Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1) (21 page)

“Honestly, I don’t know what they’re afraid of.” I didn’t sound particularly convincing.

“Going by those porn DVDs, I’m guessing they smuggle contraband into town. But if that’s the case, so what? Everyone knows the foragers smuggle in illicit items. No one else could do it. That’s why the Custodians keep doing those random spot checks.”

“Makes sense.” But I refused to give anything away. Especially since I smuggled in contraband too.

“So I reckon there’s something bigger going on.” Brandon grabbed my chin and yanked my head up so our eyes met. So glad the cap covered my birthmark. “Could this have something to do with Dan Smith’s accident?”

“What do you mean?” My pulse just about doubled. What was with this guy and his guesses?

“Why don’t you tell me what happened to him, Brandon? The accident was due to someone’s negligence, wasn’t it? And you’re all covering it up to avoid the consequences.”

I searched out his eyes as I replied. “I wasn’t there when it happened, Ryan. And that’s the truth.”

“Where were you?”

“Loading something into the truck. I heard a lot of shouting and rushed back to find a wall had fallen on Dan.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

I whacked his hand away from my chin. “I’m telling the truth, I didn’t see it!”

“Fine, I believe you. But you know something you’re not telling me. Look, I’m not mad with you, okay? You just saved me – again. I know you are an honest, decent bloke. But I don’t trust Con, Matt and Jack as far as I can throw them.”

I just nodded.

“There’s something I want you to think about.”

“What?” I didn’t like the sound of that.

“I know those guys are your friends, and have been for some time, but if their negligence caused Dan’s death, or if Dan met foul play at their hands, you’ve got to report it.”

“Like you did?” I spoke harshly, fully aware it was the right thing to do, but couldn’t do it because of what it would cost my family.

“Yes.”

“But look what it cost you – your job and all your friends,” I said.

“It was worth it. And friends like that were no friends at all. A true friend is someone who stays with you through thick and thin. Someone who puts others first.”

Overpowering emotions of frustration, grief, and rage rose up within me, threatening to boil over. I turned away so I could get them under control.

He placed his hand gently on my shoulder. “I’m not going to force you to do this, I just want you to think about it, okay?”

I shrugged his hand off. “I...I gotta go.” My wage was burning a hole through my pocket. I had to get home as soon as possible in case Deacon and Wells turned up. The odds were they were already waiting outside the homeless shelter.

“I’ll be at the gym after seven if you want to talk more later.”

“Think about.” I gave him a perfunctory nod and rushed off.

The thugs didn’t show, and I was too afraid to go to their snooker club come illegal-gambling den to look for them. Keeping my money with me in case I bumped into them on the way, I popped over to the gym and worked out with Ryan. He even offered to teach me some combat moves, but I wasn’t interested. I was not going to fight them.

To my relief, he didn’t press me anymore about what happened to Dan Smith, but let me know he hadn’t forgotten the issue by raising an eyebrow.

We quit the gym when curfew approached and headed outside into the night air. The sun had just set, painting the low hanging clouds hues of deep pink and purple. Daylight was fading rapidly as dusk took hold of the gloomy streets.

I bid Ryan farewell and took two steps towards home when I saw Deacon and his brutal sidekick step out from behind a hedgerow. They strode towards us with murder in their eyes. An ugly black and purple bruise adorned Well’s jaw, thanks to Ryan.

I looked back at Ryan, eyes wide with fear. “Don’t get involved.”

“No way, buddy.” He came and stood beside me, muscles tense and fists clenched.

“Just go! You’re gonna make it worse if you stay!” I tried to push him away with my left hand, but it was like trying to push over an oak tree.

My tormentors came closer. Face contorted with rage, Wells slipped his hand inside his jacket.

Afraid he was reaching for a gun, I pulled out the money and threw it at his feet. “Here, take it!”

The tall ruffian stepped over the proffered money and withdrew a homemade spring-powered gun from his jacket. In one practised movement, he aimed it at Ryan’s chest and fired.

“No!” I shrieked as I flung myself in front of my friend.

A six-inch long, frightfully sharp metal rod pierced my chest between the collarbone and shoulder. Excruciating pain beyond anything I’d experienced exploded through me and I collapsed back into Ryan’s arms, writhing in agony.

“You shot the wrong one, fool!” Deacon berated Wells.

“Idiot jumped in the way!” Wells replied.

“Quick, let’s get out of here before the Custodians show up,” Deacon said. Their footsteps receded rapidly.

Ryan laid me gently on the sidewalk.

“What did you do that for?” he asked sternly. I was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

“I couldn’t let them shoot you,” I said between clenched teeth. I gingerly explored the part of the spike that protruded from my chest, but regretted it instantly when the briefest touch sent more waves of pain.

“Don’t touch, it’s in too deep!” He gently but firmly moved my hand away. “Do you think you can walk if I help you up? I need to get you back inside so I can call an ambulance.”

Bitting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out, I threw my right arm around his neck and he helped me regain my feet. The slightest weight or movement on my left arm sent more pain lancing through me, so I used my right hand to put my left in my pocket.

“Just help me get home,” I said.

“Don’t be absurd, you need a doctor to get that thing out,” he replied.

“No doctors – my mother will know what to do.”

“You need proper medical care, mate.”

I gripped his arm tightly with my free hand. “I said no! Please, take me home.”

“If I take you to that disease-ridden dump you live in, the wound will get infected and you’ll get blood poisoning. That’s if your mother can even get the spike out.”

“Ryan – I can’t go to the hospital!”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do, they’ll discover something about me that will get me into a world of trouble.”

“Like what?”

“It’s…private.”

Ryan sighed in exasperation. “Okay, fine.
I believe you have a really good reason not to go, but I don't think you have much choice. Let me at least take you to my father. He’s a doctor, remember?
I’m sure he will agree to a vow of patient confidentiality.”

“Sorry, still won’t do. I have to go home.” I shook off his hand and started staggering down the street. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other while fighting off the pain that exploded with each step. Staying conscious was becoming quite a challenge.

Ryan hurried after me and stood directly in my path.

“Chelsea, please, let me help you. You can trust me. And my father,” he whispered.

Chelsea? He called me Chelsea!

“You...you know who I am?” My mouth hung open in shocked disbelief.

“Of course.”

“But...how long have you known?” I couldn’t believe that after all my efforts, Ryan worked out who I really was.

“Took me a while to figure it out, but you left a trail of breadcrumbs that gave it away if I looked closely enough. Now come on, let’s just get you home. We’ll talk more later.”

It was only a ten-minute walk to Ryan’s place, but it felt like an eternity – a pain-filled, never ending nightmare of forcing myself to walk when all I wanted to do was lie down and succumb to the pain. We tried to steer clear of the few people we encountered on the way, otherwise Ryan walked in front of me so they couldn’t see my blood stained hoodie and the spike sticking out of my chest.

His family lived on the first floor of an apartment block, which was fortunate. An elevator ride would have been too much.

“Almost there,” Ryan said. He spoke gently, revealing a side of him I hadn’t seen before. He was quite the gentleman.

We reached a door sporting a fresh coat of paint. Entering the apartment, he helped me to a single-seat sofa and I melted into the soft cushion with a groan. Through a haze of pain, I noticed that although the unit was the same layout as my old one, his family had set it up in reverse. The furniture was also much newer, or at least kept in better condition. Someone here also had a flair for interior decoration, with embroidered curtains, oil paintings with muted colours that complemented the curtains, even vases with fresh flowers on the table and buffet-and-hutch.

Ryan’s father was reading a newspaper on a sofa on the other side of the room, but stood and rushed over in alarm when he caught sight of me. I could see the family resemblance, the broad shoulders, eyes, and angular face. He still had a full head of hair, although grey shot through with white.

Ryan’s mother joined us from the kitchen. She was shorter than I was, but not by much, and like my mother, was considerably younger than her husband. She eyed me suspiciously, but not unkindly.

“Ryan, what is going on? Who is this young man and why have you brought him here in this condition?” Ryan’s father asked as he knelt beside me and gave my injury a quick going over.

“Young woman, actually. Her name is Chelsea. I need you to treat her injury on the quiet,” Ryan replied.

“Absolutely not – we have got to get her to hospital as soon as possible. What on earth were you thinking, bringing her here?”

“Because she’ll get arrested for masquerading as a man if she’s taken to hospital. I promised her you would help her.” Ryan said heatedly.

“You know better than to make promises you cannot keep, Son,” his mother said.

“This was a mistake – I’m going home.” I flashed Ryan a dirty look. I tried to rise, but his father caught me and gently pushed me back down.

“You’re not going anywhere, young lady. Trish, call an ambulance,” he said.

“No!” Ryan moved quickly to block his mother’s route to the phone. “Father, please, you have to treat her here.”

“I can’t! It would breach my code of ethics to treat a wound like that away from the hospital. Besides, if she’s arrested for masquerading as a guy, she will learn to act more responsibly in the future.”

“You don’t understand, Father – they were shooting at me, but she jumped in the way!”

His father’s protests died on his lips.

“Please, don’t send her to hospital.” Ryan pleaded with his parents.

Mr. Hill suddenly became all action. “Right, help me get her to your mother’s bed. Trish? Fetch my medical bag would you?”

As I reflected on the rarity of his parents addressing one another by their first names, Ryan bundled me into his mother’s bedroom while his father stripped back the covers. They laid me, bloody clothes, shoes and all, on her immaculately kept bed – a bed with a highly polished, wooden bed head and swept back mosquito nets.

Mrs. Hill came in with a heavy leather medicine bag and popped it on the bedside table.

“Why are you still here?” Ryan’s father asked him.

“I thought I could–” he began.

“I don’t know what relationship you have with this young woman – and we will discuss that later – but it is inappropriate for you to be here during the procedure.”

“Go on, out you go.” Mrs. Hill shooed her son from the room and closed the door behind him.

Ryan’s father took a bottle of antibacterial hand wash from his bag, washed his hands, and handed it to his wife. He leaned towards me. “I’ll give you a local anaesthetic, but you are still going to feel it when I pull it out. You still want me to proceed?”

I nodded. ‘I don’t care about pain, I’m used to it.”

He glanced at his wife, who met his concerned expression with one of her own. Then he broke a pair of scissors out of a sealed plastic bag and began cutting away my hoodie and shirt.

The following morning, Ryan knocked softly on the door, and with his mother in tow, came into the room. Mrs. Hill sat on a chair on my left, while he sat on the bed and took my hand in his. I must have been quite a sight. My hair was draped all over the pillow and my skin was unnaturally pale. I wore his sister’s cotton pyjamas, and my left shoulder was exposed but swathed in bandages.

Mrs. Hill cleared her throat.

Ryan let go of my hand and scooted back until he was sitting near my feet.

“How you feeling?” he asked.

“The pain killers are pretty good,” I said. And they were. After removing the spike and sewing up the wound, Ryan’s father had given me some extra-strong painkillers and antibiotics. Once everything was said and done, Mrs. Hill helped me get undressed, wash, and change. The pyjamas were a bit short and floated on my sparse frame, but were better than nothing. Finally, she served me the most nutritious meal I’d eaten in months.

“Get much sleep?”

“No, not really.” Not just because of the pain and shock, but because I had a lot to think about. Because of me, Ryan had come to within an inch of being killed yesterday. This would not have happened if he hadn’t beaten up the thugs the other day. As I wrestled with my thoughts through the night and early morning hours, I realised I had to make some major changes in my life. Not for my sake – for his. If he continued his association with me, it was going to end very badly for him.

“Kind of weird, hearing you talk with your own voice. So used to you sounding like Brandon,” he said. He seemed uncomfortable. Whether because his mother was watching us, or because he was with a girl, I wasn’t sure.

“Takes a lot less concentration this way,” I said.

“Have I even met your brother?”

I shook my head.

“When did you start impersonating him?”

“The day you came to the Recycling Works,” I said.

“To earn money?”

“Yes.”

“Why isn’t your brother doing that?”

“Is this an interrogation?” I asked.

He laughed. “Of course not. I’ll go if you want, but there are some questions I would like answered. I can’t stress enough how dangerous a situation you’re in. Now that those thugs are using guns, this is a whole new ball game.”

“We are very concerned about your wellbeing, Chelsea,” Mrs. Hill said. “My husband and I want you to inform the Custodians about those men. Before they attack you or my son again.”

“My mother told me about your bruises, Chelsea. Boot prints on your thighs and ribs, and older bruises on your stomach and back,” Ryan said. “This can’t go on.”

“I already told you why I can’t tell the Custodians.”

“You cannot let those people bully you like this, Sweetie,” Ryan’s mother said sternly. “The fact is, you are lucky to be alive. If that spike hit you in the heart, we would not be having this conversation.”

“I can’t dob them in. They said they’ll sick their associates onto my little sister and mother if I do,” I said.

“The Custodians are far more capable than you give them credit, Chelsea. They’re used to dealing with criminals like this,” Ryan said.

“They’re also used to shooting innocent people like my father and framing them for it,” I snapped.

Mrs. Hill gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

“It’s a long story, Mother,” Ryan said quickly. He turned back to me. “You can’t judge all Custodians with the yardstick of that one failure.”

“It was a pretty big failure. You honestly think I’ll ever trust them again? This whole mess is a direct consequence of their incompetence and corruption.”

“I understand where you are coming from, but if you won’t go to them, can’t you at least tell me who the thugs are and where they operate from–”

“I said no!” Pain lanced through my shoulder and chest, causing me to wince.

Ryan slapped his knee in exasperation. “Chelsea, this is no time to be stubborn!”

“Son, tone it down a notch!” Mrs. Hill glared at Ryan, shocking me. My mother never spoke to Brandon like that.

“See if you can get through to her then!” he said.

“If I can get a word in, you’re both missing the point,” I said.

“Which is?” Ryan snapped.

“I will not endanger your life further, Ryan. If I tell you who they are and you take matters into your own hands, you’ll end up dead!”

Ryan sighed in frustration. “Chelsea, we are trying to help.”

“I know that, but you can’t.”

“Okay then, let’s get back to my earlier question. Where is your brother?” He leaned closer, anxious to hear the answer.

“He went into hiding the day Dan Smith died. He’ll be back soon, I expect.”

Ryan nodded thoughtfully. “So you really didn’t see what happened to Dan.”

I shook my head.

He looked like he was about to dredge that topic up again, but glanced at his mother and let it go.

“How did you work out I was impersonating my brother, anyway?” I asked. I hoped no one else had figured it out, especially Con. I had no idea how he would react if he found out.

“You left a trail of clues.”

“Such as?”

“For starters, for someone who was supposed to have been foraging for a year, you didn’t know how to use a hacksaw properly. Then there was our visit to the gym. You clearly hadn’t done weights before. When I quizzed you, you said no one ever showed you what to do. The other day I bumped into the gym instructor and gave him a piece of mind for not doing his job properly. He stunned me by saying he spent many sessions with Brandon, instructing and evaluating him. Then were the times you momentarily forgot to lower your voice, and of course, your expressions. No two people, regardless of how close they are, could possibly have identical mannerisms.”

“You sure you’re not a private dick?”

He laughed. “Didn’t need to be a private detective to put those clues together. Still, I reckon I only noticed because I’ve been spending so much time with you.”

“Looks like I’ll have to be more careful,” I said. Which wasn’t actually true. My days of impersonating my brother were over, at least in terms of being a forager. As the escape was set for this coming Friday, I would need to rest the whole week to let the wound heal. I couldn’t tell Ryan that, though.

“You’re not seriously thinking of going back, are you? Surely Con saw through that stunt you pulled yesterday.”

“He’ll get over it. And in case you’ve forgotten, I have to keep working until my brother comes back,” I said.

“You will let that wound heal first, won’t you?” Mrs. Hill asked.

“As far as I can.”

“If it’s a matter of money, I can lend you some,” Ryan said.

“Thanks, but no. I will not put myself further into debt.”

“Okay, I’ll give it to you! Must you fight all my attempts to help you?”

“Still no.”

“Chelsea, even if I gave you every cent I have, you wouldn’t owe me anything. You saved my life twice, remember? Besides, we’re friends, right? Friends look out for each other.”

Exhausted by Ryan’s continual attempts to help me, I sagged further into the pillow and sighed. “Can we just drop it for now?”

Mrs. Hill stood and came over to the bed. “Chelsea needs to rest, Son.”

Ryan nodded and slipped off the bed. “Rest up, okay?”

“When can I leave? I need to get home and let my family know I’m alright.”

“I popped over to see your family last night, gave them your wage, and told them you were being looked after,” Ryan said.

“Thanks.” I breathed out a sigh of relief, but couldn’t relax. What if Deacon came to see them while I was here? Then again, maybe they’d stay away for a while in light of the fact they just shot me. Even they weren’t so stupid as to think I could earn money in this condition.

Mrs. Hill bundled Ryan from the room. “My husband says you should be up and about by Monday.”

“Thank you. Oh, and before you go?”

“Yes, Dear?”

“I’d just like to say thank you – to you and your husband.”

She smiled. “It’s the least we could do. Now try to get some sleep.”