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

by Peter R Stone

  I ran my fingers through her hair. "That was so brave, heading off alone like that. Though it was for the best the councillor brought you back. If the Skel had caught you... "

  "Yeah, I realise that now," she agreed, and then fell silent, lost in her thoughts.

  I wondered if that was all that happened, and if Reina was merely trying to wind me up. But what would she have hoped to achieve by doing that?

  We arrived at the market at last and found it rather crowded. Young women with their older chaperones, middle aged and older women by themselves, and even men, frequented outdoor stalls selling vegetables, fruit, soybean products, chicken, fish, and kitchen utensils. The foodstuffs were typically raw, but there were a few stalls that sold cooked food. Two squads of Custodians meandered slowly through the market, making their presence known. The shoppers tended to give them a wide berth wherever possible.

  A stall selling grilled chicken kebabs sent my mouth watering, but as we were almost broke, we bypassed the stall and went on to the cheapest and most popular green grocer.

  "Don’t go making a scene if they still won’t serve me, okay?" Nanako said, poking me in the ribs.

  "Who me?" I asked, feigning innocence.

  "Yes, you. I know what you get like when your nose is out of joint."

  "What you're trying to say is, you don’t want me to embarrass you, right?"

  "Bingo." She smiled warmly.

  "Fair enough."

  Nanako grabbed a wire-shopping basket and filled it with potatoes, onions, long white radishes, spinach, beans, cabbage and lettuce. And unlike me when I shopped, she didn’t just grab a handful of beans or the first cabbage she came to, but checked each and every one. She must have rejected half a dozen cabbages before she found one she was happy with.

  But before Nanako had a chance to approach the sales counter, a tall stallholder wearing a long green apron approached and cleared his throat. "Ma’am, I thought I made myself quite clear the last time you were here – we will not serve you."

  "But I need food," Nanako replied with only a trace of emotion as she looked up into the man’s red face. He was a bit of a drinker, this one.

  The man held out his hand. "Sorry, but you’ll have to take your business elsewhere. Now hand back the basket."

  I took this as my cue to step forward. "Sir, my name is Ethan Jones and this lady is my wife. Would you kindly explain why you refuse to serve her?"

  "Sorry, sir, but I've been informed that this woman's a Jap, and as the Japs are in league with the Skel, I can't be seen serving her," he blustered.

  "That the Japanese are in league with the Skel is nothing more than a rumour, but even if it was true, it's got nothing to do with my wife. She's a citizen of Newhome, just like you and me, and therefore you will serve her."

  The stall keeper was not intimidated in the slightest. "You're not listening to me, sir. I will not serve a Jap, so either buy the food yourself, or you can both push off!"

  "Look here..." I said, becoming angry.

  But Nanako suddenly put the heavily laden shopping basket on top of a crate of ripe apples and grabbed my hand. "Come on, let's go."

  "But..." I protested, refusing to give up.

  "Is there a problem here?" a voice boomed from my left. One of the roving squads of Custodians had noticed our commotion and had come to investigate. With assault-rifles, helmets and bulletproof vests, they were an intimidating sight.

  "There is, sir," piped up the stallholder. "These two are hassling me and driving away my customers."

  The Custodian sergeant turned to us, but before he could speak, there was a loud bang and a hole appeared in the centre of his helmet. A river of blood poured down his face and he collapsed to the ground like a felled tree.

  The remaining three Custodians looked at Nanako and me in wide-eyed shock and reached the barely conceivable conclusion that we'd shot the sergeant. But even as they brought their guns to bear on us, there was a second, softer bang and a another Custodian fell, this one with a hole in his armoured vest.

  Realising we were not the shooter, the last two Custodians couched their assault-rifles to their shoulders, sighted through the gun scopes, and spun about frantically as they tried to spot the assassin.

  I must confess that I was as confused and shocked as they were. Who on earth would take on the Custodians? And how did they get hold of a gun so powerful it could shoot through their vests and helmets?

  I wasn't the only one bewildered by what was happening either. All of the shoppers and stallholders nearby had heard the bangs as the bullets hit the Custodians, and many saw the Custodians fall. However, as no one had heard the gunshots, they didn't realise what was happening.

  It wasn't until the second Custodian went down that I came to my senses. I realised that immediately after each Custodian had been shot, I heard the sound of the bullet whizz past my head. (The sound of a bullet's passage always came afterwards, since bullets travelled much faster than the speed of sound.)

  Suddenly a wooden table to our right laden with vegetables exploded as another bullet slammed into it. Splinters of wood and pieces of cabbage and carrot rained down like confetti.

  And then I had it. The shooter had to be outside the town, most likely shooting down into the market from a derelict hi-rise building at the edge of the ruins facing Newhome. That meant he was a good kilometre or so away, which was why no one had heard the gunshots. However, the fact that the shooter could hit his targets with perfect accuracy at such a range meant one thing – he was an experienced sniper with virtually unparalleled skill.

  "It's a sniper! Everyone get down!" I shouted at the top of my voice as I pulled Nanako down to hunker with me behind a wooden table.

  The market place instantly descended into utter pandemonium as hundreds of people screamed and ran for their lives in terror. But as they didn't know where the shooter was, they scattered in all directions, bumping into and upsetting tables and spilling food to the ground. One large man careened off the chicken kebab seller’s table, sending all the appetising food to the concrete.

  Shoppers also bowled each other over as they stampeded towards every available exit. I saw an elderly woman in an old-fashioned brown dress get knocked down. Several women and men trampled over her while her younger daughter or daughter-in-law tried frantically to drag her to safety.

  Throughout the mayhem, the sniper continued to ply his lethal trade. Another Custodian went down with a bullet in his chest before the last member of the squad found a brick wall to hide behind. The second Custodian squad had by now worked out the direction the bullets were coming from, but hadn’t realised the sniper was outside the town. Their faces stricken with fear, they hid behind cover as well, popping up now and then in vain attempts to spot the shooter. Unfortunately for them, the sniper could see them clearly and picked off two more in rapid succession. The remaining two were forced to flee the market while shouting into their radios for backup.

  The shooter didn’t limit his trade to the Custodians, either. He also shot several civilians, though wounding rather than killing them. Bullets continued to ply into tables too, peppering the market place with splinters and pieces of vegetables and fruit. But one by one the civilians found safety amongst the surrounding brick buildings. A small number of civilians, like us, were still hiding behind stalls in the market.

  Aware that the wooden table we were crouching behind would provide little resistance to a bullet, I grabbed Nanako’s shoulders. "We’ve got to make a run for it."

  Her fingers dug into my arms like knives. "You’ve got to be kidding!" she declared as another bullet whizzed past us and blew apart an herbs-and-spices stall.

  "This table won’t stop a bullet, we’ve got to get to where he can't target us," I said. "But we won’t be making a mad dash for the exit. We’ll leap frog our way across, using every bit of cover we can find on the way."

  "But where’s the shooter?" she asked as she tried to squeeze herself further behind the table w
e were hiding behind.

  "He’s in one of the hi-rise buildings outside town."

  "He's a Skel? How the blazes did the Skel get their hands on a weapon this powerful, let alone learn how to use it?" she demanded.

  "There were plenty of weapons lying around after the Apocalypse, just waiting to be taken. That's how Newhome got our weapons, so the Skel must have done the same," I said.

  "But the Skel have only just started using guns, and they're all archaic bolt-action rifles."

  "Their attack to destroy the sub and overrun North End was a dismal failure, so maybe they've brought in a new Skel tribe that has more modern weapons?" I said.

  Our deliberations were interrupted when a mature woman hiding behind a table beside us got up and ran as fast as she could for an exit. She’d taken no more than two-dozen steps when she collapsed, shrieking in pain and clutching her leg in an attempt to staunch blood flowing from a bullet wound.

  "If someone doesn’t get a tourniquet on her quick, she’s not gonna make it," Nanako pointed out urgently.

  "You up for it?" I couldn't sit here and watch the poor woman bleed to death.

  Nanako was shaking, but she nodded her agreement all the same. So we crawled out from beneath the table and ran in an erratic manner towards the injured woman. I made sure I remained between Nanako and the shooter as we ran.

  We paused behind every crate, table or stall as we went. I figured it would take a few seconds for a bullet to get here, which meant he would have to lead his shots. And although bullets came close to us on two occasions, my strategy of moving erratically rather than in a predictably straight line appeared to be working.

  Just before we reached the woman, two armoured Bushmaster vehicles roared into the market and two Custodian squads emerged from each. They fanned out and advanced through the market, trying to find the shooter.

  Nanako and I ducked behind the last piece of cover between us and the woman – a moveable, two-wheeled stall selling baskets woven from straw.

  "Sir!" I called out to the closest Custodian.

  He turned in our direction and fixed me with an impassive stare.

  "The shooter, I reckon he's in a hi-rise outside Newhome," I shouted.

  "You will vacate the area immediately, Civilian!" the Custodian shouted back at me, ignoring my comment completely.

  Leaving the Custodians to their fate, Nanako and I rushed to the injured woman. We put our arms around her shoulders and pulled her into an adjacent road lined with brick buildings.

  To the sound of the sniper’s bullets peppering the market place behind us, Nanako and I tore strips off the woman’s dress and applied a tourniquet to her leg, staunching the blood flow.

  I glanced back into the market and saw the newly arrived Custodians flee back to their vehicles and make a hasty retreat, leaving half their number behind. The Custodians, the bully boys of Newhome, had finally met their match.

  The injured woman fell unconscious, but at least her life was no longer at risk. All the same, we needed to get her to hospital as soon as possible. And that applied to the other wounded civilians. Some were screaming, some whimpering, and others lay unconscious. The Custodians who had been shot were all dead, from what I could tell.

  It was only then that we realised the shooting had stopped. Apart from the sounds of the wounded, silence had fallen over a market place that looked as though it had been struck by a tornado. Tables and crates had been knocked askew, bowled over, or shot to pieces, and food was strewn all over the place.

  A few minutes later, a small fleet of aged ambulances arrived and parked in the adjacent streets. An army of paramedics descended upon the wounded and slain and quickly carried them out of the open area. We called two paramedics over and they took the injured woman off our hands and loaded her into an ambulance, praising us for saving her life.

  After that, Nanako and I made our way back to our apartment – without the food we'd gone to buy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sniper continued to harass the town for the next few days, targeting primarily Custodians but some civilians as well. As a result, most people remained indoors, too afraid to step outside. The market place did not reopen, and many shops, businesses and factories had to close. Newhome had truly become a town under siege. We couldn't leave the town because of the Skel army camped outside, and we had to stay off the streets inside because of the sniper.

  The Custodians finally worked out the sniper was shooting from a high-rise building outside Newhome. They tried to take him out with machine guns in the guard towers on the eastern wall. That attempt was abandoned after more Custodians were sent to the morgue.

  On the plus side, the week became a time of solidarity as civilians shared food and other necessities with neighbours who were not as well off. Movement between most apartment blocks was relatively safe as the outermost buildings blocked the sniper’s field of fire.

  My mother, and David's family too, gave us enough food to get through the week, but it was a temporary solution at best. When they ran out of food we'd all be in the same boat. In fact, the whole town was faced with the same problem.

  * * *

  On Friday morning, I was busying myself with putting a fresh coat of paint on the bedroom wall. Nanako was sitting on the bed attempting to mend clothes that had been ruined virtually beyond repair.

  We didn't think anything of it when a Bushmaster pulled up outside our apartment block. The Custodians travelled only in their armoured vehicles now because of the sniper.

  However, when four pairs of boots tramped towards our flat, I put down my brush and watched the door nervously.

  "What is it?" Nanako asked, putting her needlework aside.

  "Custodians."

  There was a loud knock. Well, more like a loud bang, at the door.

  I hurried over to unbolt and unlock the door, and then opened it the minimum necessary. My spirits fell as soon as I saw who it was – Major Harris and his three goons, including the scumbag who’d ‘frisked’ my wife, Private Kirkwood.

  "I am looking for a Mr. Ethan Jones," the major said as though speaking to a school boy.

  I looked into his smug, arrogant face, wondering what game he was playing at. The git knew very well who I was. "That would be me, sir. We've met before – remember?"

  "Sorry, no, I don't. You mustn't have made much of an impression," he said with a self-satisfied smile. "Now, step outside please. We're going on a little trip."

  "To where, sir?" I asked, growing worried.

  "Why, to Custodian Headquarters, of course."

  "May I ask the reason, sir?" Nanako queried as she joined me at the door and glared up at the tall Custodian major.

  "Ah, Nanako Jones. Held any more wild parties lately?" he asked, ignoring her question.

  "As I told you before, our flat was trashed by vandals," she declared adamantly.

  "You will address me as 'sir,' ma'am," the major said and then turned back to me. "Better teach your wife some manners before it's too late, Mr. Jones. Now, come with us.”

  "You can’t take Ethan away without telling us the reason – sir," Nanako insisted.

  The major sighed and rolled his eyes. "Mind your place, ma’am – you are not to speak unless spoken to!"

  "Well, you've spoken to me now, so you can answer my question. What do you want with my husband, sir?"

  Aware that Nanako was about to land herself in deep trouble, I touched her shoulder and shook my head slightly. To my relief, she heeded the warning and fell silent, although begrudgingly.

  "Outside now, Mr. Jones," the major repeated.

  I gave Nanako a quick kiss on the top of her head. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

  She nodded and remained in the doorway as the four Custodians marched me away, her eyes wide with apprehension.

  A dozen fearful scenarios fled through my mind as the Custodians hurried me downstairs towards the Bushmaster. Why had they come for me? Did the Custodian I bribed rat me out? Did D
avid or Shorty accidentally spill the beans? Did Consultant Singhe tell them I was an echolocater?

  We reached the Bushmaster and a Custodian opened the rear door and gestured for me to get inside.

  "Can you please tell me what this is about, Major? Am I under arrest?" I hesitated to enter the vehicle.

  "Oh don't be so melodramatic, Mr. Jones. Just get in the vehicle, will you? You'll find out what this is about soon enough," the major said with exasperation.

  I climbed into the boxlike armoured vehicle and sat in the seat behind the driver. The Custodians clambered in behind me, and we were off.

  Thanks to the parade of fearful scenarios marching through my mind, I was a nervous wreck by the time we reached Headquarters ten minutes later. They took me to a bland room on the top floor that was longer than it was wide, with white walls, no windows, and a long table that seated eight.

  A solidly built Custodian of Asian heritage – probably Korean – sat at the far end of the table. An older man with short, grey hair. My heart missed a beat when I realised he was a general. Colonel Kim, who had interrogated me when we got back to Newhome, sat at the general's right, staring at me impassively.

  And to my astonishment, the handsome, square-jawed Captain Smithson sat to his right. I hadn't seen nor heard from him since the night the Skel attacked Newhome. He was much paler than the last time I saw him, and though I couldn't see any obvious injuries, I recalled he had been wounded in the battle.

  Two more captains sat at the table, and so did Consultant Singhe, who sat at the general's left.

  "We meet again, Ethan Jones," Singhe whispered below the hearing level of the others present.

  "Wish I knew what I was doing here," I whispered back.