Forager (9781771275606) (4 page)

Trying to put Chane out of my mind, I looked to the Forager. I
wanted to thank him for speaking up for me. Before I could, Old
Bill shouted from inside the house. “Them blasted Scavengers are
getting closer! They’re only about a mile out! Looks to be a big
bunch of ’em, at least a hundred. They got horses pulling grain
wagons. Looks like they mean to fill ’em!”

“
I wish the governor would form a militia to take care of these
Scavengers. Having to fight them ourselves wastes time better spent
meeting the quotas,” the mayor said to the Forager.

“
Yeah, and I wish I didn’t hear that same complaint from every
town I visit. There simply aren’t enough people. You know that,”
the Forager answered.

“
That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” the mayor
retorted.

Several people took cover near the house and some by the tree
line, but most of us were left standing in and around the
cornfield.

A queasy uneasiness filled me. Shooting a Scavenger wouldn’t
be like shooting the deer. I only felt guilty about the buck
because I was in trouble with the mayor. Something told me shooting
a person would be drastically different. That, of course, reminded
me that I needed a weapon.

I frantically searched for one. Jason had my bow, and I
seriously doubted he’d give it back. The mayor carried Chane’s
extra shotgun, but I’d sooner go looking for a Scavenger than put
myself that close to the mayor. The only things nearby were dried
ears of corn and dirt clods. Neither would do much good. Next to
me, the Forager peered out at the advancing Scavengers through the
scope of his rifle. “Uh, excuse me, but you wouldn’t have an extra
rifle, or bow, or something would you?”

“
You again? Yeah here ya go. Can’t have you unarmed in a
situation like this.” He handed me an unstrung bow and a quiver
full of arrows. “You can use that right?”

I smiled as I strung the bow. “I’m the one that shot the deer,
remember?”

“
Those aren’t deer out there. They’re desperate, hungry people.
Most of ’em aren’t much different than you. Got themselves into a
fix, and now they’re forced to survive by ganging up and robbing
the towns they come across.”

I’d never thought much about Scavengers. Only that they were a
threat to us. If what Sawyer said was true, these people were as
much victims as we were. What would it be like, not knowing where
the next meal was coming from? Being unwelcome everywhere? I
shuddered. Not a life I wanted.

Old Bill shouted from the window. “Be ready! Here they
come!”

From what I saw of the attackers, they were dirty and wore
old, ragged, threadbare clothes that fit too loose on thin bodies.
A few were only armed with sharpened sticks and rocks, but most
carried guns and bows.

None of them were close enough yet to make good targets.
Good—I didn’t want to shoot them. Yes, they were dangerous and
threatening, but Sawyer’s words made me think. If I were forced
into being a Scavenger, I’d have to do the same.

And then they were on us.

The rifles began their noisy chatter, accented by the roaring
boom of the shotguns. Screams pierced the cornfield. Dark shapes
darted like shadows through the stalks. I jumped to get a better
look at what might be coming my way. “Keep your head down,” the
Forager said. It didn’t matter. My brief jump only showed me
running bodies. It was impossible to tell who was who.

The whine of a bullet passed close by. A grunt sounded from
behind me, and I saw the Forager bend over in his saddle. A moment
later he was back up and firing his rifle. He rode like a man born
to it. With a nudge, the horse sidestepped left or right as
needed.

As high as he sat atop his horse, I was sure that at least one
of the Scavengers would take special interest in him, but he
continued to sit the saddle and fire his rifle. Bullet casings
littered the ground around him. How many Scavengers fell to his
steady rain of fire?

The smell of gunpowder filled the air. Shots came from
everywhere, and I cursed the corn. I couldn’t tell who was who as
bodies darted through the stalks. More screams, more whizzing
bullets. Shouts and cries of pain filled the air. Arrows sliced
through the corn. Blood pounded in my ears. My heart raced. Terror
gushed through my veins like poison.
Pulling the bowstring back to half draw, fear gripped me so
tightly that I wasn’t sure if I wanted an enemy to show himself or
not.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there with the bow half-drawn,
but suddenly there was someone moving toward me through the corn.
The figure was big, and he pushed the cornstalks aside as if
walking through heavy brush. He must have been a Scavenger;
everyone in town would have been careful not to damage the corn.
Pulling the arrow back to full draw, I waited. The figure stalked
closer and closer. He was only four rows away when the butt of
Sawyer’s rifle knocked into my forearm. The arrow jigged and jagged
a short distance before it fell to the earth like a lifeless
bird.

I didn’t realize Sawyer’s deflection was intentional until
Josh stood before me. “What are you doing, Orphan Boy—trying to
kill me?” I’d never seen that much fear in his eyes.

Briefly, my heart went out to him. If Sawyer hadn’t
intervened, He’d be dead. I gave a heartfelt, “Sorry
Josh.”

I don’t think he even heard me. Instead he asked, “Who gave
you a bow?” As if I was the last person in town who should be
armed. Maybe that was true after what just happened, but he didn’t
need to make it sound that way.

“
I gave him the bow, so if you have a problem with that you’ll
have to take it up with me,” the Forager said.

Josh started to take a step backwards. He must have thought
better of it, because he stayed where he was. “You should know, the
Scavengers are fleeing. We’ve beaten them back, for
now.”

A heavy sigh escaped my lips and I felt about fifty pounds
lighter. I wanted to jump up and down and scream in victory.
Instead, I held my emotions in check, except to give Josh a big
smile.

“
Yeah, Orphan Boy, looks like you live, at least for now. I
guess we’ll get to see you dance on the square after
all.”

The weight in my stomach came crushing back in.

“
We haven’t got time for that right now,” Sawyer said. “I’m
sure there’s wounded that need looking after. Come on, let’s help
where we can.”

Retrieving the misfired arrow, I put it back in the quiver,
and broke down the bow. Handing the bow back to the Forager, I
noticed he reached for it with his left hand. His right was pressed
firmly on his leg, just above his knee. Blood leaked out from under
his palm.

“
You’re hit!” I yelled.

“
Yeah, but it’s not bad. I’m sure there are others in lots
worse shape than me.”

He was right. Sawyer followed me as I headed back toward the
house. People dragged bodies, some injured, some dead. The injured
townsfolk were being tended to by Dr. White. He’d taken over when
Mom died. The Scavengers that lay moaning and sobbing were dragged
toward the road. A few of them hobbled away, but the dead and the
badly injured would have to wait to be retrieved by the survivors
until after the sun set.

“
Do you normally treat the wounded Scavengers like that?”
Sawyer asked from atop his horse.

Before I could answer, Josh stepped up and said, “They’re
Scavengers. What else should we do with them?”

Sawyer closed his eyes and shook his head in disgust. When he
opened them again, he said, “They’re still people. Their blood is
the same color as yours.”

“
They’re thieves, thugs, and murderers!” Josh shouted. “They
get exactly what they deserve!” Then he stomped away.

Sawyer muttered under his breath “And they call the Scavengers
savages.” To me he said, “Does everyone treat the Scavengers so
shoddily?”

“
They’re the ones that attack us,” I said with a
shrug.

“
Yes, but I’ve seen animals treated better. Not that I’m
surprised. It’s pretty much the same everywhere. I hate it. Both
sides need to find some common ground. Those people…they’re just
trying to survive.”

It seemed strange to me that Sawyer could put bullet after
bullet into that band of Scavengers one minute, and defend them the
next, but I shrugged it off. He obviously knew more about them than
I did.

I walked up to Dr. White. He was covered in blood. “The
Forager’s injured. Can you help him?”

Dr. White looked up at Sawyer. “Is it
life-threatening?”

“
No.” Sawyer said.

“
Then it’ll have to wait. There are people here who might not
make it. I’ve got to attend to them first.”

I understood, though making him wait irritated me. If it
hadn’t been for the Forager, our whole town might have fallen
victim to the attack.

“
You could help the Forager, Dillon,” Dr. White said. “Your mom
knew all about injuries. Surely she passed some of it on to
you.”

Me, a healer? I was about to argue with the doctor when the
mayor tapped me on the shoulder. His light tap made my heart skip a
beat every time.

“
Glad to see you came through unscathed,” he said. “Good,
because once the wounded are tended, I want you punished. I’ve
spoken to Josh and Jason and both of them confirm that you admitted
shooting the deer. Eric was going to administer your punishment,
but unfortunately he was injured in the fighting.” The mayor
pointed to another Bull. This one looked the part. He was big and
beefy with a smile cold enough to freeze the sun. “This is Kurt.
He’ll be our Head Enforcer until Eric recovers. You get to be his
first enforcement.” Despite the mayor’s wording, all I heard was
“first victim.”

“
Excuse me, mayor,” Sawyer said. “Dillon here was just about to
treat my injury. I would appreciate it greatly if you could hold
off your punishment long enough for him to fix my leg.”

“
I should let you suffer, but fine, take him home, Dillon, and
patch him up as best you can.” Before we even took a step, the
mayor locked eyes on me. “Present yourself for punishment in the
square at midday tomorrow. If you fail to show up on time, I’ll
have Kurt kick down your door and drag you there. Do you
understand?” I nodded, glad to be given a reprieve. He turned to
the mounted Forager. “As for you, Sawyer, as soon as you can, we
need you to locate a new alternator for our combine harvester. The
alternator failed shortly before the attack. Lucky for us you
arrived when you did.”

The news of the harvester’s breakdown explained why Josh and
Jason stormed in on me right after I’d killed the deer. They were
coming to get me to help with the harvest.

After being counted—reporting in that I was still alive—I
walked down the road with the mounted Sawyer following. We passed
other townspeople returning to their jobs, homes, or children. The
crumbled ruins of a house that had recently collapsed served as a
reminder of the state of our town. Most of the houses and former
businesses were still standing, but none of them would endure the
torments of time and weather without regular repairs—repairs we
didn’t have the supplies to make. I sighed.

“
Why such a heavy sigh, Dillon?” the Forager asked.

“
I was just wondering what this town looked like, before the
Collapse.”

Sawyer looked wistful. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s
been thirty years. But even before the economy crashed, there were
houses that needed to be condemned. For whatever reason, their
owners didn’t do the necessary upkeep.” He pointed at the house I’d
been looking at. “That’s the result. It’s only a matter of time
before all the buildings fall.

“
It all happened so fast. The dollar became worthless, the
stock market bottomed out, all over the world trade stopped. People
in the big cities had it the worst. They only had so much food.
When it was gone…”

“
Isn’t there anything we can do?” I asked.

“
Not unless you can repopulate the land, stop the Scavengers,
restore the economy, and rectify the government. It’s all in
shambles.”

I walked on, thinking over Sawyer’s words. I couldn’t do much
about the population. Most of the dead were from starvation, or the
result of a lack of medicine, or medical treatment. It drove Mom
crazy when she had the knowledge to cure someone, but not the
medicine or equipment. The Scavengers were always a threat. The
only way I could see of stopping them was by exterminating them. Of
course, that didn’t help the population problem. As for the economy
and the government, I didn’t have a clue.

A walk of about fifteen blocks brought us to the door of my
charcoal-black RV. It boasted silver swoops on the sides and could
sleep eight. Not that anyone but me ever slept in it. Any
unoccupied house could have been home, but the RV suited me better.
After my parents died, our house was too big and too empty. The RV
was a better fit, and still near enough to my parents’ house that
old memories were just a few footsteps away.

I tried to tie Sawyer’s horse to a nearby tree, but he just
took the reins and made sure they couldn’t drag on the ground,
saying, “You’ve got good grass here, she won’t wander.” The Forager
winced as I helped him down from the big animal. The tall grass
reached to the bottom of my RV. It made good grazing for the horse,
but treacherous footing for an injured man. Sawyer put his arm
around my shoulder and we trudged our way to the three steps
leading to the door. Once inside, he sat down on my beat-up leather
sofa. Even with half the padding missing from the cushions, the
couch earned a grateful sigh from Sawyer when he sat
down.