Forager - the Complete Six Book Series (A Post Apocalyptic/Dystopian Series)

by Peter R Stone

However, as we continued, the sounds of someone moving surreptitiously through the bush on the other side of the road became unmistakable - someone was definitely shadowing us. The possibility that this person could be a degenerate, demented Skel filled me with dread, and caused me to fear that every dark shape could be another one of the savages, waiting in ambush to spring out and nab us.

  "We're being followed," I announced.

  Shorty spun about, eyes wide with fear. "You sure?"

  "They're on the other side of the road."

  "I can't hear anything," Shorty shot back, confused, for he didn't know about my biologically engineered enhanced hearing.

  "Yes, I'm sure."

  "Is it Skel?" Nanako asked, her voice wavering as she tried in vain to see in the poor light.

  I grimaced and shouted ultrasonically, but the pain knifed through my head with such intensity that I almost blacked out. All the same, that brief burst of flash sonar let me 'see' what was on the other side of the road, and what I saw made my face blanch with fear and waves of anxiety to course through me. For forcing its way quietly through the bush on the other side of the road was a nightmarish apparition straight from the depths of hell - it was six-foot tall, carried a wicked rusting metal club, and was decked out head-to-foot in a suit of armour made from hardened human bones.

  "Yes," I whispered, feeling suddenly helpless. We had no weapons, were in an unfamiliar place in the near dark, and I was in no condition to run let alone fight. What I would’ve given to have Michal with us right now.

  Chapter Two

  "We've got to get out of here!" Nanako panicked, for to be captured alive by Skel was a fate worse than death. "Ethan, which way do we go? They could have set an ambush anywhere."

  Skel never travelled alone, so I tried to echolocate again to search our surroundings for the others, but the pain from the headache was so intense now that I instinctively shied away from the attempt. "I'm sorry, my head hurts too much, I can't..."

  Nanako peered up into my eyes in the pale dawn light, worried over my condition, and for our collective safety. She knew I could echolocate and was aware of the edge it would given us in this situation - always knowing the location of your enemy lets you stay a step ahead of them.

  "Let's get to the houses so we can lose them in there," David suggested. "We've got no chance out here."

  "Okay, let's go," Nanako agreed.

  Shorty darted ahead of us and disappeared into the trees and bushes that had taken over the nature strip that lay between us and the welcoming safety of the houses beyond.

  With Nanako's arm around my waist and David's around my shoulder, they helped me weave through the trees and clinging bushes and onto the sidewalk beyond, where a whole street of darkened, hauntingly quiet, rundown suburban houses lay before us.

  I felt a sense of relief - if we could lose ourselves in the rabbit warren of Lilydale's houses, the Skel would hopefully never find us.

  But I’d hoped too soon, for in that instant, Shorty's small figure came flailing backwards into us, knocking us to the ground like bowling pins. And in his wake, three spectral forms materialised out of the very early morning air itself - more hulking Skel, armed with crossbows and ugly clubs. They grabbed David, who had already gained his feet, and struck him back to the ground.

  In the slowly brightening morning light, I could see the Skel's wild, bloodshot eyes glaring at us as I tried to cover my nose in a futile attempt to keep out their disgusting body odours.

  I glanced at Nanako, at her eyes wide with dread, and I was terrified - for myself, of course, but much more so for her. I couldn't bear the thought of her being abused and worked to death as a Skel slave.

  The irony of our situation didn't escape me either. After waiting two torturous years, Nanako had finally found her way back to me, and in spite of my amnesia, we'd been reunited. But what was the point of her great perseverance and effort if it was to end like this?

  This could not be happening!

  Refusing to be cowed by our grotesque captors, I tried to stand, and succeeded with Nanako and David's help. Clutching his chest and grimacing in pain, poor Shorty only rose to a kneeling position.

  "You okay, Shorty?" I asked.

  "Never been better," he said while nursing his ribs.

  Branches cracked and leaves rustled behind us and a fourth Skel - the one who had been following us - came to stand behind us.

  "What've we got 'ere?" he asked his companions in a guttural voice. (A little side note here: literally every second word spoken by Skel is some form of expletive or another. And as I won't use such words myself - most of which would make the most hardened Custodian blush - there's no way I'm repeating them here.)

  "Skips and Slant-eyes out for a morning stroll," replied the largest of the three before us in a rasping voice. Two twisting ram's horns adorned the sides of his human-skull helmet, lending him the appearance of the devil himself.

  "The sheila's all dressed up with nowhere to go," grunted another as he stared down at Nanako, who was wearing her Akihabara anime-character outfit, with pink-fringed wig, black and blue zebra stripe top, pink lace dress, torn pink tights, and knee-high black boots.

  Ram-Horns grabbed my jaw and turned my face from side to side as if he was examining livestock. With my fever, bandaged head, and arm in a sling, I must have been a real sight. "This Skip's one foot in the grave."

  "Whack him, he's no use like that," said the brute behind us.

  Ram-Horns pointed his crossbow at me but Nanako stepped between us before he could shoot.

  "Don't you dare touch him," she hissed.

  "Get out of the way, sheila," Ram-Horns shouted.

  "Don't kill him!" she pleaded desperately. "I'll nurse him back to health and mark my words; he'll be the most productive worker you've got."

  "Is that right?" Ram-Horns scoffed as he lowered the bow. He turned to his companions and laughed, "Sheila's got spunk - just the way we like 'em."

  "Time for some R&R, then," growled Guttural-Voice from behind me. He stepped closer and reached for Nanako.

  "Me first," Ram-Horns declared as he grabbed Nanako's arm with his free hand and dragged her behind him towards the closest house. And although she was dwarfed by the massive skeleton-armoured beast, Nanako frantically tried to break out of his grip, kicking, punching, and tearing at his bone armour, even scratching his exposed neck.

  Desperate to save her, I flung myself at the Skel and reached for his neck - well, that's what I was trying to do. In reality, I did little more than stagger towards him with my arm outstretched.

  Another Skel battered me back towards Shorty and David with a swipe of the back of his bone-covered hand, sending excruciating waves of pain shooting through my chest. Shorty caught me and helped me remain on my feet.

  Ram-Horns kicked open the house's rotten wooden door, and Nanako, who was still clawing ineffectively at his bone armour, went into a frenzy, cursing him in a mixture of English and Japanese, "Let go of me, you stupid baka, you stupid aho! Hanashiteyo!"

  Ram-Horns suddenly let go of her and she fell to the ground in a heap.

  "The sheila's a Jap," he exclaimed to his companions in surprise.

  "Yeah, so what?" Nanako said as she sprang back to her feet, staring defiantly up at the bone encased apparition towering over her.

  "So you can rack off," he snarled.

  "I can go?" she asked incredulously.

  "That's what I said, ain't it?" he asked as he turned from her and stomped back towards the rest of us, clearly disappointed.

  Even in my fevered state, I watched this scene in a state of stunned disbelief - how had the Skel recognised my wife was speaking Japanese, and more, why was he letting her go because of it?

  Nanako stood there for a moment and then rushed back to my side and put her arm around my waist. For a moment, I considered telling her to go, but as there was no way she'd do it, I didn't waste my breath.

  "You stupid or something - I said ya can go,
so go already!" Ram-Horns virtually spat in her face.

  "I'm not leaving my husband, or my friends," she shot back, although her voice was quivering.

  "Suit yourself, stupid Jap," the Skel grunted before turning to Guttural-Voice. "Get the truck."

  Feeling light-headed, I tried to sit, but Nanako saw what I was trying to do and held me tighter. "You gotta stay on your feet," she whispered, "Show them how sick you are and they'll kill you."

  Knowing she spoke the truth, I gritted my teeth and took strength from her support, but I couldn't help but wonder if there was any point. If they dragged me off to be their slave there'd be no medicine or respite to rest and recover. In such conditions, my infected wound would cause a slow, painful death. If they popped me now it'd be all over in an instant. But then I noticed Nanako and her determined expression, and I knew I had to keep going - for her, if not for me.

  "Hey, how come the Skel said you could go 'cause you were Japanese? How did he even know you were speaking Japanese?" I whispered.

  Nanako glanced at Ram-Horns and shook her head. "I really have no idea, Ethan, not a one."

  We heard the truck long before we saw it, with its shockingly loud, roaring engine and constant backfires. And when it lumbered into view, I'm not sure what shocked me more, that degenerate savages such as the Skel had trucks, or that such a piece of absolute junk was still running. It was rusted through in more places than not, the engine was running on half cylinders, welded on cyclone-wire fencing formed the sides of the truck, and great clouds of black smoke billowed out the exhaust.

  When the truck stopped, Ram-Horns and the two other Skel on foot grabbed us and shoved us towards it. "Get in the back," they barked.

  My companions and I shared fearful glances, for we knew that once we got on that truck, there would be no turning back, no opportunities for escape, and no future except to be worked to death.

  "Look, thanks for the invitation," Shorty said to Ram-Horns solemnly, "But if it's all the same to you, I'll pass, thanks."

  The Skel grabbed Shorty by the upper arm and all but flung him into the truck.

  "You don't have to get all nasty about it," Shorty said as he sprawled onto the dirt encrusted, rusting floor of the truck, bruising his knees and elbows.

  David and Nanako quickly helped me get in and climbed in themselves. One Skel got in the cabin with Guttural-Voice, while Ram-Horns and the fourth got in the back of the truck with us. Not wanting to breathe in the truck's exhaust, we moved up to sit with our backs against the cabin.

  With the sound of grinding gears, the driver carried out the most inept three-point-turn I'd ever witnessed and then drove west into Lilydale. The vehicle had no working headlights but the Skel apparently didn't care.

  Nanako sat beside me and watched me with heartbreaking concern. She placed an arm around my shoulders in an attempt to cushion me from being battered by the cab as were bounced up and down unmercifully by a truck with virtually no suspension.

  My whole body ached from the fever and my throat was parched - I'd have given anything to get a drink right now. A glance at our captors glaring at us through the eyeholes of their modified skull helmets sent a thrill of revulsion through me - there was no hope of those monsters giving us a drink.

  "What are we gonna do?" David shouted over the sound of the coughing, roaring engine.

  "Sit back and enjoy the ride?" Shorty shouted back cheekily, though it was false bravado, and we all knew it.

  I wanted to encourage them to escape should they get a chance, but there was no way I could make myself heard over the truck, so I let the thought slide.

  We fell silent after that, lost in our fearful deliberations. Nanako placed a slim, bronzed hand on my forehead, frowned, and spoke into my ear. "How you feeling now?"

  "Not one of my better days," I admitted.

  "You hang in there, you hear me?" she ordered.

  I nodded.

  I lost track of time as the truck rumbled and rattled down cracked and pot-holed roads, even slipping in and out of feverish half-sleep a few times. Dawn gave way to early morning, revealing a partially overcast sky. I wasn't sure in what direction we were headed, but as we went, I began to see signs of ever worsening devastation.

  At first, it was just windows blown in, and I don't just mean some or most of them like in the eastern suburbs because of vandals and foragers - but all of them. Then came evidence of fires that had raged out of control - terrible fires that had completely gutted houses, factories, and high-rise office towers and residential blocks. Vehicles were burnt out wrecks, their rusting, skeletal shells littering the roads.

  The devastation got worse as we continued: rooves had collapsed, buildings were reduced to massive piles of rubble spewed halfway across roads, and the trees were either blacked husks or simply devoid of all foliage. Shrubbery and wild grass was still prevalent, however, sprouting out of every crack in the road and from every patch of exposed dirt as it reclaimed a land that had previously been stripped of all life.

  I had never been here before, but I knew where we were - we were in the one place in Melbourne that no Newhome forager had ever set foot in - the one place we had purposely avoided for a hundred years. I also knew that should we continue in this direction we would eventually come across mile upon mile of absolute wasteland, where the buildings were so utterly destroyed that not even one brick remained upon another.

  We were in the south-eastern suburbs - the place where the nuke had come down a hundred years ago. What I didn't get was why the Skel were bringing us here.

  Chapter Three

  The destroyed buildings to our left suddenly gave way to the last thing I expected to see in this place - field after field of irrigated market gardens, growing several varieties of vegetables. They were tended to by dozens of stooped over, malnourished, and emaciated men and women. Their skin was sickly and covered with sores and bruises, and their threadbare clothes were little more than rags. Standing watch over these wretched souls were Skel overseers, bellowing at any failing to work fast enough, or lashing out at them with knotted whips.

  My three companions rose slowly to their knees and stared with horror at this glimpse of hell on earth.

  "Good grief," murmured David.

  "Shoot me dead," Shorty stammered, perhaps the first time I'd ever seen him serious.

  Nanako looked on silently, her beautiful dark brown eyes wide with dismay. She turned back to me and examined me fearfully. I could tell what she was thinking - not of the hell that awaited her from slaving under such conditions, but of me - of my chances of surviving even one day due to my infected wound. I looked into her grief stricken eyes, and I loved her. And I felt for her too, for what she would go through in trying to save me under such conditions, and what she'd go through when I was gone, for she was already traumatised from when I was shot two years ago.

  If only I wasn't so weak! Thanks to the infected wound, fever and crossbow bolt wound, I wasn't able to look after her in these most horrific of circumstances. If I was well, I might have been able to find a way out of this slave camp one night, thanks to being able to see in the dark. But I was completely useless like this.

  "Why on earth are the Skel running market gardens here - isn't this place like completely radiated or something?" Shorty shouted over the truck's roaring, backfiring engine.

  "Yeah, won’t they all die from radiation poisoning?" Nanako added.

  "No, the danger of that would be long past," David shouted back. "What I want to know is why the Skel even have market gardens - aren't they supposed to be nomads?"

  The sprawling fields of market gardens came to an end, and with the sound of squealing breaks, the truck slowed and came to a stop before a ramshackle community centre with a jimmy-rigged roof made of rotting wooden planks.

  In the sudden absence of ear-splitting noise, I was able to answer David's question. "We apparently don't know as much about the Skel as we thought," I said weakly. "They have trucks, market gardens,
and an actual settlement? We always assumed they were nomads because they raided all over Victoria and no one's ever seen one of their settlements."

  "And now we know why," Shorty said, "It's because the settlement is here, in the one place we've always been too afraid to set foot in."

  "Shut ya traps and get out of the truck!" Ram-Horns said as he clambered to his feet and pointed his crossbow at us.

  Nanako and David helped me to my feet, the effort sending my head spinning - I wished the drive could have gone on forever. But now that I was standing, I examined our surroundings, taking in what was left of the community centre, the Skel standing guard at its entrance, and the ruined street that stretched out before us.

  Suddenly a tremendous sense of déjà vu overcame me – convincing me that I'd lived this moment before in exactly the same way. Somehow, it was happening all over again. As my confused mind tried to understand how such a thing could be possible, a vision of crystal-clarity popped into my mind.

  It was of a ruined street – this very street from what I could tell – and it was filled with the bodies of several people sprawled on the ground. The memory came and went in a flash, too fast to make out many details, but it was clear that I had been staring at a young Asian man who had been shot in the chest. He'd been wearing military camo-fatigues, but they were nothing like those worn by Newhome's Custodians.

  As the vision faded every single nerve ending in my body spiked with adrenalin, which felt like receiving a million tiny electric shocks simultaneously. This was followed by the sensation of falling helplessly down a very deep elevator shaft with my stomach leading the way. When the falling sensation ceased a moment later, my stomach snapped back up into place with an explosion of utter agony that felt like a thousand knives being plunged home. And then the complex-partial epileptic seizure was over, leaving me dazed and confused.

  I rocked a little unsteadily but remained standing thanks to Nanako's firm grip around my waist, and wondered what the memory from my lost year could possibly mean. Had I really been to this very Skel settlement before? Whom was the dead Asian soldier laying on the road? And the other bodies, who were they, who killed them?