“Tell who what?”
“The boys in my class.”
“What are you talking about?” He put down the journal he had been going through and came over to me, looking most concerned.
“The boys in my class. You told them who I am, didn’t you?”
“Of course not!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Chelsea–”
“They’re in your resistance group, aren’t they?”
“What?”
“The boys you told about me. You told them who I am because you’re trying to protect them, because you don’t trust me anymore,” I said.
“You’ve got it all wrong, I haven’t told anyone–”
“Gotta to say I’m surprised you filled the ranks of your group with boys like them. I thought you said your group was comprised of ‘several concerned citizens.’”
He came closer, transfixing me with his striking brown eyes. “What’s going on – why are you saying these things? Has something happened?”
I took the offending water bottle from my pocket. “This happened!”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Someone replaced my water bottle with this one during chemistry class this afternoon,” I said.
“And?”
“It’s laced with potassium-cyanide.”
The colour drained from his face and his eyes darted frantically between the bottle and my face. I’d never seen him so worried. “You can’t be serious.”
I looked daggers at him.
“How did you find out?”
“The almond taste tipped me off.”
“Just because it tastes like almonds–”
“I tested the water back at the lab, Ryan. The dose is strong enough to fell a horse.”
His expression morphed from worried to petrified. “Did you drink any? We have to get you to hospital right now!”
“I’m okay, I didn’t swallow any.”
“You’re not okay, Chelsea!” He reached for my arm. “Come on, we have to get you checked out.”
I shrugged him off. “I said I’m okay!”
“This is poison we’re talking about. Better to be safe than sorry, trust me.”
“Look, if it matters so much to you, I’ll get the doctors at the lab to examine me.” Which was a lie to get him off my back.
“Let’s get going, then.”
I held up my hand. “Which boys did you tell about me?”
That brought him up short. “I told you, I didn’t tell anyone. Why do you think I did, because you think someone in your class swapped your bottle?”
“One day after you joined the school as a teacher, a whole bunch of the boys did a complete about face in regards to their attitudes towards me.”
“Which boys are we talking about?”
“Dylan, Isaac, Mehmet, Jazza, Stefan, and Carver.”
I studied his face closely as I rattled off their names, looking for some kind of emotional response. And I had to hand it to him – he didn’t react at all.
“Look, even if their attitudes toward you changed, maybe it’s because they think you’re Brandon. A lot of people blame Chelsea – you – for what the Custodians claim happened to the escapees.”
“Stop covering for them, Ryan! They not only know I’m impersonating my brother – but also about my advanced hearing. You’re the only one who knows about that.”
“They know about your superior hearing?” He looked at me as though I was suffering from paranoid delusions.
I told him about how Jazza and his offsiders set a trap, whispering about a resistance group meeting right in front of me. And how they ambushed and beat the daylights out of me when I followed them.
He was worried again. “You have to trust me, Chelsea. I didn’t tell those boys anything.”
I just looked at him, not buying it.
“You think those three are the ones who tried to kill you?”
“Them or Dylan and his buddies.” A thought popped unbidden into my mind – the puzzled expression on Jazza’s face this morning when he told me to go home. Could he have been warning me of the assassination attempt?
“What does Councillor Cho say about all this?” Ryan asked after he absorbed what I told him.
“I haven’t told him yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s given me five weeks or so to uncover the identity of the Patriot, and I can’t fail my assignment after just a few days.”
“That’s ridiculous – it’s not failure - someone tried to kill you!”
“Ryan–”
“Sorry Chelsea, you’re off the case, it’s too dangerous.”
“You don’t have the authority to make that call,” I said.
“Chelsea, your cover’s blown, they beat you up and tried to kill you! If you won’t tell Councillor Cho today, I will.”
“Let me complete my assignment, Ryan. I’ll be more careful.”
“Chelsea–“
I thrust the contaminated water bottle into his hands. “You want to help me? Check the bottle for fingerprints. Tell me who tried to kill me.”
“Fingerprints? This may be a police state, but we don’t have many students’ fingerprints on file,” he said.
“Then get them. Now tell me, have you found out if the Custodians who went out looking for the escapees are telling the truth?”
“Still working on it.”
I sighed, disappointed, wondering if he was even trying, or if he just said he would to placate me. Did I even mean anything to him anymore, or was I just a tool?
“Not happy, Ryan.”
“Don’t take it out on me, I told you it wouldn’t be easy.”
“Not interested in excuses. Just do whatever you need to do to find out.” I was suddenly hit by a wave of exhaustion so powerful I could have sworn it was a tangible, physical thing. I had been through too much today. Wishing I could find some hole to crawl into for a week, I turned and headed for the door.
“You’re going?”
“Need to rest.”
“You said you would get checked out.”
“Yeah, that too,” I lied.
“Chelsea, you have tell Councillor Cho what’s been happening and quit this assignment. I would have never sent you into the lab had I known your life would be put in danger.”
“Oh, please!” I stalked from the room without as much as a backwards glance.
After leaving school, I hid in some bushes across the road and waited for Ryan to come out. I didn’t have to wait long, either. Ten minutes later, he came charging out the school doors, running as though his life depended on it. He was fortunate I was the only one watching. Seeing a teacher in jeans, shirt, tie, and jumper running down the road like a track star was a bit of a giveaway that he wasn’t who he claimed to be.
It was early evening, but the sun wouldn’t set until after eight, so I took great care making sure he couldn’t see me as I trailed him. He led me through half the town until he finally stopped at the Metallurgy Club, the gym he attended every evening. He didn’t go into the club, though, but when no one was watching, he ran down the side of the building. His progress was immediately hidden from my view by the six-foot wooden fence that separated the club from the neighbouring property.
Throwing caution to the wind, I sprinted after him and hurried down the gap between the fence and the club. I paused before following him into a backyard overgrown with blackberry bushes, and weeds. The area was littered with dozens of discarded pieces of gym equipment. I saw leg presses, pec decks, and benches, all broken or with their synthetic leather split or perishing.
Hearing voices raised in anger, I looked carefully around the corner of the building and froze when I spotted Ryan. He had bailed up a boy who towered over him by several inches, pressing him against the club’s back door. My senses reeled when I realised the boy was Dylan. Realising Ryan had been lying to me all along sent my blood boiling.
“What the bla
zes, man?” Dylan protested.
“Was it you?” Ryan shouted in his face.
“Was what me? You’re not making any sense, mate.”
“Right, inside! We’re having this out right now.” Ryan pulled Dylan aside, ripped the door open, and then practically threw the boy inside.
“Settle, mate!” Dylan complained. I thought it strange that although the boy towered over everyone else, in the face of Ryan’s fury he was little more than chaff in the wind.
The door banged shut after they went inside, so I popped around the corner and hurried to the door. Opening it a crack to see if anyone stood guard on the other side, I was rewarded with the view of an empty corridor. I went in.
The doors along the corridor were all shut, but I could hear the sound of several voices coming from the one at the end on my right. Creeping down the hall, I stopped beside the door and listened to what was going on.
“You going to tell us why you called this impromptu meeting or just keep making incoherent threats?” said a man with a familiar voice. It took me a moment to place it – it was Mal Li, my science teacher.
“He practically knocked my head off outside!” I heard Dylan protest.
“Enough! I call this meeting to order,” said a man with a high, nasal voice. “Ryan Hill, for what reason did you call this meeting? You know we risk discovery every time we meet like this.”
“Who put the poison in Chelsea’s drink?” Ryan bellowed.
Chapter Seventeen
“What are you talking about?” chorused several voices.
“Did you, Dylan?” Ryan said.
“What poison, whose drink?” Dylan shouted back.
There were sounds of a scuffle. “Well, did you?”
“It that what happened to her?” said another familiar young man. My mouth dropped open in shock – that was Mehmet speaking!
“Explain!” Ryan demanded.
“I was walking home with her after school when she took a sip of water and then went nuts, spitting it out, vomiting, and taking my water bottle off me to rinse her mouth. Are you saying someone put poison in her bottle?” Mehmet asked. I noticed he called me “her,” more proof Ryan told them who I was. Liar!
“Someone poisoned her?” Mal Li said.
“Potassium cyanide, a fatal dose,” Ryan replied.
“Who did it?” Mehmet said. He sounded genuinely shocked and angry.
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Ryan replied. “Did you do it, Mehmet?”
“You know me better than that, Ryan. I’d never hurt a fly.”
“Dylan?”
“No! No way!”
“How about you, Mal? Chelsea said someone switched her bottle during chemistry. You were teaching that class, weren’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ryan, that goes against everything we believe in. And yes, I was teaching that class. Didn’t see anything untoward, though, and I can guarantee the cyanide did not come from the school’s stocks of the poison. I’m the only one with a key.”
“Then where did it come from?”
“Not that hard to make if you know how,” Mal replied.
“Hey, what about Jazza, Stefan and Carver?” Dylan asked. “Could they have done it? You told us about their organisation’s plans to use terror tactics and murder to get rid of the chancellor,” Dylan said. “Surely they wouldn’t bat an eyelid at poisoning an informer.”
“Funny you mention them,” Ryan snarled. “Chelsea said that they not only know who she is, but also about her enhanced hearing. So come on, which of you idiots told them about her? You, Dylan? Mehmet? Mal?”
There was a chorus of denials.
“Look, one of you is lying, and we’re not stepping foot outside this room until I find out who it is. And when I do, you’ll wish you were never born. No one gets away with trying to murder Chelsea. Do I make myself clear?” Ryan said.
“If I can butt in here–” said the high voiced man.
“What, Tori?” Ryan snapped. So the man with the high, nasal voice was Tori.
“May I point out, Ryan Hill, that you’re the one who warned the boys to watch their step and what they said around Chelsea because she’d been turned,” Tori said.
“I said, Patrick Tori, that I suspected she’d been turned, that she may have been brainwashed.”
“Semantics. Ryan, you are the one who said that she’s not the same girl we sent into the lab. And you know as well as I do that she therefore poses a significant threat to our resistance group and the town’s future independence.”
“So you’re in favour of this attempt on her life, is that what you’re saying, Tori? Because if that’s true, you have no right to lead this group, let alone be a part of it. It’s been our philosophy from the beginning that our group will use zero or minimal violence to set the town free from the Koreans, even if it takes years,” Ryan said.
“I’m not saying that at all, Ryan. But it’s time you lot joined the real world. The conflict between us and the government is war, and in war there are casualties.”
“Unacceptable,” Ryan said.
“Really. Then let me ask you this, Ryan. Are you willing to sacrifice everything we’ve built, our years of work, for a girl?”
I found myself desperately wanting to and yet afraid to hear how Ryan would answer that question. If I really meant as much to him as he claimed, surely he would answer yes, but on the other hand, if I was just a tool he was using for his own ends, he’d say no.
Before he could answer, though, the back door opened and Isaac waltzed into the corridor.
“Hey! What are you doing here?” he shouted as soon as he spotted me eavesdropping beside the door.
A door that was suddenly swept open by a short, balding middle-aged man. His eyes bulged out at the sight of me standing there, frozen like the proverbial kangaroo caught in a car’s headlights.
Glancing over his shoulder, I saw that Ryan, Mr. Li, Dylan and Mehmet were equally surprised to see me.
“Grab her, Isaac,” the short man said. Going by his voice, he was Patrick Tori, the resistance group’s leader.
Isaac, who was well built and several inches taller than me, nodded and advanced confidently down the corridor with his hands outstretched. I reacted by doing the last thing he expected – I charged straight at him. Thinking I was trying to get past him, he spread his arms wide to catch me. Upon reaching him, however, I snapped out a jump kick, driving the ball of my foot into his solar plexus. He folded in upon himself and went down as I ducked under his arm and sprinted for the back door.
“Catch her!” Tori shouted from behind.
Multiple pairs of footsteps sounded behind me.
I slammed out the back door and charged into the graveyard of dead gym machines, darting nimbly between them as I tried to get to the back fence before they could catch up with me. I hadn’t gotten very far, though, when a massive foot tangled with mine and sent me sprawling. Keeping my momentum going, I turned the fall into a tuck roll and came back to my feet, only to come face to face with Dylan.
He tried to grab me but I punched his out stretched hand, bending back his fingers, some painfully. I followed this up with a snap kick into his groin and the six-foot-six student sagged to the ground, one hand between his legs, the other in his mouth.
Seeing Tori and the rest of the guys running toward me, I turned and made a break for the fence. I dodged around broken gym equipment and wild blackberry bushes and soon reached the fence, which I immediately began to climb.
I had only reached the second rung when strong hands grabbed my waist. The next thing I knew, I was flying backwards through the air, arms flailing to find purchase. I hit the ground hard, but quickly regained my feet, only to gasp in surprise when I saw Tori was the one who had plucked me from the fence, and that he now blocked my escape route.
Desperate to escape before the others caught up to us, I snapped a roundhouse at his head. To my surprise, he blocked it effortlessly and followed up wit
h a series of quick punches to my chin, trying to knock me out. I staggered back, slightly dazed, and with my arms held over my stomach to protect the baby should he try to punch me in the gut, tried to kick him in the groin. He twisted his hips and deflected my kick with one of his own, driving his shinbone into mine, sending waves of agonising pain coursing through my leg.
I studied Tori more closely then, chastising myself for assuming that just because he looked old and frail, he would be a pushover. I realised now that he radiated confidence and inner strength, more than I would have thought possible. He was also well versed in the martial arts.
Revelling in my hesitation, he snapped a roundhouse kick into my ribs, hitting the bruises put there by Jazza, causing me to fall back, gasping with pain. Right into Isaac’s waiting arms. He twisted my right arm roughly behind my back and wrapped a hand around my throat. I was well and truly caught.
Tori came closer and tore off my cap so he could look into my eyes. “Get her back inside,” he snarled.
Isaac pulled me back towards the building, but we had taken only a few steps when Ryan and Mehmet barred his way. I considered coming to my own defence, but decided to watch and see where Ryan would go with this.
“What are you doing, Ryan?” Tori said as he helped Dylan to his feet.
“Tell Isaac to let her go, Tori.”
“Look, I know you had feelings for this girl, Ryan, but if you think I’m going to let your feelings jeopardise all our years of work, you’ve got rocks in your head. Besides, you know very well she’s been brainwashed. The girl you knew, the one you cared for, is gone.”
Ryan looked at me, his face a mask of indecision. “So what are you suggesting we do with her?”
“She knows who we all are, so we can’t let her go.”
“So what, then?”
“We lock her up.”
“For how long?”
“Forever, if necessary.”
Ryan’s face clouded over and he turned to Isaac. “Let her go, and that’s an order.”
“Sir?” Isaac asked, turning to Tori.
“Just think of her as collateral damage, a casualty of war,” Tori said.
“Don’t make me say it again, Isaac.” Ryan strode towards us menacingly, completely ignoring Tori.
Forager - the Complete Six Book Series (A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Series) Page 111