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

by Peter R Stone

  “It’s amazing, except the Genetics Laboratory looks even more daunting from up here.”

  “Daunting?”

  “You know, intimidating, scary,” I said.

  “What’s scary about a place that makes new strains of vegies, fruit, and chickens? Hey, you ever seen a photo of what chickens used to look like? Ours are a far cluck from the originals,” Sofia said.

  I laughed at her lame joke. “I know, right? Original chickens were capable of a few seconds flight, but not our biologically modified specimens. They’re so plump they can’t get off the ground at all. But to your question, it was pointed out to me the other day that the geneticists are in that place all day, every day, seven days a week. Do they really spend all their time trying to improve the strains of vegetables, fruit, and chicken? Or are they working on something else. Something sinister.”

  Sofia raised her left eyebrow. “Sinister? Oh come on. Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Just thinking aloud.” A shudder wracked through me as I contemplated the geneticists dissecting children with mutations like mine. If that was true, those men were monsters of the worst degree. The men who told them to do such barbaric things were even worse. Thinking of monsters reminded me of Con and the others, and ultimately, my brother.

  Sofia noticed my mood change. “Is everything okay?”

  “No. I’ve gotten myself into a jam, and I don’t know what I should do.”

  “Why don’t you bounce it off me?”

  I took a deep breath, and opened my heart. “I know some people who did something really bad, and if I don’t report them, they’re going to get away with it.”

  Sofia didn’t even hesitate. “You have to do what’s right.”

  “Complication is, one of them’s my brother, and if I inform the authorities, he could get the death sentence,” I said, letting my eyes wander down a red brick road in North End.

  “Oh.”

  “See what I mean?”

  Sofia nodded. “What is your conscience saying?”

  “To do what's right, regardless of the cost.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She laid a hand on my elbow.

  “But I can't face the thought of life without him, Sofia. Brandon’s always been such a big part of it.”

  She looked at me quizzically. “A question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Are we talking about your actual brother, or you pretending to be your brother?”

  “Come again?” I groaned. Did everyone know my secret?

  “Does your brother even exist? It occurred to me I've never seen the two of you at the same time, and then the other day, it dawned on me that the two of you are actually just you.”

  “You little sneak!” I said with a laugh. “And you’re right – you’ve never seen my brother. He is real, though.”

  I spent the next ten minutes explaining to Sofia what I had been doing and why, and she proved an attentive listener, as usual. When I finished, I told her about the pending escape, and asked her to come with Brandon, Karen, and me.

  At the prospect of leaving the town, her eyes had lit up, but then the light faded and she shook her head. “Thank you for asking, but I cannot come. I have to stay here and look after my mother.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “I think it’s your turn to come clean, Sofia.”

  Her eyes widened in alarm.

  “Your mother’s already passed away, hasn’t she?” I asked gently.

  Tears sprang into her eyes. “Yes. Yes, she has. Last year, in fact.”

  “So why hide the fact?”

  “Because I’m only seventeen and will become a ward of the town if they find out. I don’t want to be placed with some random family I don’t know. A family who won’t want me and will keep me at arm’s length because I’m so deformed and ugly.” She looked away, unable to meet my gaze.

  I touched her chin and turned her head gently to face me. “Don’t be silly, Sofia. You’re the most beautiful person I know. I dream of becoming more like you one day.”

  “You’re too kind,” she said.

  “Not at all.”

  She sniffed back a tear.

  “How on earth did you manage to hide your mother’s passing, anyway?”

  “Official departments in Newhome apparently don’t talk to each other. The hospital knows she died, of course, but when I told the supervisor my mother would be back when she’d recovered, he took my word for it and never raised the matter again.”

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” I gave her hand a squeeze and an encouraging smile. “You’ve got no reason to stay here. So I implore you, come with us on Friday night.”

  Sofia looked tempted but undecided. “I...I don’t know if I can. I’ve been here so long, you know? It’s my home now.”

  “I don’t need to remind you how bad this place is, Sofia. Just think of the freedom of living in a place without stupid rules that treat girls like second-class citizens? A place without Custodians. A place we’re free to take hold of our own destiny. A place that’s not the homeless shelter.”

  Sofia smiled shyly. “You think I’d like it there, in Ballarat?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “Okay, count me in.”

  “Good on you!” I gave her a big hug with my right arm.

  * * *

  I went back upstairs and got the surprise of my life when I saw Jack lounging against the wall near our ‘apartment,’ looking out the window.

  “Jack?” I spoke carefully, reminding myself to be me, not Brandon.

  “Oh, hi, Chelsea. It’s, ah, nice to see you.” He turned to face me and wrung his hands together shyly. And looked inquisitively at the sling.

  “Slipped and fell.”

  “Nothing broken, I hope.”

  “Just a sprain.”

  “That’s a relief. Hey, I went to your old place but your apartment was empty and your neighbours said you moved here.”

  I nodded.

  “Because of your father?”

  I nodded again.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “No need to apologise. It’s not exactly your fault, now is it?” I said, smiling.

  He laughed. “Hey, I urgently need to speak to Brandon, but your mother said he’s out. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “Just tell me and I’ll pass on the message.” I tried to encourage him with a disarming smile.

  “Oh, ah, sorry, it’s kind of, um, private.”

  I moved closer to him. “My brother and I don’t keep secrets, Jack, so don’t hold back on my account.”

  “Did Brandon, ah, tell you what we have planned this week?” he asked, watching me closely.

  “You mean the breakout on Friday night?” I whispered.

  “Oh, he did tell you.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “In that case, tell Brandon that this is completely off the record – if Con finds out I told you this, he’ll kill me. The breakout’s not on Friday night, it’s on Wednesday. We meet at 2am behind the apartment block just south of the eastern gatehouse.”

  “Why wasn’t Brandon told this?”

  “Con originally told Brandon it was Friday ‘cause he’s friends with Ryan and was afraid he’d let it slip. He was gonna tell him it was Wednesday closer to the day. But, ah, Brandon’s been in Con’s face a bit lately. Arguing with him, mucking up his plans, even threatening him. And as Con has zero tolerance for those who won’t do what he wants, he doesn’t want Brandon joining the breakout. So he’s not gonna tell him its Wednesday at all.”

  “So we get left behind?”

  “That’s what Con wants, but stuff him, I say. Brandon’s my buddy, you know? Not to mention this whole breakout thing was his idea in the first place.”

  “So you want us to turn up on Wednesday night anyway?”

  “You cotton on quick.” Jack was all smiles now.

  “I’ll give Brandon the message. And don’t worry, we’ll be discrete.”

  “Thanks, Chelsea. You
’re the best. And, um, I’m glad you’re coming too. Maybe once we’ve left Newhome, we can get to know each other a bit better? You know, since we won’t be restricted by Newhome’s rules and regulations anymore.”

  “Sure, I’d like that,” I said, but a little part of me died on the inside. I really liked Jack. Why did he have to have a darker side?

  He bid me farewell and darted off with a bounce in his step, leaving me feeling betrayed and angry. They were trying to leave without us!

  I wondered if I should turn them in to the authorities before Wednesday for murdering Dan, or simply turn up at the eastern gates on Wednesday night like Jack suggested and go out with them anyway. That’s if Con would let me. Then again, if I went as myself instead of masquerading as Brandon, surely Con would let me go.

  What was it with men? Every male I knew, even Ryan – no, especially Ryan – was turning into a major disappointment.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I was still awake in the early hours of the morning, alternating between heartache because I’d never see Ryan again, and disappointment because he let me down so badly. I kept going over our parting conversations, wondering how differently things could have turned out if I hadn’t told him I was a mutant. His reaction hurt me more than I cared to admit, and caused me to doubt my conviction that he was a man of honour and integrity.

  I also wrestled with the things Sofia (and Ryan) told me about doing the right thing where Dan Smith was concerned. I debated with the topic from every possible angle, trying to justify doing nothing about it so the escape attempt could go ahead.

  It was after three in the morning when I heard a voice whisper my name outside in the hallway, causing me to jolt in alarm. I relaxed when I realised it was Brandon.

  I grabbed a coat off the back of the chair closest to my mattress and pulled it over my shoulders with great difficulty. That done, I popped the door open and stole silently into the hallway.

  My brother was standing there, unshaven, eyes bloodshot, and wearing filthy clothes. He stank too. He had put on weight, though, so he must have been eating.

  He noticed how I cradled my left arm. “Those guys hurt you again?”

  I nodded and filled him in on what happened.

  “Right, that’s it. I’m taking care of them. No one hurts my sister,” he snarled.

  “No!” I squeaked. “Don’t aggravate the matter any further. The escape is this Wednesday. Once we’ve left town, who’s going to care? We’ll be free of them.”

  “Wednesday – I thought it was Friday?”

  “Change of plans.”

  “Right.”

  There was a pregnant pause, in which my anger got the better of me. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth the other day?”

  “About what?”

  “That you helped the others kill Dan!” I whispered.

  He looked at his feet, and shuffled about nervously, but didn’t speak.

  “I don’t know you anymore, Brandy. You’re a smuggler, into drugs and porn, and a murderer. What on earth happened to you?”

  “How else could I have turned out? Living in a place like this saps the life out of you!”

  “Oh come on, adversity doesn’t make someone turn out like that. You’ve got only yourself to blame for the choices you’ve made.”

  “Really? I was like you before I started foraging, idealistic and with a head full of good intentions, but Con and the others corrupted me in no time flat. They introduced me to the thrill of smuggling stuff and getting loaded, getting high, and, ah, um, other stuff.” He spoke angrily, as though he was the victim.

  “Ever heard of the word ‘no?’” I said. “Even better, did it occur to you to report them to the Custodians? I never figured you’d be so spineless!”

  “If I reported them I would have ended up like Dan!” He glared at me, brows furrowed.

  “The Dan you helped kill?”

  That comment knocked the fight out of him.

  “Why are you here tonight, anyway?” I asked.

  “Because I don’t know what to do, Chelz. Ever since that day, I can’t get the image of Dan out of my mind. His trusting face as I manoeuvred him beneath the wall. He just stood there, smiling at me, trusting me, while I pretended to take a photo of him. Then the others pushed the wall over, and as it fell on top of him, he managed to meet my eyes one last time. His expression was one of stunned disbelief – he couldn’t accept I could have done such a thing to him.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks now. “Every time I close my eyes, that’s all I see.”

  “So what do you think you should do now?” I asked, mindful of my friends’ advice.

  “I know what I should do. I should hand myself into the Custodians and tell them what happened. And do it before Wednesday so the Custodians can arrest the other three goons before they escape.”

  “But Brandy, if you do that...”

  “You think I don’t know that? It’s the death penalty for murder and drug dealing.” He looked up now, eyes wide. “I don’t want to die, Chelz.”

  My heart shattered. “I don’t want you to either, but...” My voice trailed off.

  “Just say it.”

  “But you had a hand in Dan’s murder, and as much as I hate myself for saying this, you have to face up to the consequences of your actions. And like you, I don’t want Con, Matt and Jack to waltz out those gates on Wednesday night and get away with blue murder.”

  Brandon nodded, shoulders slumped as though carrying the weight of the world. “Just give me a bit longer to think it through, okay?”

  I nodded, a tear slipping down my cheek as I contemplated the horror and loneliness of life without him.

  He wiped the tear away with the back of his hand, and with a forlorn smile, made his exit.

  * * *

  Knowing the breakout was set for Wednesday instead of Friday sent me into a fluster. There was one thing I had been planning to do, but kept putting it off, leaving it until the last minute. Now suddenly, that last minute was here.

  I wanted to visit my father before I left. I knew this would probably be the last time I saw him. On one hand, I didn’t want to see him because I was still mad at him, but on the other, I knew I’d regret it forever if I didn’t.

  I decided to visit him on Tuesday afternoon and get it over and done with. I asked mother and sister to come, but they refused, as expected. That was annoying because it meant I had to visit him masquerading as Brandon, rather than be myself. The requirement for a chaperone was so infuriating!

  I arrived at the prison-factory half an hour later. The factory was as bleak and depressing as I imagined, with pre-fab grey concrete walls and a corrugated tin roof. It was big too, with a barbed wire topped cyclone wire fence surrounding the property. The Custodians at the gate glanced at Brandon’s ID card and let me through.

  I had to wait an hour in the foyer in an uncomfortable plastic bucket seat until they called my name. A Custodian took me to the prison visiting room, a large room with worn blue carpet, low ceiling, and clusters of bucket seats.

  Several prisoners were present – all men of course – since this was a male only prison-factory. Parents, wives, and children were visiting all of the prisoners in the room. All except for one man, who sat alone with his head bowed, hands clasped tightly, and knees bouncing up and down.

  I sat in the bucket seat across from him, but couldn’t find my voice. This man was my hero when I was a child, but also the one responsible for all the disasters that had overtaken our family recently.

  It soon became apparent he wouldn’t raise his head or look at me.

  “Hello, Father.” I spoke with my brother’s voice.

  “Brandon?” He didn’t raise his eyes.

  “Chelsea,” I whispered.

  He looked up at that, clearly astonished. I felt a pull at my heartstrings. He had lost weight, and what little light had been in his eyes previously was gone.

  “You came alone?” He seemed to collapse into himself,
like a folding deck chair closing.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  It was a couple of minutes before he was able to look at me again. “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “Because I wanted to see you and this was the only way.”

  “You shouldn’t have bothered.”

  Whatever compassion I felt for him suddenly evaporated under an unexpected surge of anger. “Shouldn’t have...do you have any idea of what you have put us through?”

  “Put you through?” A spark of confusion flashed across his face.

  “We lost the apartment, furniture, clothes, the works, because you didn’t pay the rent!”

  “What? But – why didn’t Brandon pitch in and pay it?”

  “He still hasn’t come home. And you stole all his money anyway, remember?” I spoke too loudly and one of the Custodians on duty looked over in our direction. I made a mental note to keep it down.

  “Not all of it. And I was going to pay back what I took.”

  “When? After you paid off the thirty-thousand gambling debt?”

  He looked up, eyes wide with panic.

  “Yeah – we know all about that.”

  “How?”

  “What do you think Deacon and Wells did after the magistrate threw you in here?”

  “They shouldn’t have done anything. It’s my gambling debt; it’s got nothing to do with the rest of you.” He stumbled over his words as he spoke.

  “They beat you up, didn’t they, Father? The day the Custodians arrested you,” I said.

  He just looked at me.

  “They threatened you the day before, and when you didn’t come through with more money, they beat the daylights out of you.”

  He shifted uncomfortably on his chair, but still wouldn’t speak.

  “So you rang the Custodians. You’re the one who gave them the ‘anonymous’ tip off, and then hid Brandon’s drugs under your bed to implicate yourself. You put yourself in prison.”

  “I had to...I didn’t have any choice.”

  “What are you talking about? We always have choices.”

  He didn’t speak, just stared forlornly at the floor.

  “I wish you’d let us know what was going on so we could have worked something out together. I wish you’d thought things through instead of leaving us – leaving me – at the mercy of Deacon and his stupid sidekick.” I pointed to my chest and the sling.