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

by Peter R Stone

  Ryan’s mother joined us from the kitchen. She was shorter than I was, but not by much, and like my mother, was considerably younger than her husband. She eyed me suspiciously, but not unkindly.

  “Ryan, what is going on? Who is this young man and why have you brought him here in this condition?” Ryan’s father asked as he knelt beside me and gave my injury a quick going over.

  “Young woman, actually. Her name is Chelsea. I need you to treat her injury on the quiet,” Ryan replied.

  “Absolutely not – we have got to get her to hospital as soon as possible. What on earth were you thinking, bringing her here?”

  “Because she’ll get arrested for masquerading as a man if she’s taken to hospital. I promised her you would help her.” Ryan said heatedly.

  “You know better than to make promises you cannot keep, Son,” his mother said.

  “This was a mistake – I’m going home.” I flashed Ryan a dirty look. I tried to rise, but his father caught me and gently pushed me back down.

  “You’re not going anywhere, young lady. Trish, call an ambulance,” he said.

  “No!” Ryan moved quickly to block his mother’s route to the phone. “Father, please, you have to treat her here.”

  “I can’t! It would breach my code of ethics to treat a wound like that away from the hospital. Besides, if she’s arrested for masquerading as a guy, she will learn to act more responsibly in the future.”

  “You don’t understand, Father – they were shooting at me, but she jumped in the way!”

  His father’s protests died on his lips.

  “Please, don’t send her to hospital.” Ryan pleaded with his parents.

  Mr. Hill suddenly became all action. “Right, help me get her to your mother’s bed. Trish? Fetch my medical bag would you?”

  As I reflected on the rarity of his parents addressing one another by their first names, Ryan bundled me into his mother’s bedroom while his father stripped back the covers. They laid me, bloody clothes, shoes and all, on her immaculately kept bed – a bed with a highly polished, wooden bed head and swept back mosquito nets.

  Mrs. Hill came in with a heavy leather medicine bag and popped it on the bedside table.

  “Why are you still here?” Ryan’s father asked him.

  “I thought I could–” he began.

  “I don’t know what relationship you have with this young woman – and we will discuss that later – but it is inappropriate for you to be here during the procedure.”

  “Go on, out you go.” Mrs. Hill shooed her son from the room and closed the door behind him.

  Ryan’s father took a bottle of antibacterial hand wash from his bag, washed his hands, and handed it to his wife. He leaned towards me. “I’ll give you a local anaesthetic, but you are still going to feel it when I pull it out. You still want me to proceed?”

  I nodded. ‘I don’t care about pain, I’m used to it.”

  He glanced at his wife, who met his concerned expression with one of her own. Then he broke a pair of scissors out of a sealed plastic bag and began cutting away my hoodie and shirt.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The following morning, Ryan knocked softly on the door, and with his mother in tow, came into the room. Mrs. Hill sat on a chair on my left, while he sat on the bed and took my hand in his. I must have been quite a sight. My hair was draped all over the pillow and my skin was unnaturally pale. I wore his sister’s cotton pyjamas, and my left shoulder was exposed but swathed in bandages.

  Mrs. Hill cleared her throat.

  Ryan let go of my hand and scooted back until he was sitting near my feet.

  “How you feeling?” he asked.

  “The pain killers are pretty good,” I said. And they were. After removing the spike and sewing up the wound, Ryan’s father had given me some extra-strong painkillers and antibiotics. Once everything was said and done, Mrs. Hill helped me get undressed, wash, and change. The pyjamas were a bit short and floated on my sparse frame, but were better than nothing. Finally, she served me the most nutritious meal I’d eaten in months.

  “Get much sleep?”

  “No, not really.” Not just because of the pain and shock, but because I had a lot to think about. Because of me, Ryan had come to within an inch of being killed yesterday. This would not have happened if he hadn’t beaten up the thugs the other day. As I wrestled with my thoughts through the night and early morning hours, I realised I had to make some major changes in my life. Not for my sake – for his. If he continued his association with me, it was going to end very badly for him.

  “Kind of weird, hearing you talk with your own voice. So used to you sounding like Brandon,” he said. He seemed uncomfortable. Whether because his mother was watching us, or because he was with a girl, I wasn’t sure.

  “Takes a lot less concentration this way,” I said.

  “Have I even met your brother?”

  I shook my head.

  “When did you start impersonating him?”

  “The day you came to the Recycling Works,” I said.

  “To earn money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why isn’t your brother doing that?”

  “Is this an interrogation?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Of course not. I’ll go if you want, but there are some questions I would like answered. I can’t stress enough how dangerous a situation you’re in. Now that those thugs are using guns, this is a whole new ball game.”

  “We are very concerned about your wellbeing, Chelsea,” Mrs. Hill said. “My husband and I want you to inform the Custodians about those men. Before they attack you or my son again.”

  “My mother told me about your bruises, Chelsea. Boot prints on your thighs and ribs, and older bruises on your stomach and back,” Ryan said. “This can’t go on.”

  “I already told you why I can’t tell the Custodians.”

  “You cannot let those people bully you like this, Sweetie,” Ryan’s mother said sternly. “The fact is, you are lucky to be alive. If that spike hit you in the heart, we would not be having this conversation.”

  “I can’t dob them in. They said they’ll sick their associates onto my little sister and mother if I do,” I said.

  “The Custodians are far more capable than you give them credit, Chelsea. They’re used to dealing with criminals like this,” Ryan said.

  “They’re also used to shooting innocent people like my father and framing them for it,” I snapped.

  Mrs. Hill gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

  “It’s a long story, Mother,” Ryan said quickly. He turned back to me. “You can’t judge all Custodians with the yardstick of that one failure.”

  “It was a pretty big failure. You honestly think I’ll ever trust them again? This whole mess is a direct consequence of their incompetence and corruption.”

  “I understand where you are coming from, but if you won’t go to them, can’t you at least tell me who the thugs are and where they operate from–”

  “I said no!” Pain lanced through my shoulder and chest, causing me to wince.

  Ryan slapped his knee in exasperation. “Chelsea, this is no time to be stubborn!”

  “Son, tone it down a notch!” Mrs. Hill glared at Ryan, shocking me. My mother never spoke to Brandon like that.

  “See if you can get through to her then!” he said.

  “If I can get a word in, you’re both missing the point,” I said.

  “Which is?” Ryan snapped.

  “I will not endanger your life further, Ryan. If I tell you who they are and you take matters into your own hands, you’ll end up dead!”

  Ryan sighed in frustration. “Chelsea, we are trying to help.”

  “I know that, but you can’t.”

  “Okay then, let’s get back to my earlier question. Where is your brother?” He leaned closer, anxious to hear the answer.

  “He went into hiding the day Dan Smith died. He’ll be back soon, I expect.”

  Ryan
nodded thoughtfully. “So you really didn’t see what happened to Dan.”

  I shook my head.

  He looked like he was about to dredge that topic up again, but glanced at his mother and let it go.

  “How did you work out I was impersonating my brother, anyway?” I asked. I hoped no one else had figured it out, especially Con. I had no idea how he would react if he found out.

  “You left a trail of clues.”

  “Such as?”

  “For starters, for someone who was supposed to have been foraging for a year, you didn’t know how to use a hacksaw properly. Then there was our visit to the gym. You clearly hadn’t done weights before. When I quizzed you, you said no one ever showed you what to do. The other day I bumped into the gym instructor and gave him a piece of mind for not doing his job properly. He stunned me by saying he spent many sessions with Brandon, instructing and evaluating him. Then were the times you momentarily forgot to lower your voice, and of course, your expressions. No two people, regardless of how close they are, could possibly have identical mannerisms.”

  “You sure you’re not a private dick?”

  He laughed. “Didn’t need to be a private detective to put those clues together. Still, I reckon I only noticed because I’ve been spending so much time with you.”

  “Looks like I’ll have to be more careful,” I said. Which wasn’t actually true. My days of impersonating my brother were over, at least in terms of being a forager. As the escape was set for this coming Friday, I would need to rest the whole week to let the wound heal. I couldn’t tell Ryan that, though.

  “You’re not seriously thinking of going back, are you? Surely Con saw through that stunt you pulled yesterday.”

  “He’ll get over it. And in case you’ve forgotten, I have to keep working until my brother comes back,” I said.

  “You will let that wound heal first, won’t you?” Mrs. Hill asked.

  “As far as I can.”

  “If it’s a matter of money, I can lend you some,” Ryan said.

  “Thanks, but no. I will not put myself further into debt.”

  “Okay, I’ll give it to you! Must you fight all my attempts to help you?”

  “Still no.”

  “Chelsea, even if I gave you every cent I have, you wouldn’t owe me anything. You saved my life twice, remember? Besides, we’re friends, right? Friends look out for each other.”

  Exhausted by Ryan’s continual attempts to help me, I sagged further into the pillow and sighed. “Can we just drop it for now?”

  Mrs. Hill stood and came over to the bed. “Chelsea needs to rest, Son.”

  Ryan nodded and slipped off the bed. “Rest up, okay?”

  “When can I leave? I need to get home and let my family know I’m alright.”

  “I popped over to see your family last night, gave them your wage, and told them you were being looked after,” Ryan said.

  “Thanks.” I breathed out a sigh of relief, but couldn’t relax. What if Deacon came to see them while I was here? Then again, maybe they’d stay away for a while in light of the fact they just shot me. Even they weren’t so stupid as to think I could earn money in this condition.

  Mrs. Hill bundled Ryan from the room. “My husband says you should be up and about by Monday.”

  “Thank you. Oh, and before you go?”

  “Yes, Dear?”

  “I’d just like to say thank you – to you and your husband.”

  She smiled. “It’s the least we could do. Now try to get some sleep.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Monday was a cold and unforgiving day. Rain was sleeting down from the heavens in a never-ending stream.

  I got up early, thanked Ryan’s parents for their help, and promised to consider their insistence I report Deacon and Wells to the Custodians. Then back in Brandon’s clothes – which Mrs. Hill had washed and mended – took my leave. My left arm was in a sling, which did a great job in alleviating the pain.

  As expected, Ryan followed me to the covered walkway outside, holding an umbrella. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “No need.” I was back to speaking with Brandon’s voice. “Won’t say no to borrowing the umbrella, though.” I didn’t want the bandages to get wet.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll see you to your door,” he said, handing me the umbrella.

  “Ryan...”

  “This isn’t open to negotiation,” he said.

  I gazed into his deep brown eyes, and sighed. For his sake, I had to do the one thing I did not want to do – I had to remove him from my life, and that meant we needed to talk. Couldn’t do that here, though, outside his front door.

  We set off, keeping under the umbrella as we trudged along a wet sidewalk that seemed deceptively clean. Water gurgled as it swept down the gutter towards the nearest drain.

  When we reached the adjacent block of flats, which was adorned by one of the ten-foot tall “Report the Mutant” billboards, I stopped and faced him.

  “Ryan, I have to tell you something. We can’t hang out together after work anymore.”

  “What? Because I know you’re a girl now? Don’t be such a prude, Chelsea. If you keep dressing as your brother, there’s no reason we can’t keep hanging out like we have been.” He looked genuinely distraught.

  “That’s not it at all.”

  “Then why – I thought you enjoyed our times together – at work, the gym.”

  “I do, but–”

  “Don’t you realise how much you mean to me? Even when masquerading as your brother, you reached out to me when no one else would, offering me true friendship. Then I met you as Chelsea, after which came the realisation that the two of you were in fact the one and same amazing, selfless person.”

  “Ryan, if you really knew me, you wouldn’t say things like that.” Indeed, what would he think of me if he knew I was a mutant? Worse, an accomplice to murder and willing to let those murderers go free so my family and I could escape this oppressive life. Not exactly what I’d call selfless.

  “Don’t put yourself down, Chelsea. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met, and I’m honoured to call you my friend. I’m going to miss you something chronic when you quit foraging because your brother comes back. If we can’t keep meeting socially as well, I’ll be devastated. So please, don’t walk out of my life. We can find a way to keep seeing each other.”

  “Ryan, in case you didn’t notice, those guys were trying to kill you because of your association with me! So I’m sorry, but this is where it ends – for your sake,” I turned and walked away.

  He ran after me, grabbed my elbow and turned me back to face him, almost making me drop the umbrella. “So our friendship means nothing to you?”

  “I didn’t say that!”

  “Okay – I’ll just come out and say it. I like you, Chelsea, and–.”

  Hearing Ryan voice such sentiments was like a dream come true, but feelings like that were pointless in a culture where the fathers’ arranged the marriages.

  I quickly put a finger on his lips. “Stop right there, Mister. That’s a path that leads to nowhere.”

  He moved my hand aside, “And – I can’t face the thought of not being able to see you every day.”

  That sent my heart fluttering and my mind into a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. My immediate reaction to his confession was to abandon my plans to escape and remain here. With him. I was so tempted to tell him I cared for him too. But if we were to marry, it would mean sacrificing my life-long goal of escaping Newhome and its stupid, oppressive laws and traditions. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell him any of that. And the cold facts were, even if I wanted to remain here, there was no way we could marry. Not with my family’s history.

  “Don’t go quiet on me, Chelsea,” he said. “I know it’s not the way things are normally done, but I can talk to my father–”

  “Oh don’t be ridiculous. There could never be any kind of future between us,” I snapped. I was irritated now. Why
couldn’t he see that?

  “Why not? My father–”

  “Is a doctor, for goodness sake! He wants the best for you. Don’t think for a moment he would be willing to sully your good family name and career prospects by marrying you into a family who lives in the homeless shelter, whose father is in prison for drugs, and who owes tens of thousands to debt collectors.”

  “My father is not like that, Chelsea. He cares nothing for meaningless social standing and advancement. The proof is that we live here, in Newhome proper rather than in North End. He wants to be with the people he serves, not secluded away from the world with the rich and famous.”

  “In that case, your father is an amazing man. Like mine used to be before my mother and this town wore him down. But Ryan, you’re still not thinking this through. There can be no union between our families, for it would mean your family would be targeted by the debt collectors too. Also, have you considered what would happen to any children resulting from such a union? They would be persecuted and bullied throughout their school years if my background got out, and you can rest assured it would. This is a small town and rumours fly.” And if my brother was convicted of murdering Dan Smith, the bullying would be even worse.

  Ryan shook his head emphatically. “You’ve got it all wrong, Chelsea. These obstacles are not reasons to stop us getting together, but things to face and work through as a couple. In the end, they would make our family stronger, not destroy it. You see, there’s nothing you can do, nothing you can say, that can drive me away. You’re the best, and truest, friend I’ve ever had, Chelsea, and I don’t want to lose you.”

  I searched his eyes, saw the passion shining through, and my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. More than anything in the world, I wanted to embrace the vision he painted of a possible future between us, but I was trapped. To save his life, I had to drive him away. I just had no idea how to do it so he would actually take it to heart.