Forager - the Complete Trilogy (A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Trilogy)

by Peter R Stone

  "But you've known me for less than a week," was all I could think to say.

  "As soon as I saw you on Monday – after you had helped Councillor Okada from the car, I knew you."

  "What do you mean?"

  She reached across the table and laid her small left hand on my right. A thrill raced up my arm and down the back of my spine, melting more of the walls I had built around my heart. "When I saw you, I saw an upright, honest man with a heart for others – a man of passion and capable of greatness."

  "I…don’t know what to say. No-one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

  “Then don’t say anything.” She smiled.

  I thought of Father’s attempt to marry me off to Sienna King, and once again wished he would contact Nanako’s parents to arrange a marriage between the two of us instead. I wished this blossoming friendship could continue yet on a much deeper level. But sadly, it was impossible. My father would never allow it, since he considered it his duty to pick my wife. He also made it clear he was only interested in me marrying a girl who could advance my social standing in the town. Being an outsider, Nanako could not meet either of those hurdle requirements.

  It was also just as likely that Nanako’s father would not approve of me. This made me wonder what her goals were in pursuing me so openly. I refused to think it was a merely physical attraction, since she said she loved me.

  Searching for answers, I decided to try the bold approach. "Nanako, are marriages in Hamamachi arranged by the fathers like here in Newhome, with the children having no say in the matter?"

  She shook her head emphatically, her pink fringe swinging from side to side. "In Hamamachi a couple either meets through an introduction arranged by the parents – with no obligation to marry, or they meet and decide to marry entirely on their own, with no input from their parents."

  "You're kidding!"

  "I'm serious," she said, before lowering her voice and continuing, "Ethan, I've visited several Victorian towns and none of them are even remotely like Newhome. None of them have twelve-foot walls. Their residents are free to come and go as they please. There are no exclusive upper class districts like your North End, and I've never seen anything like your Custodians. They seem more interested in controlling the people than in providing security against external threats."

  I tried to absorb what she shared and to be honest I wasn't overly surprised. I had long considered Newhome a prison for a population with very few freedoms.

  "Do you know who established this town? Because I'd bet it wasn't someone from Australia."

  Now that was a thought that had never occurred to me. "Who else could have established it? We are at the southern end of the Australian continent. What foreign power would have come all the way down here to set up a town?"

  “It's a mystery, that's for sure. Councillor Okada is stumped by it too. He believes the submarine moored in the river beside the town may be the answer.”

  "The submarine’s nuclear reactor provides Newhome with its electricity. Do you think it isn’t from the Australian navy?”

  "The councillor says it's a Soviet built, Whiskey Twin-Cylinder, but that doesn't mean it's from Russia, since they sold them to a number of nations. And are you sure it has a nuclear reactor? The councillor said the Whiskey-class subs had diesel-electric engines."

  "All of Newhome's power comes from the sub," I answered. "There's an entire department here devoted to the maintenance of the nuclear reactor. From time to time, they disconnect it from the city's power supply to replace or repair a component. My friend David said it's to make sure no parts of the reactor ever develop cracks."

  "So someone down the line must have replaced the sub’s engine with a nuclear reactor. Still, our guess is that whoever came here in that sub established this town."

  "Interesting." I wondered if there was some way I could find out what nation the sub originally belonged to. I decided to file that topic for later consideration and returned to what we were discussing previously – a topic that was of much greater significance to me personally. "Forgetting about submarines for a moment, I was wondering, at what age you are permitted to marry in Hamamachi? It's eighteen here."

  "It’s twenty for us," she replied. "However, the age can be lowered to eighteen with parental consent and a magistrate's approval."

  I pondered the mindboggling implications of Nanako having the freedom of choosing her own husband. The implications filled me with nervous excitement.

  There was one more question I absolutely had to ask. "Nanako, do you have...you know, a guy back home?" I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

  Her confidence faltered and she broke eye contact, her hand from mine. "No. I did have, a couple of years ago, but he...he said he never wanted to see me again."

  I looked at her downcast face, and felt sorry for her. I reached out and lifted her chin so that she met my gaze again. "Nanako, if I had a girl like you, I'd never ever, for any reason whatsoever, let her go."

  Her eyes filling with tears, Nanako suddenly stood to her feet. "Sorry, I need to go to the bathroom."

  She practically ran to the bathroom and shut the door behind her

  Great, I screwed up again. I really needed to stop putting my foot in my mouth. As I stood to follow her, with my enhanced hearing I heard her slide down the bathroom wall to the floor and sob quietly. She mumbled the same phrase over and over, "I can't go through this again, I just can't."

  And then I knew what weighed so heavily on her heart, why she sat crying so dejectedly on the apartments' roof her first night here. Some fool guy had broken her heart.

  I knocked softly on the bathroom door.

  “Nanako, please don’t cry. Not in there, all by yourself.” I wanted nothing more than to help her forget about the guy that hurt her so badly.

  There was no response, other than continued sobbing. I didn’t want to go barging in there. Determined to give her privacy, I collected the dirty dishes and washed them rather noisily. I put the leftover udon back on the stove and covered it.

  Nanako emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, her eyes puffy from crying. Outwardly composed, she bowed. "I'm sorry. We were having such a lovely evening. I’m sorry for spoiling it by getting all emotional."

  I reached out and took her left hand awkwardly in mine. "You have nothing to apologise for."

  "Shall we watch some TV?" she asked, tugging me after her as she headed for the sofa.

  I popped on the TV and we dropped onto the threadbare sofa, which only just barely accommodated two. She sat on my right, turned towards me, and draped her slim, shapely legs on top of mine. The way her thighs flattened out upon mine was simply mesmerising. She laid her head on my shoulder and snuggled her arms against my chest. I hesitantly put my right arm around her, and simply enjoyed being with her. As we cuddled, a serene peace filled me, driving away the disturbing sense of emptiness that had been with me ever since I woke in the hospital back in December 2120.

  It was strange. I had never seen my parents cuddle, hug or even touch, but holding Nanako like this felt like the most natural thing in the world. I ran my fingers through her hair and then jerked them back in surprise. "You're wearing a wig!"

  "You didn't know?" she giggled.

  "I had no idea," I laughed. "Can I see your real hair?"

  "Alright." She carefully lifted off the pink and black wig and removed a stocking cap that held her hair flat. That done, she shook her hair out until it fell naturally around her face.

  The result was stunning. Her real hair was naturally black and worn in a bob-cut that was short at the back and long at the front. And like the wig, her fringe hung below her eyebrows, which, if anything, further enhanced the effect of the thick eyeliner around her eyes.

  "Why the wig? You look just as pretty without it," I declared as I ran my fingers through her hair, which was as smooth as silk.

  "I like it, besides, it’s part of the fashion," she answered. Then she hesitated befo
re she asked, "Hey, can you give me a leg massage?"

  I looked at her in surprise. "A what?"

  "You know, massage the muscles in my legs."

  "How do I do that?"

  "Just start at the ankles and work your way up," she said.

  I looked at her legs draped over mine, and at the exposed length of thigh showing between her over-knee socks and shorts, and it seemed to me that what she was asking was quite improper. "Sorry, I really can't."

  "Sure you can," she assured me as she rested her head on my shoulder again.

  "It...doesn’t feel right. I mean, just us being alone together is against the law..."

  "Ethan, it’s only a massage."

  “Right.”

  Buffeted by guilt because she was an unmarried girl and I was raised to believe this was wrong – a crime even, I hesitated. But the intimacy of her embrace and the giddy realisation that she liked me – loved me, even – sent those thoughts fleeing from my mind. Before I knew what I was doing, my left hand was out of the sling and massaging her ankle and then her shapely calf. All the while, the feel of her body against mine was exhilarating.

  I worked my hand up to the back of her knee (and there was no way I was gonna go higher than her knee) when her legs and arms began to twitch. I felt her grow limp against my chest and looked down at her in surprise. She was fast asleep.

  I ceased massaging her legs since I felt uncomfortable touching them, and pondered all the things she had done since I met her. Her meaningful glances, making obento for my lunch, the oden and udon for dinner, her gentleness in caring for me when I got wounded, even standing up to my father. All of these things captured my attention and interest. But this! To be so innocent and trusting as to fall asleep in my arms – now she had gone and captured my heart as well.

  I knew then that I wanted to be with her forever. And as I held her in my arms, I wanted to scream in frustration because of our rigid customs regarding marriage. I spent my life expecting to be locked in a loveless marriage: it never occurred to me that I would meet a girl like Nanako. Was there anything I could do to be with her?

  It occurred to me that if she went back to Hamamachi, I could abscond while foraging and make the dangerous trek alone to be with her there. But with all foraging trips on hold, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to leave any time soon. In fact, with the Skel besieging Newhome, I may never have the opportunity again.

  Of course, if I did manage to run away, it would be a one-way trip. I would never see my family again, for to return would mean a lengthy prison term. And though I’d miss my younger sister and mother, I would willing pay that price if it meant I could be with Nanako.

  Another thought popped into my mind – what if I could find a way to persuade my father to let me marry Nanako? It was a long shot, especially in light of what had happened last night. Then there was the matter of the inexplicable animosity between my father and Nanako.

  As I tried to dig my way through this impossible situation, my eyes grew heavy and I too fell asleep.

  And began to dream.

  Chapter Twenty

  Although I was dreaming, my mind entered a state of such clarity that it felt like I was actually experiencing what I dreamed. It was January 2120, and I had only been out of school for several weeks. The next month I would turn eighteen.

  Having run away from my foraging team, I was prowling quietly along the front of an old, dilapidated factory in Lilydale, one of Melbourne's easternmost suburbs.

  To my left was the factory’s car park, overgrown by weeds and wild blackberry bushes. A battered old ute was parked there, but it wasn’t the ute that interested me. It was the sound of four young people having a riotous good time – laughing, cackling, and shouting in a foreign language.

  I was wary of them – as I was of everything out in Melbourne’s ruins – yet at the same time irresistibly curious because I could hear male and female voices together. So I crept quietly through the wild blackberries and climbed, without making a noise, onto the bonnet of the ute. I sat cross-legged and settled down to watch them.

  They were teenagers of a similar age – there were two guys and two girls. And they were having a fun watching four small lizards racing through narrow plastic pipes. Whenever a lizard popped its head out the wrong end, they would slap their thighs and laugh boisterously. The little lizards garnered a similar reaction when they appeared out of the far end, but then disappeared back into the safety of the pipe before they could be caught.

  I was most surprised and yet extremely fascinated to see girls outside their homes without their mothers to chaperone them, not to mention mixing with boys on even terms.

  The shorter of the two girls must have spotted me from her peripheral vision, because she suddenly stood up and whirled to face me, her slightly upturned mouth open as she studied me with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

  She was by far the strangest and yet the most intriguing girl I had seen. Her beautiful hair was jet black except for the fringe and some longer strands, which were dark pink. She wore a zebra striped jacket over a black top, a skirt made of lace, and tattered pink and black leggings. She also had a black choker with a silver bell around her neck.

  "Hello," she said in English with a broad Australian accent.

  "Hi," I replied.

  "Have you been there long?" Her dark brown eyes studied me intently.

  I nodded. "A while."

  "I didn't notice you come. Are you by yourself?" She glanced around.

  "I can be pretty quiet, and yes, I’m alone."

  Her three companions, who were now aware of my presence, jumped to their feet and stood beside her, clearly worried. The taller girl was dressed similarly, while the boys wore jeans and t-shirts. The tallest boy pulled out a gun and aimed it at me, but the first girl stretched out a hand and pushed it away.

  "What's your name?" she asked, peering out from beneath her pink fringe.

  "Ethan."

  "I’m Nanako. Where are you from?"

  "From a town about a day's walk west of here."

  "Really? So why are you out here by yourself?"

  "I kind of ran away," I replied, hoping the admission didn’t make me seem like an immature juvenile.

  "From your family?" she asked, clearly surprised.

  "No, not from them, from the town," I replied, thinking that should have been obvious.

  Her eyes, rimmed with thick, black eyeliner, widened in surprise. "You mean you can't come and go from your town as you please?"

  "No. No one is allowed to leave Newhome."

  "So how did you get away?" She took a step forward. It appeared she wasn’t wary of me any longer.

  "I'm a forager. I go out into Melbourne's ruins with a team to collect scrap metal. When no one was looking yesterday I ran off."

  She came closer, smiling warmly now. "We're a foraging team too. We collect old mobile phones and such. But hey, I bet you’re hungry. How’d you like to join us for lunch?"

  "Sounds great," I said as I slid off the ute.

  The girl’s friends spoke to her in hushed voices in their own language, clearly concerned. But she must have allayed their fears, for they joined her in fetching their lunches from the ute.

  Nanako brought out a beautiful lacquered black lunchbox wrapped in a handkerchief, and invited me to sit with her.

  Feeling way out of my depth, I accepted her invitation and hesitantly sat beside her. She gave me a rice-ball wrapped in paper-thin seaweed. I had never eaten rice before, and it tasted awesome – a refreshing break from potatoes and bread.

  "My friends are Miki, Ken and Hiro. They don’t speak English, I’m afraid," she said. "We're Japanese, by the way, from Hamamachi, over near Inverloch."

  I nodded politely to the others, and they gave short bows in return. I reflected on my good fortune to have found such friendly people one day out of Newhome.

  "Hey Ethan," Nanako said as she passed me a block of scrambled egg wrapped with seaweed. "Why d
on't you come back to Hamamachi with us and join one of our foraging teams – maybe even ours. We can use all the foragers we can get."

  "Can I leave the town when I want to?" I asked, worried that I might be walking into another prison.

  "Of course," she answered, and then, after making meaningful eye contact with me, added, "If you want to leave, that is."

  My head jerked, tearing me out of the dream. For a moment I was so disorientated I had no idea where I was. Nanako's presence quickly brought me back to reality, though. She was snuggled against my chest, legs draped over mine, still fast asleep.

  I don't know how long I slept, but it must have been at least a couple of hours. Apart from the flickering light and shadows caused by the television, the room was almost completely dark.

  My mind raced frantically as I tried to process what the dream revealed. It was clearly a memory from my missing year. And a major clue as to what really happened during that time. I had run away from Newhome in January 2120 and headed east, where I bumped into Nanako and her foraging team. After that they invited me to Hamamachi.

  I guess I had been willing to run away at that time because it was before my younger sister got sick. Perhaps father lied about what really happened because he was afraid I would run away again if I found out I had done so previously.

  I ran my fingers through Nanako's silky black hair and contemplated the most puzzling revelation of the dream, that Nanako and I did not meet on Monday as I had supposed, but three years ago.

  Now I understood why she kept staring at me after we saved her and Councillor Okada from the Skel. She must have been so surprised that out of all the people in Newhome who could have rescued her, it just happened to be me. Yet at the same time she must have been so disappointed I didn't recognise her.

  But why didn't she greet me by name as soon as she saw me? If I had responded by saying I didn't know her, she could have explained to me how we'd met before. Instead, she greeted me as a stranger. And in all the times I saw her since then, she never once gave me any indication that we met previously. Well, except for the excitement she showed when I told her my memories were returning, and disappointment when I said I hadn't remembered any people yet. She was obviously hoping I would remember her.