Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1) (22 page)

Monday was a cold and unforgiving day. Rain was sleeting down from the heavens in a never-ending stream.

I got up early, thanked Ryan’s parents for their help, and promised to consider their insistence I report Deacon and Wells to the Custodians. Then back in Brandon’s clothes – which Mrs. Hill had washed and mended – took my leave. My left arm was in a sling, which did a great job in alleviating the pain.

As expected, Ryan followed me to the covered walkway outside, holding an umbrella. “I’ll walk you home.”

“No need.” I was back to speaking with Brandon’s voice. “Won’t say no to borrowing the umbrella, though.” I didn’t want the bandages to get wet.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll see you to your door,” he said, handing me the umbrella.

“Ryan...”

“This isn’t open to negotiation,” he said.

I gazed into his deep brown eyes, and sighed. For his sake, I had to do the one thing I did not want to do – I had to remove him from my life, and that meant we needed to talk. Couldn’t do that here, though, outside his front door.

We set off, keeping under the umbrella as we trudged along a wet sidewalk that seemed deceptively clean. Water gurgled as it swept down the gutter towards the nearest drain.

When we reached the adjacent block of flats, which was adorned by one of the ten-foot tall “Report the Mutant” billboards, I stopped and faced him.

“Ryan, I have to tell you something. We can’t hang out together after work anymore.”

“What? Because I know you’re a girl now? Don’t be such a prude, Chelsea. If you keep dressing as your brother, there’s no reason we can’t keep hanging out like we have been.” He looked genuinely distraught.

“That’s not it at all.”

“Then why – I thought you enjoyed our times together – at work, the gym.”

“I do, but–”

“Don’t you realise how much you mean to me? Even when masquerading as your brother, you reached out to me when no one else would, offering me true friendship. Then I met you as Chelsea, after which came the realisation that the two of you were in fact the one and same amazing, selfless person.”

“Ryan, if you really knew me, you wouldn’t say things like that.” Indeed, what would he think of me if he knew I was a mutant? Worse, an accomplice to murder and willing to let those murderers go free so my family and I could escape this oppressive life. Not exactly what I’d call selfless.

“Don’t put yourself down, Chelsea. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met, and I’m honoured to call you my friend. I’m going to miss you something chronic when you quit foraging because your brother comes back. If we can’t keep meeting socially as well, I’ll be devastated. So please, don’t walk out of my life. We can find a way to keep seeing each other.”

“Ryan, in case you didn’t notice, those guys were trying to kill you because of your association with me! So I’m sorry, but this is where it ends – for your sake,” I turned and walked away.

He ran after me, grabbed my elbow and turned me back to face him, almost making me drop the umbrella. “So our friendship means nothing to you?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Okay – I’ll just come out and say it. I like you, Chelsea, and–.”

Hearing Ryan voice such sentiments was like a dream come true, but feelings like that were pointless in a culture where the fathers’ arranged the marriages.

I quickly put a finger on his lips. “Stop right there, Mister. That’s a path that leads to nowhere.”

He moved my hand aside, “And – I can’t face the thought of not being able to see you every day.”

That sent my heart fluttering and my mind into a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. My immediate reaction to his confession was to abandon my plans to escape and remain here. With him. I was so tempted to tell him I cared for him too. But if we were to marry, it would mean sacrificing my life-long goal of escaping Newhome and its stupid, oppressive laws and traditions. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell him any of that. And the cold facts were, even if I wanted to remain here, there was no way we could marry. Not with my family’s history.

“Don’t go quiet on me, Chelsea,” he said. “I know it’s not the way things are normally done, but I can talk to my father–”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous. There could never be any kind of future between us,” I snapped. I was irritated now. Why couldn’t he see that?

“Why not? My father–”

“Is a doctor, for goodness sake! He wants the best for you. Don’t think for a moment he would be willing to sully your good family name and career prospects by marrying you into a family who lives in the homeless shelter, whose father is in prison for drugs, and who owes tens of thousands to debt collectors.”

“My father is not like that, Chelsea. He cares nothing for meaningless social standing and advancement. The proof is that we live here, in Newhome proper rather than in North End. He wants to be with the people he serves, not secluded away from the world with the rich and famous.”

“In that case, your father is an amazing man. Like mine used to be before my mother and this town wore him down. But Ryan, you’re still not thinking this through. There can be no union between our families, for it would mean your family would be targeted by the debt collectors too. Also, have you considered what would happen to any children resulting from such a union? They would be persecuted and bullied throughout their school years if my background got out, and you can rest assured it would. This is a small town and rumours fly.” And if my brother was convicted of murdering Dan Smith, the bullying would be even worse.

Ryan shook his head emphatically. “You’ve got it all wrong, Chelsea. These obstacles are not reasons to stop us getting together, but things to face and work through as a couple. In the end, they would make our family stronger, not destroy it. You see, there’s nothing you can do, nothing you can say, that can drive me away. You’re the best, and truest, friend I’ve ever had, Chelsea, and I don’t want to lose you.”

I searched his eyes, saw the passion shining through, and my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. More than anything in the world, I wanted to embrace the vision he painted of a possible future between us, but I was trapped. To save his life, I had to drive him away. I just had no idea how to do it so he would actually take it to heart.

“Well?” He watched me, hopeful.

Then it came to me. I had one more card to play that would surely convince him he didn’t know me and would therefore invalidate his feelings for me. Then he would have no choice but to let me go.

“Ryan, you think you know me, but you really don’t,” I said.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“See that billboard? ‘Report the Mutant.’”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“I’m one of them.”

He looked at the billboard glistening in the rain, taking in the image of the middle-aged man and his two children, all mutants possessing cleft lips and extra fingers and toes.

He looked back at me. “Now you’re just being silly.” All the same, I noticed he couldn’t resist a quick glance at my hands. Counting the number of fingers, no doubt.

“You’ve known from the beginning something was different about me, you just didn’t want to believe it.”

“Like what?” He was getting annoyed now.

“I can hear better than dogs and I echolocate like a bat. That’s why I was able to map the progress of those two Skel crossbow bolts and dodge them so easily. You knew something was off about me then, I saw it in your eyes.”

I had his attention now. His expression was morphing slowly from mild annoyance to dismay, if not horror.

“It’s also how I knew they put the DVDs in your bag. I overheard them talking about it when I was at the other end of the truck.”

“I...I don’t believe you.” He was really starting to freak out now, shaking his head in denial.

“I hear everything, Ryan. I can hear a G-Wagon on patrol several streets off, a mother and daughter arguing about the rain just around the corner, your watch ticking on your wrist, and the rain hitting the umbrella is like small claps of thunder. And, if I was to echolocate loudly enough, I could see your heart beating inside your chest.”

“You’re doing this – this echolocation thing – right now?” he asked.

“I never done it inside Newhome, not since I was five. I was warned not to. Besides, I saw the electricians installing ultrasonic detectors all over town when I was younger.”

“Who warned you?”

“I can’t say. Now, please, I have to get home.” I turned around then and did the hardest thing I had ever done. I walked away from him and didn’t look back. All the same, I half-expected and secretly wanted him to come running after me, to tell me that he still cared for me, that he still wanted me in spite of my mutation. But as the distance between us grew, it became glaringly apparent that I had finally managed to drive him away. And with that realisation I felt let down, disappointed, and ultimately, betrayed. Didn’t he mean those things he just said? That I was the most incredible person he’d met? What of his speech that we could overcome all obstacles in our way? How could he say those things and then reject me and walk away when I shared my deepest, darkest secret?

I wished Friday would hurry up so I could get away from this dump of a town and its never ending parade of disappointments.

Although heartbroken by Ryan’s betrayal, I eventually made it home. Karen informed me as soon as I walked through the door that the thugs had turned up on Saturday morning. They grabbed my wage from my mother and left without another word.

Then my mother got stuck into me, ranting and raving as she voiced her disappointment at my display of disreputable behaviour from spending the weekend at Ryan’s place. Assuring her I slept in his mother’s room had no effect, so I had Karen help me take off my hoodie and shirt. When Mother saw the bandages, she dropped that line of attack.

However, seeing how badly I had been wounded just sent her over the edge about how close I came to being killed, and how something had to be done about the debt collectors. I pointed out that the escape was scheduled for Friday, and then I’d be out of harms’ way for good.

I made another attempt to get her to come with my brother, sister, and me, but she wouldn’t budge. She was as stubborn as a mule, that woman.

With Karen’s help, I changed into a dress, put up my hair, and ducked downstairs to the lounge. I used the public phone to ring the Recycling Works and call in sick. Trajan Barclay was not impressed, probably thinking I was faking it, but as I’d never see him again, it hardly mattered.

After that, I knocked on Sofia’s door. It opened a smidgeon and she looked out warily.

“Hey,” I said.

“What happened to you?” she asked when she saw the sling.

“Slipped over and fell on my arm. Clever girl that I am. Hey, can we have a chat?”

“Sure! I’ll take you to one of my favourite spots.” Sofia slipped through her door and let it click shut behind her. She never let me in, which was a tad strange, as she’d been in our room many times.

She lead me back to the fifth floor and we used the staircase to go up onto the roof. The rain had stopped, but everything was still wet.

I walked over to the edge and took in the view. It was breathtaking. I could see the large, gently sloping roofs of the factories before us, and row after row of glass greenhouses that comprised the market gardens. Beyond the factories and market gardens was North End. I was struck by how different it was to Newhome proper. Roads paved with coloured bricks, beautiful apartments, the multi-storey Chancellery that tapered to a spire, and the five-storey Genetics Laboratory with exterior walls made entirely of one-way glass.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?” Sofia said, wrapping her arms around her slim torso. “I like coming up here.”

“It’s amazing, except the Genetics Laboratory looks even more daunting from up here.”

“Daunting?”

“You know, intimidating, scary,” I said.

“What’s scary about a place that makes new strains of vegies, fruit, and chickens? Hey, you ever seen a photo of what chickens used to look like? Ours are a far cluck from the originals,” Sofia said.

I laughed at her lame joke. “I know, right? Original chickens were capable of a few seconds flight, but not our biologically modified specimens. They’re so plump they can’t get off the ground at all. But to your question, it was pointed out to me the other day that the geneticists are in that place all day, every day, seven days a week. Do they really spend all their time trying to improve the strains of vegetables, fruit, and chicken? Or are they working on something else. Something sinister.”

Sofia raised her left eyebrow. “Sinister? Oh come on. Like what?”

“I don’t know. Just thinking aloud.” A shudder wracked through me as I contemplated the geneticists dissecting children with mutations like mine. If that was true, those men were monsters of the worst degree. The men who told them to do such barbaric things were even worse. Thinking of monsters reminded me of Con and the others, and ultimately, my brother.

Sofia noticed my mood change. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I’ve gotten myself into a jam, and I don’t know what I should do.”

“Why don’t you bounce it off me?”

I took a deep breath, and opened my heart. “I know some people who did something really bad, and if I don’t report them, they’re going to get away with it.”

Sofia didn’t even hesitate. “You have to do what’s right.”

“Complication is, one of them’s my brother, and if I inform the authorities, he could get the death sentence,” I said, letting my eyes wander down a red brick road in North End.

“Oh.”

“See what I mean?”

Sofia nodded. “What is your conscience saying?”

“To d
o what's right, regardless of the cost.”

“I’m so sorry.” She laid a hand on my elbow.

“But I can't face the thought of life without him, Sofia. Brandon’s always been such a big part of it.”

She looked at me quizzically. “A question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are we talking about your actual brother, or you pretending to be your brother?”

“Come again?” I groaned. Did everyone know my secret?

“Does your brother even exist? It occurred to me I've never seen the two of you at the same time, and then the other day, it dawned on me that the two of you are actually just you.”

“You little sneak!” I said with a laugh. “And you’re right – you’ve never seen my brother. He is real, though.”

I spent the next ten minutes explaining to Sofia what I had been doing and why, and she proved an attentive listener, as usual. When I finished, I told her about the pending escape, and asked her to come with Brandon, Karen, and me.

At the prospect of leaving the town, her eyes had lit up, but then the light faded and she shook her head. “Thank you for asking, but I cannot come. I have to stay here and look after my mother.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “I think it’s your turn to come clean, Sofia.”

Her eyes widened in alarm.

“Your mother’s already passed away, hasn’t she?” I asked gently.

Tears sprang into her eyes. “Yes. Yes, she has. Last year, in fact.”

“So why hide the fact?”

“Because I’m only seventeen and will become a ward of the town if they find out. I don’t want to be placed with some random family I don’t know. A family who won’t want me and will keep me at arm’s length because I’m so deformed and ugly.” She looked away, unable to meet my gaze.

I touched her chin and turned her head gently to face me. “Don’t be silly, Sofia. You’re the most beautiful person I know. I dream of becoming more like you one day.”

“You’re too kind,” she said.

“Not at all.”

She sniffed back a tear.

“How on earth did you manage to hide your mother’s passing, anyway?”

“Official departments in Newhome apparently don’t talk to each other. The hospital knows she died, of course, but when I told the supervisor my mother would be back when she’d recovered, he took my word for it and never raised the matter again.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” I gave her hand a squeeze and an encouraging smile. “You’ve got no reason to stay here. So I implore you, come with us on Friday night.”

Sofia looked tempted but undecided. “I...I don’t know if I can. I’ve been here so long, you know? It’s my home now.”

“I don’t need to remind you how bad this place is, Sofia. Just think of the freedom of living in a place without stupid rules that treat girls like second-class citizens? A place without Custodians. A place we’re free to take hold of our own destiny. A place that’s not the homeless shelter.”

Sofia smiled shyly. “You think I’d like it there, in Ballarat?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, count me in.”

“Good on you!” I gave her a big hug with my right arm.

* * *

I went back upstairs and got the surprise of my life when I saw Jack lounging against the wall near our ‘apartment,’ looking out the window.

“Jack?” I spoke carefully, reminding myself to be me, not Brandon.

“Oh, hi, Chelsea. It’s, ah, nice to see you.” He turned to face me and wrung his hands together shyly. And looked inquisitively at the sling.

“Slipped and fell.”

“Nothing broken, I hope.”

“Just a sprain.”

“That’s a relief. Hey, I went to your old place but your apartment was empty and your neighbours said you moved here.”

I nodded.

“Because of your father?”

I nodded again.

“Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologise. It’s not exactly your fault, now is it?” I said, smiling.

He laughed. “Hey, I urgently need to speak to Brandon, but your mother said he’s out. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Just tell me and I’ll pass on the message.” I tried to encourage him with a disarming smile.

“Oh, ah, sorry, it’s kind of, um, private.”

I moved closer to him. “My brother and I don’t keep secrets, Jack, so don’t hold back on my account.”

“Did Brandon, ah, tell you what we have planned this week?” he asked, watching me closely.

“You mean the breakout on Friday night?” I whispered.

“Oh, he did tell you.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “In that case, tell Brandon that this is completely off the record – if Con finds out I told you this, he’ll kill me. The breakout’s not on Friday night, it’s on Wednesday. We meet at 2am behind the apartment block just south of the eastern gatehouse.”

“Why wasn’t Brandon told this?”

“Con originally told Brandon it was Friday ‘cause he’s friends with Ryan and was afraid he’d let it slip. He was gonna tell him it was Wednesday closer to the day. But, ah, Brandon’s been in Con’s face a bit lately. Arguing with him, mucking up his plans, even threatening him. And as Con has zero tolerance for those who won’t do what he wants, he doesn’t want Brandon joining the breakout. So he’s not gonna tell him its Wednesday at all.”

“So we get left behind?”

“That’s what Con wants, but stuff him, I say. Brandon’s my buddy, you know? Not to mention this whole breakout thing was his idea in the first place.”

“So you want us to turn up on Wednesday night anyway?”

“You cotton on quick.” Jack was all smiles now.

“I’ll give Brandon the message. And don’t worry, we’ll be discrete.”

“Thanks, Chelsea. You’re the best. And, um, I’m glad you’re coming too. Maybe once we’ve left Newhome, we can get to know each other a bit better? You know, since we won’t be restricted by Newhome’s rules and regulations anymore.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I said, but a little part of me died on the inside. I really liked Jack. Why did he have to have a darker side?

He bid me farewell and darted off with a bounce in his step, leaving me feeling betrayed and angry. They were trying to leave without us!

I wondered if I should turn them in to the authorities before Wednesday for murdering Dan, or simply turn up at the eastern gates on Wednesday night like Jack suggested and go out with them anyway. That’s if Con would let me. Then again, if I went as myself instead of masquerading as Brandon, surely Con would let me go.

What was it with men? Every male I knew, even Ryan – no, especially Ryan – was turning into a major disappointment.