“Be careful around him, mate. I don’t know what’s come over you these days.”
“You think it might be from those images of Dan’s broken face that I can't get out of my mind?”
“I hear you, but just back off from Con a bit, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Try harder.” He gave me a half-hearted smile and raced after the others.
Not wanting to bump into them again, I waited ten minutes, popped upstairs to see the boss to collect my pay, and headed home.
I got quite the surprise, though, when I stepped out of the yard and found Ryan leaning against the fence, waiting for me. I noticed he didn’t have his backpack.
“You owe me new bag. And a water bottle. And a lunchbox.” He pushed off from the wall and fell into step beside me.
“Sorry about that. Your bag was in the wrong place at the wrong time. What did you do with it?”
“Didn’t do anything with it. You can throw it in the bin on Monday.” He didn’t look the least bit impressed.
“Do I have to?”
“ Yes. You feeling bit better now?”
“Still sore, but there’s nothing left to bring up.” I considered telling him the truth so he could watch out for them trying something like this again. On the other hand, he would probably go straight to Con and have it out with him. As that scenario could have fatal results, I decided I’d better keep it to myself for now.
“You think you caught it from me?” he asked.
“Must have.”
“Really? The fact is, I didn’t have gastro. Just ate something past its useby date that evening.” He stopped and pulled me to face him, studying me intently.
“Must have picked it up from somewhere else, then,” I said.
“Can you drop the charade?” The tone of voice jarred me to the bone. “I know what you did, and why. The other three were trying to frame me. When I went to fetch my bag – more specifically – my house keys that were in it, I had a little hunt around. Imagine my surprise in finding two porn DVDs shoved into a gap behind the water trough. DVDs which I quickly disposed of before King works out what you did.”
I sighed. “You sure you’re not a detective?”
“This isn’t a joke, Brandon. Why didn’t you tell me the truth in the first place?”
“You mean like this? Oh, by the way, Ryan, the others slipped contraband into your bag ‘cause they don’t like you and want you off the team.”
“Why don’t they like me, Brandon? What have I ever done to them?”
I didn’t reply.
“Don’t go all silent on me, mate. If their little stunt had worked, they would have done more than get me off the team. I would have lost my job, been fined, and been thrown in prison. Now talk to me.”
“They...they think you’re a Custodian informer.” My voice came out as a whisper. Why did I feel guilty, as though I’d just betrayed a confidence? I owed those three nothing!
Ryan burst into a spontaneous bout of laughter. Tears even came to his eyes. “You serious?”
I nodded.
His mood suddenly darkened. “Why does that worry them, Brandon? They must be doing something illegal and they’re afraid I’ll find out.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what they’re afraid of.” I didn’t sound particularly convincing.
“Going by those porn DVDs, I’m guessing they smuggle contraband into town. But if that’s the case, so what? Everyone knows the foragers smuggle in illicit items. No one else could do it. That’s why the Custodians keep doing those random spot checks.”
“Makes sense.” But I refused to give anything away. Especially since I smuggled in contraband too.
“So I reckon there’s something bigger going on.” Brandon grabbed my chin and yanked my head up so our eyes met. So glad the cap covered my birthmark. “Could this have something to do with Dan Smith’s accident?”
“What do you mean?” My pulse just about doubled. What was with this guy and his guesses?
“Why don’t you tell me what happened to him, Brandon? The accident was due to someone’s negligence, wasn’t it? And you’re all covering it up to avoid the consequences.”
I searched out his eyes as I replied. “I wasn’t there when it happened, Ryan. And that’s the truth.”
“Where were you?”
“Loading something into the truck. I heard a lot of shouting and rushed back to find a wall had fallen on Dan.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
I whacked his hand away from my chin. “I’m telling the truth, I didn’t see it!”
“Fine, I believe you. But you know something you’re not telling me. Look, I’m not mad with you, okay? You just saved me – again. I know you are an honest, decent bloke. But I don’t trust Con, Matt and Jack as far as I can throw them.”
I just nodded.
“There’s something I want you to think about.”
“What?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
“I know those guys are your friends, and have been for some time, but if their negligence caused Dan’s death, or if Dan met foul play at their hands, you’ve got to report it.”
“Like you did?” I spoke harshly, fully aware it was the right thing to do, but couldn’t do it because of what it would cost my family.
“Yes.”
“But look what it cost you – your job and all your friends,” I said.
“It was worth it. And friends like that were no friends at all. A true friend is someone who stays with you through thick and thin. Someone who puts others first.”
Overpowering emotions of frustration, grief, and rage rose up within me, threatening to boil over. I turned away so I could get them under control.
He placed his hand gently on my shoulder. “I’m not going to force you to do this, I just want you to think about it, okay?”
I shrugged his hand off. “I...I gotta go.” My wage was burning a hole through my pocket. I had to get home as soon as possible in case Deacon and Wells turned up. The odds were they were already waiting outside the homeless shelter.
“I’ll be at the gym after seven if you want to talk more later.”
“Think about.” I gave him a perfunctory nod and rushed off.
Chapter Thirty-One
The thugs didn’t show, and I was too afraid to go to their snooker club come illegal-gambling den to look for them. Keeping my money with me in case I bumped into them on the way, I popped over to the gym and worked out with Ryan. He even offered to teach me some combat moves, but I wasn’t interested. I was not going to fight them.
To my relief, he didn’t press me anymore about what happened to Dan Smith, but let me know he hadn’t forgotten the issue by raising an eyebrow.
We quit the gym when curfew approached and headed outside into the night air. The sun had just set, painting the low hanging clouds hues of deep pink and purple. Daylight was fading rapidly as dusk took hold of the gloomy streets.
I bid Ryan farewell and took two steps towards home when I saw Deacon and his brutal sidekick step out from behind a hedgerow. They strode towards us with murder in their eyes. An ugly black and purple bruise adorned Well’s jaw, thanks to Ryan.
I looked back at Ryan, eyes wide with fear. “Don’t get involved.”
“No way, buddy.” He came and stood beside me, muscles tense and fists clenched.
“Just go! You’re gonna make it worse if you stay!” I tried to push him away with my left hand, but it was like trying to push over an oak tree.
My tormentors came closer. Face contorted with rage, Wells slipped his hand inside his jacket.
Afraid he was reaching for a gun, I pulled out the money and threw it at his feet. “Here, take it!”
The tall ruffian stepped over the proffered money and withdrew a homemade spring-powered gun from his jacket. In one practised movement, he aimed it at Ryan’s chest and fired.
“No!” I shrieked as I flung myself in front of my friend.
A six-inch long, frightfully sharp metal rod pierced my chest between the collarbone and shoulder. Excruciating pain beyond anything I’d experienced exploded through me and I collapsed back into Ryan’s arms, writhing in agony.
“You shot the wrong one, fool!” Deacon berated Wells.
“Idiot jumped in the way!” Wells replied.
“Quick, let’s get out of here before the Custodians show up,” Deacon said. Their footsteps receded rapidly.
Ryan laid me gently on the sidewalk.
“What did you do that for?” he asked sternly. I was surprised to see tears in his eyes.
“I couldn’t let them shoot you,” I said between clenched teeth. I gingerly explored the part of the spike that protruded from my chest, but regretted it instantly when the briefest touch sent more waves of pain.
“Don’t touch, it’s in too deep!” He gently but firmly moved my hand away. “Do you think you can walk if I help you up? I need to get you back inside so I can call an ambulance.”
Bitting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out, I threw my right arm around his neck and he helped me regain my feet. The slightest weight or movement on my left arm sent more pain lancing through me, so I used my right hand to put my left in my pocket.
“Just help me get home,” I said.
“Don’t be absurd, you need a doctor to get that thing out,” he replied.
“No doctors – my mother will know what to do.”
“You need proper medical care, mate.”
I gripped his arm tightly with my free hand. “I said no! Please, take me home.”
“If I take you to that disease-ridden dump you live in, the wound will get infected and you’ll get blood poisoning. That’s if your mother can even get the spike out.”
“Ryan – I can’t go to the hospital!”
“Why not?”
“Because if I do, they’ll discover something about me that will get me into a world of trouble.”
“Like what?”
“It’s…private.”
Ryan sighed in exasperation. “Okay, fine. I believe you have a really good reason not to go, but I don't think you have much choice. Let me at least take you to my father. He’s a doctor, remember? I’m sure he will agree to a vow of patient confidentiality.”
“Sorry, still won’t do. I have to go home.” I shook off his hand and started staggering down the street. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other while fighting off the pain that exploded with each step. Staying conscious was becoming quite a challenge.
Ryan hurried after me and stood directly in my path.
“Chelsea, please, let me help you. You can trust me. And my father,” he whispered.
Chelsea? He called me Chelsea!
“You...you know who I am?” My mouth hung open in shocked disbelief.
“Of course.”
“But...how long have you known?” I couldn’t believe that after all my efforts, Ryan worked out who I really was.
“Took me a while to figure it out, but you left a trail of breadcrumbs that gave it away if I looked closely enough. Now come on, let’s just get you home. We’ll talk more later.”
It was only a ten-minute walk to Ryan’s place, but it felt like an eternity – a pain-filled, never ending nightmare of forcing myself to walk when all I wanted to do was lie down and succumb to the pain. We tried to steer clear of the few people we encountered on the way, otherwise Ryan walked in front of me so they couldn’t see my blood stained hoodie and the spike sticking out of my chest.
His family lived on the first floor of an apartment block, which was fortunate. An elevator ride would have been too much.
“Almost there,” Ryan said. He spoke gently, revealing a side of him I hadn’t seen before. He was quite the gentleman.
We reached a door sporting a fresh coat of paint. Entering the apartment, he helped me to a single-seat sofa and I melted into the soft cushion with a groan. Through a haze of pain, I noticed that although the unit was the same layout as my old one, his family had set it up in reverse. The furniture was also much newer, or at least kept in better condition. Someone here also had a flair for interior decoration, with embroidered curtains, oil paintings with muted colours that complemented the curtains, even vases with fresh flowers on the table and buffet-and-hutch.
Ryan’s father was reading a newspaper on a sofa on the other side of the room, but stood and rushed over in alarm when he caught sight of me. I could see the family resemblance, the broad shoulders, eyes, and angular face. He still had a full head of hair, although grey shot through with white.
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 pillo
w 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.”
Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1) Page 21
