Why was she looking at me anyway - was it because I saved her life? Perhaps she thought I was an accomplished soldier? If that was the case, she would soon learn the truth - I was nothing but a school dropout and lowly forager.
As Dryburgh Street merged into Macauley Road, I ran my fingers absent-mindedly along the scars on the left side of my head. My hair covered them now, but when I got my next buzz-cut, they would be visible for the whole world to see.
When we reached the town’s eastern gates, some rather astonished Custodians spoke at length with Sergeant King before giving the vehicles a once over. Satisfied, they opened the gates and let us through.
King led us through streets lined with ominous row after row of grey ten-story blocks of flats; past the commercial district with its market stalls, green grocers, hardware and department stores, and clothing shops, which were frequented by everyone except the North Enders. After that we passed the greenhouse enclosed market gardens and then reached the imposing walls of North End. This was where our world ended and the VIPs began - a world that could have been mine had I chosen to live in it. However, to my way of thinking, a well-to-do prison is still a prison.
Our convoy stopped before North End's gates. King got out to talk to the officer in charge and then sauntered over to our truck. "Hop out boys, we'll take it from here."
"What do we do now?" I asked King as we clambered out of the truck, seething with anger at the impertinence of these stuck-up North Enders. They wouldn't even let us drive our own truck in there!
King rewarded us with a forced smile. "You get the rest of the day off."
"Our pay better not get docked because of this," I grumbled louder than I should have.
The sergeant looked me in the eye and raised his eyebrows. "Is that right?"
I knew I should have backed down, but I was sick and tired of kowtowing to these Custodians. "You've got our truck, Sir, so we can't go back to work."
"Tell you what, since you're so concerned about it, I'll give your boss a call later and fill him in."
I did not know if he meant it or not, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Thank you, Sergeant."
"Right then, you lot are dismissed. But don't worry, I'll have your truck back to the yard by day's end, so it's work as usual tomorrow. Now, Jones, a word with you," King said.
My teammates backed off leaving me standing alone with King. I tried to meet his gaze but instantly regretted it. Now I was going to pay for today's list of misdemeanours.
"Not only did your team have weapons - which by itself can get you a three year prison sentence - but you disobeyed my direct orders today and put my squad and your team at risk," King growled in my face. "Give me one reason not to lock you up right now, Jones."
I had gotten away with blue murder today and I knew it, but one wrong word now could put me away for years. "My sincerest apologies, Sergeant, but had we left when you said, Councillor Okada and his translator would have been killed. We would have never known about Hamamachi's attempt to trade with us. As soon as I saw their big black cars, I knew something important was going down."
"The results never justify the means, Jones," was King's retort.
"And we did save your life, Sir," I added somewhat hesitantly.
"Which was only placed in jeopardy by your disobedience and recklessness!"
"As I said, I'm sorry, Sir."
"Just make sure you never pull a stunt like that again, you hear me?"
"I won't, Sir," I assured him.
"You'd better not. Now get out of my sight." Having said his piece, King strode away to join his fellow Custodians.
I watched him go, mystified by his inexplicable behaviour. I had never heard of a Custodian letting someone who had committed such blatant misdemeanours off with nothing more than a verbal dressing down.
I rejoined my work mates and Michal grabbed my arm and pulled me to him, "What's wrong with you today, Ethan, you wanna get locked up or something? Why King hasn't already done so, I don't understand."
"I just couldn't let the Skel kill those Japanese," I began to argue.
"I'm not talking about that," Michal cut me off, "I'm talking about you giving lip to King."
"Hey, don't cramp his style," Leigh laughed as he slapped me on the back, "He gave that Custodian what's what, he did."
"Be more careful, okay?" Michal said as he shoved Shorty back with a hand on his face.
I nodded, and the five of us turned to make our way home. As we walked away, I looked back one last time to see if the Japanese girl would glance at me again. To my surprise, she was turned around in her seat and was watching me, concern etched upon her face. I wondered if I should wave or something, as I'd probably never see her again. Not knowing what to do, I just walked away, returning her stare until she was out of sight.
"Hey, let's head back to my pad and watch the box and play cards," Leigh suggested excitedly. Like me, Leigh had been working long enough to be able to rent a two-room flat. No one owned property in Newhome - it was all rented from the town council.
The others all replied in the affirmative to Leigh's invitation, but having the rest of the day off afforded me an opportunity to do something I was rarely able to do – and that was to see my twelve-year-old sister during the daytime.
* * *
An hour later, I was behind my parent's block of housing flats with a small bag on my back. I checked carefully for Custodian patrols, for if they caught me scaling up the back of the flats and creeping into a woman's bedroom, I would be in a world of trouble. For no male was ever permitted in a woman's bedroom, except for her husband, and then only on nights when he…well, where my parents were concerned, that’s not a thought I was going to entertain.
Seeing no Custodians, I began my ascent to my family's third-floor flat. Using balcony floors and railings, I could climb quite quickly, hauling myself up from one floor to the next. Of course, if anyone looked out their back window at that moment they would see me, as could the inhabitants in the next block of flats, as the blocks of flats were built relatively close to one another.
I reached the third story and clambered over a balcony railing covered with doonas – my mother always hung them out to air them – and threaded my way through the clothes horses covered with drying garments.
I slipped into the women's bedroom, for the door was never locked, and quietly closed it behind me. Waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I could hear Mother and Elder Sister moving about in the kitchen, and the shallow breathing of Younger Sister in bed.
"Got the day off, have you?" Younger Sister asked.
My eyes had adjusted enough to see her now, so I sat on the edge of her bed, which was the one closest to the windows. Elder Sister's bed was next to hers, and Mother's was beside the door. With two tallboy chests of drawers against the wall opposite the beds, there really was little space left in the room.
A plate with a couple of golden crumpets sat virtually untouched on her bedside table - the remains of her breakfast. "Yep, our truck's in for repairs, and we can't do much without it." Which was close enough to the truth.
"You'll have to put it in for repairs more often," she said smiling.
"Sounds like a plan," I laughed as I learned forward to examine the sores at the corners of her mouth. They were definitely worse than the last time I saw them. She was paler as well. I opened the backpack and handed her a tube of antiseptic cream. "Rub this into your sores three times a day."
"Okay," she replied somewhat dubiously.
I dug into the backpack again and took out two plastic containers and some mandarins. "I got you some lunch." Younger Sister looked at the grilled chicken, tofu, bread, and fresh veggies, and shook her head. "Oh no, I can't eat it, Older Brother, you spend too much of your money buying me these lunches!"
"Yes you can, and no I don't," I smiled encouragingly. I opened the containers and laid them out for her, handing her the plastic fork.
"But chicken is so expensive,
" she complained.
As all of our food was grown in Newhome, we rarely had meat. The only 'animals' raised here for food were chicken - raised by the thousand in the poultry shed. All the same, it was expensive.
Younger Sister stabbed a piece of diced chicken breast, nibbled at it, and then put it back.
"What's wrong? Isn't it nice?" I asked, frustration and helplessness adding to the fear that rose up within me every time she refused to eat.
"It's nice, but, I'm just not hungry," she said softly, refusing to meet my gaze.
I looked at the nutritious food I had laid before her and despaired. "Younger Sister, for your health - please eat."
She took a small bite of carrot and returned the rest to the container. Next was a bite of bread, after which she lay back against the bed head.
"You can't stop there, you've barely touched it," I said, trying, but failing, to knock the frantic edge off my voice.
"I'll have some later," she said, which probably meant she wouldn’t eat it at all. And that created a problem, for if Mother found out I was bringing her food she would not be impressed. On the other hand, she had never eaten much of the food I brought her, and Mother had not mentioned it yet.
I took her hand in mine and absentmindedly brushed my thumb over her upward curving nails, and decided to talk about something other than her refusal to eat, which was driving me insane. "You been reading those books and magazines I got you?" I asked. Sometimes I found contraband books when I foraged for metals, and would smuggle them to her to read.
"Oh yes - and I just loved that teenage girl's magazine. When I can find the energy, I sit in front of the mirror and practice the braids and plaits that the girls in the magazine are wearing." She paused and then pouted as she continued. "I can’t believe the world used to be so full of life, Older Brother - people free to go where they liked, able to own so many things - even their own apartments, and wear such bright and colourful clothes, and having the most remarkable adventures.'
"It was a different world back then, that’s for sure," I agreed as I stood. A different world, but not a better one, if you consider where it got us. "I better go before Mother or Elder Sister comes in and catches me here."
“Please, don’t go yet,” she pleaded.
I never could say no to her - her sickly life was so lacking I'd do anything to cheer her up - so I sat back on the bed. We chatted softly about the books she had read, and of the things that I found when I went foraging. Finally, I really did have to go. I lifted her chin until her brown eyes met mine. "Please, for me, eat the lunch I brought you?"
She looked down at the barely touched food. "I'll try."
Powerless to help her, and driven to distraction by it, I caressed the back of her too-pale cheek with the back of my fingers and then, without a backward glance, slipped out of the bedroom, over the balcony, and climbed down to ground level.
Mother had rung me this morning and insisted I have dinner with the family tonight, so perhaps I would have an opportunity to talk to father about my younger sister's health, which had clearly deteriorated since the last time I saw her. She needed to see a doctor.
Chapter Six
That evening I sat with my father in the family dining room at a table that could seat six, but due to our town's custom of women waiting on the men while they ate, my mother and older sister stood at the doorway where they would remain until summoned. The combined dining/lounge room was rectangular, stretching to the full width of the flat, with monotonous, unadorned duck-egg blue walls. The lounge, which was to the right of the front door, had beige sofas and a 42" flat-screen TV. The dining room, which was in front of and to the left of the door, contained the dining table and a large wooden hutch full of Mother's precious collection of china cups, bowls and plates.
I finished a bowl of lentil soup and got stuck into a slice of homemade wholegrain bread topped with melted tasty soy cheese. Glancing at my father, I wondered what frame of mind he was in today. People said I took after him in appearance: with his square jaw, high cheekbones, and full head of thick auburn hair. We were even the same height, though my figure had yet to fill out. Thankfully, that’s where our similarities ended. He adhered religiously to Newhome's customs and traditions, and with blinkered-vision devoted himself to the councillors who ran the city. He also had little patience and no time for those who did not share his opinions, and as I disagreed with him on practically everything, we didn't get on. My deepest fear was that I might turn out like him one day.
"Son, I heard we had some visitors from another town today," Father said gruffly between bites.
"Yeah, two people from the Japanese colony over near Inverloch. It was my foraging team and Custodian escort that found them and brought them here," I replied.
I thought he would be at least a little impressed by my claim to fame, but his expression as he actually met my gaze was not a complimentary one.
"You stay away from them, you hear?" he ordered.
I could not be bothered getting into another 'I'm over sixteen now, Father,' argument, as we normally did after he ordered me to do something I considered unreasonable, so I settled for, "Don't worry, the Custodians took them straight to North End."
"Good," he grunted as he served himself another dish of vegetable casserole.
I figured now was as good a time as any to broach the subject of Younger Sister. "Ah, Father, Younger Sister is not looking so good these days – I think she needs to see a doctor."
"Younger Daughter just needs to snap out of it and pull herself together," he said to me, before aiming the next comment at Mother, who continued to stand deferentially at the doorway. "She's just lazy; it's as simple as that."
"Have you seen her lately, Father? The sores on her mouth, her white skin and shallow breathing, and finger nails growing upwards? There is something wrong with her."
"Ethan, you're young and naive. Those things are all bedsores caused by lying in bed all day for month after month. Mother needs to stop mollycoddling her and show her some tough love. Otherwise, no one's ever going to want to marry her and I'll be stuck with her for life - a leech sucking up my money forever. Besides, we can't afford a doctor."
I glanced at Mother, whose eyes were glossing over with tears, while I trembled with rage at these callous insults towards my beloved sister - and from her own father! I wish I could put him through what she goes through just for a day - and then he'd change his tune soon enough. "Why can't you afford it, where does all your money go?" I complained angrily.
Mother's eyes widened in shock and she shook her head ever so slightly, warning me away from this conversation. Unfortunately, it was too late; Father pushed his plate away and turned to face me, trembling with barely controlled rage. "Where does all my money go? You really want to know, do you, Son? Okay then, every spare cent I earn, after the food and rent, goes to pay back a fifteen year loan I had to take out."
"Take out - take out on what?" I pushed. I was too angry to heed Mother's warning – she was still shaking her head at me.
"On you!" my father shouted in my face. "For your operation - remember that? For the brain surgery you needed after that ceiling fell on your head two years ago!"
Suddenly I felt like the world's biggest fool; basically accusing him of wasting his money, only to find out that he was spending it all on me. "I...I didn't know. Father, why didn't you tell me?"
"I did what had to be done, what's to tell?" he huffed.
My shoulders slumped in resignation, but I tried one last half-hearted attempt to help my younger sister. "In that case, let me help pay off the loan, or at least pay for the visit to a doctor."
That, apparently, was the worst thing I could have said. "I do not need your financial aid like I am some...some charity case!" he bellowed.
Head bowed in defeat, I tucked into my dinner until half was left, and then gave my mother a meaningful glance. The women of a household always served the best food to the males and ate less costly foods an
d any leftovers themselves. So when I had dinner with my family, I always left half my dinner on the plate so that my mother and sisters could divide it amongst themselves later.
That done, I bade them farewell.
My father's anger would simmer for the rest of the evening, but tomorrow he’d act as though the whole conversation had never happened.
But I couldn’t turn my emotions on and off like that, so I walked away torn by powerful, conflicting emotions. I was angry with my father for being so obstinate, for refusing to acknowledge my sister's health problems. His arrogance and pride was robbing her of a normal life. On the other hand, I felt so guilty for believing Father didn’t care for me, when he obviously did since he had taken out that massive loan to finance the operation that had healed me of the epilepsy caused by the head injury.
When I got home, I climbed the apartment block's ten flights of stairs to get to the building’s flat roof, using the exercise to clear my mind and rid my body of tension.
It was refreshingly cool up on the roof and comfortably shrouded in near-darkness. The only light sources on the roof were the light above the stairwell exit and the stars.
I collected the disassembled parts of my contraband binoculars, which I had hidden in three different places on the roof, and fitted them back together. One advantage of being a forager was that you could find almost anything in the city ruins.
I sat down on the long side of the roof that faced north-west and dangled my legs over the edge. (There was no guardrail.) I used the binoculars to zoom in on North End – sometimes I looked over the city walls at Melbourne’s darkened ruins, but spying on North End was more fun. It was like another world in there: with larger and better-furnished apartments; immaculately kept, multicolour brick footpaths instead of crumbling and cracked ones like ours, and jungle gyms built like castles in the schools. There were cinemas with facades lit up with sparkling lights; nightclubs where you didn’t have to line up to gain access; and, to top it all off, no curfew. There were also multistorey buildings devoted to scientific, genetic and engineering research and development; and the council offices themselves were magnificently opulent. Men and teenage boys wandered the paved streets as they chatted and headed to nightclubs to play cards, billiards, bowling, and drink. The clubs were all-male affairs of course - no woman was permitted on the streets after dark, not even with a chaperone.
Forager (Forager - A Dystopian Trilogy) Page 4