Forager - the Complete Six Book Series (A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Series)

by Peter R Stone

  “Whatever,” Leigh snapped, and to me he added, “You should have left me there, Jones.”

  “For another six years?”

  “Better there than here,” he grumbled.

  “I can have you put back in if you like.” Sometimes his constant negativity got to me, but honestly, I think it was justified on this occasion.

  "Suit yourself."

  “David has something to say to you, by the way,” I said after a moment’s silence.

  “Yeah, like what?” Leigh spat, turning to take in David, who was to all attempts and purposes trying to squirm through the wall and escape into the flat next door.

  “Leigh, it was me. I was the one who told them,” David said softly as he looked at the floor.

  “Told who what?” Leigh asked, confused.

  “The Custodians. I told them about you and Amelia. Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I was angry and jealous and I just blurted it out when I bumped into one of their patrols.”

  Leigh’s mouth dropped open and he glanced at the rest of us, thinking this was some kind of a joke. When we returned his gaze with all seriousness, he realised David wasn’t kidding. He exploded into a frenzied rage and flung himself on David, punching and kicking him. David just put his arms around his head and took it without making a sound.

  Nanako shook my arm, “Ethan, do something!”

  I waited for a few more punches and kicks to land and then asked clearly but softly, “What’s happened to us, guys?”

  Leigh pulled his last punch and remained where he was, facing David and panting for breath.

  “We’ve always been so close. We’ve prided ourselves on being closer than brothers, yeah? But look at us now.” I looked at Shorty, Leigh and David. “We’re letting ourselves be torn apart by jealousy, resentment, hatred and unforgiveness. And yeah, David stuffed up big time, and he’ll have to carry this on his conscience for the rest of his life – and that’s a heavy burden. But haven’t we all stuffed up at some stage or another?”

  “Jones, in case you missed it, Amelia’s dead ‘cause of him!” Leigh snapped back.

  I pointed my finger at Leigh. “Don’t you dare go placing all the blame for her death on David. If you hadn't been sleeping with her in the first place, the Custodians wouldn't have executed her and put you in prison. Now don’t get me wrong, I'm not saying I agree with that ludicrous law, ‘cause I don’t, but both you and Amelia knew the risks you were taking when you went down that path, didn’t you?”

  Leigh glared at me.

  “Answer the question, Leigh.”

  “All right! Yes, we knew the risk.”

  “And yet you did it anyway. How long did you think you could get away with it before her family realised, huh?” I pressed.

  “But it wasn’t them who reported us, it was him!” Leigh shot back, pointing at David. “Someone who was supposed to be my friend.”

  “Friends, even family members, make mistakes and do things that hurt one another,” I said, and thought of my father and the terrible damage he inflicted on me and my wife. I realised I should be talking to myself as well as Leigh, but I hadn't reached that point yet. “But we have to somehow find it within ourselves to forgive each other and move on. Not one of us is perfect, Leigh. We five, no, we six," I said, putting my arm around my petite wife, "are a family. Let's not let anything come between us, not anything, not ever."

  Leigh glared at David and then at me, and said, “You can't fix something like this with words, Jones.” And he stomped towards the door.

  "Be here by five tomorrow morning – Custodian's orders," I shouted after him as he stormed out the door and slammed it behind him.

  "That went really well," Shorty murmured. I honestly couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or serious.

  Nanako hopped off the bed and grabbed David by the sleeve. “Come on. Let’s put some ice on those bruises.”

  All things considering, I guess it went better than I expected. Leigh found out the truth and lashed out at David, but hadn't done any permanent damage to him in the process. How long it would take to mend the rift between them, I couldn't even begin to guess.

  When David and Nanako rejoined us, I explained to everyone about our mission to Hamamachi tomorrow, and we discussed the types of dangers we could encounter along the way.

  * * *

  We left Newhome at six the following morning, while the sun was still low on the horizon. We foragers had been given a modified G-Wagon to drive; it seated five rather than four. Michal was the driver with me beside him to navigate – or rather, be on the lookout for Skel ambushes. To assist me in that task, the Custodians had given me a pair of binoculars, and oh my, they were so much nicer than the ones I hid on the roof of my apartment block. I wondered if the Custodians would let me keep them after this mission. Yeah, right.

  Shorty, Leigh, and Nanako sat in the back seat, with Nanako in the middle. A trailer laden with goods and supplies to be traded with Hamamachi was towed by the G-Wagon. A large vinyl bag containing five sets of bows and arrows had also been dumped on the floor between the front and back seats. I was amazed to see that King had caved in to all of my conditions.

  Councillor Okada and his large black 4WD came next, with David riding shotgun with him should he need breaks from driving. More items for trade filled the 4WD’s boot. Leigh was still looking daggers at David, so I thought it best to keep them separated for our peace of mind. Plus, David was a better driver and was completely obsessed with the big 4WD and its computerised dashboard.

  Bringing up the rear was King and his squad of Custodians, riding in their Bushmaster. One Custodian manned the vehicle’s roof-mounted machine gun, as usual.

  Although we needed to travel east and then southeast to get to Hamamachi, I figured that route was too predictable. So we left Newhome via the western gates, and initially headed west, then north, then east, and finally southeast. I also used minor roads rather than the major thoroughfares. Nanako took over giving directions once we got into the country.

  The journey of a 180km would have taken only a couple of hours once, but now took five times as long due to the condition of the roads. We had to slow to a virtual crawl to navigate some of the obstacles we encountered. Sometimes we even had to stop and clear them out of the way.

  * * *

  We hit the outskirts of Hamamachi just after four in the afternoon, after an uneventful journey with zero Skel sightings. My strategy of keeping away from the main thoroughfares seemed to have paid off.

  I was hoping that coming back to Hamamachi would trigger more memories of the time I spent here. Memories of Nanako and of how I'd been shot. Though I wasn't looking forward looking over my shoulder every minute because I didn't know who had shot me.

  Hamamachi had no walls, just as Nanako had told me. In fact, the town's outskirts were miles and miles of fenced off fields of grazing cows and sheep. These were patrolled by the Hamamachi Militia, who rode horseback or drove 4WD vehicles, and unlike the Custodians, the Militia wore civilian clothes. No one challenged our progress, so I guessed the councillor must have phoned ahead to advise them he was coming.

  As we drew closer, we passed farms, orchards, and fully enclosed greenhouse nurseries. We passed a number of Japanese on the road, some walking and others riding horses or bikes. A few bowed respectfully, but most eyed us suspiciously. I guess the armoured Bushmaster made quite an imposing sight.

  We finally hit the actual town itself, and unlike Newhome, most of the houses were one or two story townhouses. Many had Japanese rice-paper screens and doors, which were kept safely behind glass so they couldn't be ravaged by the weather. Roofs were typically made of clay tiles that were glazed in blues, greys, greens and even reds. Compared to the dull greys of Newhome, Hamamachi was a treat to our eyes.

  Nanako directed us to the town trade centre, the TTC, which was only a couple of streets back from the beach. It was a large two-story building, and was where all trade with neighbouri
ng towns was conducted.

  Upon seeing our arrival, a Japanese Militia squad opened tall wooden gates to the left of the building and ushered us into the loading dock. There was a large parking lot to the left of the dock that could accommodate vehicles of any size. Goods were loaded into the TTC at ground level through three roller shutter doors at the far end. Two roller doors were up, letting me see inside a large warehouse filled with row after row of shelves packed with boxes and crates. Two more squads of Militia stood beside the doors.

  TTC workers directed us to drive the G-Wagon and 4WD to within a dozen metres of the loading dock. They brought over two small forklift trucks with pallets to collect the items we brought to trade. Councillor Okada got out to oversee the unloading.

  The Bushmaster pulled up behind the G-Wagon but left a big enough space for the forklift to get to the trailer. King got out and stood to one side, watching the TTC workers somewhat apprehensively as they began to place the items we brought on the forklift pallets.

  The foragers stayed near the G-Wagon, ready to help if needed, but Nanako took me by the hand and led us to stand on the other side of King. There wasn't much I could do with my arm in a sling.

  Councillor Okada walked over to join us. "This is the beginning of a grand new era." He smiled proudly. "A time of goodwill and trade between Victoria's two most productive towns."

  "What has Newhome sent here for trade?" I asked. I knew Hamamachi would be sending back a batch of Smartphones, but had no idea what we brought. Any questions presented to King and his men before we left were met with disinterested grunts.

  "Newhome has sent biologically altered fruit and vegetable seeds, engineered to grow in Australian soil and at greatly increased growth rates," said Counsellor Okada. "Also tens of thousands of embryos of bio-engineered poultry, and a refrigeration-maturation unit to transport them here and mature them later."

  I looked at the wooden crates and plastic and metal boxes dockworkers were unloading from the trailer. "Our chickens are that good?" I asked, surprised.

  Councillor Okada laughed. "Your geneticists are quite brilliant, Ethan. From just a few hens and roosters they have given us this batch of modified embryos."

  "That's incredible. I didn't know Newhome was doing that," I replied as I watched several Japanese men struggle mightily to push and drag the black refrigeration-maturation unit from the trailer onto a pallet. My mind balked at the sheer weight of the thing. It obviously weighed at least 250 kilos.

  An uneasy feeling crept into my gut. Why would a refrigeration-maturation unit the size of a small refrigerator weigh so much? What kind of metals had they built it with? Irresistibly curious, I stepped closer and shouted ultrasonically as loud as I could, disguising it as a yawn.

  Trying to hear an echo from inside something metal wasn't easy, but with my hearing, I could normally manage if I was close enough. As this was a refrigerator I was expecting to get back an echo indicating steel, copper, aluminium, plastic and fibreglass, but the most notable echo that returned was something far more dense than lead.

  It had to be uranium.

  In fact, from what I could tell, the guts of the refrigeration-maturation unit had been replaced by a thermonuclear warhead. A hydrogen bomb no doubt. (I'd seen schematics of them in contraband books I'd read while foraging. I was curious about the things that had destroyed our world.)

  Special containers with the chicken embryos, which must have perished since there was no refrigeration, were on a shelf above the bomb. If they opened the unit it would still appear to be the real thing.

  The Custodians hadn't come here to trade, but to blow Hamamachi off the map.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The uneasy feeling in my stomach expanded into a tidal wave of dread that swept right through me. I staggered back a step in shock and my face blanched. I turned my head slowly towards King.

  To my surprise, he was watching me intently. He had seen my shocked reaction.

  "King, what are you doing?"

  "You know, don't you." He glowered at me as though I was evil incarnate. "You're the accursed bio-engineered scum I've been searching for these past two weeks."

  "Answer the question, King."

  "I'm doing what needs to be done," he snarled.

  "There’s no justification for genocide, King!"

  "It's either them or us. They're behind the Skel attacks on Newhome and you know it. Now back off and keep your mouth shut!" He returned to watching the TTC workers unload the rest of the boxes from the trailer.

  “You said Nanako and I could stay here after you left – you’re trying to kill us too.”

  “That was the general idea. Now shut up and let the trade go ahead, and then maybe I’ll let you two come back with us.”

  I had no idea when the bomb was set to go off, but I guessed it would be soon after we left. In which case, there probably wasn't a great deal of time to deal with this insanity.

  A dozen scenarios involving me attacking King fled through my mind, but with my arm in a sling there was no way I could carry them out. Instead, I reached back and touched Nanako's hand, getting her attention. Turning my head half towards her so that I could also watch King, I made a massive effort and somehow forced myself to speak entirely in Japanese. "Nanako, quietly and without making a fuss, please go and warn the officer in charge of the Militia security detail that the Custodians have brought a bomb with them."

  "What?" Her voice wavered.

  "Just trust me."

  She nodded and tried to walk nonchalantly towards the Militia sergeant standing near the roller shutter door.

  Unfortunately, King noticed our exchange and, putting two and two together, realised I was not going to play along like he had hoped.

  In a blindingly fast move he drew his sidearm and aimed for Nanako. I shouted to distract him and knocked his gun aside so that the shot went wide. Nanako threw her arms over her head and flung herself behind the closest forklift while shouting in Japanese to the Militia sergeant.

  I tried to disarm King with a knife-hand strike to his arm but he was expecting it this time. He sidestepped my blow and thumped the butt of his pistol on my chest, directly over my wound. Agonising pain speared through my chest and I collapsed at his feet. I writhed about on the ground, trying to ride out the wave of pain and stay conscious.

  The secret out, King turned to the Bushmaster and shouted, "Secure the dock!"

  The loading dock instantly descended into complete pandemonium.

  King fired his pistol at the Militia sergeant, downing him with his second shot. At the same time, the Custodian operating the Bushmaster's roof-mounted machine gun opened up. He cut down two more Militia and forced the rest to scatter. The last two Custodians came running out the back of the Bushmaster and attacked the Militia squad guarding the gates. They shot two and wounded a third, who crawled back around the gates towards safety. Another Militia used the gates for protection and fired at the Custodians, forcing them to duck for cover as well. One used the Bushmaster's rear door while the other hid behind a parked car.

  The surviving Militia returned fire, snapping off frantic shots at the Custodians as they hurried towards cover. Two ducked inside the TTC, where they would pop out, fire a burst, and duck back. The rest took cover behind stacks of wooden pallets and the forklift trucks.

  Still lying at King's feet as he engaged the Militia, I looked around for my fellow foragers and spotted them crouched beside the G-Wagon, eyes wide with fear and confusion. They had no idea why the Custodians suddenly opened fire on the Japanese.

  I made eye contact with Michal and pointed at King and the Custodians, and then made a slashing motion across my throat with my finger. His eyes widened in surprise, shocked by my instructions. I repeated them just to make sure he understood. He finally nodded, opened the G-Wagon's rear passenger door and reached in to remove the bag of bows and arrows.

  I looked around for Nanako and spotted her next to the forklift. She was kneeling beside
the Militia sergeant shot by King, trying to stem the blood flowing from his chest. But going by her desperate expression, she was fighting a losing battle.

  Bullets whizzed past and ricocheted off the Bushmaster as a new Militia squad rushed out of the TTC. Their charge was cut short as they were gunned down by the Bushmaster’s machine gunner. The remaining Militia in the courtyard kept firing at the Bushmaster, but without any effect.

  I watched King hurry over to the fake refrigeration-maturation unit, unlock it and flip the lid open. He scooped out armloads of small plastic and metal containers that contained the dead chick embryos, and removed the metal shelf beneath them. Still holding to my aching chest, I clambered to my feet to find he was attempting to change the timer on the detonator. It was set at three hours, but he was no doubt trying to make it blow sooner. No wonder he wanted to drop off, pick up, and leave straight away.

  Stepping behind the lieutenant, I pulled a small, sharp knife I had hidden in my boot and tried to stab him in the neck. Unfortunately, he sensed my movement and whirled towards me, causing the knife to plunge into his right shoulder instead.

  Still, it was enough to distract him from the bomb. He flinched off the next blow I aimed at his bull-like neck and booted me in the stomach, driving me back a few steps. I made to rush back at him, but he grabbed his pistol with his left hand and aimed it at my head.

  That would have been the end of me except for Michal, who suddenly appeared behind King and put him in a crushing neck hold, spoiling his aim as he fired. The bullet went wide, but still glanced off the right side of my forehead.

  Everything went black.

  I can't have been out for more than a few seconds. When I came to, I was laying on my side, facing King and Michal, who were still grappling. In what felt like a dream, I watched King's face go red and the veins on his neck bulge – he had a couple of seconds before Michal's neck hold would render him unconscious. But to my horror, King shoved the pistol behind him, pressed it against Michal's stomach, and fired three shots.