what Rasp said. My mind wandered back to Rasp. She was a truly beautiful woman. I wondered what she’d done to be banished from whatever town she came from. The respect her guards showed when they lowered their weapons spoke of trust. She must be formidable—trust like that can only be earned.

  The mayor called Frank Miller forward. Sawyer and I were close enough to hear what he said. “Frank, can we still make quota giving these bastards that much food?”

  Frank closed his eyes and did some mental calculations. “It’ll be close, but yes, I think we’ll be all right. We might have to skim down our own meals for a while, though.”

  The mayor nodded and let out a heavy sigh. “How could that girl get herself caught? Did a Scavenger sneak into town last night after the attack?”

  Frank shrugged his shoulders.

  “Post extra guards around town,” the mayor ordered. “I don’t want those slinking weasels kidnapping anyone else. As for Chane, the only thing we can do is fill their trailers and hope those Scavengers keep their word.”

  I gasped and asked, “Sawyer, what happens if they don’t?”

  “Let’s just hope they do, kid. Otherwise it’s going to get ugly, real ugly.”

  “Everyone, please get back to your normal work,” the mayor said. “We’ve lost too much time as it is. We’ll need to work harder to insure we have enough food for the quotas, ourselves, and those pilfering bandits out there.” He pointed an angry finger at the road. Two horses, led by a pair of Scavengers, pulled a large empty grain wagon toward us.

  “Come on, Dillon. We’d best get you prepared for tomorrow’s journey,” Sawyer said.

  The crowd dispersed. Disgruntled mutterings punctuated the slow trod of tired feet. After hearing we wouldn’t have to defend ourselves again, I think most people thought the day’s work was done.

  Before we could ride off, Frank Miller came hustling up. “Dillon, do your best to find that alternator tomorrow. With this new threat, our food stores are going to be really low. We can’t afford to leave even a single ear out in those fields.”

  I gulped. Talk about putting pressure on a guy. I tried to give Frank a confident nod. The frown he gave me before walking away wasn’t very encouraging.

  Sawyer grunted. “You’ll do fine. Don’t worry so much about what everyone expects. If there’s a matching combine out there, I have no doubt you’ll find it.”

  I was glad he didn’t have any doubts, because I sure did.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Ugh,” I moaned as I climbed off Fred. Actually, fell off would be a lot closer to the truth. We were back at the Dining Hall. Dismounting wasn’t nearly as easy as earlier when Sawyer took me out to the fields.

  “You’ll get used to it…eventually,” Sawyer teased.

  His own “ugh” while dismounting reminded me that I needed to check his leg. Through all the excitement, I’d forgotten about it. “How you doing?” I asked.

  “This leg hurts a ton, and I’m a touch feverish, but I’m through the worst of it, I think. I hope so anyway.”

  I’d check the wound when we got back to the RV.

  I tied Fred to an old bicycle rack, retrieved the wheelchair, and pushed Sawyer into the Dining Hall.

  Supper that night was an egg and vegetable casserole. Despite Millie’s ability to create new and interesting dishes, I didn’t much care for it. I ate it. Sawyer did too, but our shared turned-up noses, which we both tried to hide from Millie, spoke louder than words about the flavor of her latest creation.

  Sawyer continued to give me instructions for the coming day. “It probably won’t rain, but keep an eye on the weather. Fred will get wet if she has to, but she won’t like it.”

  I hoped it stayed dry. Any more than a light sprinkle, and the combine wouldn’t be able to get in the fields. Most years it wasn’t a big deal to wait a day or two for things to dry up. The way this year was going, the mayor would have us all out there slopping through the mud and harvesting by hand.

  The Johnsons with their three unruly boys stepped into line. “Unless you like it loud, we’d better get out of here,” I said.

  “Ah, I see.” He rolled away from the table and we headed for the door.

  Millie stopped me on our way out. “Sorry about supper tonight. Don’t think I didn’t see the two of you force-feeding yourselves.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” I lied.

  “I might be an old lady, but my tongue still works. Don’t forget, I have to eat it too. It was awful.”

  “It was better than eating dried rations out of my saddlebag,” Sawyer said.

  “I’m not so sure about that, but it’s nice of you to say so. What I really stopped you for was to tell Dillon to be careful out there tomorrow.” Tears started leaking from Millie eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

  “I’ll be careful, Millie. I promise.” In a backward kind of way, I liked her tears. It proved she cared.

  Wheeling Sawyer out the door, I walked us back to Fred. She was grazing on the grass between the sidewalk and the building. I didn’t know much about horses, but I thought they ate more than just grass.

  “Sawyer, how much food does Fred need?”

  “She’ll need a good amount of oats when you stop for the day, and some in the morning. I’ll show you later. Otherwise, make sure when you stop to check a building you let her graze. She’ll take care of the rest.”

  “How often does she need water?”

  “Make sure she gets a drink whenever you get a chance. She needs a lot more water than you do, so let her drink her fill so long as she isn’t all sweated up. If she is, then make her wait a bit.”

  Fred snorted her displeasure at having her gra
zing interrupted when I walked up and tugged on her reins to make her lift her head.

  “Do you want to ride Fred back to the RV?” I asked.

  “You need the practice.”

  Putting my foot in the stirrup caused all kinds of unpleasantness in my thighs. My muscles had stiffened way too fast when they were resting.

  Sawyer chuckled when he spotted my grimace. “You think you hurt now? Wait till morning. Best cure for sore muscles is more of what made them sore. Hurts like crazy at first, but once you get loosened up, most of the pain goes away.”

  I noticed that he said “most.”

  Fred carried me back to my RV while Sawyer pumped the wheelchair beside us. A spiteful grin crossed my lips when I realized that his forearms would likely be as sore tomorrow as my thighs and butt were sure to be.

  “What else do I need?” I asked.

  “Bring a couple of blankets. The nights are getting cooler. You can use the tools in the saddlebags so you won’t need to worry about that—”

  “What about weapons?” I interrupted him.

  He pondered the question a short while before answering. “I wish I could tell you that won’t need any, but…you never know who or what you’ll meet out there. I’ll send my bow with you. Don’t use it unless you have to.”

  I let out a breath of relief. The bow would offer some protection, especially with Scavengers nearby. I fiddled with the reins and opened my mouth to pester Sawyer with more questions, but he cut me off before I started.

  “Look, kid, there’s always going to be something you didn’t take and wished you had. You won’t know what it is until you need it, though. You prepare the best you can. Then you get the job done quickly.

  “The combine’s a big machine. If you don’t see one right away, move on. Don’t waste time looking at whatever else might be in a building.”

  It dampened my excitement a little. It would have been fun to explore those buildings to see what I could find, but he was right.