Slipping a syringe from my pocket, I thumbed off the cap and threaded my way through the crowd, looking for my targets. I found Jack first, now at the rear, helping shepherd everyone closer to the gates.
“Chelsea!” he exclaimed, his face alight with wonderment. “You did good! But how come you’re wearing Brandon’s clothes? Is that your blood? What happened to you?”
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I need your help. Brandon’s over there, near the building, but he’s hurt. Can you give him a hand? He’s too heavy for me.”
“Hurt?”
“This is his blood.”
“What? How badly hurt is he?”
“Come!” I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him after me, leading him into the recessed entrance of the closest building, where we couldn’t be seen by the foragers and their families at the gates.
“Where is he?” He turned to face me, confused.
I stuck the needle in his stomach and pressed the plunger home.
The shocked, betrayed expression on his face was one I’d never forget. In spite of what he’d done, he had always been nice to me – whether in my Brandon alias or myself. Waves of guilt and relief assailed me in equal measure.
“What are you doing?” he drawled as his strength left him.
“Make a plea bargain with them, don’t go throwing your life away over nothing,” I whispered in his ear as I struggled to catch him with one arm and lower him onto the doorstep with his back against the door. I hoped he could avoid the death sentence if he gave evidence about the drug and smuggling operations.
That done, I hurried back to the crowd, looking for Matt and Con.
“Hurry up and get those gates open! We’re running out of time!” Gerry shouted.
“I’m trying – the blasted key won’t go in!” The forager at the gates shouted back.
I found Matt near the middle of the throng. He was a step back from Con, who was swearing like a trooper at the forager with the keys.
I grabbed his arm to get his attention.
“Where’s Brandon, Chelsea?” he asked. Unlike Jack, he was clearly unimpressed by my deception.
“He’s over there, talking to Jack.” I pointed to the building where I hid Jack.
Matt strained his eyes. “Where?”
“He’s afraid to show himself in case Con goes ballistic and won’t let him join us. He knows Con lied about the breakout date to stop him escaping tonight. Do you think you can convince him to come? Jack’s not getting anywhere with him, and neither am I.”
“We don’t have time for this, Chelsea.”
“Then come on!”
Matt frowned but let me lead him to the recessed entrance.
“What the–” he said when his eyes adjusted sufficiently in the darkened entryway to notice Jack collapsed against the door.
He bent down to check on him, but as he did so, I stabbed him in the side with the next syringe and injected him with the anaesthetic. He surprised me by grabbing my hand and ripping out the needle.
“What are you...” Before he could say anymore, his eyes closed and his legs collapsed. I half caught, half dropped him on top of Jack.
Two down, one to go.
I reached into my pocket for the third syringe, stepped out of the entrance, and looked up. And then did a double take and staggered back in fright, for Con was standing right in front of me, a look of disbelief and pure and unadulterated fury on his corpulent face.
“What are you doing?” he spat
“Keeping a promise,” I replied.
I pulled the syringe from my pocket and pushed off the lid, preparing to strike, when a cheer went up from those clustered at the gates.
I heard a loud click.
“Finally!” Gerry called out. “Helps when you use the right key, doofus!”
“Now get those gates open!” shouted another forager.
Seeing Con distracted by the events at the gate, I lunged forward with the syringe. Somehow, he sensed my attack and spun around, smashing the syringe from my grasp. It flew off to the side and shattered on the concrete path.
“You stupid little git, I’m going to blow your brains out!” he hissed, stepping menacingly towards me while reaching behind his back for his gun.
I looked at him, petrified, wondering if I should try to make a run for it, when the foragers pulled open the gates accompanied by a soft cheer. The road to freedom stretched out before them, beckoning to me as well, offering the future I had sought for so long.
“Come on, people! We have to get to the ruins before they come after us,” Gerry called out. He motioned for the crowd to hurry through the gates and into the broad expanse beyond.
Foragers, their wives, children, parents, and relatives, hurried out of Newhome and into the concealing darkness, heading for the ominously quiet ruins that were once part of the suburb of Kensington. Five men picked up the assault-rifles dropped by the unconscious Custodians and ran out with them.
No one noticed Con and me standing on the steps in front of the recessed entrance, since the area was outside the spotlights’ cone of light.
Con risked a quick glance behind at the throng as they hurried quietly out of the town. I saw Karen and Sofia falter, panicking because they couldn’t see me.
Gerry rushed over, took them each by the hand, and pulled them after him through the gates. I felt a huge sense of relief. If he was looking after them, I was confident they’d be fine out there.
Meeting Con’s fierce gaze with my head held high in defiance, I made to hobble past him towards the gates. I had to get out while I still had the chance. I didn’t want Con to come, but in my condition, there was nothing I could do about it. Maybe I could convince the authorities in Ballarat of his crimes, but I doubted it. Two out of three would have to do. Shame the worst one was going to escape.
“Take another step and I’ll put a bullet through your head!” He drew his gun and aimed it at me.
“We don’t have much time,” I said, desperate to get after my sister and Sofia.
“What was in those syringes, Chelsea? Did you kill them? Were you trying to kill me?” His body quivered with rage, his finger already tightening on the trigger.
“It’s anaesthetic.”
“What – why?”
“‘Cause I promised my brother I wouldn’t let you three escape justice.”
“You stupid cow! Your brother’s just as guilty over Dan’s death as the rest of us! What is it, one yardstick for him and another for us?” His finger tightened on the trigger a little more.
“Brandon’s dead, Con.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the gun.
“What?”
“He was killed an hour ago trying to rescue my sister and me from the debt collectors who’ve been hounding us ever since Father was arrested.”
A host of different expressions paraded across Con’s face as he digested my words. Finally, he snorted. “Served the little loser right.” He lowered his gun slightly and began to back away. “As for you, you can stay put. I’m grabbing Matt and we’re getting out of there. If you take a single step through those gates, I’ll put a bullet in you. I’m leaving Jack behind because I know you like him. Let’s see how your conscience feels when you watch them execute him.”
“Actually, Con, you’re not going anywhere except before the magistrate,” said a familiar voice.
Con and I jolted in surprise when Ryan stepped out from behind the corner of the building. He was aiming a gun at Con, and it wasn’t a hundred year old relic like the one Con had, but a Custodian automatic pistol.
Chapter Forty-One
Ryan came over to stand beside me and I stared at him in horror. There was something different about him, an air of authority I’d never noticed before. My mind began doing back flips and my stomach twisted in knots as I considered this new development.
“I knew you were a Custodian informer,” Con snarled, pointing his gun at Ryan now.
“Not an informer. A Custodian unde
rcover operative. Now slowly put your gun on the ground and kneel with your hands behind your head.”
With Brandon gone, what little remained of my world came crashing down. Ryan was a Custodian! Con had been right about him all along, and there was I, the trusting fool, telling him everything.
The blood drained from my face as I contemplated what would surely follow. After he subdued Con, Ryan would arrest me and have me shipped over to the Genetics Laboratory to be dissected. How could I have gotten him so wrong? I thought he was the most amazing guy I’d ever met, a man of integrity and honesty. I even bought his story that he lost all his friends when he turned in a fellow factory worker. How gullible could I be – he never even stepped foot in a factory!
But then another thought occurred to me, bringing that line of thinking up short. I told Ryan about the breakout and that meant he could have stopped it, but didn’t. He was here without any backup, allowing us to go. Allowing me to go. Unease and nausea swept through me as I tried to work out exactly where I stood with him. Was he still the Ryan I thought I knew?
Con stared daggers at Ryan, but then turned his fierce countenance upon me. “You stupid cow, Chelsea! I told you not to tell him anything, but no, you wouldn’t listen, would you? If you think Matt, Jack and me are going to the executioner’s chair so you can walk off scot-free with a clear conscience, you’re gravely mistaken.”
“I said to put the gun down, Con!” Ryan commanded.
Con glanced at Ryan, but then suddenly aimed the gun at me. “Die, cow!” He pulled the trigger.
I thought that was it, the end of the road. But even as Con pulled the trigger, Ryan dove in front of me, taking the bullet in the chest.
Taking the bullet for me.
“No!” I screamed out, distraught. He couldn’t die, not now, and especially not for me!
I tried to catch him as he collapsed, groaning in pain. But he was a lot heavier than me and I had only one working arm. All I managed to do was slow his fall. We hit the ground together, Ryan dropping the gun beside him.
Glancing at Con, I saw him aim the gun at me again, determined not to miss this time. Incensed, and needing to distract him, I shrieked as loudly as I could near the maximum range of human hearing. He staggered to a stop, instinctively covering his years.
I immediately scooped Ryan’s automatic pistol from the ground and fired several shots at Con, causing him to stagger backwards as round after round tore gaping holes in his chest. He still tried to shoot me with his last breath, but dropped face down on the asphalt before he could. He twitched a couple of times, and fell still.
I frantically turned back to Ryan, who was somehow still conscious, and let rip with flash sonar so I could see inside his body and study the wound. I was alarmed to see that the bullet had nicked an artery, which was bleeding profusely. Without hesitation, I pressed both hands against the wound, locked my elbows, and put my entire bodyweight behind my arms. Pain shot throughout my torso, but I gritted my teeth and tried to ride it out. I couldn’t let him die!
“What did you do that for?” I demanded gruffly
“Nothing you haven’t done for me,” he replied, managing a weak smile between grimaces.
“But you could have been killed!”
“Don’t you get it, Chelsea? I care for you! Now hurry up and get through those gates before more Custodians arrive.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the open gates and the enticing glimpse of freedom. I couldn’t see the others any longer. I hoped they had reached the ruins by now, because I doubted the Custodians would go after them in there in the dark. And though I despaired that I was once again so close to freedom yet unable to taste it, I felt a sense of exhilaration that Karen and Sofia were free of this place. I hoped they’d be okay out there without me to protect them, but figured Gerry and the other foragers would get them safely to Ballarat. The ruins were their element, after all.
“I can’t, Ryan. You’ll bleed out if I remove my hands.” I didn’t even realise I was crying until I noticed tears drip from my chin onto the back of my hands. So I still cared for him, even after discovering his deception. He was a Custodian, but he was still the same selfless Ryan I had come to know. He was still my friend.
“I’ll be fine. Now go! Please?”
“You don’t understand. The bullet nicked an artery and if I reduce the pressure on the wound, you’ll be dead in minutes.”
He stared at me, no doubt recalling what I told him about my mutation, and nodded in understanding. “You’ll go to prison for your part in the breakout if you stay.”
“I know.” I gave him an encouraging smile.
Before we could say anything else, Sergeant King stirred from where he lay over near the gates. With dried blood all over his nose, mouth and chin, he quickly regained his feet. Seeing me leaning over Ryan, he drew his pistol and rushed towards to us.
“Step away from Lieutenant Hill and put your hands behind your head!” he bellowed.
“Step down, Sergeant!” Ryan said with as much strength as he could muster. As a lieutenant, Ryan outranked King.
The sergeant glanced at me, and then glowered at Ryan with undisguised animosity. “She’s one of them, Sir!”
“She just saved my life, Sergeant. Now report the breakout and get a medic over here pronto!”
“Yes, Sir,” King said, still scowling as he grabbed his radio to request a medic and report the breakout. That done, he turned back to Ryan. “How is it you’re even here, Lieutenant?” he asked suspiciously.
“Got a call to report to the warehouses that went up in flames, but then followed a hunch it could have been a diversion for something greater, so got here as fast as I could. Now get those gates closed, Sergeant,” Ryan replied.
“Yes, Sir.” The sergeant quickly closed and locked the gates, and then went to his men, who were beginning to stir. Once back on their feet, he sent two to check on those in the guard tower, and another to watch over me with his pistol drawn.
When he reached us, I could tell this Custodian wasn’t exactly enamoured with Ryan either. And that was weird. I thought the Custodians were a tight nit bunch – why did they dislike him so?
Then it hit me. Ryan’s story about dobbing in a workmate who injured another due to his negligence wasn’t a fabrication at all. He simply changed the facts.
“Ryan, you reported the Custodian who accidentally shot my father, didn’t you?” I asked.
“Worked it out at last, have you? Wondered when you would.”
I knew the Custodian standing guard over us could hear what I said, but I didn’t care. “Didn’t the other Custodians ostracise you because of that? And force you to quit the force?”
“I was universally despised, yes.” His eyes flickered in the direction of our minder. “But my request to resign was denied. They just transferred me to a different department.”
“Undercover Operatives?”
“Correct.” He suddenly arched his back with his face contorted in pain. I struggled but managed to keep the pressure on the wound. He smiled at me weekly. “Hey, I just want to say how proud I am of you. I saw what you did. I knew you’d do the right thing in the end.”
“Did you?” I snorted. “Truth is, I was just keeping a promise.”
“To?”
“My brother.”
“Where is–”
“He’s dead.”
“I’m so sorry, I know how much he meant to you. That his blood on you?”
“Yes. If you send some men over to the Derby Snooker Club’s staffroom, you’ll find him. Along with the men who ran an illegal gambling operation out of there, including Deacon and Wells, the two debt collector’s who’ve been giving me hell.”
“I heard a report of gunshots and an ultrasonic detector going off near there. A squad has already been despatched,” he said.
I stared at Ryan, conflicting emotions swirling through me. “You sure pulled the wool over my eyes.”
“You’re hardly one to t
alk.”
“Not like I had any choice. What about you? Why did you infiltrate the foragers?”
“Because Custodian HQ suspected Dan Smith met foul play. They also wanted to find out where the foragers got their drugs from and how they smuggled them into town.”
“Oh.”
“Care to shine some light on those matters for me?”
I didn’t know if I’d be charged as an accessory for murder if I told him what he wanted to know, but as I was probably going to be put away for life for my part in the breakout, what did it matter?
Our minder quickly pulled out a notebook and pencil, ready to record my answers. I sighed, seeing little point in protecting the villainous activities of the foragers any longer. Especially since most of them just escaped.
I proceeded to explain how Con, Matt, Jack and my brother murdered Dan because they believed he was an informer who would blow the whistle on their drug smuggling. I also told them where the drugs lab was, and how they used the interior of the truck doors to smuggle things into town.
Just as I finished relaying this information, an ambulance came roaring up the road and parked beside us. Two paramedics rushed over, faces grim.
“He’s been shot. The bullet’s nicked an artery,” I said as they knelt beside us.
“We’ll be the judge of that, Miss. Just step aside, thank you,” the paramedic said, giving me a condescending stare.
Ryan, who was now an unhealthy shade of white, grabbed the medic’s arm feebly. “Listen to her, she knows her stuff – more than you can imagine.”
Puzzled, the paramedics acquiesced to Ryan’s order. One took over applying pressure to the wound while the other checked his blood type with a handheld device and attached an intravenous drip to the back of his left hand. Ryan fell unconscious a moment later.
Stumbling back from Ryan and the paramedics, I clenched my teeth as I rode out the pain exploding in my chest now I was no longer exerting pressure on the wound.
Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1) Page 27
