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

by Peter R Stone

  Eating roasted wallaby after nothing but quandong and berries, was simply heaven. Even Madison accepted some, so I guess hunger was winning over pride.

  Chapter Ten

  For the next two weeks, we just concentrated on getting our strength back. Between searching for bush tucker, and bagging wallabies or wild dogs to eat, we engaged in numerous physical exercises.

  We practiced archery to improve our shooting skills and strengthen our chest muscles; we pumped iron with a set of old weights we found in one of the neighbouring buildings; we went for long runs through deserted side streets at night. We even bathed at the beach.

  We also journeyed most every day to a creek a couple of klicks to the south in order to refill our water bottles. On the way back, Nanako and I sometimes took a detour into one of the mansions on the beachfront for some private time.

  All this exercise did wonders for my chest wound; it finally healed up and I was even able to use a bow again. It seemed like forever since I'd used my left arm normally.

  The terrible fears and doubts that plagued me ever since Madison had dropped that bombshell about me and Nanako not being able to have kids were still there, but I tried to distance myself from them by keeping myself busy.

  Madison remained as stubborn as ever, so we kept her tied up and tied to something for much of that time. Her arm was healing, but very slowly, and she still had trouble moving it. I tried to get through to her on numerous occasions, but it was like talking to a plank of wood for all the good it did me.

  On Thursday morning, the fifteenth day after we’d arrived in St. Kilda, we were all outside at the back of the restaurant. The area was enclosed on two sides by wooden fences and on the other by the back of an apartment block. We’d cleared a lot of junk, including crates and plastic rubbish bins, out of the way in order to give us some room. For a change, I’d brought Madison out for some fresh air today.

  We'd made a target for archery practice by putting panels of partially rotten wood together. Our arrows were specially modified to penetrate Skel armour, and so went pretty deep into wood, which is why we chose rotten wood for the target, otherwise we'd never be able to get them out again. We'd also found two bows in a house further up the street during one of our exploratory excursions, so we were all bow armed now. Well, except for Madison, of course.

  In fine form, Nanako had just put five arrows in quick succession into the hand-drawn bull's eye when Madison surprised us by actually talking. "I don’t get why you lot waste your time with such archaic weapons?"

  I pulled out my pistol with its four remaining bullets, and showed it to her. "The only way to beat Skel is to beat them at their own game – to sneak up on them and ambush them. Fire one of these at a Skel and you’ve thrown away any chance at surprise. Maybe you’ll kill the Skel you shoot at, but every other Skel in the area will come running." I pointed to the bow and arrows Nanako was carrying. "Take out a Skel with an arrow, and the only person who’ll know about it is the one you just hit. And if he’s dead, he isn't gonna be telling anyone."

  "What a load of baloney," Madison scoffed. "If guns can’t penetrate Skel armour, what good are bows and arrows?"

  "These ain’t no ordinary arrows," Shorty said as he walked over and showed her an arrow from his quiver. "David modified the arrowheads to penetrate Skel armour."

  "Bah."

  "Over the past two years we’ve taken out many Skel this way," I assured her. "In fact, David and Shorty used their bows to kill one of the Skel who attacked you two weeks ago."

  "And the other four? What happened to them?" she demanded, eyeing me sceptically.

  "Jones popped ‘em with his gun," Shorty explained.

  "Which of course alerted every Skel in the area we were there, but as time was of the essence, I had no choice," I added.

  "You shot four Skel with a pistol, Jones? I don’t think so. Come on, what are you guys hiding? Where did you really find me?" she asked angrily.

  "You have to shoot Skel in the throat or neck; it’s the only place they don’t cover with bones," I said, annoyed by her continual refusal to believe us. "One shot, one kill."

  "Custodians are trained to shoot at the chest because head shots are too easy to miss. Do you expect me to believe you can hit four Skel in the throat in quick succession – in a combat situation?" she scoffed.

  Nanako threw her hands up in exasperation. "Madison, you don’t listen, do you? I told you before that you echolocators are different. With training, you’d be able to do it too."

  "That's right," I agreed. "And it's a bit more effective than emptying your entire magazine like you did, just to bring down one Skel, don't you think?"

  Her head snapped around, and she locked her eyes on mine. "So you really were there, when the Skel caught me?"

  "Only reason you’re still alive," I said.

  "And you really took down four of them?" she asked, glancing from me to David and Shorty, challenging them to contradict me.

  "He did," David assured her.

  "Though the fourth one fell on top of him. You should have seen him, trying to squirm his way out while the fifth Skel was trying to brain him," Shorty said with a laugh.

  "Which is why Shorty and I had to take down the last one with our bows, ‘cause Jones was pinned beneath the Skel," David explained.

  "And the Skel, were they really trying to…you know?" Madison asked, her expression softening slightly.

  I nodded.

  Her eyes widened as the truth finally sank in. "That means that you three guys, you saw me..."

  "We didn’t look," I declared solemnly.

  Shorty and David, however, contradicted my statement by shifting nervously from foot to foot and avoiding eye contact with her.

  "Yet you got my clothes back on."

  "Yeah."

  "Without looking?"

  "Pretty much."

  "I see," Madison said, and fell silent.

  I stared at her, hard, and reflected on the fact that she'd finally bought the truth that we'd rescued her from the Skel. So I pulled out my Custodian combat knife and approached her.

  "What are you doing?" she snapped, staring fearfully at the exposed blade.

  "Tell you what," I said, pointing at her bound wrists. "If you'll join us on our mission to expose the Rangers, I'll cut your bonds right now."

  "Jones?" David asked, his voice wavering.

  "What are you doing, Jones?" Leigh squeaked at the same time.

  "Join you? Forget it!" Madison snapped, her face closing up again.

  "Well, the offer's there if you change your mind," I said.

  "Bah!" she replied as she turned and went to sit by the restaurant's back door.

  "Let's see some more of that archery," I said to Nanako, who had retrieved her arrows from the target.

  I watched Nanako as she prepared to shoot again. She withdrew an arrow, fitted it to the bowstring...

  ...and my mind did a virtual flip as another memory surfaced, initially superimposing the present and then eclipsing it.

  I was with Nanako, Councillor Okada and Nanako on an outdoor archery range, along with many other Japanese folk. But I'd never imagined archery like this; it was extremely ritualised and formal.

  Everyone, including me, wore traditional hakama pants, and leather gloves to protect our hands. Nanako, and the other women present, also wore a leather breastplate, to protect their breasts from the bowstring when they fired.

  The technique to fire was formulaic, with every person following the same process to fire their bow.

  I was kneeling on the ground behind Nanako, holding my bow and two arrows in my right hand, while Councillor Okada and Ken stood behind me.

  Nanako stood before us in line with other archers. I watched, mesmerised, as she drew an arrow, fitted it to the bowstring, and raised both arms above her head. As she lowered her arms, her left arm extended to its full length while her right hand drew the arrow back behind her ear. She loosed the arrow in conjunction wi
th the other archers, and her arrow smacked dead centre in the straw target.

  She broke form, then to turn her head and flashed me a beautiful smile, which I returned unashamedly like a love-struck puppy. Nanako was so beautiful, with her silky black hair and round face, her narrow waist and broad hips – and all in a petite, five-foot package. And the hakama and traditional clothes she wore did everything for her figure.

  I continued to watch as she prepared to fire her second arrow, but my attention was temporarily sequestered by Councillor Okada, who was giving Ken quite the verbal tongue-lashing. He was whispering, but he may have been shouting it out thanks to my enhanced hearing. My Japanese was still basic, but I could pick up pretty much everything the councillor said.

  "You cannot afford to think only of yourself, Ken," the councillor was saying. "As my nephew – as my chauffeur – you are very much in the public eye. Every word you speak, every action you take, will be observed, and associated back to me and to Hamamachi itself. You are, in effect, an ambassador for the town."

  "But Uncle," Ken protested.

  "No! No protestations, Ken. Your behaviour last night was reprehensible – getting drunk and staggering about bereft of your wits in the small morning hours. We were fortunate a Militia squad found you and quietly brought you home before any members of the press witnessed your shameful behaviour."

  "I wasn't that drunk; Uncle, the Militia exaggerated the whole thing..." Ken said.

  "My honour, and the town's honour, cannot be tarnished by your actions, Nephew. Do you understand? Honour is everything. If you want to drink, do it from the privacy of your own home, never again can you behave in such a way in public. Never again can you risk sullying the town's honour. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

  "Yes, Uncle," Ken sighed in defeat.

  The sound of Nanako's second arrow impacting the target drew my attention back to her just in time to see her flash me another smile. I also felt a thrill surge through me, for now that Nanako had fired her two arrows, I was up next.

  Starting the weekend after he'd met me, the councillor had brought Nanako and me to the archery range every Saturday, and it had quickly become one of my favourite pastimes.

  Nanako stepped down from the archery platform, and laid her right hand affectionately upon my arm as I stood and stepped past her. Touched and yet a little embarrassed by her public display of affection – I'd never seen my parents so much as touch each other – I sent a furtive glance in the councillor and Ken's direction, and was a little unnerved by the open display of jealously that was framing Ken's face. He clearly resented the friendship that was budding between Nanako and me...

  ...I emerged from the vividly recalled memory to see Nanako pulling her five recently fired arrows out of the makeshift target. She put the arrows back her quiver and strode over to me. "Okay, Mister, that’s five in the bull's eye. See if you can match that."

  "You’re on," I said, taking up my bow and arrows. While I stretched my left arm to loosen it up, I reflected on the memory that had just resurfaced. I was delighted to have another memory of my times with Nanako, but I was also moved that Councillor Okada had gone out of his way to spend time with us. My father had never spent time with me; he’d never taken me anywhere. Sure, he did things for me, but that’s not the same. I’d wanted a father who’d do things with me, as the councillor was doing.

  And Ken – what a doofus.

  Chapter Eleven

  I knew something was wrong the moment I awoke at dawn the following morning. I was in our makeshift bed beneath the window, but Nanako wasn't with me, and that was a first, for I always woke before her.

  She was, however, still in the room. She was sitting in the gloom of the far corner, hugging her knees to her chest with her head on her knees, and bouncing her heels up and down at a frantic pace. It looked like she was in the early stages of a panic attack.

  I scooted over and knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "What’s up, Nana-chan?"

  She didn’t reply, just kept on bouncing her heels up and down.

  "Come on, out with it. What’s troubling you?"

  Her left hand moved over to grip the hand I’d placed on her shoulder, but she still didn’t speak. I racked my brain, trying to think what could have triggered the attack, but as she’d been fine when we hit the sack last night, I had nothing.

  "Are you having doubts about Sergeant Tamura’s false accusation that I’d tried to kill myself?"

  She shook her head slightly, but stayed mute. So I shuffled in closer, wrapped my arms around her, and just held her. And watched as the sky grew slowly brighter, the sun’s rays forcing their way past the ruined blind that partly obscured the view outside our window. I could hear a kookaburra laughing raucously, and the occasional crow cawing.

  Half an hour crawled past and there was still no improvement, so I gently but firmly pulled Nanako to her feet. "Okay, Ma’am, we’re gonna go for a walk, you and me."

  She made it halfway to the door before she sagged to a squatting position. I pulled her back to her feet, and for the next five minutes, kept at her until I had coaxed her downstairs and out into the street and the fresh early-morning air. Apart from the birds and their symphony, it was dead quiet – our companions were still asleep upstairs.

  I considered ushering her towards the Catani Gardens, but by her despondent expression, I don’t think she’d manage to walk that far.

  "Stay here," I said, and ducked quickly back into the restaurant. I grabbed a small, rusty metal bin, and rushed back to her.

  Nanako had dropped down to a squatting position, so I plopped the bin down and then knelt opposite her. I picked up one of the countless shards of glass that was half-buried in the muck that covered the sidewalk and pressed it into her right hand. "Put it in the bin," I said.

  With barely conscious thought, she did what I said, and then fell motionless again.

  "Well?" I prompted.

  She flicked her eyes in my direction.

  I scooped up several more glass shards and popped them in the bin, and indicated for her to join me with a flick of my head.

  Slowly at first, but then with more deliberate movements, Nanako helped me collect the broken pieces of glass and put them in the bin.

  After we’d been at it for fifteen minutes, and her pulse rate had returned to normal, I tried to initiate conversation again. "You wanna tell me what’s going on?"

  "It’s January 23rd," she said softly, as speaking as though from a great distance.

  "Okay, help me out a bit – what’s significant about January 23rd?"

  "It’s the anniversary of when my father passed away," she admitted as she continued to put shards of glass in the bin.

  I reached out and took her hand in mine. "I wasn’t with you when you went through this the last two times, but this time I am. So we’re gonna get through this together, okay?"

  Her nod was barely perceptible, but it was there.

  "Okay, can you tell me what it is about your father’s death that causes you to react this way every time the anniversary of his death comes about?" I didn’t know much about her father’s death, only what I’d remembered in one of my recently retrieved memories of me helping her through another such anniversary not long after I’d met her. On that occasion, I’d encouraged her to join me in weeding the garden. The constructive activity and my company eventually helped to pull her out of the recurring anxiety attacks that had been afflicting her all day. Just like they were now.

  "Don’t want to talk about it," she whispered.

  We continued working for a few more minutes, and then I asked, "Your father died of cancer, yeah?"

  She nodded.

  "How long was it after he’d been diagnosed that he, you know, passed away?"

  Nanako didn’t reply. She just kept gathering glass fragments and sticking them in the bin.

  "Come on, Nana-chan, we need to talk about this. I mean, you had plenty of warning before he died, right?"r />
  "No, no warning."

  "What, he didn’t tell you he was ill?"

  She froze for a moment while she appeared to work through some monumental decision, and then continued. "We knew he had cancer. And that it was incurable. But he…he…"

  "Yes?" I encouraged softly.

  "He took his own life when it got bad." She turned to look at me then, and as tears began to flow, said, "He didn’t say goodbye; he didn’t give any indication of what he was about to do. He acted all normal one minute, and was gone the next."

  "I’m so sorry," I said as I sat beside her and put an arm around her slim shoulders. Suddenly, the events of the recent weeks fell into place. No wonder she’d slipped so rapidly into the pits of severe depression when the Ranger sergeant claimed I’d shot myself after killing my Ranger teammates. After that, she’d told me that if I had attempted suicide, it meant I didn’t love her as she loved me. That it meant I’d been willing to leave her. And so that's what she thought of her father too, that his committing suicide meant he didn’t care for or love her.

  "You were close to your father, weren’t you?" I asked.

  She nodded. "We were inseparable."

  She’d looked away, so I pulled her face around so our eyes met. "That he took his life when the cancer got too much doesn’t mean he didn’t love you, it doesn’t mean you weren’t just as special to him as he was to you."

  "No? So what does it mean, then?" she demanded while sniffing back tears.

  "It means he was in such a dark place he wasn’t able to think rationally anymore."

  "But I thought…"

  "Yes?"

  "I thought I meant more to him than that," she sobbed.

  "Nana-chan, you gotta listen to me, okay? It doesn't work like that when someone is as sick as your father was. You have to remind yourself that the illness just got too much for him at the end, okay? It got so bad he couldn’t see anything else; he wasn't capable of rational thought anymore. But his feelings for you and your family, they didn’t change, not one iota, okay? Don’t interpret all your wonderful memories of your father through this fearful perspective, that he didn’t love you like you thought he did."