"There are perhaps half-a-dozen Custodians who could handle an Austeyr assault-rifle with as much skill as you demonstrated back there."
I shook my head. "I just aimed and pulled the trigger."
"I said to cut the bull, Jones! You changed the gun to semi-automatic fire, couched it against your shoulder like a pro, and took down Skel with one shot kills. Even I can't do that."
"Lieutenant, seriously, I just grabbed the gun and used it. I’ve never done any form of gun handling course. I took up foraging as soon as I left school, and apart from the year I spent in the hospital after my accident, that's all I've ever done," I assured him.
“What accident?”
“A ceiling collapsed on me when I was foraging back in 2120, Sir.”
“And you spent a whole year in the hospital for that?” he queried sceptically.
“Apparently, Sir.”
“What do you mean ‘apparently,’ did it happen or not?”
“After the accident, I suffered from amnesia, Sir. I have no memories of that year.”
King leaned even further forward. If he leaned any closer we’d be bashing our heads together every time the Bushmaster went over a bump. “Did it ever occur to you that you may have been a Custodian before your accident?”
“No Sir,” I said, shocked by the suggestion – what a horrid thought! “My memories of leaving school and going straight into foraging are intact. It’s the memories of the year after that are missing. Besides, what you suggest is impossible. Once a Custodian, always a Custodian, right?”
Which was quite possibly the worst thing to have said. Now King was probably back to suspecting I was part of some underground resistance movement, training its members to take on the Custodians. As if.
"Unless you bombed out during boot camp, or were discharged due to medical reasons – and with an injury like amnesia, you would have been," he answered as he leaned back in his seat, but he wasn’t finished. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "As I said, something about you doesn't add up. When I get to the bottom of it I’ll decide whether or not to arrest you for today’s indiscretions."
Actually, the reason he wasn’t arresting me right now was because of my pending marriage to his sister. What would his father say if he came home from work today and announced he had stuck his sister’s ticket to North End in prison for ten to fifteen years?
Though to be honest, I had to admit I was just as surprised that I had instinctively known how to use King's gun, since I'd never touched one before. At least, I had no memories of ever having done so. What if his suspicions were well founded? What if I had joined the Custodians or had been part of some underground, paramilitary resistance group? Both thoughts sent shivers down my spine.
"Everyone, listen up," King said as he snapped his fingers to get our attention. "Regardless of what you think you saw happen today, Jones did the Lone Ranger thing and rushed off unarmed to try and save David. I went after him with Michal, I killed the four Skel who took David and wounded Jones, and then Michal and I brought them both back. Is that understood?"
As everyone responded in the affirmative, I wondered what rank King would be next time I saw him. The thought occurred to me that if he were to stick with me, I would catapult him to that esteemed rank he sought in next to no time.
When we got back to Newhome we found it a hive of activity. Custodian squads in Bushmasters and G-Wagons were patrolling the no-man’s land that surrounded the town. This was because several other foraging teams – what was left of them, anyway – returned before us. They had all been ambushed by Skel too.
The town hospital looked like a field hospital in a war zone. Wounded Custodians and foragers filled the operating theatres, emergency department, and intensive care unit. Some suffered burns from Molotov cocktails and burning vehicles, others were shot with crossbows or hurt by booby-trap bombs. Others had broken bones or other injuries caused by Skel hand weapons. Doctors and nurses rushed back and forth with a frantic sense of purpose.
Our foraging team and Custodian squad were the ‘lucky ones,’ as most of the other foragers had been wounded, killed or captured, and the Custodians hadn’t fared much better. Four more foraging teams had yet to report in. This was truly the darkest day in Newhome’s recent history. The thought of some of our brave, faithful men captured by the Skel weighed heavily upon our hearts. –No one deserved to receive such an appalling fate – to be worked to death as a slave.
The technician who X-rayed my wound said I was lucky because the crossbow bolt hadn’t done any serious damage. Somehow it did not penetrate as deeply as it should have. When I told him it had been fired at point blank range, he said he suspected that the crossbow string had lost much of its tension. For the first time, I was relieved the Skel did not maintain their weapons very well.
After that, they stitched up the wound, wrapped my chest in bandages, and gave me a blood transfusion.
After I was transferred to intensive care, I attempted to snatch some sleep, a difficult task due to the noise of visiting families and hospital staff. Just as I was drifting off, wouldn’t you know it, Lieutenant King made a house call.
“Leave us,” he snapped at Michal, who had been keeping me company.
Michal quickly retreated to join Shorty and David, who’s his bed was at the other end of the room.
“Do you feel as bad as you look?” King asked gruffly as he stood stiffly before my bed.
“I've felt better, Sir.”
“I suppose you’ve heard the Skel hit all our foraging teams today. Two teams haven’t even come back, which means they must have taken out the Bushmasters as well. All the foraging trucks were lost.”
“So I heard, Sir.”
“Any ideas why the Skel have done this?”
“It could be in revenge for us wiping out their twelve-man party on Monday,” I suggested.
“But that’s not what you think, is it?”
“No, Sir.”
“Don’t pussyfoot with me, Jones, out with it.”
“I think today's attacks, and last Monday’s attack on the Japanese cars, are part of a greater plan against Newhome. Though what it is I have no idea,” I answered carefully, expecting him to refute my suggestion.
His face, however, remained neutral. “Okay, Jones. Let’s say I buy this theory of yours, but there’s one big problem with it.”
“How did a loose collection of nomadic tribes manage to coordinate such a carefully thought out plan to attack all of our foraging teams on the same morning – teams that were spread all around Melbourne,” I asked.
“Exactly – any ideas how they did it?”
“This is how,” I said as I opened my right hand to show him what I had been holding all that time. (Michal retrieved it from my trouser pocket earlier.)
King’s face became almost as pale as mine as he reached down to take the Smartphone from my hand. “Where did you get this?”
“From one of the Skel, Sir.”
"And you leave it till now to tell me?"
"Sorry, with the injury and all it slipped my mind, Sir."
“Fair enough. I’ll be off now, I have to hand this in.” He turned to leave.
“The conclusion you’ve reached isn’t necessarily the correct one,” I said quickly.
He turned back to me. “And what conclusion is that?”
“That Hamamachi is supplying Smartphones to the Skel.”
King stared at me long and hard. “You know about Councillor Okada offering to trade Smartphones with us? That information is classified.”
Classified because they intended to offer the imported phones only to North Enders and Custodians, no doubt.
“I noticed our Japanese visitors had working Smartphones when we rescued them,” I said. I could not admit Nanako was alone with me at my place last night.
“Okay, how else do you explain the Skel having them?” he demanded, holding up the phone, which was identical to the one Nanako had.
“If Hamamachi is willing to trade them with us, they must be trading them with other Victorian towns too. And who knows, maybe someone else has worked out how to repair them.”
King did not look at all convinced, but his face suddenly softened and he asked, “Will we see you tonight? Or do you have orders to remain in the hospital for a few days?”
“Forget doctor’s orders,” I assured him with far more gusto than I felt. “I will see you tonight.”
"Oh, one last thing." The softness I had seen on his face a moment ago vanished.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
He leaned closer. "I checked the log of Custodian recruits from late '19 to early 2120 – and your name isn't in it."
"I already told you I went straight into foraging, Sir."
"As far as you remember, right?"
I nodded.
"This amnesia excuse is only going to cover you so far, Jones. I'm going to keep digging till I get to the bottom of this, and if I discover that you learned gun handling skills illegally, I’m going to nail you to the wall!" He stormed off in a huff.
Michal rejoined me a few minutes after King left. "What did he want?"
"He wanted to know my thoughts about the Skel attacking our foraging parties today."
"You're kidding," he exclaimed, "King asked for your opinion?"
"I know, right? Last thing I ever thought he'd do, though true to form he mixed in a few threats too. Hey, is David awake yet?"
"He is, but he won't say anything, just stares into space."
I reached over and ripped the needle out of my left hand and pressed a tissue over the hole until it stopped bleeding.
"What are you doing?" Michal asked with concern.
"Help me get dressed, will you? I want to see David and find out what's up." I hoped he didn't have amnesia or something like that. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't regret the gaping hole in my mind of eleven months I had no memory of living.
Michal stared at me for a moment as though I was out of my mind, but then came over and helped me out of bed. My clothes had been stuffed unceremoniously into a large brown bag and placed in a cupboard beside the bed. Michal helped me out of the hospital gown and I struggled to get dressed. Since the nurses had thrown away my blood soaked shirt, he gave me his jacket to wear. It was several sizes too big, but at least it was clean. Getting my left arm into the jacket was agonisingly painful, but I gritted my teeth and put up with it. Adversity was something to cope with and overcome, not pander to.
"I need a sling." I searched the cupboard beside my bed.
"Hang on, I'll be back," he said before disappearing into the swirling crowd of doctors, nurses, patients and family members. I hadn’t contacted my family. I had enough on my mind without them fussing over me too.
Michal returned a moment later with a sling and helped me put it on.
"Thanks Michal, I really don't know what I'd do without you."
"Do more things yourself?" he suggested.
"Hey, under the circumstances, I don't think that's particularly fair." I pretended to be hurt.
Michal replied with the hint of a smile.
"Mr. Jones, what do you think you're doing?" a young nurse demanded as he approached us. He was male, like all nurses and hospital staff, except for those in the maternity ward.
"Checking out," I replied.
"You need to remain under supervision for at least twenty-four hours," he insisted.
"Look, I'll rest better at home, and you've got your hands full, right?"
Realising I could not be swayed, he held up his hands. "Fine, but let me at least give you your course of antibiotics."
I yielded to his request and waited while he went to fetch them. He returned a moment later with a bottle of pills and gave me instructions to take them twice a day with food.
That done, Michal and I went over to see David. He was lying down with his head wrapped in thick white bandages, staring straight ahead with a blank expression, just as Michal had told me.
Shorty was sitting cross-legged on the foot of the bed, but clambered off to greet me as we approached. "What are you doing walking around, Jones? You're whiter than a ghost."
"I've spent enough time in hospital beds," I replied, and then stepped over to David, overjoyed to see him safe. I panicked so badly when the Skel had taken him, terrified we'd lost him forever.
I lay a hand on his shoulder. "Hey mate, how you feeling?"
"Why'd you save me, Jones?" he asked while staring straight ahead.
"What kind of question is that?"
"I'm the one who told them," he replied, stricken with grief.
I glanced at Shorty and Michal, but they just shrugged their shoulders. "Told who what, David?"
"The Custodians, I'm the one who told 'em about Leigh sleeping with his neighbour."
Although I heard what he said, I simply could not process the words. "You what?"
"He's always flaunting the law and bragging about it. And then he starts going on and on about how he's sleeping with this Chinese girl next door, and I got so angry, and jealous too I guess. So I just went and told a Custodian about it. I didn't even think about the consequences."
"David, Leigh's in prison for six years and the girl is dead!" The shock from his confession sent my mind reeling.
Shorty, who was closer to Leigh than a brother, exploded into rage. "You absolute and utter moron, David! What is wrong with you? How could you do such a thing to your friend? How could you turn anyone, let alone Leigh, into the Custodians? They’re the enemy! I hate you!" He suddenly bolted for the door with tears streaming down his cheeks.
I grabbed Michal's arm. "Follow him and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid!"
"On it."
Michal left and then it was just David and me. I felt completely alienated and alone, even in a room full of people. I sat down on the edge of his bed and let my mind wander, thinking of all the good times the five of us had together, laughing, crying, talking, exploring the ruins, playing cards, even crying on each other’s shoulders. And now it had come to this.
After many minutes of reflection, I reached out and turned David’s head so he met my gaze. "David, you're just gonna have to deal with what you did, and when Leigh finally gets out, you gotta fess up and ask how you can make amends, okay?"
There was no response, he didn't even blink.
"Look, you stuffed up, and you stuffed up real bad, but I got shot saving your life today pal, so don't you dare waste that, you got me?"
David's eyes finally focused, first on my face, and then on my arm in the sling. Understanding what I was saying, he nodded slowly.
"Promise me you won't waste it," I demanded.
"I promise, Jones," he whispered, and then, "Jones?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you, you know, for saving me."
"That's better." I gripped his hand.
When Michal returned an hour later, he found David asleep and me sitting in the chair next to him.
"Shorty's okay now, he just needs some time alone," he said.
I stood slowly from the chair, but had to grab the bed to steady myself. "Cool, thanks."
"And where do you think you're going?"
"Have to be at my parents by six."
"And you're gonna walk there?" Michal asked sceptically.
"Well, I'd rather take a bus but can’t do that since Newhome doesn’t have any."
"How about you sit back down for another half hour and after that I'll get you there in fifteen minutes."
I fixed Michal with a withering glare. "I'm not going by wheel chair."
"This is no time for misplaced pride, Ethan, but don't worry, I've got a better idea. Stay here, I'll be right back."
I gave him a mock salute as he sauntered off.