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

by Peter R Stone

  Chapter Twenty

  At my wits end, frustrated, helpless, and seething with rage at the Custodian monsters that put my wife and I into this situation, I ran to the balcony outside. The sight of the trees and unkempt lawns and gardens below normally soothed my soul, but I didn't even notice them. I slumped to the floor and bashed the concrete wall that separated my balcony from the neighbouring one with my right fist again and again, trying in vain to find an outlet for my frustration.

  And then suddenly, unexpectedly, an event from my forgotten past flashed into my mind with crystal clear clarity...

  Today was the anniversary of Nanako’s father’s death. She’d been on compulsory Militia duty while I was out foraging with the rest of her team. This was the first day we’d been apart since I arrived in Hamamachi three weeks ago, and so I was majorly disappointed when I got her text.

 

  I’d headed off to Tanaka’s bistro with Miki, Ken and Hiro – the other members of our foraging team. It was a quaint, el cheapo restaurant and a favourite stop off for us youngsters. The place was pretty full tonight.

  A whole bunch of us, including foragers, schoolies, factory workers, even some Rangers, knelt together at one of the restaurant’s long, low tables. Reina Sato, the cute Ranger private who'd taken a shining to me, was sitting opposite.

  "Hey, Ethan," Reina said as she leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. "You seem to have taken a liking to young Nanako, but, ah, I wouldn't get too involved with her, if I was you."

  My three foraging buddies overheard Reina's comment and fell silent, glancing at each other in concern.

  "Excuse me?" I asked, annoyed. My friendship with Nanako was none of her business.

  "She’s a flake," added the guy next to Reina. He was a Ranger too.

  "A what?" I demanded gruffly.

  "She’s not all there. She gets sick, you know, in her head," one of the final-year schoolies added.

  "She has a mental illness," Reina added softly.

  "Yeah, she took a year off school once. Didn't leave the house that whole time," the schoolie added.

  "As I said, a flake," the Ranger said.

  "Seriously, you can do a lot better than her," Reina said. She stared at me meaningfully.

  "Think I’ll skip dinner tonight," I said angrily in basic, halting Japanese as I stood to my feet. As an afterthought I added, "If Nanako really does have these problems like you say, you guys should be ashamed of yourselves, bagging her like this instead of supporting her."

  I stormed out of Tanaka’s with my three forager friends on my heels. I told them I was going to see Nanako, but they all advised against it. Hiro explained it was the anniversary of when her father died and that she was best left alone.

  I went anyway.

  When I got to her place, I found her six-year-old sister sitting on top of the brick fencepost, kicking it with her feet. I flashed her a smile and knocked on the door.

  Nanako's mother, who was short, petite, and still quite attractive, answered the door. She smiled sadly when she saw me. "I'm sorry, Ethan, Nanako's had a bad day. She'll be feeling better tomorrow, so why don't you drop by again then?"

  I was disappointed I couldn't see her, but bowed in understanding and turned to go.

  "She's in the back yard," Nanako's sister said in English after her mother had closed the door. "She's having one of her attacks."

  "Attacks?"

  "Yeah, Mum calls them anxiety attacks."

  "Is she okay?" I'd never heard of anxiety attacks before.

  "She'll pull out of it eventually. Why don't you go see her. She won't mind.'"

  "But your mum said..."

  "I won't tell her if you won't," she said slyly.

  I rewarded her with a smile and quietly slipped through the carport and into the backyard.

  Nanako was sitting on the grass outside the lounge room. She was resting her head on her knees, which she was hugging to her chest, and she was bouncing her feet up and down. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and she was crying so despondently that it broke my heart into a thousand shards.

  I deliberately dragged my feet across the grass to herald my approach and then sat cross-legged before her. "Hey, I heard you weren't well. Is it ok if I sit with you a while?"

  "I don't want you to see me like this," she mumbled without looking up.

  "Too late, I already have," I said kindly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  "Please go."

  "Nope, can't do that," I replied as I studied her and wondered what I could do. I knew she loved to garden with her mother, so I stood, pulled her to her feet, and led her towards the garden bed that lined the back fence

  She took a few steps, pulled her hand out of mine, and sagged back to a squatting position, burying her head in her arms. I put my arm around her narrow waist and helped her up again, and we took a few more steps – more than the last time – before she squatted down again. I pulled her back to her feet and patiently kept at it until she was finally able to walk all the way to the garden. Once there, we sat beside each other and I began plucking out grass and weeds that had taken root amongst the flowerbed.

  With mechanical movements, Nanako joined in, and with deft fingers that were far more experienced than mine, tugged out weed after weed.

  "This thing you're afraid of – whatever's worrying you – it's not real, okay? I'm guessing it looks larger than life right now, but it's not, okay?"

  She looked at me then, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks streaked with tears, and then went back to weeding.

  The backdoor opened and Nanako's mother came out. "Nana-chan, are you okay?" she asked gently, but when she caught sight of me, her expression changed to one of anger. I looked at her, embarrassed and guilt-ridden for having disobeyed her.

  However, upon seeing Nanako studiously plucking out weeds beside me, her anger faded just as quickly. She gave me a genuine, reassuring smile, and went back inside.

  The memory triggered from my missing year ceased and I fell forward, disorientated and panting for breath.

  I remembered Councillor Okada’s parting words again. "Take good care of Nanako – she is not as tough as she seems."

  "You can count on me, sir," I'd assured him.

  Really? So what was I doing out here on the balcony when she was in the bathroom having an anxiety attack? Was this taking good care of her?

  Chastising and berating myself for not staying with her when she needed me most, I rushed back into the apartment and slipped into the bathroom. And just like she'd been when I saw her back in Hamamachi, she was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and bouncing her feet up and down. She shook with despondent sobs.

  I sat beside her and wrapped her up in my arms. She had been through so much, leaving her traumatised and broken. And yet, she was the most amazing, considerate, and loving person I’d ever known. And best of all, by some miracle I couldn't comprehend, she was mine.

  I grieved for her as I listened to her racing heartbeat, and her shallow, rapid breaths. Between the sobs she was still repeating the same phrase over and again, as though her mind was stuck in a rut and she couldn't find the way out. I know she'd had troubles with anxiety attacks before, but this attack was thanks to the unknown person who wiped out my Ranger team and tried to kill me. One day I was going to find out who did this and I'd see them brought to justice.

  I pulled Nanako to her feet and led her slowly out of the flat. Several times she pulled back, squatted on the floor and buried her head in her arms, but each time I coaxed her back up and led her onwards, until we eventually reached one of the ill-kept gardens that lay between the apartment blocks. We soon lost ourselves in the familiar activity of plucking out weeds.

  "This thing you're afraid of," I said gently as we worked, "that I'm gonna get shot and you're going to go through that hell again? It's not real. It's only what you're af
raid is going to happen. It's not what is going to happen. I'm gonna survive tomorrow, okay? I'm gonna come back to you."

  She weeded for another ten minutes before she answered, and even then, it was barely a whisper. "You promise?"

  "Absolutely. I'm gonna echolocate every second I'm out there and nothing's gonna get the drop on me, okay?"

  "Can we go home now?" she asked several minutes later.

  "Sure." I stood and gave her a hand up.

  As we walked back to our apartment hand in hand, Nanako eyed me curiously. "How did you know to do that?"

  "Do what?"

  "Get me out of the panic attack by making me walk and do gardening?"

  I told her about the memory, and she was greatly encouraged. Another one of my lost memories of our time together had returned.

  * * *

  I barely slept that night. I just held Nanako and soothed her every time she was afflicted by a nightmare – and she had quite a few.

  We rose at five and Nanako prepared a quick but nutritious breakfast.

  "Please don’t go," she pleaded softly when we sat down to eat.

  I looked at her crestfallen face from across the table and took her hand in mine. "I have to."

  "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

  I shook my head.

  She sighed forlornly and picked at her food.

  "Don’t stay at home today, okay?" I said while stuffing a roll of fried egg in my mouth. "Go to my mothers and make a new dress with her or do some gardening with my sisters. But don’t sit at home fretting while waiting for me to get back."

  She kept picking at her food.

  "Promise me," I insisted. I couldn’t bear the thought of her spending the day cooped up in the bathroom with anxiety attacks running rampant.

  She nodded. "Okay. Now you eat up – you need your strength today."

  I ate up.

  After breakfast Nanako saw me to the door, gave me a crushing, lingering hug, and then bowed as I made my way down the walkway towards the elevator. She held the bow until I passed out of sight.

  * * *

  I arrived at the Custodian Barracks a few minutes late. The yard was a hive of activity as over a hundred-and-fifty Custodians readied for battle. Eight Bushmasters dominated the yard, their noisy engines idling. They would carry half the attack force and a small fleet of G-Wagons the other half.

  "Blast it, Captain, you were right," I heard Major Harris complain. I looked about and found him and Captain Smithson beside one of the G-Wagons. The major was the fool Custodian Command had chosen to lead this ill-fated attack.

  "You’re late, Consultant Jones – and you’ve gone and cost me a hundred bucks," the major snarled as he pulled out his wallet and handed two fifties to the captain.

  "Told you he’d turn up," the captain said smugly, and then turned to me. "Go and kit up, Jones. At the double!"

  I hurried past the idling, boxlike Bushmasters and entered the barracks, where I had to push and thread myself through dozens of armed and armoured Custodians milling about the corridors.

  Over two dozen Custodians were kitting up in Delta Company's locker room, and to say I was nervous would have been a major understatement. I was also still in a state of denial. I couldn’t believe I was actually here, in the middle of the Custodians’ barracks and about to go on a mission with them. I thought of Nanako, depending on me to make it back alive, and so emboldened, slipped through the men to reach my locker and began to strip off.

  "What the blazes are you doing here, boy?" a bull-necked Custodian asked.

  "He’s the consultant who’s been assigned to our company," answered one of the sergeants.

  "Huh, what do we need one of them for?" asked another Custodian as he leered at me.

  I tried to ignore my comrades’ naked hostility and put on my camo-fatigues. As a consultant I wasn’t allowed a weapon so I didn’t have a gun belt.

  "The captain requested him by name, apparently," a corporal put forward.

  Bull-neck, or rather, Private Kostopoulos according to his name patch, stuck his face in mine. "Why’s that, Consultant? What are we supposed to consult you on?"

  "Hey, aren’t you that forager Ethan Jones who accompanied King to Hamamachi?" another private asked. "How come you got back and he didn’t?"

  "Enough chit chat – kit up and get out there!" shouted a second sergeant, whose name was Xiao, according to his nametag. About my height, he had the slightest build I'd seen of any Custodian, and wasn't much older than me, from the looks of it.

  Relieved I didn’t have to go down that particular question-and-answer path again, I quickly finished putting on my bulletproof armoured jacket. I was fully aware of the dirty looks cast in my direction and snide remarks made behind my back.

  Kitted up, I left my runners on instead of putting on the regulation boots I'd been given and then followed the rest of the men out to the yard.

  Captain Smithson, who was standing impatiently beside the rear door of the lead Bushmaster, beckoned me over. "You're riding shotgun with the driver," he said, and then added, "if you see any Skel booby traps or ambushes, you sing out straight away, you hear me?"

  "Got it, sir."

  He glanced about to make sure no one was watching us and quickly unclipped his pistol belt and handed it to me. "Here, put this on."

  I donned the belt, which included the gun, ammo and a combat knife, and ducked into the vehicle. I clambered past the Custodians who crammed the crew compartment and dropped into the front passenger seat. Not wanting the bulky bulletproof helmet to hinder my vision and hearing, I pulled it off and dropped it on my lap.

  Five minutes later, we were off.

  I don't remember much of the journey through Newhome and into the no-man's strip of land surrounding the town, for I was lost in a myriad of fearful thoughts, most of which revolved around what would happen to Nanako if I couldn't keep my promise to come home safely from this stupid attack. I wasn't the only nervous one, either. The rest of the Custodians fidgeted, checked and rechecked their weapons, and made pointless small talk until the captain shushed them.

  I snapped out of my reverie when the attack force of Bushmasters and G-Wagons braked to a stop fifty meters out from the apparently lifeless apartment blocks the sniper had been using as his base.

  I’d seen these apartment blocks on many occasions but had never entered them since they were so close to the town – anything of value in them would have been looted or scavenged a century ago. The apartments were much newer than most of the surrounding one or two story houses, so I reckoned they must have been constructed after the turn of the millennium.

  I examined the shattered, broken windows and the weathered, cracked walls. The upper stories were pockmarked with bullet holes, courtesy of the Custodians unsuccessful attempts to kill the sniper.

  I wondered what awaited us. To be honest, I was surprised the sniper hadn’t taken any pot shots at us on the way here. I guess he was probably getting his butt out of there just in case we did overcome whatever welcoming committee the Skel had prepared.

  "It’s a go, I repeat, it’s a go," Major Harris’ voice sounded over the radio.

  Captain Smithson got up and came to stand behind the driver and me, resting one hand on the back of each chair. He pointed to the road to the left of the apartment blocks – Ascot Vale Road. Our objective was to advance up this street and then disembark and assault the apartments from the flank. Another company would do the same in Crown Street, which was on the other side of the apartments. The two centre companies would mount a frontal assault. I didn't fancy their chances of getting up to the twelfth floor.

  "You ready, Jones?" Captain Smithson asked.

  "May I suggest we disembark when we reach Ascot Vale Road and go in on foot?" I asked. The fact was, while I was cooped up inside the Bushmaster I couldn't use flash sonar, and therefore my ability to spot ambushes and booby traps was severely hampered.

  "We will proceed as ordered, J
ones," the captain said. He turned to the driver. "Okay private, proceed."

  The driver caressed the accelerator and the Bushmaster moved slowly over the cracked and pitted concrete and asphalt. We entered Ascot Vale Road, the twelve-story building towering above us to our right and two-story town houses on our left. Fifty meters in, the burnt out, rusting wreck of an old Holden Commodore was blocking the right lane, forcing us to go left.

  But as soon as we passed the wreck I noticed a suspicious shape on the road directly ahead, concealed by a filthy, tattered tarpaulin. And I reckoned I could just make out a thin wire twinkling in the sunlight that ran from whatever was under the blanket to the other side of the road.

  "Stop! Skel booby trap ahead!" I exclaimed urgently.

  The private slammed on the brakes.

  "Where?" Captain Smithson demanded.

  "Bomb, under that blanket, sir," I informed him.

  "Blast it! Right, we'll have to disembark here, then," the captain said as he reached for his radio.

  But before the captain could give the order, the Custodian manning the Bushmaster's roof mounted 7.62mm machine gun must have spotted Skel because he suddenly opened fire. However, after only two bursts of sustained fire, he cried out and slumped back into the passenger compartment with a crossbow bolt through his neck.

  The platoon's medic leaped from his seat and tried to provide medical assistance to the unfortunate private, but I could tell from his expression that there was nothing he could do.

  Fearing the worst, I gave my attention back to the street outside, and was just in time to see a Skel step out from behind the corner of a building further up the street. He was carrying a rocket launcher on his shoulder, which he promptly aimed it at us.

  "Get down!" I screamed as I twisted out of my seat and flung myself head first into the passenger compartment. I squirmed my way past the medic and the lifeless machine gunner, grabbing the captain and pulling him with me. As soon as I hit the deck, I pressed my palms firmly against my ears. Then I grunted in pain when the captain fell on top of me.