Forager (9781771275606) (7 page)

Sawyer pointed as his injured leg. “I’m not sure I’m going to
able to Forage for a while. I’ll see how I am tomorrow,
but…”

The mayor’s face crumpled. I don’t think he realized how badly
the Forager was wounded. A moment later he regained his composure.
To my amazement, he continued to display a friendly demeanor.
“Well, see what you can do. If you are unable to go tomorrow,
please let me know.”

The mayor turned to me. “Since you and I have an appointment
at midday tomorrow, it seems pointless to send you to the fields.”
For a moment my heart leapt. I was getting a day off. That hadn’t
happened since I was in school. Of course, the second half of the
day didn’t look nearly as promising as the first. Plans for my
morning began to form—visiting Chane seemed like a good idea—when
the mayor crushed my hopes.

“
Instead, I want you on one of the generators, pedaling like
you’ve never pedaled before. We’ve got to keep that harvester
running.”

What a runaway wagon ride this day had been. My emotions had
tightened and loosened so many times, I felt like an overused
bowstring.

Sawyer turned his gaze on me. His raised eyebrow told me he
wanted me to ask the mayor about his hunting law. I wanted to, I
really did, but the question froze on my lips.

Before I could gather any bit of courage, the mayor gave us a
nod and exited.

“
That could be the nicest conversation I’ve ever had with that
man,” Sawyer said. “He must really be desperate.” Then he frowned.
He remained silent, but I could see in his eyes he was disappointed
I hadn’t asked about the hunting law.

I shrugged it off, like everything else. With all the bullying
from the Mason brothers, my skin had become rawhide thick. Instead,
I steamed about having to pedal a generator all morning. Usually a
shift on the generators wasn’t more than two hours, like earlier at
the slaughterhouse. My butt was still sore from that pedaling.
Inwardly I groaned at having to spend tomorrow morning making it
worse. Not that I wanted to walk fields and pick corn, either, but
I’d have taken that over a whole morning’s pedaling.

Sawyer yawned. “It’s been a long day, and I’m really tired.
Can I sleep here on the couch?”

I found him some blankets and gave him my best pillow. The
lumps in it weren’t quite as hard as in my other one. I checked his
leg one last time before he turned in.

Sawyer wasn’t the only one with a long day behind him. I went
through the kitchen to the back of the RV, into the master bedroom,
and tucked myself in. After an hour of tossing and turning, I gave
up on sleep. I lay awake a long time, but eventually, I must have
dozed. Dreams of combines chasing me on a pedal generator that
didn’t go anywhere mixed with scenes of Bulls pressing stun batons
onto my sore buttocks. It was a long night.

First thing the next morning I checked Sawyer’s leg. The
inflamed red swelling concerned me.
A trip
to see Dr. White was in order before breakfast.

The infirmary, the town’s former hospital, stood near the
town square. It was a reminder I could’ve done without. I entered
the soot-gray building through the main doors, which surprisingly
still retained their original glass, and went looking for Dr.
White.
He was on the second floor
looking after some
of the injured from yesterday’s attack. “How’s everyone doing?” I
asked.

“
We lost Helen and George. They both had multiple bullet
wounds, but I think the rest are going to pull through.”

I hadn’t known either of them well, but it saddened me to
think I’d never see them again. This was why people hated the
Scavengers. Why couldn’t they just leave us alone?

I told the doctor about the inflammation in Sawyer’s leg. “It
sounds like the wound might be infected,” he said. “I’ll stop by
and see what I can do.”

Later than usual for breakfast, Millie was limited to
serving me scrambled eggs on toast. She reminded me to ask the
Forager about the stockpot and knives. I’d forgotten.
Not wanting to tell her that, though,
I shoved a big bite
of toast in my mouth and nodded. I glanced about for Chane, but
stopping to see Dr. White had cost me my morning glimpse of
her.

Outside, the townsfolk rushed past me to their assigned tasks.
No one wanted to be late and risk getting a jolt.

I headed to the old lumber yard on the east edge of town. The
steel building had at one time been painted yellow with red
signage. Now only a few of the red letters could be distinguished
and the yellow paint was almost all peeled off.

The half glass, half plywood door opened to the familiar chime
of the old bell that hung above. Frank Miller looked up from the
counter. “Take number two and get at it. It won’t be long before
the combine will need fresh batteries.”

The old twelve-volt batteries were once used in cars and
trucks. Most were in horrible condition. Many leaked acid, and
bluish-green corrosion grew on their posts, but as long as they
held a charge, we used them.

I sat down on the worn seat of generator number two and
started pedaling. My sore butt protested with a dull persistent
ache, but I pedaled through the pain, gritting my teeth.

The building was empty except for the eight generators. Dull
rusty-orange marks on the white tile floor outlined where shelves
had once stood. I tried to picture those shelves full of tools,
boxes of nails, cans of paint, and hardware of every kind. We had
been without for so long, I couldn’t hold the image.

The bell chimed, and Josh and Jason entered.
Oh
great
,
my favorite two
people.
Frank
directed them to generators four and five. Four was about twenty
feet to my left, and five was ten feet farther. Closer than I
wanted to be to either of them. Josh called over from generator
four, “Hey, Orphan Boy, after you get jolted, I think I’m gonna
change your name to Sparky, or maybe Electro Boy.”

“
No,” said Jason. “After all the squirming he’s going to be
doing, we ought to call him Worm Boy!”

Leave it to those two morons to remind me. Just the thought of
being in front of everyone in the town square, thrashing in the
ropes with my muscles quivering uncontrollably, made me
nauseous.

Other townsfolk joined the pedaling, and before long, all
eight of the generators hummed with life.

After coming up with Dancer Boy, Jolty, and Stunner, Josh and
Jason gave up on their ridiculing. Either they were getting winded
from pedaling the bikes and talking, or more likely their small
minds had run out of new names.

The first shift ended, and thankfully, I was left alone for a
few minutes. Even Frank stepped outside for a breath of air. I got
off the bike and rubbed my sore behind.

When the short break was over, Frank came back in leading a
new crew. None of them looked eager to start pedaling,
either.

After we’d all been at it a while, four men entered, each
carrying a dead battery. I estimated that the combine harvester ran
a little more than half the morning on those batteries. Half a day
of pedaling charged a battery. If we kept the pedaling going
continuously, our eight generators and twelve extra batteries would
keep up—barely. But if the pedaling fell behind, batteries and
generators from the infirmary, the kitchen, the slaughter house,
and elsewhere would have to be used. Other people would be delayed,
making it harder and harder to fill the quotas.

Eventually, Frank looked my way. “Dillon, you’d better go if
you’re to get to the square on time.” Being off the bike was a
relief, but I’d have stayed if it meant avoiding the
jolts.

Twenty minutes later I reached the crowded town square. Half
the town must have been there to see me take my licks. I knew part
of the reason was that, except for the field workers, it was one of
the few times the townsfolk were excused from their jobs. Still,
was me getting jolted that entertaining? I shook my head. It didn’t
matter. My punishment would happen whether there were five people
watching, or five hundred.

The old clock near the top of the courthouse was frozen at
three thirty-nine. I’d seen it hundreds of times before, but now,
the hands seemed frozen in a frown just for me.

Dr. White slipped out of the crowd and met me halfway to the
platform. “Hello, Dillon. I looked in on the Forager. First, let me
tell you that you did everything right.” I didn’t like the way that
sounded.

“
But?”

“
But, his leg is infected. I cleansed the wound again, but
you’ll need to keep an eye on it. Make sure that redness and
swelling go away.” The doctor gave a heavy sigh. “I wish there were
still some antibiotics. I’d be a lot more confident about treating
that infection.”

I nodded. My mom said the same thing many times to the
families of the patients she’d tried to help.

“
If he gets worse, or starts showing a fever, bring him to the
infirmary,” he said. “Otherwise, keep him with you for a few
days.”

Millie’s knives and pot would have to wait. Sawyer wasn’t
going anywhere for a while. I threw that thought aside, worry
gnawing at my stomach like battery acid. “Are…are you going to
stick around…in case I need some medical attention?” I asked
quietly.

The doctor put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be here. You’re
going to be fine, though. Might scramble up your nervous system a
bit, but you’ll come through all right.”

His words failed to ease the ache in my gut.

Four wooden stairs led up to the platform. I placed my
right foot on the first and looked up to see the mayor and three
Bulls waiting for me.
My knees wobbled
placing my
left foot on the second step, and I almost stumbled. A few
titters came from the crowd, but I kept my head lowered and
continued. My right foot landed on the third step, then my left on
the fourth. I looked up. The mayor was smiling proudly at me. He
whispered in voice low enough that only I and the Bulls could hear,
“You made this easy on us by willingly submitting yourself. Thank
you, Dillon.”

What was I supposed to say to that? “No problem, any time,
you’re welcome?” I kept my mouth shut in an uncaring
frown.

The platform was made of thick wooden planks. It stood about
six feet off the ground and was open on all sides. The three Bulls
flanked the mayor. The only other thing on the platform was a small
table that held the stun baton.

The mayor addressed the crowd. “Dillon Montgomery, by his own
testimony, is guilty of hunting and killing a deer. The punishment
to commence immediately is eight charges with the stun
baton.”

The word “hunting” made me bristle. As far as I was concerned,
I hadn’t hunted anything. Hunting involved more effort than
shooting from a window. My lips parted, wanting to ask him why
killing the deer was so wrong. But fear caused the question to
stick in my throat.

The air stirred around me as the Bulls closed in. Two of them
grabbed my arms and jerked them behind my back. They led me across
the platform and inserted my wrists into ropes hanging from the
overhead beam. The design made it so the Bull’s wouldn’t have to
pick me up after each jolt. How convenient for them.

I looked out into the crowd. Why were they packed so close
together? There was space enough around the platform for ten times
their number. They looked like a mob. Searching their faces, I
recognized everyone. Not surprising, considering I knew pretty much
the whole town. The hungry looks on all their faces was disturbing,
like they’d come here starving for the show. In fact, their faces
reminded me a lot of what people looked like right before movie
night began.

Old Bill was noticeably absent, as was Craig Black. I figured
Craig was probably home sleeping off the night shift. Old Bill I
couldn’t explain. There were several others missing, like Josh and
Jason, which really seemed odd. There was no way they’d willingly
miss seeing me get jolted. Of course, they might have been in the
fields, and the mayor wouldn’t halt the harvest for anything. I
expected Millie’s absence, but the one person I really hoped to see
wasn’t there.

I didn’t know if it was good sign or a bad one that Chane
hadn’t come. Maybe, like Millie, she didn’t want to see me
punished. Or maybe she simply didn’t care.

After they strapped me in place, the mayor said, “Dillon
Montgomery, do you hereby confirm that you are guilty of this
crime?”

Hanging my head, I whispered, “Yes.”

“
I’m sorry, Dillon, but you must speak loud enough so that at
least five other people can confirm your statement.”

I took a breath, and in a forced voice said, “Yes!”

“
Very well,” said the mayor. “Let the punishment
commence.”

Every muscle in my body
tensed. Locking my jaw so I wouldn’t bite my tongue, fear coursed
its way through my limbs. Thankfully, the ropes would hold me
up.
My chest
tightened and my breathing became ragged and raspy. I wasn’t
hyperventilating, but I was close.