"Bah!" he huffed, but collected everyone's water bottles, stuffed them into his backpack, and then disappeared into the bush, heading back towards the river and muttering obscenities all the while.
As the others fanned out into the surrounding bush to look for anything we could eat, I pulled Madison over to a tree and sat her down with her back to the trunk. I removed one of her shoelaces and tied her neck to the tree. "Don't go anywhere," I said while flashing her a winning smile. I turned and was about to rush off into the bush, when she said something that made my blood run cold.
“What did you just say?” I demanded as I came back to her.
"I said, you and the Jap cannot have children together. You know that, right?" she repeated.
"What are you talking about? She's been pregnant once," I replied heatedly.
"And she had a miscarriage." It was a statement, not a question.
"What makes you say that?"
"She did, yes?"
"Yes. Yes, she did, but it was because she wasn't well at the time," I conceded.
"That may have had some bearing on it, but ultimately, it would not have made any difference. We genetically engineered humans cannot procreate with normals. Apparently, our DNA is incompatible."
"And who told you that nonsense?"
"They conducted trials in Newhome on us girls. The geneticists wanted to see if the bio-engineered modifications would pass on to our progeny, and if so, to what extent. But we never got to find out. The pregnancies all ended in miscarriages," she explained. "Subsequent tests confirmed the incompatibility."
"But...no, that can't be!" I protested, aghast, as the implications of what she said exploded through my mind. For if she was telling the truth, then Nanako and I could never have children, and I knew how keen Nanako was to have that ‘gaggle’ of kids one day in the future. And not just Nanako, I'd been looking forward to having them too. And like we discussed, raising them out in the country somewhere. But if what Madison said was true, this was just an empty dream now. I mean, we'd still have each other, and that would be enough, but something would still be missing.
Another thought hit me then. Nanako had been beating herself up after her miscarriage, blaming herself because it since she hadn't been eating or sleeping properly at the time as a result of severe depression. But according to Madison, she would have miscarried anyway. If I was to tell this news to Nanako, she could be set free from the crushing guilt that burdened her.
But no! Sure, it could stop her feeling guilty and blaming herself for the miscarriage, but it would come with the knowledge that we couldn't ever have kids, that we couldn't ever build the home together we'd dreamt of.
Still, I had to tell her. I couldn't keep something that important from her. I couldn't tell her now, though, not when she had just pulled out of such a savagely debilitating episode of depression. To tell her now could send her spiralling back down into that terrible place and I couldn't let that happen. I would have to hide this terrible knowledge in my heart, and not share it with her until she was a lot stronger and healthier.
"I have endured three such miscarriages since I turned eighteen," Madison added.
"They conducted these tests on you too?" I asked, shocked. We echolocaters were not laboratory test subjects; we were people!
"Of course," she replied.
"I'm sorry."
"No need to be. It was an honour to serve."
"They treated you like a lab rat and you think it was an honour?" I asked incredulously.
"It was not like that at all. As a citizen of Newhome, it is my duty to serve in any way I can," she said, and then after a pause, added, "The geneticists believe we can only reproduce with our own kind."
"And that's something they haven't been able to test, right, because they murdered all the boys?" I asked, venom lacing every word.
"It was necessary to euthanize the male echolocaters for the welfare of the town. But you are correct, at this stage it is merely a hypothesis."
“It was necessary...” I said as righteous anger ose and threatened to consume me. How could she sit there and justify the coldblooded murder of children?
Madison watched me with an arrogant expression on her face, apparently enjoying the effect her words were having.
“You’re...you’re unbelievable, you know that?” I finally managed to say, and then, remembering that I was supposed to be foraging for bushtucker, and having no desire to continue this conversation, I turned and plunged into the grass beside the tree with my mind lost in a morass of fear and doubt.
Twenty minutes later, give or take, we were all back in the clearing. Between us we'd gathered several quandong, which was kind of like a native peach, green and red muntries berries, black berries, and from David, several cicadas and more berries.
"You expect us to eat those?" Shorty said, pointing to the cicadas.
"Best when wok-fried," he replied.
"Can't see no woks around here," Shorty said.
"More for me, then," David laughed.
Nanako bounded over to me, and with a beaming smile, held up a juicy quandong. "Wanna share?" she asked.
I tried to return her smile, but the sight of her face brought Madison's words back with crushing finality – Nanako and I couldn't have kids. Our DNA was incompatible. My imagination suddenly went into overdrive, and I envisioned a future in which Nanako and I had finally retired to the country, but she was in the bathroom, legs tucked up to her chest while she rocked forward and back, distraught because she couldn't have kids.
I shook my head in a futile effort to dislodge the hideous image from my mind, but it lingered, digging its insidious tendrils deep into my core. I railed against the vision and told myself Madison could be wrong, that maybe we could still have kids; that my fears were therefore baseless.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Ethan. Are you okay?" Nanako asked, as perceptive as ever.
"Just...tired, that's all," I lied.
"Yeah, you and me both," she said with a sigh as she held out her hand. "Can I have your knife?"
"Sure." I gave her my combat knife.
As I stood there, watching her cut the quandong in half, I stressed big time over the tumultuous thoughts raging through my mind. Then I felt suddenly disoriented and...
...found myself inside a small chapel that'd be lucky to seat fifty. It had a slanting slate-tile roof, stained-glass windows, and heavy wooden pews set out in neat rows. These were occupied by members of Nanako's immediate family, Councillor Okada's family, and our close forager friends.
I was standing up at the front next to a man of the cloth – a tall Aussie minister from Inverloch – with my heart racing in anticipation, for I'd heard the car pull up outside and then two pairs of familiar footsteps. She was here! I'd finally get to see her in her wedding dress, which she'd kept secret from me. I couldn't see it before the day, it'd bring us bad luck, she'd said. I didn't even know if she'd chosen to wear a Western-style white wedding dress or a traditional Japanese one.
The chapel’s lovingly maintained wooden door opened, and Councillor Okada entered with Nanako on his arm, as he had volunteered to give her away.
Everyone gasped when they saw her. For me, time came to a standstill as I stood there and gaped, struck speechless by her beauty. She was wearing a magnificent red kimono, embroidered with cranes, trees and mountains, in gold, white and green thread. Her hair was put up with golden hairpins, with several stray locks hanging down the sides of her face. The joy shining from her face as she locked her eyes with mine and walked gracefully up the aisle filled my heart with such joy and anticipation of what was to come that I thought I was gonna burst. This was a dream, it had to be! I'd only met her just over seven weeks ago, and here I was marrying her on the day of my eighteenth birthday. Me, the guy who'd vowed not to marry until I was thirty. But I'd never figured I'd meet her when I made that vow, did I? And yet here I was, getting married...
..."Jones, you tripping or something?" S
horty asked, pulling me out of the memory and back into the present.
I staggered back, but quickly steadied myself. "I'm fine," I replied, as I turned to Nanako, who’d been so engrossed in cutting the quandong she hadn't seen my strange turn.
I wanted to tell her right now the wonderful news that I'd remembered our wedding day at last, but before I said a word, Madison's revelation thrust to the forefront of my mind. The two of you can never have children together, you know that, right?
And those words soured the wondrous memory of our wedding day, sending tendrils of fear and doubt twisting up from my gut. We'd entered into our wedding with such hope for the future, yet only a few months later I was shot in the head, and everything went south for the next two years. Two years of excruciating suffering for her, and two years of acute loneliness and a sense of lacking some greater part of my life, for me. And now, just weeks after getting back together, our dreams for the future were under attack again. How would Nanako react when she found out this horrible news? Did I even have the heart to tell her? What if Madison was wrong? I could go nuts trying to work through this!
And then suddenly, like a sucker punch to the gut, I realised what I had to do if her next pregnancy ended in a miscarriage and therefore confirmed Madison's claims. I had to divorce her and get out of her life so she could marry a normal person and have children, a family, and a future.
But the very thought of divorcing Nanako tore my heart apart. She was my very world, the best thing that had ever happened to me. But I knew with conviction that this was the right thing to do – if Madison was right. I knew how important it was for Nanako to have her own children and I wouldn’t take that from her.
Wanting to flee from such terrible thoughts, I tried to reassure myself that Madison was wrong, that we could still have kids. That I was worrying over nothing.
Nanako looked up and handed me half the quandong. I decided I'd tell her later about remembering our wedding day. It just didn't seem like the right time.
We ate the fruits and berries, a nutritious but not particularly filling meal. And as I predicted, the water tasted like dirt.
We offered Madison some quandong and blackberries, but she just stuck her nose in the air. She'd come around soon enough; I reckoned.
After we rested, we headed south until we hit Hobson Bay Beach, which was nestled between rotting wharfs and piers. From there we made our way to Beach Street, continued slowly east, and then southeast, flabbergasted by the size of the mansions that fronted the road. The rich and well-to-do had lived here once, but like the poor, had been forced to up and leave their homes when the power and water were cut off, and their supplies ran out.
We had to stop several more times for Nanako and Leigh to rest. I continued to echolocate as we went on the off chance there could be Skel ambushes, but it seemed they kept a low profile in this area. And no wonder, since no foragers from Newhome came here. Not to mention that Newhome was under siege anyway.
As we walked, I decided to tell Nanako about the recently returned memory. Maybe the simple act of sharing would drive back the darkness that was trying to engulf me.
"Hey, I've got good news – another memory returned," I said.
"Really?" she asked, perking up.
"I remembered when we got married..."
Her face alight, Nanako grabbed my arm. "Finally! Come on, spill the beans, tell me everything."
And so I told her how I remembered Councillor Okada walking her up the aisle, of how stunningly beautiful she was in that traditional Japanese wedding dress, and of the incomparable joy I felt. Yet as I shared these wondrous memories, I felt conflicted, guilty, and under a crushing burden of condemnation, for not telling her that we might not be able to have children.
By some miracle, Nanako didn't notice my anguish. She was overjoyed I'd finally remembered this most precious day of our lives. She plied me with questions, then, trying to hear everything I remembered, hoping that would trigger more memories.
We reached St. Kilda around midday but kept going until Fitzoy Street, and then I called a halt. This had been a picturesque place once, with a large brick cenotaph, palm trees, and tram-tracks down the middle of the road. But not anymore. St. Kilda was on the outer areas of the nuclear blast that hit the southeastern suburbs a century ago. Fire had raged through a number of the surrounding buildings, completely gutting them, and others had partially collapsed. On the whole, though, most buildings were still standing. We would have to head further southeast to see increasing signs of the bomb’s damage. That was something we would have to do soon enough.
"This is as good a place as any to call home while we recover from our wounds," I said as I headed for a two-storey building just back from the corner of Fitzroy Street. Its facade was partially obscured by a row of palm trees. The ground floor was a restaurant, with an open-air seating area out front. Several plastic chairs lay on their sides before empty tables bolted to the cracked sidewalk.
The large, open area that surrounded the cenotaph that stood between the buildings and the beach had been reclaimed by the bush. I was hoping it would provide a source of food. For starters, I'd spotted a couple of wallabies in there. Wallabies were smaller cousins of kangaroos.
We crunched over a gazillion glass fragments that covered the sidewalk, and stepped into the darkened restaurant interior. The place was an absolute mess. Paint was peeling in great strips from the walls and ceiling; windblown dirt and leaves covered the floor, serving counter, tables and chairs. Great cracks ran through the ceiling and walls. And though that didn't inspire me with confidence, I believed the building was still structurally sound.
Upstairs was an office, a bedroom and a storeroom. The bedroom and office had windows overlooking the street, which I figured would do for temporary lodgings.
"I claim this room for me and Nanako," I said, after we'd adjourned into the bedroom and stood looking out the window to the quiet street below. The view was partially obscured by the blind, which was only attached at one end.
"Hey, that's the only room with a bed," David complained.
The bed stank of mould and its doona cover was rotten and soiled. Flash sonar revealed the mattress to be in no better condition, with a number of springs already having broken through. "Somehow, I don't think we'll be using the bed."
"Not with us in the next room, you won't be!" Shorty exclaimed, feigning shock.
"Haha."
Nanako sat on the floor beneath the window and the broken blind, which looked like it was gonna drop on her head at any moment.
"If you two are sleeping in here, and we three in the office, where are you gonna stuff her?" Leigh asked, indicating Madison with an inclination of his head. She was leaning back against the wall, still grimacing thanks to her arm.
"Why are we even here?" Madison asked gruffly.
"As in this room 'here' or in St. Kilda 'here?'" I asked.
"The south eastern suburbs, on the edge of the nuclear radiated zone," Madison clarified. "You could have gone anywhere, so why here?"
"We were actually planning to go to Ballarat to rest and recuperate, but the appearance of the Skel and Rangers kinda changed that plan," I replied.
"But we were gonna come here after that on our way to Mulgrave. Why don't you tell her why, Jones?" David prompted.
"We're gonna go to Mulgrave to gather evidence on the Rangers’ illegal alliance and dealings with the Skel, and then we're gonna present that evidence to the Hamamachi Council," I explained.
Madison looked at me sceptically. "Are you trying to tell me the Hamamachi Council doesn't know what the Rangers are doing?"
"They really don't," Nanako said. "They think the Rangers are patrolling Hamamachi lands and keeping the Skel out by force of arms."
"Whereas, in reality," I continued, "They have made an alliance with the Skel. They give the Skel old guns, Smartphones, and hand over refugees who were seeking asylum in Hamamachi as slaves. And in return, the Skel do not encroach upon
Hamamachi lands or abduct its people."
"You expect me to believe that?" Madison scoffed.
"It's the truth."
"And how do you know this?"
"We got caught by Rangers nigh on three weeks ago, when we were on our way back to Newhome from Hamamachi, and they practically admitted it. The other half I know because I used to be a Ranger and was with them during one of their refugee deliveries."
"Then you're just as bad as they are!" Madison said, glaring at me.
"I didn't know what they were up to until we were making the delivery," I answered. "Besides, I'd been asked to join the Rangers to spy on them, so when I realised what they were doing, I stopped the delivery and helped the refugees get out of there."
"And the Rangers just let you?"
My face clouded over. "Of course not! They attacked me, as did the Skel."
"And..."
"I took them down," I replied.
She looked at me in disbelief. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
"By yourself?"
"You don't get it, do you?" Nanako snapped from her spot against the wall. "You and Ethan, and the others like you, you're not like us. And I'm not just referring to your ability to echolocate. You're smarter, faster, and better co-ordinated. You've been biologically engineered to survive in this post-apocalyptic nightmare we live in."
"I don't know about smarter," I laughed, but all the same; I stared at Nanako in surprise. I'd never thought of myself that way. That she did, and had hidden it in her heart, touched me deeply.
Madison was clearly taken aback by Nanako's answer as well. She was ogling her with her mouth hanging slightly open.
"Now imagine how much safer Newhome would be if the Custodians hadn't declared our kind illegal, hunted us all down, brainwashed the girls and murdered the boys," I pointed out.
I struck a nerve with that comment, because Madison looked like she was about to have an apoplectic fit.
"The genetic modifications you and I carry were done without the parents' or council's consent or approval! Regardless of what Dr. Zhang intended, his actions were illegal. People with hearing as advanced as ours pose a significant threat to the welfare of the town's peace and solidarity. The females needed to be raised within strict guidelines to ensure they did not abuse their abilities and use them for personal gain. The males, well – they were uncontrollable and therefore, had to be euthanized for the good of all."
Forager - the Complete Trilogy (A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Trilogy) Page 53
