I took a few deep breaths to get myself back under control. We looked almost like a brother and sister, me in Brandon’s clothes and Sofia wearing her best ankle length dress.
Putting on my backpack and throwing Karen’s pack over my right shoulder, I put my left hand in my pocket in lieu of the sling and we headed for the door. Which was blocked by my mother. She stood there, denying our exit.
“Please move, Mother.”
“If you try to rescue her, they’ll do worse than just shoot you.” She pointed to my wound.
“This is our one and only chance to leave, and I’m not going to let those losers ruin it for us.”
She still wouldn’t move, so I shouldered her gently but firmly aside. A feat that was surprisingly easy – she had lost a lot of weight since coming to the shelter.
“On your own head, then, foolish girl! And if you do see Brandon, don’t you dare take him with you!” She turned her back on us and stomped back inside, slamming the door closed.
With Sofia dogging my heels, I hurried off to look for my brother, who should have been here by now. As I stood in the urine-scented elevator, I realised I would probably never see my mother again, and that just like my father, my final moments with her had been of anger. Couldn’t I do anything right?
The TV was off in the foyer and the room was eerily empty, the lone fluorescent light in the ceiling flickering randomly. Darting out the front door, I immediately went into full stealth mode, darting from shadow to shadow while keeping an eye out for Custodians. Sofia followed me as best she could, her footfalls so loud I cringed. We would be in a world of trouble if they caught us outside at this time of night.
We hadn’t gone far down the road when I detected furtive footsteps heading in our direction. I pulled Sofia behind a bush and hunkered down beside her. A minute later, Brandon slunk into view. He face was grim, his movements purposeful, and he carried a new bag on his back.
“Brandon!” I hissed loud enough for him to hear.
“Chelz?” he whispered as he crept over to join us. He looked inquisitively at Sofia.
“Sofia, Brandon – Brandon, Sofia.”
Sofia studied my brother wide-eyed, but he fixed me with a penetrating gaze.
“Where’s Karen?” he whispered.
I quickly explained to him what happened to our sister.
“I am sick of those mongrels,” he exclaimed when I finished.
“Me too. Let’s go rescue her, shall we?”
He looked at me intently, as though he wanted nothing more than to help, but then his shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t.”
“Say what? Brandy, if we don’t rescue her, she won’t be joining the breakout, and neither will I. I won’t go without her.”
He expired deeply, clearly distressed. “I wish I could help, Chelz, I really do, but there’s something else I have to do.”
“Like what!”
“I’m going to stop Con, Matt and Jack from escaping tonight. But I have to stop them at the moment of the actual breakout. If I do it any earlier, it will sabotage any chance the breakout has of succeeding, since they’re the leaders and all, and that wouldn’t be fair on the others. And then, when everyone else has gone, and we four are the only ones left, I’ll turn us into the Custodians for murdering Dan,” he said.
Sofia’s eyes popped out of her head, but she wisely stayed out of it.
“And how exactly are you planning to stop them?” I asked.
He patted his backpack.
“Tell me you’re not going to shoot them.”
“Nothing so barbaric or noisy. Now, sorry, but I have to go.”
“Wait – take Sofia with you, please. I don’t want her missing the chance to escape if I don’t make it in time,” I whispered urgently.
“Why, what are you going to do?” Brandon eyed me with suspicion.
“I’m going after Karen.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” he hissed.
“Then come with me!” I knew I should be relieved he finally found his backbone and was going to bring Dan’s murderers to justice – himself included. But all I could see was Karen, kidnapped by Deacon and stuck in some dingy room somewhere, trembling and in fear for her life, unable to join the escape.
“I already told you why I can’t. Just go home and get her in the morning like Mother suggested.”
“I second that,” Sofia said. “I’ll come home with you.”
“What, and miss the breakout? No way! I’ve been waiting for this my entire life! You two go on ahead and I’ll meet up with you when I’ve got Karen. And Sofia, if for some reason we don’t make it in time, go with the foragers. Be free of this place. For me.”
She made to protest, but I stopped her with a shake of my head. “Promise me!”
She nodded once, looking most unsure of herself. I gave her arm a squeeze.
“Make sure she’s with the other foragers before you take out Con, Matt and Jack, okay?” I said to my brother. He nodded, and our eyes met. “Don’t worry, we’ll be there. Now go!”
He nodded, and the two of them slipped quietly off into the night, Brandon guiding her each step of the way.
I went back to the homeless shelter and rummaged around until I found a sturdy three-foot long metal pole. Then I raced off as fast as I could to Derby Street. Luckily, it was roughly two-thirds of the way between here and the eastern gatehouse.
I hadn’t gone far, though, when a series of massive explosions shattered the early morning air. Spinning around, I spotted four huge fireballs climbing lazily skyward from the direction of the factories.
It was the distraction designed to keep the Custodians busy so the foragers and their families could pass through the town undetected on their way to the gates. I hoped Con didn’t put the bombs anywhere near the prison factories. I didn’t want anyone to die and besides, my father was in one of them.
A squad of Custodians suddenly came rushing around the closest corner, shouting into their radios as they hurried in the direction of the burning factories. I kept still, hiding in the black of night until they were out of sight, and then continued on my way.
The front of the snooker club was dark and lifeless, having closed several hours ago when the curfew came into effect. I recalled Deacon telling me they operated out of the staffroom, so I dumped the bags, gripped the metal pole tightly in my right hand, and crept through the narrow gap that ran down the side of the grey-brick building.
When I reached the rear of the property, pale golden light illuminated piles of haphazardly stacked empty beer crates, cardboard cartons, and discarded furniture.
Stepping silently around the corner, I spied one man standing outside the back door. He had his back to me and head down as he lit a cigarette.
I looked at the pole in my hand, knowing what I had to do but wondering if I had the guts to do it. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt another human being, however, these scum had manoeuvred me into a corner. If Karen and I were to join the escape, talking wasn’t going to get the job done.
I stole quietly behind the gangster, and then, just as he straightened up again and turned to survey the yard, I brought the pole down on his right collarbone with all my strength. There was a sickening crack as the bone snapped. The man immediately arched back, a scream forming on his lips. But before he could make a sound, I bounced the pole off the side of his head, though with much less force. All the same, he crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Stepping over his prone body, I pulled open the rickety wire door and the heavy wooden one behind it, which thankfully, was not locked. I slid through the gap and entered the passageway beyond. A toilet and bathroom was on my left and a kitchen on my right. The lights were on, but both were unoccupied. I heard voices beyond the door at the end of the passageway, so I kept moving. I passed two more rooms, an office and a rest room containing a couple of double bunk beds.
Just my luck, they were empty too. If Karen had been in one of those rooms with only one minder, I could have had her out of here in a flash. Continuing to the door at the end, my spirits sank when I recognised not only Deacon’s voice, but also Karen’s, and two others I didn’t know.
Heart thumping wildly, I stared at the door handle and wondered what to do. For a fraction of a section I considered rushing in there, waving my pole around, and seeing if I could cower them into letting me grab Karen and go. But seriously, even with my weapon, how much of a threat would they deem me to be? No, my only chance was to use the element of surprise to my advantage.
Taking a deep breath, I hefted the pole, and gritting my teeth in anticipation of the pain, used my left hand to open the door. Then I darted inside and took in view in one glance. The room was a staffroom wider than it was long. It had filthy red-brown carpet and stained striped wallpaper.
Still wearing her beige dress, Karen was sitting on a single-seat sofa to my right, back straight and knees pressed firmly together. To say she was petrified was an understatement. She looked up as I barged in, confused, as though unable to comprehend that it was actually me.
Deacon and Wells were on my right as well, the former pouring himself a glass of vodka from the bar in the corner. A large, three-seater sofa was to my left, upon which sat an older man with greying hair. He was talking to a younger man in a suit, who had his back to me.
I went immediately on the offensive, swinging the pole at the head of the younger man in the suit. It connected with a horrible thump and he went down, sprawling over the sofa. One down, three to go.
“Whoa, whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Deacon shouted, springing straight towards me.
A couple of swings in his direction and he ducked back, allowing Wells to push past him. At the same time, the older man sprang up from the couch, a razor-sharp four-inch knife in his hands.
Panicking, I swung the club at his head, which he blocked with his knife, the impact sending his weapon careening from his hands. Deprived of the knife, he jumped forward and attempted to grapple with me. Too close to swing the pole, I smashed my fist into his chin, hoping to knock him senseless like Ryan almost did to Wells.
The man’s lower lip split and blood gushed forth, causing him to fall back, but still fully conscious and shaking with rage. But before I could follow up the attack, a shadow blotted out the light and I turned just in time to see Wells towering over me with his arm pulled back.
His fist connected with the side of my head, and the next thing I knew I was on the sofa, my head reeling and seeing stars. The impact with the sofa also sent agonising waves of pain throughout my chest. I tried to push myself back to my feet, but he started kicking me – in the legs, the hips, anywhere he could reach.
I dropped the pole and pulled myself into a ball. I could hear someone screaming, and it took a moment to realise it was me.
“Stop it! Don't hurt her!” Karen’s shrill voice suddenly cut through the orgy of violence and pain as she jumped to her feet, tears flowing down her cheeks.
The kicks ceased immediately.
Deacon suddenly hauled me roughly to my feet, pulling me around to face him. I fought to maintain my balance, spots dancing in front of my eyes. It also felt like someone had taken to my right leg with a sledgehammer – if it wasn’t broken, it would be black and blue for sure.
“Chelsea Thomas,” Deacon said as he pulled off my cap and looked at the birthmark.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“What of it?” I snapped, giving Deacon the death stare.
He sighed. “It's been you all this time, hasn't it?”
“Yeah, so what?”
“Where is your brother?”
“Don't know – ran away from home a week before they arrested my father,” I replied.
“So you thought you could just slip into his shoes and enter a man's world, did you?” he scoffed.
“We needed the money. Besides, I've been doing just fine.”
“Idiot! You’ve gone and made a fool of yourself! Why didn’t you tell us your brother had gone AWOL? We would have hunted him down and saved you all this trouble,” Deacon said.
“What on earth were you trying to achieve, charging in here like that? Are you entirely bereft of your senses, girl?” the older man asked. His voice was muffled since he was pressing a handkerchief against his bloodied lip.
“She was trying to rescue her sister so they could join the escape tonight,” Deacon replied.
I just glared at them.
“Good thing we found out about that, could have lost a source of income,” the man said.
“We really want a girl masquerading as a guy to repay her father’s debt, Boomer? We need to find the brother quick smart and put him to work,” Deacon said. Suddenly alarmed, he looked back at me. “Unless he’s planning on escaping too.”
“As I told you, I haven’t seen him. You think I’d be impersonating him if he was around?” I said.
The door at the other end of the room opened and three men entered. Two were in the late twenties, one so full of himself that he walked like he was God’s gift to women. It was the third man, though, that caught my attention. He was tall, with a muscular, solid build, greying hair, with an atmosphere of authority that preceded him. Those already in the room nodded in respect.
The man took in the scene with eyes that missed nothing. He indicated me with a flick of his head. “Who’s he?”
“Not he, she. This is Chelsea, the older Thomas girl, Boss.” Deacon proceeded to explain the situation. How I’d been masquerading as my brother.
The boss looked me up and down like a butcher examining a piece of meat. “She would have done just fine. Shame about her father getting thrown in prison.”
“Would have done just fine for what?” I snapped, worn down by the throbbing pain in the side of my head, legs, and hips. Uneasiness took hold of my stomach.
“You will not speak unless spoken too!” the boss growled.
I turned to Deacon. “What’s he talking about?”
It was the boss who answered. “Didn’t your father tell you, girl? We made him an offer the day before he was arrested. To get his gambling debt written off all he had to do was sign two marriage contracts. My nephews here wanted to get married, but with our family’s reputation and all, that has proved difficult. Your father’s situation was the perfect solution – two girls from a reputable family, able to further my nephews’ social standing, available for marriage. One now, the other when she turned eighteen.”
I looked at him, and then at Deacon, and the uneasiness in my gut twisted into full-blown nausea as I connected the dots. It was with a terrible sense of finality that I realised I had been completely wrong about my father.
I remembered when he came home the day before he was arrested, scared out of his wits. Deacon and Wells must have bailed him up after work that night, pressuring him to give away Karen and myself in marriage to the syndicate boss’ nephews. I glanced at the two younger men who came in with the boss. The arrogant one was running his eyes up and down my body with such undisguised lust that it made my skin crawl. The other was doing the same to my sister.
I realised then that my father didn’t put himself into prison to avoid another beating, he did it so they couldn’t make him sign those marriage contracts. A crippling sense of guilt descended upon me like a crushing weight. Having mistaken my father’s actions, I rejected him, refused to visit him in prison until the last day, and even then, I blamed him for all of our woes. True, his gambling habits created the whole mess, but at the end, when it came down to it, he sacrificed his freedom to save us.
“Worked it out, have you?” Deacon asked. He was wearing his empty, patronising smile.
“He wouldn’t sign the contracts, so you beat him up. And because he knew you wouldn’t leave him be until he signed them, he put himself in prison so that he was beyond your reach,” I said.
“Spot on, Chels
ea–” Deacon said. But before he could say another word, the lights went out, plunging the entire building into pitch darkness.
“What now?” the boss asked.
“Blown a fuse?” the white-haired man suggested.
“I’ll get a torch,” Wells said. I heard him feel his way in the dark past Karen, heading for a cupboard behind her.
Suddenly, the strains of a strong, male voice singing rapid staccato notes at an ultrasonic pitch floated into the room.
It was Brandon!
I spun towards the corridor, matching his ultrasonic song with my own, creating a haunting harmony. The darkness instantly fled away and I could see perfectly. My brother was sprinting up the corridor towards us, a fire raging in his eyes.
Darting in to the staffroom, he acknowledged me with a nod and pulled a long, serrated blade from his belt. I moved back quickly so I wouldn’t be in his way. He darted past Deacon, slashing his blade across his throat in one flowing movement as he did so. Holding on to his neck with both hands, the debt collector went down, blood bubbling from his lips and escaping between his fingers. He would be dead in seconds.
Brandon went for the older man next, who was still holding a handkerchief to his split lip, eyes darting around in the dark, trying to work out what was going on. With barely a hitch in his stride, my brother buried the blade to the hilt in his stomach. The man collapsed with a strangled cry and laid still, his blood staining the carpet.
Terrified, and having no idea what was happening, Karen began to rise from her chair.
“Don’t move, Karen!” I shouted.
“Where’s the blasted light!” the boss bellowed.
“Got it!” Wells shouted as he pulled a torch from the cupboard. He thumbed it on and swung it around the room.
As soon as the beam illuminated Brandon, the young men with the boss attacked, one pulling out a knife, the other an expandable police baton. My brother ducked beneath the torch light by diving to the floor. He scooted to the left and as he came up again, he stabbed the first hoodlum in the side and as he stepped past him, the back as well. As the thug went down, he slashed the second man’s throat, putting him out of the fight too.
Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1) Page 25