Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1)

by Peter R Stone

  That rattled her cage. “You mean to say you’re working with that young man every day? I’m really not happy with you masquerading as your brother, Daughter. More now than ever. How long before they discover who you really are?”

  “They won’t.”

  “All it will take is one small slip up.”

  The sanitary pad falling out of my backpack sprang immediately to mind. “I’m being careful.”

  “Make sure you’re never alone with him – or any of them, for that matter.” She stared at me, trying to ascertain whether that had ever been the case.

  “Don’t worry, Mother, there’s five of us in the team.”

  She turned away, muttering to herself, and sat in the battered homeless shelter chair, rather than in the one Ryan delivered. She was so infuriating!

  * * *

  I couldn’t sleep that night, just tossed and turned as an endless parade of horrific scenarios ran through my mind. What would happen should Deacon front-up tomorrow?

  I skipped breakfast when morning came, moping about until it was nearly midday. When it became apparent the debt collectors’ were not going to pay us a visit, I donned my Brandon disguise and hit the town in an attempt to walk off the palpable anxiety that was threatening to send me into hysteria.

  As I wandered through poorly maintained streets set between ten-story apartment blocks, I realised I simply couldn’t face another beating like the last one. I had put on a brave face for my mother and sister, but I was quaking with terror now. I couldn’t even handle the thought of Wells stomping on my legs again with his massive boots, and I knew that what they did next time would be far worse. And all thanks to Ryan. I knew he meant well, but I was going to pay for it with broken bones if not worse. My life had descended into an endless living nightmare, and I couldn’t live like this anymore.

  I walked aimlessly down the road leading to the town’s eastern gates, thinking of the foragers from Ballarat and the freedoms they enjoyed. No Custodians, freedom to come and go as they pleased, no town walls, and equality for women.

  Seething with resentment, I stared at the twelve-foot high gates, the five Custodians standing guard before them, and the guard tower on the wall beside it.

  Then, as though a light had been switched on, I knew what I had to do to escape Newhome with my family. A bold, daring plan formed in my mind even as I stood there. A plan that would work, I was sure of it. I wouldn’t be able to do it alone, though. It required numbers, preparation, and careful planning.

  I had to see Con and convince him to take the idea onboard. It was my only hope. I pivoted about and hastened to the Foragers’ Club, figuring Con and the others would be there, since it was Saturday. As I went, I continued formulating the plan, throwing up every possible obstacle I could think of, and seeking a solution to overcome it.

  * * *

  “You wanna run that by me again?” Con said, his beady eyes almost bulging out of his head. He had been playing pool with Matt and a couple of guys I didn’t know. When they finished, I dragged him and Matt over to a table in the corner where no one could overhear us.

  “Let’s escape this dump – us foragers and our families – and go to Ballarat,” I repeated. “You do know about Ballarat, right? No Custodians, no wall, no oppressive society.”

  “That’s what I thought you said.” Con stared at me as though I was off my rocker. “And of course I know about Ballarat!”

  “Well?”

  “How exactly do you suggest we do that? Go up to the Custodians and politely ask if we can leave?” Matt asked.

  “We meet near the eastern gates in the early morning hours, overpower the guards on watch and in the tower, open the gates, and run.”

  “That’s a fantastic idea, Brandon. I wonder why no one else ever thought of it?” Con’s voice dripped with cynicism. “Maybe because of the curfew and Custodian night patrols that would make it impossible for anyone to get near the gates at night? Maybe because the Custodians at the gate have high-powered assault rifles?” He pushed his chair back, about to leave.

  “We stage a distraction on the other side of town. That’ll draw off the patrols. We deal with the guards at the gate with trickery. Put foragers on both sides of the gate, and send in a hysterical girl with fake blood all over her. While the guards are trying to deal with the girl, the foragers jump them.”

  “And the guard tower?” Matt asked.

  “Those guards are watching the ruins, right? We rush them at the same time. Maybe even throw in a homemade flash bomb or something.” I watched their reactions intently, hope etched on my face. They had to go for this, they just had to.

  “You’ve been reading too many novels in the ruins,” Con growled.

  “I don’t know – Brandon could be onto something here,” Matt said. He furrowed his brow in thought.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “Think about it. If can we pull this off, we’ll be free. No more sneaking around, looking over our shoulders, afraid we’re gonna get busted at any moment. No more trying to amass enough money to buy our way into North End,” he replied.

  “Still easier said than done. What kind of distraction could be staged on the other side of town?” He looked at me.

  “We set an empty building on fire.” I said.

  “Great if you want to drag the fire fighters out of bed. Not if you want to distract the Custodian patrols,” he said.

  “Set fire to several buildings, then. Surely every Custodian and his dog’ll go running, suspecting foul play,” Matt said.

  “So you think it’s doable?” Con asked.

  “It would have to be executed perfectly.” Matt nodded.

  The scepticism was slowly fading from Con’s face. “Indeed. We would also have to plan for the walk to Ballarat. Everyone would need good shoes or boots, backpacks filled with a couple of day’s worth of water and food, blankets, and some medical supplies. We’d also need guns in case Skel attack us on the way.”

  “Don’t like our chances of smuggling guns in here,” Matt said.

  “You don’t need to. Make a secret stash of guns, blankets, bottles of water and blankets, in the ruins just outside town,” I said.

  “Good thinking, kid!” Matt thumped the table excitedly. “So the first thing we do after breaking out is go to that cache and load up. That would also make it much easier to move quickly through the town on the way to the gates before the breakout.”

  “How long would it take to get to Ballarat, by the way?” I asked.

  “As I said, a couple of days,” Con replied. He was eyeing me thoughtfully, no doubt contemplating a better future for the first time in his life.

  “So, are we gonna do this?” I couldn’t keep the hope from my face. I had half expected them to ridicule the idea and laugh in my face.

  “Not so hasty, Brandon. First, I have to run it by the foragers we can trust to keep the lid on it. We need to get the majority of them on board if this is to have any chance of succeeding.”

  “The ones we can trust?” I asked.

  “The ones who work at the lab, duh. Too many do-gooders amongst the others – one of 'em could even turn us in,” he replied. “Oh, and before I even consider getting this ball rolling, I have one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  “You don’t breathe a word of this to Ryan.”

  I felt like I’d just been punched in the gut. The fact was, I hadn’t consciously thought about asking him, as my thoughts were focused on getting myself and my family away from the debt collectors. But now that Con mentioned him, I realised that deep down I was hoping Ryan would come too. Because if he came, there would be no rules or regulations preventing us from spending time together.

  “Promise me, Brandon, or this doesn’t happen.” Con’s beady eyes bore right through me.

  “Okay, fine!” I was irritated, and I let it show, but he had boxed me into a corner. My family came first – I simply had to get them away from this place and Father’s lega
cy.

  “Good.” Con leaned closer. “Because if you let it slip and Ryan finds out, you’ll give us no choice but to take matters into our own hands again. But if we do, the Custodian are sure to sit up and take notice this time.”

  “I won’t tell him.”

  Con grunted in satisfaction, and then he and Matt went off to run the idea past some of the other foragers present. As I watched them go, I wondered what he meant when he said they would have ‘to take matters into our own hands again.’ What had they done in the past? Why would it draw the Custodians attention if they did it again?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When I got home, Mother was kneeling on the floor, making adjustments to one of her dresses. Karen was languishing in a chair, her latest cross-stitch creation lying untouched on her lap while she stared aimlessly into space. I was glad we had the common sense to bring our sewing kits with us. To have left those behind would have been a crime.

  I dragged a chair over beside them, swore them to secrecy, and gave them the good news about the planned escape. Well, I thought it was good news. Mother just about had an apoplectic fit, and it took me half an hour to calm her down enough to listen to the rest of it. Our plan to get past the Custodians at the gate, the store of supplies outside the town for the trip to Ballarat, and the freedoms we’d enjoy once we got there.

  “But most importantly,” I said, in conclusion, “We’ll be free of this debt and the constant threat posed by Deacon and his pet dog. Also means I won’t have to risk being arrested for impersonating Brandon anymore.”

  Mother paced the room for several minutes, and then turned to face me. “If – and I mean if – I let you do this, you have to promise me you’ll find your brother and take him with you. Otherwise he will be their next target.”

  “Haven’t you been listening to me, Mother? The whole point of this is that we all go. Anyone staying behind would be Deacon’s next target.”

  “I want to come. I don’t want to spend another day in this hole. The grime and dirt, the slop they call food, and having nothing worthwhile to do.” Karen looked defiantly at Mother, daring her to refuse her request.

  “You’ll come too, right, Mother?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m too set in my ways, not to mention too old to go trekking all the way to Ballarat. Besides, I have to wait for your father to get out of prison.”

  I was dumbfounded. “After all he’s done to us, and all you’ve said about him, you want to wait for him?”

  “He is my husband, Eldest Daughter. It is my duty.”

  “But what about Deacon? He’ll come after you if we’re all gone,” I said.

  She shook her head. “No, he won’t. If you and Brandon are gone, there’d be no point, since women cannot earn an income.”

  “But Mother, like I told you previously, they said if we can’t pay up, they’d take the money out of us in other ways. I’m sure you know what they meant.”

  “I will not go, and that’s the end of it. I will consider letting you three go – but that is all.”

  I was about to protest more, but she held up her hand, silencing me.

  I nodded, but I wasn’t giving up. I would keep on her case until the day of the breakout. However, if she did remain behind, it meant someone would be there for Father when they let him out. As angry as I was with him, I found that thought comforting.

  * * *

  We hit the market the next day. Karen and I were on the hunt for new walking shoes, while Mother came as chaperone, since she was past the age needing to be chaperoned herself.

  The market was a large open area filled with stalls, surrounded on all sides by brick-and-mortar stores, and was frequented by hundreds of shoppers, mostly women. A couple of squads of Custodians patrolled the area too, ready to pounce on any shoplifters or pickpockets. Too often in the past, I had witnessed their brutality as they apprehended criminals, striking them with gun butts if their quarry resisted in any way.

  We threaded our way through stalls selling genetically enhanced vegetables and fruits, raw and cooked chicken, soy products, clothes, bedding, kitchen utensils and garden tools. We tried on a few pairs of sneakers in the stalls. They were cheap but very poor quality. Some were so shoddily put together they’d fall apart after a few kilometres, while others had irregularities that would cause agonising blisters.

  In the end, we had to shop at one of the brick-and-mortar stores, where we found exactly what we needed. The only catch was that they were very expensive. I had to spend almost all the money Brandon gave me. We also had to deflect the shopkeeper’s suspicions about why two girls were buying men’s sneakers.

  “For when we are gardening,” I told him.

  Our new shoes hidden in shopping bags, we stopped at one of the outdoor food vendors and bought a nutritious lunch of wholemeal bread, tofu cake, nuts and dried fruits.

  I was putting the plastic take-away container in my bag when a shadow blocked out the sun. I staggered back in alarm, only to relax when I saw who it was.

  “Ah, good afternoon, Mrs Thomas, Chelsea, Karen.” Ryan said. He appeared surprised to see us.

  “Ryan,” my Mother said, clearly uncomfortable.

  Karen nodded shyly in greeting, I met his gaze and raised an eyebrow. I was impressed that he didn’t glance at my birthmark this time.

  “Doing a bit of shopping?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation.

  “That is the reason one comes to the market,” Mother replied. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have much to do.”

  “I can actually see you out here, Chelsea,” he said quickly, before we could move away. “It was pretty dark in the shelter.”

  “Is that a good thing?” I asked. I deliberately ignored Mother, who was glaring at Ryan for having the audacity to speak to a young woman who was not a family member, especially in public.

  He laughed nervously. “Actually, you look like the female version of your brother.”

  “What? Are you saying I look like a boy?”

  “No!” He looked terrified.

  “Then are you saying my brother looks like a girl?”

  “No!”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I, ah...” He ran a hand through his hair, a dozen emotions fleeing across his handsome face.

  I was amused by the sight of this amazing, overly capable guy tongue-tied because of me.

  “It’s pretty obvious you’re twins, that’s all,” he finally managed.

  “Oh, relax, Ryan, I was just messing with you. You’re not the first to point that out.” I rewarded him with a grin. He returned it, clearly relieved.

  “Daughter, that is enough,” Mother said, indicating we should be going.

  Ryan turned to my mother. “My apologies, Mrs. Thomas. Actually, I was hoping to have a word with Brandon. Is he here, somewhere? I really need to ask him something.” He looked quite concerned, so it took a great deal of self-control to refrain from asking him what it was about.

  “He left the shelter early this morning. He did not say where he was going,” Mother said.

  “Right, thanks, Mrs. Thomas. Well, be seeing you all.” He flashed a shy smile in my direction and was gone, lost in the crowd.

  Staring wistfully in Ryan’s direction, I didn’t notice the lady and her daughter until I had almost walked into them.

  “Excuse, me,” the lady said when I made eye contact. “But would you happen to be Brandon Thomas’ twin sister?”

  “Why, yes. Is it really that obvious?” I laughed nervously. Who were these people?

  “I’m afraid so.” She laughed with me and nodded in greeting to my mother and sister. “And I’m sorry, you must be wondering who this strange woman is, accosting you in public like this. I’m Margaret Smith, and this is my daughter, Lucy. I recognised you because your brother was friends with my son, Dan.”

  The penny dropped. This was Dan Smith’s mother! My hands flew to my mouth. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Smith. Brand
on mentioned what happened.”

  “How is Brandon coping? It must be hard on all of them,” she said.

  “Nothing compared to what your family must be going through. Please accept our sincerest condolences,” my mother said.

  “Thank you,” Margaret said. “It was such a tragedy, Dan passing away just when he was finally getting his life in order. All thanks to the magistrate's leniency in putting him on probation instead of in prison when he was caught shoplifting a couple of months ago. The weekly visits to the HQ to see his Custodian Probation Officer did him a world of good, too. He stopped listening to his father and me some time ago. ”

  “I’m so sorry.” I felt terrible for their loss, reflecting that foraging really wasn’t the best career choice. What if an accident like that happened to Brandon? I’d be absolutely devastated.

  “Thank you, my dear. Well, we will be off now. Just wanted to say hello and see how Brandon was doing.”

  * * *

  Having spent the better part of the morning at the market, we headed home around lunchtime. When we walked through the shelter’s gates, sudden movement behind the large blue hopper caught my eye. Brandon’s head appeared and he gestured me over before dropping back out of sight.

  “Can you two go on ahead? I’ll be up soon,” I said as I handed my bag to Karen.

  I made my way inconspicuously over to Brandon, aware that several other residents lounged on the lawn. Ducking behind the large bin, I found him sitting cross-legged behind it. He looked a bit better than the last time I saw him. Seemed my lecture about eating better had gotten through.

  “You ready to rejoin the real world yet?” I asked. I grabbed an empty cardboard box beside the bin, folded it flat, and sat on it. I didn’t want to get my dress dirty.

  He shook his head and handed over a large plastic bag. “Just came to give you this.”

  The bag was filled with fresh bread, vegetables, fruit, peanuts and cashews, and three small bottles of soymilk, which we would have to drink today, since we had no fridge. “Thanks. You keep some for yourself?”