Forager (9781771275606) Read online

  Back Cover

  Young Adult Dystopian by Ron Scheer

  It’s been thirty years since the economy collapsed, and all Dillon has ever known is a world without electricity or medicine, living in a community constantly under the threat of starvation as they struggle to feed the rest of the country.

  Orphaned and alone, unsure of his future, Dillon serves as a lookout, watching for the bands of Scavengers that prey on towns like his—while also watching for the mayor’s twin sons, who are bent on terrorizing him.

  When a Forager rides into town, he opens Dillon’s eyes to the possibility of a different life. And when a Scavenger attack leaves the Forager injured, he sends Dillon out on a mission that may mean the difference between life and death for the mayor’s missing daughter. Dillon is about to find more than a way to help his community—he’s about to find himself.

  The Forager

  by Ron Scheer

  Published by MuseItUp Publishing at Smashwords

  ISBN: 978-1-77127-560-6

  Copyright 2014 Ron Scheer

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  To Brandy, Sarah, and Brandon.

  Family—Always.

  Acknowledgements

  This book may have my name on the cover, but there are a lot of other people who had a hand in making this book a reality, and a dream come true for me.

  I must first thank my parents for instilling in me a love of the written word. I still remember the night when I was five years old, and those strange characters suddenly started to make sense. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

  Every instructor, teacher, and librarian that had the patience to “let me finish this page” also deserves huge kudos. You all know who you are, but I would especially like to thank Nancy Coffelt for her early help and reviews. My early readers, Becky Teet and Cindy Shepard, also need to be thanked. The editors, Katie Carroll and Nancy Canu, through much patience, explained why they were right, and I was wrong. I need to give Nancy Canu an additional thank you for her equestrian expertise that kept me from repeatedly injuring Fred. The cover artist, Carolina Bensler, did a remarkable job, as did everyone else at MuseItUp. Thanks Lea.

  In closing, I have to thank the most important people of all, my family. To Brandy, my wife, your encouragement and support never wavered, not once. Brandon and Sarah get a very special thank you. Simply for being who you are, you let your dad live a dream.

  Chapter One

  Bow in hand, I climbed the staircase. Each step launched little puffs of plaster dust into the air. The smell of mold filled the stairwell, and up along the walls the old lath peeked through the gaps left by fallen plaster. How much longer would we be able to use this ramshackle house at the edge of town?

  I yelled up the stairs, “It’s Dillon! I’m coming up to relieve you!”

  Craig Black shouted back down, “It’s about time. You’re late!”

  At the top, I entered the empty bedroom that was my post. Sunlight shone brightly through the broken window and a soft breeze carried the smell of corn dust to my nose. Good—the combine harvester was still working. The machine could harvest as much in one hour as twenty people could in a day, if we could keep it running.

  Pulling an arrow from the quiver on my back and nocking it on the bowstring, I looked out the window. Below me, a rusty swing set sat on a patch of yellow grass. Beyond, a strip of bare earth separated the backyard from the fields.

  “What kept you?” Craig asked.

  “I stopped to talk to Chane.” I smiled. Chane was a year younger than me. She was tall, with long blonde hair, brown eyes, tanned skin. In other words, she was a knockout.

  “You’re going to get in trouble messing with the mayor’s daughter.” His gaze shifted from the window to me with a look that clearly said I didn’t measure up.

  “Yeah, but she can’t help it. I’m just too good-looking.” Craig was taller than me, but I was catching up in the build department. Over the last couple of years I’d developed some nice solid biceps and my stomach was just as flat as his. The one thing he had over me, though, was his blue eyes. Mine were green, with little flecks of brown. Looking in a mirror, it always seemed like there were flecks of manure floating in my eyes.

  “He let out a deep chuckle. “Just what does she see in you? No, don’t answer that. I just hope I’m there when the mayor catches you.”

  Let Craig think what he liked, but the truth was the mayor didn’t have anything to worry about. I loved watching words form on Chane’s smooth, perfect lips, but so far, watching her lips was as close as I gotten to them.

  My lack of…progress with Chane was depressing, so the subject was changed. “Anything happening out there?”

  “No,” Craig said, “but keep your eyes open. Today, tomorrow, next week, those Scavengers will show up. They always do this time of year.”

  Craig and I, and several others, watched the old highway for the bandits we called Scavengers. This bedroom window was one of several different posts. The need was obvious, but could any job be more boring? The thought of staring out the window all day without even a chair for comfort made me cringe, but there were no more options. Like a good citizen, I took up my post. I’d sunk to this tedious position because I’d been useless at all my other assigned jobs. It wasn’t like I didn’t try, but somehow, they always managed to get screwed up.

  Looking down the long black road, I sighed. It split the fields of corn and wheat like a seam in a quilt. The land rose gently, and for almost three miles a clear view of the old highway and the surrounding fields ready for harvest stretched out in front of me. The one exception was a small tree line that ended about twenty feet from the house. As long as I paid attention, there was no way a band of Scavengers could catch our town unaware, at least not from my post facing south.

  Before he left, Craig pulled a whistle and a pair of binoculars from around his neck and handed them to me. “Seriously, Dillon, get your thoughts off Chane’s chest and watch that road. Those stinkin’ Scavengers could show up at any time.”

  Despite his warning, twenty minutes later, I found myself thinking about Chane. She looked gorgeous this morning. High cheekbones accenting her cute upturned nose. Long, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders and catching the morning sunlight, making it shine. She wore light-blue denim cutoffs and a brown swimsuit top that definitely got my attention.

  I shook myself out of the daydream and checked the distance with the binoculars. As much as fantasizing about Chane captivated me, I needed to focus. I studied the road. Fortunately, everything was clear—for now.

  The morning passed slowly. From time to time, I stared out at the empty road. The occasional gust of wind blew a few leaves across its black surface, but, like every other day, the only thing that changed was the position of the sun. Now it hung almost directly overhead, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before someone brought me lunch.

  A movement at the end of the tree line grabbed my attention. I snatched up the binoculars. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, or one of the lenses had reflected a glint of light from the midday sun. Lowering the field glasses, I rubbed my eyes, put the whistle to my lips, and looked again.

  Was this the beginning of a Scavenger attack? A strange, excited fear gripped me. My pulse raced. My breath came short and fast. After a
ll the hours of boring watching, there might be action at last!

  Was it a scout doing reconnaissance? Or was it the lead Scavenger, with more close behind? Either way, I pictured myself as a hero, everyone clapping and cheering. Chane running toward me, arms spread wide with a big victory kiss on her lips, knowing my quick actions foiled the attack.

  My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I almost blew the whistle, but in a rare moment of clarity I realized I needed to be sure. A false alarm was not going to get me that kiss.

  Hand trembling, I lifted the field glasses looking down through the long rows of corn. Not seeing anything, I almost chalked it up to a trick of the light and a bad case of boredom when a second flicker caught my eye.

  This time I held the binoculars steady, and watched something brown moving across the rows. My muscles tensed. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Before thinking, I dropped the binoculars and whistle, grabbed the bow, and drew the length of the arrow back to my ear. A moment later, antlers poked up through the dry stalks of corn. Letting the bowstring, and my body relax, I shook my head at those foolish dreams of heroism.

  “Hey, Orphan Boy. Shooting at shadows, or were you just daydreaming about shooting a Scavenger?”

  The excitement of the moment turned into a hard lump of dread. I knew that sneering voice. I hated it. Without turning, I said, “No, Josh. I…I saw movement…out in the cornfield. It…it was just a deer.” My voice wavered. I hated the helplessness that smothered me when he was around.

  He was my age, but a full foot taller, crew-cut dark hair and brown eyes with a build that I would kill for. Not only was he what girls would call handsome, he looked like he could walk right through a brick wall. The worst part was he knew it. No, the worst part was that he and his twin brother, Jason, were the mayor’s sons. Chane’s brothers.

  “Good thing you pulled the arrow down. I would hate to see the Bulls give you any more jolts.” I knew he didn’t mean it. If it were up to him I’d get a jolt a day just for being me.

  Jolts were punishments, and the Bulls were the governor’s enforcers, carrying out all punishments regardless of what law was broken.

  I’ve no idea where they found that old stun baton, but I knew it hurt. Missing a shift of work or spilling fuel was one jolt, unauthorized possession of food was two, fighting three, and so on. Hunting earned the maximum eight. With eight, a person could usually be back to work the next day, if a little stiff and jerky.

  My jolts came two weeks ago. Josh, or maybe it was Jason, threw an apple into my RV. It was a stupid prank, but for whatever reason, they got a huge thrill out of it. Me, I got two jolts for having food in my RV. And I was lucky. Several people had been jolted before me, so the charge in the batteries was weak. The thought of being hit with a fresh set made my legs wobble. Not that we had any. All our batteries were weak from constant charging. In fact, part of the punishment was two hours on a pedal-generator for each jolt.

  I stared out the window refusing to look at Josh, silently wishing him away. I clamped my mouth shut, but he wasn’t leaving until satisfied he’d gotten the best of me. I might as well get this over with. “What do you want, Josh?” The fewer words I shared with this animal the better.

  “Wow, you sound like you don’t want me here, and I brought your lunch and everything.”

  Turning to face him, the evil grin on his face soured my stomach. His hands were empty. No food. I knew where my lunch was, but he wouldn’t leave without the satisfaction of telling me.

  “Where’s my lunch?” My voice shook.

  “I ate it. It was good too. Roast beef sandwich with lots of fresh churned butter, potato salad, and Millie’s special applesauce.”

  There was no way that had been lunch. The governor hadn’t allowed us a cow for our own table in months. Millie would have told me if she was planning on making potato salad; she knew I loved the stuff. As for her special applesauce, well, that part could be true.

  “So, you want your lunch or what?” Josh stood there with his finger poised to go down the back of his throat.

  “No!” I yelled in panic, not wanting to smell his puke all afternoon. “No.” This time much calmer. “You’ve had your fun, Josh. Now, why don’t you just leave?”

  “You trying to get rid of me?”

  Of course I was. I knew better than to say so, though. “Are you gonna stand there all day and watch me keep watch?”

  “You’ve got a smart mouth. Maybe it’s time for me to make it a lot dumber.” He raised both fists. I saw sledgehammers. What was I supposed to say to someone who would just as soon hit me as talk to me?

  “Not so smart now, are ya? But I’ve got better things to do than stand around here all day looking at your sorry butt.” Josh turned and walked out the door, a noticeable swagger in his step.

  Once I was sure he was gone, I let out a sigh of relief. As soon as it was out, I hated myself for it. I wanted to hit something—hard. I imagined my fist blasting into Josh’s nose, his warm blood dripping off my knuckles. The need for revenge filled me until my whole body shook. Being targeted by Josh and Jason had to stop. I wanted to pummel the pair of them into little piles of corn dust and watch the fall winds carry the debris away.

  Coming back to myself, I stared out the window again. The buck, his front legs and neck sticking out of one row, his middle in another, and his hindquarters in a third, still stood there, eating corn right off the cob. You want some butter with that? I smiled at my little joke, but the thought of butter reminded me of my empty stomach. Not that I’d been exactly starving before Josh showed up, but now, knowing that I wouldn’t eat until after the sun set, my stomach began to rumble. Loudly.

  My blood boiled from too many imaginary victories. Hunger gnawed my guts. Hitting the buck wouldn’t be a problem, even though my post rose high above him. He was easily in range of my compound bow. All of the practice my teachers inflicted on me would pay off. I could make that shot. But two jolts hurt enough—I didn’t want to know the pain of eight.

  It was stupid. We grew crops, we raised animals, we harvested, we slaughtered, and we kept it safe, but always for someone else. Our little community fed thousands. With all the plenty around me, it would have been nice to have a decent meal, and right here in front of me stood a deer. I’d be happy to share the meat, but for the stupid mayor’s no-hunting laws.

  Charlie Meyer, our combine driver, often spoke out about how much of our crops the wild animals ate, because the mayor’s laws prevented us from thinning their populations. He also spoke about how useful the meat and hides could be.

  The deer continued munching away. The more he ate, the harder it would be to fill our quotas, and the quotas always came first. It was just plain dumb. How could we fill the quotas if we starved to death? Not that we were, but it could happen.

  We lived on what grew in small gardens all across town, milk from the cows, eggs from the chickens, and the “generosity” of the governor, who gave us a supply of grain—the animals got more than we did—and the occasional beef cow, or pig. Of course, after filling the quotas, the leftovers were ours. A nice joke since all extras were hoarded for the next year’s higher quotas.

  The more I thought about everything, the hungrier and angrier I became. Raising the bow again, I sighted on the buck. Wouldn’t I be doing a service to my community by stopping him? How was he any different than the Scavengers who raided our warehouses? Wasn’t he just another bandit, stealing from us? It might have been the hunger, or the bullying, or the laws that didn’t make sense. It might have been all three. I let fly. The arrow raced away too fast to see. A second later, the buck dropped. Pieces of half-chewed corn fell from its mouth.

  The twang of the bowstring still echoed in the empty bedroom when Josh spoke from the doorway. “Hey, Jason, looks like Orphan Boy just shot himself a Scavenger. Either that, or he likes getting jolted.”

  Chapter Two

  I’m in troubllle! I’m in big trouble! The blood drained out of my face, and
a chill dropped through me as all the blood pooled in my feet, freezing my shoes to the floor.

  I glanced out the window, praying I was wrong, hoping the deer had moved on to die somewhere else, or at least blended in with the yellowed cornstalks and the brown earth. For a moment my hopes were realized. For one brief glorious second I thought the deer had actually walked away.

  Reality sank in a moment later. The deer was lying right where I shot it. Its coat blended in a little, but no one who gazed out that window was going to miss it for long.

  I turned my head toward the doorway as Josh and Jason entered the bedroom. The twins weren’t hard to tell apart. Though still big, Jason’s shoulders appeared narrow next to Josh’s. and where Josh wore a crew cut, Jason preferred a full mop. Josh’s voice, a nasty bass, was easy to tell apart from the rich and pleasant baritone Jason had when he wasn’t talking to me.

  “So, Orphan Boy, what did ya shoot?” Josh asked.

  It was the third time that day he’d called me Orphan Boy, and it made me want to punch him in the face. I’d just shot a deer, and in a moment I’d be caught. These two bullies reminding me of the rats that had infested our storehouse there years ago, and the puking and fever that had followed was the last thing I needed. I didn’t like being told how “lucky” I was to have survived when my parents and forty-six others hadn’t.

  I waited too long to answer. Josh took two steps and grabbed my upper arm. He jerked so hard, I stumbled and would have fallen if not for his crushingly secure grip. He leaned down, put his nose an inch from mine, and yelled right in my face. “What did ya shoot?”

  The stench of his breath staggered me. What had my lunch been? Maybe it was a good thing he’d saved me from it. It smelled like he’d eaten a skunk—rear end first.