Forager (Forager - A Dystopian Trilogy)

by Peter R Stone

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Nanako had composed herself - well, outwardly anyway - by the time Shorty rang a couple of hours later and reported Leigh had been released from prison. I asked Shorty to bring him over, and then rang David and Michal and invited them over too.

  Michal and David arrived first. Michal commandeered the sofa and dwarfed it with his large frame. David leaned against the wall next to the TV – I think he was trying to hide in that corner - but was so nervous he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Nanako and I sat on the edge of the bed, and to be honest, I was dreading this pending confrontation between David and Leigh. It could get pretty ugly.

  Ten minutes later Shorty knocked on the door and entered with a somewhat dour Leigh trailing behind him. Shorty grabbed one of the two dining table chairs, but Leigh just stood beside the table and stared at Nanako and me. Although he’d only been in prison for a few days, he had lost weight. And his outlook on life had changed too.

  “What kind of drongo forgets they got married?” Leigh said finally, looking me in the eye. It would appear Shorty filled him in on current events on the walk here.

  “Welcome back, Leigh,” I replied dryly.

  “He has amnesia,” Nanako pointed out defensively. I took her hand in an attempt to encourage her not to take offense at anything Leigh said.

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

  “For another six years?”

  “Better than being out 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 just angry and jealous and it just suddenly blurted 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, but 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 another 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 5.00am 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 from where he sat. 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 on 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 south-east 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 south-east. 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 had spent here, especial
ly 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 containing grazing cows and sheep. These were patrolled by the Hamamachi Militia, who rode horse back or drove 4WD vehicles, and unlike the Custodians, the Militia wore civilian clothes. None challenged our progress, so I guessed the councillor must have phoned ahead to advise them he was coming.

  As we drew closer to the town 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. Rooves 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 in a street only a couple of streets back from the beach. It was a large two-story building, and was where all trade with neighbouring 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 its loading dock. There was a large parking lot to the left of the dock that could accommodate vehicles of any size, while 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 had 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 slightly to one side, watching the TTC workers somewhat apprehensively as they began to place the items we had brought on the forklift pallets.

  The foragers stayed near the G-Wagon, ready to give a hand 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 said, smiling 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 had brought. Any questions presented to King and his men before we left had been 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 being unloaded. "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 back of the G-Wagon's trailer onto a pallet. My mind baulked 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 while disguising it as a yawn, I shouted ultrasonically as loud as I could.

  Trying to hear an echo from what's inside something metal isn't easy, but with my hearing I can normally manage if I'm close enough. I was expecting to get back an echo indicating steel, copper, aluminium, plastic and fibreglass, but the most notable echo that returned was something else entirely - something far, far denser than lead.

  It had to be uranium.

  From what I could tell, the guts of the refrigeration-maturation unit had been replaced by what appeared to be 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, so 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, causing me to stagger back a step in shock and my face to blanch. I turned my head slowly towards King, who was only a few steps away.

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

  "King, what are you doing?" I demanded.

  "You know, don't you," he hissed, glowering 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 said as 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,” I said.

  “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 insane threat.

  A dozen scenarios involving me attacking King fled through my mind, but with my arm in a sling I rejected them out of hand. 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?" she asked, her voice wavering.

  "Just do it," I insisted.

  She nodded and tried to walk nonchalantly towards the Militia sergeant who stood 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 side arm and aimed it at Nanako. Now, I was not going to let him shoot my wife after I'd just been reunited with her, so I shouted to distract him and flung myself at him, knocking his gun aside so that the shot went wide. Nanako threw her arms over her head and flung herself behind the closest forklift truck 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. I can't even find the words to describe the agonising pain that speared throughout my chest as I collapsed at his feet and writhed about on the ground, trying to ride out the w
ave of pain and stay conscious.

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

  And the loading dock instantly descended into complete and utter 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, cutting down two more Militia and forcing 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 gunned down 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 began to return fire, snapping off frantic shots towards the Custodians as they tried to find 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 down 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 at my instructions, so I repeated them. He nodded in understanding, 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 fork lift truck. She was kneeling beside the Militia sergeant who had been shot by King, trying to stem the blood flowing from his chest. But going by her desperate expression, she was fighting a losing battle.