“How many times do I have to tell you he’s not an informer?”
“Have you found out where he worked previously?”
“An automotive factory.”
“He told us that when we met him. I want to know which one.” He glowered at me, exasperated.
“I tried, but he won’t open up. Just says his last job was too painful to talk about.”
“What the blazes have you two been talking about all night then?”
He was watching us? An involuntary shudder wracked through me. “School days, mostly.”
“Man, you’re utterly useless, you know that?” he spat.
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Don’t smart-mouth me, boy. Try the direct approach, ask him outright.”
I rolled my eyes. “I already did. If I press the issue he just clams up and won’t talk to me for hours. Like he did today.”
“We’ve got to find a way to get him off the team; he’s really cramping our freedom. If you can’t get me the name of where he worked so I can get some dirt on him, I’m going to have to try more drastic measures.”
That sent chills down my spine. “Like what?”
“Don’t worry your little head about it.” He turned and stomped back to his friends.
I hurried to the toilet, mind awash with fears for Ryan’s safety. They already tried to get rid of Ryan by letting Skel capture him. So what exactly would ‘drastic measures’ entail? From here on, I would have to really keep my wits about me, watching over Ryan as well as keeping an eye on the other three goons.
* * *
After what was for many of us a sleepless night followed by a day in which we sorted recycling materials into piles, they let us go home in the afternoon. By then we were starving, grumbling and irritable from having been locked in the warehouse for twenty-four hours with nothing to do. Before he let us go home, the boss filled us in on what happened to the protestors. The leaders and other notables were sentenced to lengthy prison-factory sentences and everyone else who participated was given a hefty fine.
It galled me that Con had been right when he told us not to get involved.
* * *
It was Friday lunchtime. We were back in the same street, foraging for paper. Con said the council was about to publish a new handbook outlining the town’s ideologies, and demanded truckloads of recyclable paper.
Ryan and I ate our lunch sitting on a pile of bricks in the small backyard of a townhouse. The other three were next door, by the sound of it. Con hadn’t made any moves towards Ryan yet, but I was on full alert, ready for anything but having no idea what it would be.
Voices coming from the property behind us startled me from my reverie.
“What is it?” Ryan asked.
I held a finger to my lips. “I thought I heard something.”
“Skel?” He jumped to his feet, eyes wide.
The voices were not guttural like Skel, and I could hear males and females, chatting amicably, even laughing. I picked my way silently towards the back fence, moving through knee-high wild grass that grew beneath a tree whose branches formed an umbrella over the yard.
“What are you doing!” Ryan hissed.
Reaching the fence, I knelt and looked through a gap between the rotting wooden planks. I saw a large shed with asbestos walls and a corrugated roof, and a dilapidated house behind it. Four youths were in the backyard, two guys and two girls, all about my age. They had removed boxes of tools and equipment from the shed and laid them out on the wide concrete area between the house and shed.
“Anyone know what this is for?” asked a tall, slim guy with brown hair. He was struggling to hold up a strange iron contraption with wheels, levers, and threaded rods.
“It’s an old lathe,” replied one of the girls. She was a couple of inches shorter than me, but considerably more solid.
“How do you plug it in?” he asked.
“That’s only part of it,” she replied. “Rest is still in the shed.”
“How do you know so much, Jen?” the guy asked.
“She actually does things with her dad,” replied the second guy. He was built like Ryan, a bodybuilder, and of Indian ancestry, at a guess.
“Sorry, milking cows and farming just doesn’t do it for me. Plenty more interesting things in the world,” the tall guy said.
The other girl, who had been watching her companions banter good naturedly, suddenly pointed to my position and staggered backwards in fear. “Someone’s there!” she shrieked.
In the bat of an eye, the four of them pulled handguns from their belts and aimed them at me.
“Whoever you are, you’ve got three seconds to put your hands up and show yourself, or we’ll blow your head off!” the Indian guy shouted.
I almost died when Ryan unexpectedly grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away.
“Let’s go, Brandon!” he whispered fiercely.
Following a hunch that these kids were not bad news, I shook his hand off, stood, and lifted my arms above my head. The top half of the fence plank was missing, so they could see me clearly.
“We mean you no harm.” I spoke slowly but clearly.
“Who are you and why you spying on us?” asked the heavyset girl. Her gun was aimed at my head.
“Not spying, just curious. Never seen guys and girls working together before,” I replied.
The Indian lowered his gun. “From Newhome, huh?”
I nodded. “You’ve heard of our town?”
“We’ve bumped into one of your teams before,” he replied. “How many of you are there?”
“Just two,” I replied. I didn’t want to reveal there were five of us, just in case they didn’t have honourable intentions.
“Well, don’t stand there with your arms waving about. Hop over and say hello proper like,” he said. He put his gun back in his belt.
I looked at Ryan. “Shall we?”
“We really shouldn’t. We don’t know anything about them.”
I stared at him, debating whether to obey him or not.
“Don’t be shy, we don’t bite,” said the second girl. They had all put their guns away.
“I want to meet them.” I looked at Ryan and then used a low hanging branch to clamber over the fence. To my relief, they didn’t attack me. No doubt concerned for my safety, Ryan scrambled over the fence a moment later.
The kids stood, shook our hands, and introduced themselves. The tall guy was David, the Indian was Mukesh, and the girls were Wendy and Esther. I had to elbow Ryan in the ribs to say his name. He clearly didn’t trust them.
“Where are you guys from?” I asked.
“Ballarat,” Esther replied.
“You’re foragers?”
“Sure are. We’re looking for old tools this week. Many of our farms still use equipment and machinery from the dark ages.” She laughed, a rich, musical sound. I couldn’t pick her background, but I figured she had some Asian in her, going by her slim figure, eyes, and dark hair.
“You have farms?” I was spellbound
“Of course,” David said.
“But your town wall must stretch for miles and miles!” I could scarcely imagine what they were describing.
“We don’t have a wall. Just a sprawling town surrounded by acres of farms, grazing land, and vineyards,” he replied.
“But what about the Skel? And how do your Custodians – your police force – keep your people in line?” I asked.
“We have army reservists to deal with Skel. We have police too, but I think you’ll find they’re nothing like your Custodians, from what we’ve been told. Our society...” David turned to the others. “How do I explain it?”
“Our people enjoy a lot more freedoms than you Newhomers do. We can come and go as we please, there’s no segregation of males and females, and no specific gender assigned rolls,” Esther said.
“Males and females are allowed to mix freely?” I was awestruck by this revelation.
“Of course.�
��
From there I couldn’t help myself, bombarding them with question after question. I soon learned that the people of Ballarat lived an idyllic existence compared to ours. I was stunned, amazed, and jealous to hear how other Australians lived. And it wasn’t just the inhabitants from Ballarat, either. Esther assured me that their way of life was the norm for all other Australian towns.
So what was with Newhome? Who were the Founders, and why did they set up such a restrictive system, forcing us to live like prisoners. I knew what they claimed – it was all meant to create a society that wouldn’t make the same mistakes as our forefathers. Yet how did that make any sense when there were other towns out there not following the same laws? What was I missing?
It became obvious I would never stop picking the Ballarat forager’s brains, so Ryan reminded me we had work to do. The thought suddenly occurred to me that I could ask these kids if I could come back to Ballarat with them today after they finished foraging. From what they told us, I was sure they would say allow it. But as tempting as that idea was, I couldn’t do it. Who would look after my family if I did?
Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. If I couldn’t escape alone because I wouldn’t abandon my family, I had to take them with me. The question was how.
We parted company with the kids from Ballarat and got back to work, my mind awash with a multitude of thoughts about the freedoms everyone else in Victoria – if not Australia – enjoyed.
The day finally drew to an end and we trucked back home. As it was Friday, we got paid, though this was no cause for celebration, but for fear and trepidation. It meant I would have to face Deacon and his sadistic offsider again, and if they weren’t happy with me handing over most of my wage, they would give me another hiding.
With my heart racing, I hurried out of the Recycling Works towards home. I wished there was some way, any way, my family and I could escape my father’s legacy. I couldn’t live in a constant state of anxiety because of the debt collectors and their heavy-handed approach. I had to find a way to get free! And not just me, but my family as well.
After crossing the road, I was walking past a ten-storey apartment block when two familiar forms stepped out from behind the building.
It took all my will power not to turn tail and run for it, though my hands strayed subconsciously towards the foot-sized bruises on my thighs.
“Next time I tell you to do something, Brandon Thomas, you do it! You got me?” Deacon snarled.
“Touch one of my sisters again and you’ll never see another cent from me. Have you got me?” I took out the wage envelope and held it in front of him in a clenched fist.
“You insolent lout!” In a blur of motion, he grabbed me by the collar and slammed me back against the apartment wall. He followed this with a fist into my midriff, winding me. I folded over his arm and dropped the money. Thankfully, he didn’t possess Well’s strength, otherwise I’d be on the ground gasping for breath.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Shouted a familiar voice.
Oh no, it’s Ryan!
Chapter Twenty-Five
We turned and saw a somewhat incensed Ryan running towards us. Straightening up a little, I met his gaze and frantically shook my head. I didn’t want him to get hurt too – I’d never be able to look him in the eye again.
“Take your hands off him!” Ryan barked when he reached us.
“This doesn’t concern you, boy,” Deacon said. He let go of me and turned to confront Ryan. They were about the same height, but Wells towered above them both.
“You touch my friend, it concerns me. Now nick off.” Ryan wasn’t cowed in the slightest, but he had no idea of the danger he was in.
Deacon gave an almost imperceptible nod and stepped back. Wells immediately leaped into action, striding forward and swinging a punch at Ryan’s head that would fell a tree.
Ryan sidestepped and effortlessly redirected the blow past him. After that, he snapped a right jab into Wells jaw, and followed with a left cross. The big man staggered back, blinking rapidly as he tried to maintain his balance.
“You punk!” Deacon snarled. He came in next, fists swinging.
Ryan stepped in closer, letting a punch glance off his jaw that made his teeth rattle. Undaunted, he slammed a left hook to the side of Deacon’s face followed by an uppercut that snapped his head back. The older man went down, shaking his head. He seemed genuinely surprised that Ryan bested him, but not as much as me, perhaps. I thought they would’ve pummelled Ryan into a bruised and bloody pulp. Where on earth did he learn to fight like that!
Deacon regained his feet and Ryan moved towards him with fists raised, but I jumped forward, grabbing his arm and tugging him backwards. “Stop – please!”
Ryan looked at me in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Deacon glanced at Wells, and when he saw he was still unsteady on his feet, he turned back to me. “You’ll pay for this.” With that, he placed a hand on his towering sidekick and the two of them disappeared amongst the apartment blocks.
My heart missed a beat when I saw the envelope with my wage lying on the sidewalk. Deacon hadn’t even bothered to pick it up. I was so dead! The beating they gave me as a message to Brandon was going to seem like a friendly pat on the back compared to what they’d do next time I saw them. Worse, they’d probably attack both “Brandon’ and “me,” meaning I’d get a double thrashing.
Ryan grabbed me by the shoulders and swung me around to face him. “What’s wrong with you? Why weren’t you fighting back? Why did you stop me?”
“What’s wrong with me? Do you know what you’ve just done?” I was scared, angry, and shaking.
“What I’ve done? Why did you just stand there and let them rob you?”
“They weren’t robbing me! Why couldn’t you have just butted out?” I spat. “Didn’t you notice me shaking my head, telling you not to get involved?”
I batted his hands away from my shoulders and paced up and down, fretting, wondering if I should grab the money and race after them. Maybe if I got on my knees and apologised they’d let me off easy? Yeah, right.
Ryan took hold of my elbow. “If they weren’t robbing you, what were they doing? I saw you handing over your wage!”
I tried to shake off his hand, but his grip was like a vice. “Ryan, you’ve made everything a hundred times worse!”
“Made what worse? Come on, Brandon, talk to me.” His face suddenly lit up. “The injuries you had on Wednesday – they did that to you?”
“Just drop it!”
“Answer me, blast it!”
“Okay, yes. It was them. And now thanks to you, the next time I see them they’ll put me in hospital!”
“You owe them money, right?” He looked mildly sympathetic.
Reluctantly, I nodded.
“Because they supplied you with drugs?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, lay off about the drugs!” I shouted, forgetting to keep my voice an octave lower. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.
“If not drugs, then what?”
“My father racked up a ton of debt, okay? Debts they lumped on me when he was locked up.”
“Leaning on people because they owe money is illegal, Brandon. Go to the Custodians and those two will be behind bars quick smart. I’ll even testify on your behalf.”
“They’ve made it clear that if I do that, their associates will get revenge against my mother and sister – sisters. So I’m trapped, Ryan.”
“How much do you owe? Maybe I can help?” That concerned look framed his face again, compassion pouring from his eyes. How I wished we could share a genuine friendship, not one marred by my deception. He was such a nice guy.
I sighed. “Look, thanks, but it’s gonna take my entire life to pay it off.”
He let go of my elbow. “There’s got to be a way out of this fix.”
I plucked my money off the ground and stuffed it in my pocket. “If there is, I sure can’t see it. Now, if you don�
��t mind, I’ve got to get home and make sure those guys aren’t paying my mother and sisters a visit.”
“I’ll come with you–”
“No! You’ve done enough!” I stuck my hands up, and then bolted, running as fast as I could manage. If those guys were headed for the homeless shelter, I had to get there before them. If they put me in hospital, so be it, but I couldn’t let them hurt Karen or Mother.
Life sucked.
* * *
I got home in relatively short order and was relieved to find that Deacon and Wells had not popped over. I filled my mother and sister in on what happened. Needless to say, Mother was not happy. I gave her the packet of money to give to Deacon should they turn up when I wasn’t here for some reason, and then we waited.
An hour passed and there was still no sign of them. I was so troubled in mind and soul, dreading my next confrontation with them.
Tired of my endless fretting and pacing, Mother eventually told me to shower and shed my Brandon persona.
I had just put up my hair when I heard booted feet approach our quarters. I could tell by the gait it wasn’t Deacon and Wells. Worse – it was Ryan.
“Shoot!” I exclaimed, eyes darting frantically from my mother to my sister.
Karen rose unsurely to her feet. “What is it?”
“Someone’s coming,” I replied. I couldn’t tell them I knew who it was.
“Is it them?” Mother fished the money from her pocket, hands trembling.
The footsteps paused and there was a gentle knock at the door.
I glanced back at her. “No, I don’t think so.”
I knew I risked blowing my dual-identity if Ryan saw me, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to meet him as myself at last. The very thought sent butterflies flitting through my stomach. What if I didn’t make a positive impression on him? What if he ignored me, seeking only to speak to ‘Brandon.’
He knocked again.
“Shall I get it?” Mother asked, coming forward.
Forager - the Complete Six Book Series (A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Series) Page 88