Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1)

by Peter R Stone

  “Hiya, lads. Like what you’ve done with the place,” Richardson said. He was all smiles and sunshine, as though he was our life-long best friend.

  “This ain’t the Workers Club, Richardson.” Con spoke without warmth or welcome, though he nodded amicably at the foragers who came with the newcomer. “Gerry, Anton, Bird.” They nodded in reply.

  “Nice to see you again too, Dimitriou.” Richardson laughed, a little too forced.

  “Why are you here?” Con asked.

  “I need a reason to be?”

  “This is the Forager’s Club.”

  “Good point.” Richardson laughed again, and then leaned closer, suddenly serious. “Look, Dimitriou, lads, the reason my friends and I are here is to let you know that a group of us are coordinating a stop-work protest next Wednesday to demand certain concessions from the Chancellor and councillors–”

  “What group?” Matt asked.

  “A group of concerned citizens like us. Primarily from the manufacturies, but we’re reaching out to other groups, like you lot tonight.”

  “What concessions?” Con demanded gruffly.

  “I’m glad you asked. For starters, we want all citizens to have access to the privileges enjoyed by the residents of North End. This includes the option to apply for jobs there, our apartments renovated to the same standard, a cinema and more playgrounds for the children, a public swimming pool, access to North End shops, and the curfew lifted. Oh, and for weapons permits for foragers when they’re out in the ruins.”

  Hearing Richardson talk about taking action to set us free from our society’s oppressive constraints caused hope to spring up within me. If Newhome were to change into a better place, there’d be no reason for me to escape.

  “Like that last point,” Jack said, his eyes sparkling. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what he was imagining right now. Him, with a gun, blowing away Skel.

  “You’re going overboard if you think they’ll make that many concessions at the same time – especially concessions regarding North End. You should begin with just one or two minor requests and if they grant those, go for more later,” Matt said.

  “The way we see it, if we demand only a couple of things, they’ll ignore us. If we demand the world, they’ll try to meet us half-way and grant some concessions,” Richardson said.

  “What about women’s rights?” I asked.

  “What?” He appeared completely stumped.

  “You know, equality for women and girls. Surely that’s a bigger issue than the ones you’ve mentioned so far. You should request the right for girls to attend school, to apply for jobs alongside men, to walk freely about town without a chaperone, to be able to frequent restaurants.”

  All the foragers at the table, my teammates included, looked at me with their mouths wide open.

  “Where's this coming from?” Matt whispered to Jack.

  “No idea. You ever heard Brandon talk like this before?” Jack asked.

  “Never.”

  “Me neither.”

  “What’s happened to him?” Matt seemed most perplexed.

  “No idea, man.”

  “Young man – sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” Richard said.

  “Brandon.”

  “Thank you. Well Brandon, let me say that that we need people like you. People who are thinkers, people that question the status quo rather than following it blindly like sheep. Why don’t you join our stop-work protest, and bring as many of your foraging friends as you can. If the Chancellor and councillors see men from all walks of life united in solidarity as we make our demands, they will have no choice but to listen.”

  “Does this mean you’ll add women’s rights to your list of demands?” I asked. He didn’t respond to my suggestions, just skirted around them.

  “The agenda for the stop-work protest has already been tabled, and as I’m sure you can see, the concessions we will demand are crucial for the wellbeing of all.”

  “Really? Concessions to apply for jobs in North End, cinemas, a public swimming pool, and removal of the curfew. Only men will benefit from those,” I said.

  “Knock it off, Brandon,” Con said.

  “Knock off what?” I snapped.

  “You want women to compete with men in applying for jobs?” A look of smug superiority dominated his corpulent features.

  “You think they can’t do it?”

  “Come on, Brandon. Can you see either of your sisters owning a Skel like you did today?”

  I clenched my fists and fought back the urge to scream. If they only knew. “Karen, no. Chelsea, most definitely.”

  “Chelsea? That feminine, delicate thing couldn’t hurt a fly,” Con said.

  “Actually, I’m with Brandon,” Jack said. “From what he’s told me about Chelsea, I reckon she’d excel at anything she put her hand to, even foraging. And if she can do it, so can other women. Besides, we’ve all see the books, magazines, and DVDs out in the ruins. Before the Apocalypse, women worked alongside men in every type of profession. Factory work, office jobs, the police force, even the army. There was no male/female segregation like we have.”

  Brandon told his friends about me? Without bagging me? And Jack believed I could do anything they could do? I felt my heart warming towards him.

  “Be careful, guys, you’re spreading subversive ideas and corrupting our innocent young minds.” The forager Gerry said between laughs. He was a solidly built guy around my height, with a pale face dominated by freckles.

  Jack stuck out his wrists. “Arrest me now, officer.”

  That brought a round of laughter.

  “If I may interrupt and ask that we get back to the reason I’m here. Can we count on you foragers and your families to support the stop-work protest?” Richardson said. He frowned at me for derailing his attempt to get us on side.

  “Actually, let’s backtrack a bit,” Matt said. He stared at me intently, but not critically like Con had. “Brandon, you mentioned you’d like to remove the requirement for young women to be chaperoned.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I understand you’re looking for equality for women. But aren’t you concerned about what will happen if young women are permitted to wander around the town, dine at restaurants, and attend clubs, without a chaperone?”

  “No, why would I be?” I had an inkling of where he was going with this, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  “Well, not that it worries me none, if you get my meaning, but think of what could happen when a town full of men suddenly find themselves confronted with temptations they’ve never had to deal with before. We could see a dramatic increase in sexual immorality and even instances of rape.”

  “Wow, Matt, if men are that incapable of controlling their sexual urges, I think they're the ones who need to be chaperoned, not the women,” I replied. I was flabbergasted to hear him put the onus of men’s bad behaviour back onto the women.

  “Well said, Brandon. Maybe our society’s got it backwards,” Jack said, nodding thoughtfully. He turned to Matt. “Do you truly think all men are so woefully pathetic they can't control their sexual urges?”

  “Some of them–”

  “Including you?” Jack winked at me as he asked the question.

  “No!” Matt rocked back in his chair, as though mortally offended.

  “My friends, please–” Richardson said. If he was frustrated before, he looked downright annoyed now.

  Con held up his hands, and we all fell silent. “Look, Richardson, sorry to be so blunt, but we’re not interested. If you want to start a little rebellion, that’s your prerogative, but leave us out of it.”

  “But–”

  “This isn’t a debate.”

  “Fine, but if any of you change your mind, it’s next Wednesday. You turn up at your workplace, but you refuse to work.”

  “You’re wasting your breath,” Con said.

  Richardson frowned but took the hint. He and his buddies quit the club. Off to look for
supporters in other clubs, no doubt.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Why did you turn him down, Con?” I was profoundly disappointed. If the entire town got behind the stop-work protest, even if it didn’t address women’s rights at this stage, surely the Chancellor and councillors would have to make some concessions. And if they made some, they would have to make more in the future.

  “It’s gonna end badly, that’s why.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Actually, we do,” Matt said. “From what we’ve been able to learn on the sly, there have been protests staged in the past, just not in this generation. The Custodians put them all down ruthlessly and without a single demand met. The Chancellor knows very well he can’t allow that ball to start rolling.”

  “Matt’s right,” Con said. “But there’s more to it than that. Not only will it end badly for the protestors who participate in this stop-work rally, but should the foragers join in, we’ll lose all of the freedoms and fringe benefits that come with the job.”

  I was confused. What freedoms and fringe benefits was he referring to? It had to be something I hadn’t seen yet, something my brother neglected to tell me. Just what did these guys get up to out there away from the Custodians’ prying eyes?

  Con stood and told us to spread his reason for not joining the protest to everyone present.

  * * *

  In spite of my misgivings, the next day saw me back in the truck with the boys, rattling through the town gates and into the ruins. Con didn’t even ask me to drive the truck. I was no longer in his bad books for (Brandon) going AWOL for a week. Besides, I was still limping, something he noticed as soon as I walked through the door.

  He drove us to the administrative office of an insurance company, a multistorey building that towered above the neighbouring businesses and train station. I climbed out of the truck and tried to massage some life back into my left leg, grimacing from the pain. At the same time I glanced about our surroundings apprehensively, bouncing flash sonar off everything and searching the shadows, half-expecting to find Skel hiding in ambush. I couldn’t see any, but that didn’t make me feel better.

  Ryan clambered out after me but refused to meet my gaze, looking everywhere but at me. Great, he still had his doubts about me.

  “You okay, Bud?” Jack asked, looking at my leg.

  “I’ll live.”

  “Can you work?”

  “Can you?” I asked. To be honest, I didn’t know how much I could do today. Even breathing hurt my stomach, and every twist of my torso and movement of my arms sent pain shooting through my back. If we had any painkillers at home, I would have taken them, but we ran out weeks ago.

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Brandon, a word,” Con said. He walked a few steps from the truck and gestured me to him.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “We’re rostered on for the lab today, but we can hardly drag Ryan along. He’ll freak when he sees what we make there, and with him being an informant–” he began.

  “He’s not an informant.” I wanted to say more, though. What was this lab? It was obviously making something illegal, but why did it require a roster of foragers to attend it?

  Con glared at me for interrupting. “–nor can we leave him here by himself, he’ll get suspicious. And since you’re in no condition to help at the lab, you’ve drawn the short straw to stay here and babysit him.”

  I dipped my head so the brim of my cap hid my eyes as they popped out of my head. “You’re gonna leave us here – alone?” By ourselves – after what happened yesterday? I wasn’t just thinking of the Skel. If it was just the two of us and Ryan told me to back off again, it would be a most unpleasant day.

  “Man up, kid!” he snapped. Then, suddenly clapping his hands, called out, “Right! Brandon, Ryan, strip this office of books, newspapers, magazines, reports – any paper you can find – and dump it on the road. We'll hit another office block a couple of streets across and do the same.” He grabbed a couple of high-powered torches from the truck and threw them to us.

  “You’re splitting up the team?” Ryan asked. By his expression, he was even more worried by the prospect than I was.

  “Dividing the team will double its output – it’s standard procedure,” Matt explained as he climbed back into the truck.

  “We’ll be back at five.” Con hoisted himself into the cab and slammed the door shut.

  “And if we get jumped by Skel?” Ryan stepped closer to the truck. He furrowed his brow and his eyes flashed with anger.

  “You won’t. We’re miles from where we saw them yesterday.”

  The truck took off.

  “I can’t believe they just did that,” I whispered, half to myself. The truck took the next right and disappeared from sight. I could still hear it, long after Ryan couldn’t, and I knew for a fact they didn’t stop a couple of streets away.

  “Splitting the team’s standard procedure?” Ryan kicked a chunk of concrete down the road.

  Wow, he actually spoke. This might not be such a bad day after all. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He looked hurt, betrayed. I didn’t blame him. I had no idea if they split the team before, and guessed no, but I had to confirm Con’s words. For now.

  “Depends on the mood Con’s in,” I said.

  “They’re really just going a couple of streets away?”

  “Who knows.”

  Ryan cocked an eyebrow. “I get the impression they’re trying to keep me at arm’s length.”

  “Con takes a while to warm up to someone.”

  “Not just Con. I don’t see the other two tripping over themselves to make me feel welcome. Story of my life, all over again.” He cursed and stomped angrily towards the office.

  I hurried after him. “What’s happening all over again?”

  He looked back at me as he stepped over the shattered entryway. “Let’s just get to work.”

  For a moment there, I thought he was gonna open up, but then he erected an impenetrable brick wall, just like before.

  I followed him into the foyer, my feet crunching on the thick carpet of glass that covered the floor. The once prestigious foyer was shrouded in gloom, but we could still see well enough from the sunlight so we didn’t need our torches. Paint curled off the wooden reception counter in great strips and its acrylic top sat twisted out of shape. Leaves and dirt covered the floor, counter, and ruined sofas lined the waiting area on my right. The sofa upholstery had rotted away, leaving the springs protruding from the filthy foam cushions.

  We ransacked the first floor, collecting an assortment of books and reports with pages yellowed, spines broken, and covers faded or filthy. We carried them outside and threw them on the driveway. Ryan actually carried armloads without even raising a sweat, while I struggled to carry a quarter of what he did, my face contorted in pain thanks to my back injury.

  Not that he was aware of my difficulties; he never once looked in my direction. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop sneaking surreptitious glances at him.

  He fascinated me. Apart from my brother, I had never spent time one-on-one with a guy before. And compared to the other three goons – okay, two, Jack seemed okay – Ryan seemed so mysterious. And he didn’t seem pretentious like Con and Matt. He was troubled, deeply so, but still got on with his work, fulfilling his responsibilities instead of shirking them. I just wished he wouldn’t ignore me like this. I had to keep biting my tongue to stop myself trying to engage him in conversation.

  It was near midday and we were rummaging through the second floor offices overlooking the street, when Ryan shocked me by actually speaking to me. “Don’t carry so much if you’re in pain.”

  “Oh, okay.” I looked at the pile of files in my arms and nodded. Inside I was singing – he spoke to me – and of his own volition.

  “What did the Skel hit you with, anyway?”

  “A baseball bat.”

  “Ouch. Where?”

  “Stomach, but that’s not the pr
oblem. He knocked me into a chair and the armrest remodelled my back.” I limped over to the closest window and flung – or rather, dropped – my armload to the street outside.

  “And your leg?”

  “Clipped it with his bat when I tried to get away.”

  Ryan searched my eyes, trying to ascertain if I was telling a tall tale. “You really hamstrung him?”

  “Yep.”

  A smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Was he saying I looked weak?

  “Well, you’re young and you’ve got this innocence about you. Yet you owned a Skel,” he said.

  “And I’m small. That’s what you’re really getting at, right?” I don’t know why I was feeling so riled up over this. I mean, compared to the rest of our team, my brother and I were small. Small but possessing a strength way beyond our physical size. Not that I was in any condition to demonstrate that strength at the moment.

  Ryan dropped a pile of books onto the large desk beside him.

  He spoke as though it pained him. “I, ah, want to apologise for not thanking you for yesterday.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I studied him, as he did me. I could tell his gratitude was genuine, but his eyes were still haunted by doubts.

  “I heard him, you know,” he whispered at last.

  “Heard who?”

  “Con. I heard him tell you to get in the truck and leave me behind.”

  “Oh.” How could I respond to that?

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Well of course not.” I rewarded him with my best Brandon-copy smile.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t see the other two protesting Con’s order.”

  “They were scared witless. Never been ambushed by Skel before.” I couldn’t exactly tell him they were hoping he’d get caught because they thought he was an informer.

  There was an uncomfortable silence. He fidgeted with his windcheater, and then looked up again. “How’d you do that, anyway?”

  “Do what?”

  “Save me from a crossbow bolt while dodging one coming for you.” There it was, the reason he had been looking at me as though I was some kind of freak. Was he putting the pieces together - was he close to realising I was a mutant?