Forager (9781771275606) Page 4

  “Never mind,” said Sawyer. “Just bring in my saddlebags and I can fend for myself.”

  Outside, I offered his horse some water, and figured the mare would be more comfortable without the saddle. The strap around her chest was easy to undo, although it took me a moment to realize it was fastened between her front legs, too, not just to the saddle. There were two straps going under her belly, and the one farther back was easy enough to figure out—there was a buckle. The other one, I guessed it was the girth, was more complicated, with a long strap wound in an elaborate kind of knot on one side of the horse, and a buckle on the other. The buckle looked easier, although it took a lot of effort to undo it. The second it was free, the mare gave a huge shake—and the heavy saddle slid right off, crashing into my chest and nearly landing me on my butt.

  I set the saddle down a few feet away, and wondered if I should look in the four sets of saddlebags for a grooming bush. Sawyer probably had one somewhere, but searching through a Forager’s things was asking for trouble. So I gave her a pat on the shoulder and took the bags in to Sawyer.

  Then I started the mile-long walk to the Dining Hall, which was inside the old high school. Even with a leaky roof, the brick building withstood the years of neglect better than most.

  Millie was serving as usual. I didn’t mind a bit. She always made sure I got plenty. Her curly white hair and warm blue eyes were accented by a pair of thin wire-framed glasses. She might have been a little plump around the middle, but she had the most welcoming smile of any person I knew. As she ladled what looked like tomato soup into a bowl for me, she said, “Hi, Dillon. You’re later than usual. Is that because of the Forager?”

  I nodded. “His name’s Sawyer. I patched up a bullet hole in his leg. Anyway, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.” As soon as it came out, I wished it hadn’t.

  “What happened to the lunch I sent you?”

  “Oh…well it’s just been so long since lunch, I guess I forgot I’d eaten.”

  Millie was such a sweet old lady. I didn’t have it in me to tell her Josh ate it.

  “How could you forget a roast beef sandwich, potato salad, and applesauce? It’s not every day we get beef, ya know! You young men, always hungry, that’s the problem, can’t even remember what the last meal was. You’re always looking for the next one. I’m afraid this one isn’t nearly as tasty.”

  I forced my mouth not to drop open. Millie couldn’t see my shock. Images of Josh relishing my sandwich flickered in my mind like the scenes from one of those horror movies we’d sometimes get to watch on movie night.

  Millie placed the soup on a tray alongside an apple and a grilled cheese sandwich, long gone cold. As I reached for the tray, the cold bite of her ladle landed across my knuckles. “Ouch! What was that for?”

  “You know darn well what that was for. Shooting a deer! What were you thinking? Don’t think I don’t know about it. I might be a little hard of hearing, but it’s tough to miss when it’s all everyone’s talking about.”

  I hung my head. Millie was the one person in this whole town who genuinely seemed to like me. She always looked out for me, making sure I had enough to eat, clothes when I needed them, and she always greeted me with a warm smile and a friendly voice. The downward cast to her blue eyes and the frown creasing her normally jolly face made the full guilt of my crime hit home. “I’m sorry,” was all I could say.

  “Sorry ain’t gonna do you a lick a good tomorrow in the town square.” Tears welled up behind her glasses. “Just know that I’m not going to be there. I won’t watch as they jolt you, I just won’t.”

  “I’ll be all right Millie, really I will.”

  She took off her glasses and wiped at her eyes. “I know you will. Listen, Dillon, could you come see me after you’ve finished eating? I want to ask a favor.”

  Enough people were finished eating that there were several empty tables. Looking around, I hoped to spot Chane, but my luck held true. She wasn’t there. She’d probably eaten long before I arrived.

  People at other tables sneaked glances at me. Some held hands to the sides of their mouths as they whispered to their neighbors. Did they really think I didn’t know what they were whispering about? Did they think I didn’t know I was the object of their scorn?

  Lifting the bowl to my lips, I drank down the soup quickly. I don’t much like tomato soup to begin with, but having to eat it cold and congealing was like pouring paste down my throat. The sandwich went down quick too, but I took my time with the apple.

  Millie stopped me by the kitchen doorway. She peered around, making sure no one was watching. I think asking for favors was something Millie didn’t do often. “Listen Dillon, could you see if that Forager fella could get me a new stockpot and maybe some chopping knives, or a good whetstone? Those fellas down at the butcher house raided my kitchen again. They took all my best knives.”

  I flashed Millie my best smile. “I can’t say if he’ll get them, but I’ll be sure to ask.”

  “Thanks, Dillon. You’re a good kid. Good luck tomorrow… Well, you know what I mean.”

  “Millie, I know it’s against the law, but could you send something for the Forager to eat, an apple or a bit of bread maybe?”

  Millie gave me a sad smile, shook her head, and said, “I wish I could. It’s not me. It’s you I’m worried about. If you get caught carrying food out of here, the mayor might do more than see you jolted. He might banish you.”

  Would the mayor would really go that far? Banishment was usually for capital crimes. I’d never heard of anyone being banished for taking food. But Millie might be right. It was safer not to take the chance.

  “If that Forager wants to eat, he’s welcome here. I’ll make sure he gets plenty. I just can’t chance sending food home with you.”

  I gave her another of my best smiles and headed for the door. I almost made it. Frank Miller, the town’s Director of Operations, stopped me. It was his job to make sure the things that needed done, got done. “Dillon, we need you on the pedals at the slaughterhouse. With the attack earlier today, the guys fell behind. They’re working late and they need someone to power the lights.”

  My brain searched for a way out of it, but came up blank. There was no out for this. If the work fell behind, it was everyone’s duty to pitch in and help.

  The slaughterhouse stood a few blocks from the high school. In a previous life, it served as a meat processing business. I remembered Charlie Meyer talking about how the place was known for miles around for its jerky and sausages. The dust-covered plaques and tarnished awards that hung on the faded walls proved his words.

  Once inside, I moved past the empty display counters and into the back room. The smell of blood, both fresh and old, filled the air. Years ago, the back room was cooled by large refrigeration units. Now, our last diesel-powered generator—converted to run on corn oil—barely kept the meat from spoiling overnight until it could be preserved in salt the following day. The generator was strictly for cooling, and since it barely kept up, it didn’t have the power to run the lights. So they called me.

  The pedal-generators were a work of genius. Unlike the diesel one, we had plenty of these throughout the town. Some brain came up with bicycles that converted human energy into electrical energy by use of the pedals.

  Mounted between two brackets to keep it upright, the rear wheel was attached to a charging unit and a battery. I didn’t really understand the mechanics. I didn’t need to. Pedaling made the lights come on.

  Three men worked in the back room. Ben, John, and Dan labored at separate stainless steel tables, the surface of each table covered in big pieces of a slaughtered cow. The guys were busy cutting it down to size and trimming away the sections of fat. Ben, the man closest to the bike, said, “There’s our little criminal. Good to see you, Dillon.”

  I nodded. Being called a criminal didn’t sit well with me, but this was a different kind of teasing than Josh and Jason doled out. Ben’s warm smile and good-natured ribbing
was simply a friendly “hello.”

  John waved his knife at the carcass in front of him. “Glad you’re here. We’ve got about two hours of work left, so let us know if you need a break.”

  The men worked quietly for a while. I had fallen into a good rhythm of pedaling, daydreaming about Chane sitting with me at the next movie night, when Dan spoke up. “So, Dillon, why’d ya do it?”

  I was still trying to figure that out for myself. Getting in trouble was a given, and it was more than being hungry, or watching the deer eat the corn. I thought about it more and more while Dan stood there waiting for an answer.

  “I guess I was just mad,” I said at last.

  “Next time, let us know. We’ll cut it up good for ya, long as you give us a bit,” Dan said.

  “Yeah, bring it straight here before the mayor sees it,” Ben joked.

  All three of them laughed, and even though it was at my foolishness, I joined in. A little tension came out with the laughter.

  “Seriously if it should happen again, bring the deer here right away. I’ve worked in here for more than ten years, and I have yet to see the mayor walk through our door,” John said.

  “Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who’s ever shot a deer,” Ben said. “It don’t happen often, but every now and then the three of us spend a bit of extra time avoiding the mayor and his Bulls. If you know what I mean.”

  My mouth dropped open and I missed the pedal with my foot. How could they so calmly and openly talk about breaking the law, about going against the mayor? I’d never seen this side of the townsfolk before. In a way, it was exciting. Even though these men weren’t being loyal to the mayor, they trusted me to keep their secrets. They wanted me to be loyal to them. The right thing would be to report them. Not that I would. Their faith in me made me part of the gang.

  Two hours later, the guys finished. “Thanks for your help tonight,” Dan called. I hopped off the pedal generator and made my way across the now dark room, opened the door, and slipped out into the night.

  I thought about Ben’s words. It never occurred to me that some of the townsfolk might secretly be breaking the law. Then I realized that if they were hunting, then they almost certainly stashed food somewhere in their houses. Maybe the mayor wasn’t as all-powerful as I had thought.

  Chapter Five

  I rubbed my sore butt. It was a long, lonely walk back to my RV along the deserted streets, but walking helped relieve the pain. In the yards, crickets chirped and somewhere above an owl hooted its arrival to its mate. Long ago, the street lights would’ve lit my path. Now, only the faint light of a crescent moon and my own memory served to guide my feet.

  When I neared the RV, the faint glow of LED bulbs shone through the front windows. I hoped Sawyer was doing better than when I’d left. The memory of him pouring the alcohol on his own leg made me shudder. Would I ever have the courage to do something like that?

  Inside, Sawyer was busy with an old cordless drill. He’d inserted a crank into the chuck, and was rotating the chuck by hand using the crank. Wires stuck out of the hole where the drill’s battery pack should have been. Those wires were hooked to an old AA battery.

  I liked that he offered an explanation even before I could ask. “See, cranking the drill like this charges the battery.”

  We didn’t have many AA batteries. The few that remained were strictly rationed. Those little cylinders could power so many items, but the one thing everyone wanted them for was light. We had our LED bulbs and candles, but they couldn’t compare to a battery-powered flashlight. Not only that, but taking a candle outside on a windy or rainy night was useless.

  Sawyer finished cranking the drill and packed it away in his saddlebags. “Your LED isn’t really bright enough for a dark night like this. If you get me some cups, I’ll make a few more lights.”

  I half-filled three coffee mugs with water and brought them to Sawyer.

  He reached into another of his saddlebags and took out a box of salt, galvanized nails, some old copper house wiring, some connector wires with alligator heads, and an LED bulb.

  It took him less than five minutes to assemble the battery. A few minutes later, the LED began to glow.

  “Do you know why it works?” I asked.

  “No idea, but I remember doing it as a project for a science fair when I was a kid. I remember how to build it, but not the science behind it.”

  We built two more batteries with more cups from the kitchen. The small LEDs didn’t put out a lot of extra light, but adding them to mine was a big improvement.

  Now that there was more light, I thought it was time for some answers. The questions, of course, were all about the mayor. How did he and Sawyer know one another? Why didn’t they like each other? And most importantly, what was it that Sawyer knew about the mayor that the rest of us didn’t? Why had he made it illegal to hunt?

  It didn’t seem right to just up and ask Sawyer. So I started small, hoping to build up to it. “Could you tell me more about the Collapse?”

  Sawyer leaned back on the sofa and put a hand on his injured leg. He made sure to keep the hand high enough on his thigh so that he wouldn’t disturb the bandage. “What do you want to know?”

  I thought for a moment. My limited knowledge came from school. We learned how the bottom fell out of the dollar and inflation soared. People all over the country began to starve because the job market had dried up and people couldn’t buy food for their families. We’d learned how the government itself went bankrupt and could no longer help those that needed it. I knew what I wanted to ask. “Why? Why did everything fail?”

  “That’s a complicated question. I’m not sure I can answer it for you fully, but I’ll tell you what I think.” He put a hand to his chin and let the silence fill the room. “Greed—that’s the best answer I can come up with. It went something like this. Someone, somewhere, say the owner of a farm-implement factory, wanted more money. He raised the price on his machines. Now the farmer had to pay more for those machines. Instead of losing money to the increase, the farmer charged more for his grain. That led to higher food prices. Higher food prices led the worker in the implement factory to want more money. Now we’re back to the owner—who’s in worse shape now than when he first raised the prices on his equipment because it isn’t just one worker that needs more money. It’s a vicious outward spiral. Once started, it’s very difficult to stop.”

  “So the economy collapsed because people wanted more money?”

  “There’s more to it than that, but in the end, yeah, I think it all comes back to greed. Everyone wanted more, and more, and more. Now there’s almost nothing.”

  Interesting thoughts, but not the ones I really wanted. Steering the conversation back toward the mayor, I asked, “So how’d you get to be a Forager?”

  “The only way a person can. Another Forager who thought I had the right…stuff took me to the governor. After listening to Finn, the other Forager, the governor agreed.”

  “How long have you been doing it?” I asked.

  “What do you really want to know?” He lifted an eyebrow and gave me an I know what you’re thinking look. “Just ask, kid.”

  I feigned ignorance. “What?”

  “Don’t ‘what’ me. Quit beating around the bush and ask me what’s really on your mind.”

  Was I an open book to him? He sure could read me like one. I hesitated and struggled with how the questions should come out. Even if prying for secrets was exactly what I was doing, I didn’t want my question to sound that way. Finally, I just blurted, “How do you know the mayor?”

  “So that’s it is it? It’s easy enough. We went to school together. Of course, that was way back when. Before everything fell apart.”

  I waited for him to continue. He didn’t. He wasn’t going to tell me more unless asked, so finally I did. “Why don’t the two of you like each other?”

  “You picked up on that did you? I suppose it does jump out when we’re near each other. We ne
ver did get along, him or his brother.”

  “The mayor has a brother?”

  “Had, he died in an accident a long time ago.”

  “How long?” I asked.

  “Thirty, maybe thirty-five years ago. It was before the Collapse.”

  That explained why I’d never heard anything about him. Josh, Jason, and Chane wouldn’t have known him.

  “So what happened between you guys?”

  “Back in our school days, we fought over everything. We could never see eye to eye. It came to blows a few times. I’d get in a few good licks but…” He pointed to his slender build. “Harold, your mayor, he’s got a hundred pounds on me, maybe more. His brother was the same. They were always bigger, always stronger. Not that it ever stopped me. They’d beat me up good, and we’d leave each other alone for a while, but the next thing I knew, we’d be right back at it again.

  “I haven’t seen Harold in a long time. After we graduated, he went off to college and I stayed home. That is, until the Collapse. After that, I wandered around for a while until I met Finn, the other Forager I was telling you about.”

  His story reminded me of my own problems with the Mason brothers. Josh, Jason, and me, we couldn’t stand each other. After listening to Sawyer, I wished I had his guts. That I, too, possessed the courage to not only throw a punch at one of them, but to stay in the fight and take one. I pushed all that away. The Forager was answering my questions and I had one more.

  “Can you tell me why the mayor made it illegal to hunt?”

  Sawyer tilted his head back and rested it on the couch. He closed his eyes. I could tell he was thinking hard about the question. After a while, he opened his eyes and stared at me. “That’s not mine to tell, Dillon. If you want the answer to that, you’re going to have to ask the mayor. I’m not going to share secrets that aren’t mine.”

  I chose not to argue with him. Sure, I was disappointed, but at the same time it made me respect Sawyer even more. It impressed me that he could keep someone’s confidence, even if he didn’t like the person.