Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1) (10 page)

As promised, Con and the others came to pick us up just after five. The truck was half-filled with cardboard, books, magazines and newspapers. So in spite of their trip to the ‘lab,’ they still managed to fulfil their quota of work. The paper Ryan and I gathered was thrown into the back of the truck, and we were off.

When we got back to the Recycling Works, I realised I had to figure out how to collect Brandon’s wages without seeming clueless.

Con put me out of my anguish after we unloaded the truck by telling us to stay put while he collected them. He came back from the office five minutes later and handed us small, golden envelopes. I wanted to rip it open on the spot to see if there was enough to pay off the building supervisor and still have enough money for food.

It took an immeasurable amount of self-control to walk from the yard at a relaxed pace after saying goodbye to the others. Once I was out in the street, though, I tore the top off that golden envelope in a flash. I flicked through the notes, heartbeat racing as I counted them. When I finished, I immediately checked again, and then a terrible sick feeling pervaded me as I staggered to a stop.

There was only eight-hundred-and-ten – it wasn’t enough! The supervisor said he wouldn’t evict us if we gave him a thousand-and-eighty. What could I do? This was a disaster!

I stuffed the money in my pocket and hurried home, my mind a jumbled mess of fears, worry and tentative hope. Maybe if I handed him seven-hundred cold cash he’d relent of his plan to evict us and give me more time. Seven-hundred was better than nothing, right? Surely he’d see that. If worse came to worse I could offer him the whole amount, but then we’d stave for a week, which was not an option. No, I had to keep at least a hundred aside for food, but even then, we’d be eating like paupers. I could strangle my father for putting us in this position!

* * *

After walking past row after row of towering grey apartment blocks, I was almost home when I noticed the two unsavoury characters I almost bumped into yesterday morning. The tall one with a beer gut and the older one with greying hair and goatee. They were standing right in the middle of the sidewalk. I tried to steer clear of them, but they moved to intercept me.

“Ah, Brandon Thomas – a quick word, if we may?” the older one said. His voice was like liquid silk and sent an involuntary shudder through my slim frame.

“Sorry, maybe some other time,” I mumbled as I tried to slip between them. I didn’t know who they were and didn’t care. I had to get to the supervisor pronto.

Before I’d taken two steps, the big guy suddenly wrapped a meaty hand around my throat and propelled me forcefully off the sidewalk. He shoved me behind the closest building and into an empty coin laundry, where he slammed me against a wall. Agony exploded through my back. I saw stars and my eyes blurred with tears. I tried to pry his fingers off my neck, but I couldn’t even budge them an inch in his vice-like grip.

The older ruffian stuck his face in mine. “I’m Deacon, and he’s Wells – we’re acquaintances of your father. Heard he was thrown into prison today for possession. Landed himself a ten year sentence.”

“So what?” I spat, trying to act as I envisioned Brandon would in this situation. All the same, I was scared out of my wits. Who were these guys? What did they want with me? Was what they said about Father true – had he been sentenced to ten years in a prison factory? How were we going to survive that long without him?

“Wells?” Deacon said.

The big brute suddenly buried a massive fist in my midriff. I tensed when I saw the blow coming, but it didn’t make a shred of difference. The air was driven from my lungs and I fell winded to the filthy linoleum floor. I writhed about for what felt like an eternity, desperately trying to draw a breath. My vision was fading fast when I finally managed to gulp down some air.

Deacon grabbed my hair and yanked me to a kneeling position.

“Why the attitude, Brandon? Was I discourteous to you in any way? Is it too much to ask for some respect?”

My gargled reply was intelligible.

He relaxed his grip on my hair slightly. “Sorry, lad. Didn’t catch that.”

“Okay!” I spoke as reverently as I could this time. Anything to avoid getting thumped like that again.

He let go of my ponytail and Wells yanked me back to my feet by the neck. I wanted to nurse some life back into my midriff, but refused to give them the satisfaction.

“That’s more like it, isn’t it, Deacon?” Wells asked in a deep, booming voice.

“Certainly is.” Deacon turned back to me. “The thing is, Brandon, now that your old man’s been put away, you’re responsible for his gambling debts.”

“What gambling debts?” My voice came out as a croak. It was a big enough shock finding out Father had been taking drugs and didn’t pay the rent, but what was this about gambling? I hoped against hope it wasn’t true, though it would explain where all his money went.

Deacon pulled a worn, saddle-stitched notebook from his waistcoat pocket, flicked through the pages, and flashed it in front of me. I saw my father’s name and lots of transactions accompanied by dates. Many smaller amounts had been deducted from several frighteningly larger ones. The final outstanding balance was almost thirty thousand dollars!

“As you can see,” Deacon began, “we’ve done the right thing in advancing our hard earned cash to your father so he could play some poker, and he racked up some pretty big debts. Debts that still have to be paid back.”

“What that’s got to do with me?” I glanced wide-eyed from one ruffian to the other.

“We’re not going to be out of pocket, Son. We gave your father an ultimatum two nights ago, but he didn’t take us seriously, so last night we had to explain to him just how much he disappointed us.”

Pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. When Father came home from work two days ago, he was very worried about something. That must have been due to their ultimatum, whatever it was. When he came home last night, he was in a great deal of pain. Their ‘explanation’ was beating him up.

Deacon draped an arm around my shoulders. “We got off on the wrong foot tonight, Son. Let’s put that behind us, eh? We don’t want to have to explain things to you like we did your father. You do your part in paying off your debt, and we won’t have any misunderstandings.”

“I don’t know what you think I can do,” I protested weakly.

“You got paid today.” Wells held out his hand.

His words hit me like a pile driver when I realised what he wanted and what it would cost my family.

“No! I can’t. I have to give my wage to the building supervisor or we’ll be evicted tomorrow. We’re eight weeks behind in rent.”

“Not our problem,” Wells said.

I gave Deacon an imploring look. “Please, Sir, don’t do this.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s taking us seriously, Wells,” Deacon said.

Wells drew back a fist.

I grabbed the golden envelope and shoved it into Deacon’s hand as waves of guilt and hopelessness buffeted me with equal force. We were going to be evicted! My poor mother and sister would be hit so hard! But what choice did I have? If I refused, they’d either hit me until I handed it over, or frisk me to find it, in which case they’d discover I wasn’t Brandon. Who knew what they’d do if they realised I was a girl?

Deacon counted the money with practiced ease, and held out his hand. “Now the rest of it.”

“There’s only another hundred – we need it for food.”

“Thought you were a quick learner, Brandon. Was I wrong?”

Hands shaking, for this meant we’d have no money at all this week, I pulled out the remaining hundred-and-ten and gave it to him too.

“That’s it?”

“I was off sick for four days.” I spoke quickly, but earnestly. If he didn’t believe me, I was in trouble.

Deacon pocketed the money, and he and Wells turned to leave.

“That’s all you’re ever gonna get from me.” I lifted my chin definitely.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve taken my whole wage. I’m sure you can imagine how my father spent ever other cent we had. My family and I will starve this week. That means I’ll be in no condition to work and I’ll probably get fired so won’t be able to earn anymore money.”

The thug examined me keenly, stuck his hand in his pocket, and threw a fifty and a tenner at me. I caught the cash in the air and held it tightly, afraid they’d try to take it back.

“See, we’re reasonable men.” Deacon flashed a dazzling smile. “But you’ll have to do better than this pittance you’ve given us today.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a forager, Son. You figure it out.”

I looked at him blankly.

“There’s a demand for contraband items in the black market. Oh, and one last thing. You’ve got two sisters, yeah? Pretty ones too, from what I’ve heard.”

A sick feeling exploded in my belly. “Don’t you touch them.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, but just so you know, if you report Wells and me to the Custodians, we’ve got business associates who won’t hesitate in taking the rest of the money you owe out of them. Get my meaning?”

“I won’t say a word to nobody,” I said.

“Wise boy. Now, until next time?”

With that, the two men sauntered calmly from the coin laundry, leaving me alone to contemplate the world of terror and worry they just dropped me in. No – that my father dropped me in. How could he have done this to us? I didn’t even know there were illegal gambling dens in the town. How on earth did he find them? How did he let himself accumulate so much debt to lowlife sharks like these?

Looking forlornly at the sixty dollars they left me with, I sank to the floor and pondered what to do. There was no point going to the supervisor now, and probably even less point going home. My mother would absolutely freak when she found out Father had racked up thirty-thousand in gambling debts, and even more so when she found out I lost the money.

This was the worst day of my life.

I got home an hour later. I could hear my mother ranting and raving about something, so I squared my shoulders and let myself in.

“Where the blazes have you been!” she shouted as soon as she saw me. She was standing in the kitchen doorway arguing with Karen, but stomped angrily over to me. “You were supposed to come straight home after work and give Brandon’s wage to the supervisor!”

Karen followed her into the lounge-dining room, scowling at me as though I was public enemy number one.

“I know, I was on my way here to do exactly that, but I got robbed.” Too sore and disheartened to remain standing in the face of Mother’s wrath, I pulled out a dining chair and slumped into it, resting my arms on the table.

Mother glanced at Karen and then back to me. “Excuse me?”

“I got robbed.”

“By whom? Where?”

“By two guys, just around the corner.” Mother didn’t look convinced.

“Are you trying to tell me that on the day you’re paid, two guys randomly rob you when you’re almost home? What did you do, take a shortcut through an alleyway or something?”

“It wasn’t random. They were waiting for me.”

“You’re not making sense, Eldest Daughter!”

I pulled off my cap and met Mother’s furious gaze. “I found out where Father has been going after work these past six months.”

“What’s that got to do with this?”

“He’s been visiting a gambling den.”

“A what?” Mother and Karen asked at the same time.

“You know, a place where they play poker for money. And he got himself in debt to the tune of thirty-thousand. That’s where the money’s been going – gambling, and paying off the debt.”

“Thirty-thousand? Thirty-thousand what?” Karen asked.

“Dollars, Younger Sister,” I replied.

The blood drained from my mother’s face and she collapsed into a chair across the table from me. “You’d better tell me everything. Leave nothing out.”

I relayed the events of the robbery to my mother and sister, leaving out nothing except their demand that I smuggle in contraband. When I explained how the ruffians considered Brandon liable for the debt, Mother grew paler. Finally, I laid the sixty dollars Deacon gave me onto the table.

“We’re supposed to last a week on that?” Karen asked.

I didn’t reply.

“That’s just great! Not only has the useless man my father chose for my husband got himself arrested for drugs, he’s destroyed our lives too. What was he thinking? Wasn’t it enough to destroy his life, why did he have to ruin ours as well? There’s no way we’ll ever be able to pay back that money.” She looked at the front door. “And that bloodsucking leech will be here any moment demanding rent money we no longer have.”

“Actually, I’ve already seen him,” I said quietly as I took an orange sheet of paper from my pocket and placed it on the table.

Mother looked at the eviction notice and back at me. “You what?”

“I went straight to him after I got robbed, explained what happened, and begged for an extension. He accused me of lying, demanding I show him a Custodian Incident Report to prove I’d been robbed–”

“Then you have to get one,” Karen said. “Quickly, go to the Custodians and report the robbery!”

“She can’t.” Mother sighed and rested her head in her hands. “As she said, if she reports those two men, their associates will get revenge against the three of us. Besides, what happens when the Custodians examine your sister to verify her story about getting hit in the gut? What do you think they will do when they find out she isn’t Brandon?”

“So what happens now?” Karen stood, face awash with fear.

Mother looked at the eviction notice as though it was a venomous snake. “What does it say?”

“We have to be out by midday tomorrow. Anything we can’t take with us will be thrown out or sent to the Recycling Works,” I replied.

“And where are we supposed to go?” Karen demanded.

“We’ll have to go to the homeless shelter.” Mother deflated like a popped balloon.

“No way! Never! That place is a dump, a hole for paupers and no hopers – for losers.” My sister was whining now, desperate to avoid our fate.

“And what do you think we are, Youngest Daughter?
We
are penniless no-hopers. Losers.” Mother’s face was contorted with frustration and fury.

I felt sorry for her. For all of us. I wanted to run away from Newhome more than anything now, and could do so on Monday. But I wouldn’t. I would stay and look after my family, at least until Brandon turned up again. If I only knew where he was!

“There has to be someone we can stay with rather than go there,” Karen said.

“Who?”

Karen ran through our list of relatives and friends – which took all of sixty seconds – it was a very short list. Mother shot them all down.

“Eldest Daughter, curfew is over two hours away. Get out there and see if you can find that idiot brother of yours,” Mother said.

I stood. “Where do you suggest I look?”

“I don’t know, out there somewhere!” She pointed at the door.

Seeing the need to be somewhere else, I hurried from the flat and went looking for Brandon. Which was a completely pointless exercise, for I hadn’t the foggiest idea where he could be.

* * *

I woke early the next morning, became my brother with Karen’s help, and scoured the streets for abandoned shopping trolleys. I found two, shoved them together, and brought them back to our flat.

“What are those unsightly things for?” Mother demanded. She was in an absolute stinker of a mood. All morning she had berated and cursed Father, the supervisor, and just about everyone and everything else. At the moment she was going through the kitchen, pulling out the pots and pans she figured she couldn’t do without.

“You gonna carry that stuff on your back?” I replied. Seriously, what did she think the trolleys were for?

“Enough with the attitude!” she snapped. “Now go help your sister pack or she’ll try to bring everything she owns.”

Karen was sitting on her bed, staring into space. She had taken all of her clothes out of her tallboy and communal wardrobe – those she wore and those she’d grown out of – and dumped them on her bed. We so weren’t able to bring them all.

“Let me help you sort through those.” I reached for her clothes.

“Don’t you touch them!” she shouted.

“We can’t bring them all. Besides, there’s no need to keep every dress and coat you’ve ever worn. Just pack what still fits you.”

“You don’t understand me at all, do you? So lost in your little world with Elder Brother that you haven’t the slightest clue what matters to me.” She pouted as she ran her lands lovingly over a simple yet beautiful pale blue dress she wore as a pre-teen.

“What are you talking about?”

“These clothes? I poured myself into them when I made them – it’s like they’re a part of me. I can’t just throw them away, they’re too precious.”

“We’re going to a homeless shelter, Younger Sister, not another flat. We won’t have anywhere to put them. Not to mention we can’t exactly carry them halfway across town in just two shopping trolleys.”

“I know this is another adventure to you, Elder Sister, like running around masquerading as Brandon. But this is the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. Having to live in that place, with those people, coupled with the shame of Father getting thrown into prison? Not to mention that my reputation will be besmirched to the point that no man will ever want me to marry their son.”

I pointed at my stomach. “You call these bruises an adventure? I’m just trying to make it through each day without getting beaten up or killed, and you’re worried about your reputation? Open your eyes and look what’s going on around you! Now pack only what fits you now. And that comes from Mother, not me.” I spoke unkindly, and felt terrible for doing so, but we didn’t have time for this nonsense.

* * *

The supervisor arrived at midday and despite our very vocal protestations, told us to leave. We packed what we could into the shopping trolleys. Every scrap of food we had left, kitchen and toiletry necessities, our sewing kits, and bags of clothes for the four of us – I figured Brandon would join us sooner or later. I tried to pack some of Father’s clothes, but Mother wouldn’t let me. Pillows, sheets and doonas went on top, and then we were out.

I taped a message onto the front door, announcing where we were moving to, just in case Brandon came home and wondered where we’d gone.

“I can’t believe this is happening. How can they justify throwing three women out of their own home? How can they send someone like us to the homeless shelter? We’re not like those people. We’re not!” Karen said. She stood outside our door, looking wistfully at our home, and at all the things we had to leave behind.

“All part of the Founders’ vision for creating the perfect utopian society,” I mocked. “I mean seriously, what do we even need money for anyway? We live in a closed system!”

“Keep it down!” Mother snapped. “You want to be arrested for sedition?”

I scowled at her, but complied. Those sentiments were best left unsaid in a police state like this. I patted Karen on the arm in an empty attempt to encourage her. But the fact was, I was just as discouraged as she was. That was strange, in a sense. I had tried to run away from this very home only yesterday. However, that was with the understanding my family would still live there. Now we were homeless. Worse, we had to leave most of our possessions behind. It was so unfair!

My face burned with humiliation as we made the trip across town to the homeless shelter. I wore my beige dress and had put my hair up, which made me even more self-conscious. When I impersonated my brother, I felt insulated from the world and its disappointments and horrors, hidden behind a facade of deception. I could never recall having felt so exposed as I did then.