Free Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1) by Peter R. Stone Page B

while foraging. One minute he was with them, the next he wasn’t. They searched high and low, but nada,” Matt said.
    “What do they think happened?” I asked, concerned.
    “They’ve got no idea. They were in the middle of debating whether it could have been Skel or him going AWOL when they saw me. When they asked why I was loitering there, I told them of the Skel attack on us today. Now they’re thinking Skel must have grabbed Jones in a revenge attack.”
    Con relaxed visibly. “So they’re not here for us. Man, that’s a relief.”
    More riddles. What were these guys up to? I wish my brother still confided in me like he used to. Since he met these guys, he closed up like a clam.
    The office doors opened and five grim-faced Custodians tramped down the steps with an apologetic Trajan Barclay on their heels.
    “Time to be somewhere else,” Con said hurriedly. He and Matt immediately rushed off to help the other two unload the truck.
    The Custodian sergeant, a tall, ugly man with a pock marked face, caught sight of me and paused. Panicking, I put my head down, my pulse soaring. In my mind, I saw him stride across the yard and bail me up, having seen right through my disguise.
    The sound of an engine roaring to life snapped me out of my fearful reverie. I looked up in time to see the G-Wagon speed out of the yard. The tension fled out of me and I gasped for breath. I hadn’t realised I’d been holding it.
    I turned to hurry off after my companions, but paused when the boss called out to me.
    “Brandon, wait up.” Trajan Barclay hurried over to me, his face still pale after the grilling he’d no doubt received from the Custodians.
    Seemed I wasn’t out of the danger zone yet. “Yes, Sir?”
    “Hear you raised the alarm today and saved your team,” he said when he reached me.
    Figuring he may recognise I wasn’t Brandon if I met his gaze, I kept my head down and pretended to watch my foot as I drew lines in the dirt with my sneaker. “Just did what I could, Sir.”
    “Just don’t go doing a Jones on me, okay? I warned him not to fight them, that he’d just got lucky, but he wouldn’t listen. You encounter Skel, Brandon, you run. You got me?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “I’m down two foragers in a week. First Dan Smith’s crushed to death by a collapsing wall, now Ethan Jones has vanished, probably thanks to Skel. I don’t want to be down a third. You understand what I’m saying?”
    “I got you, Sir.”
    “Good. Carry on, then.”
    The boss walked back to the office, but I remained there, rooted to the spot. Dan Smith was killed when a wall fell on him? What a terrible way to go. A shudder wracked my frame. No wonder no one wanted to be a forager.
    With a flash of revelation, I realised Dan’s death must be the reason Brandon ran away from home and work. He probably saw it happen, in all its horror, and it must have shaken him up something chronic. Maybe he was afraid it could happen to him and couldn’t face going back to work because of it.
    Another, more insidious thought snaked its way past my mental defences, causing the blood to drain from my face. What if Dan died because one of the others made a careless mistake? What if it had been Brandon? If so, that would explain everything.
    I wished I knew the truth and where my brother was. Letting out a long sigh, I joined the others in unloading the truck.
     

Chapter Ten
     
    I dragged my feet all the way home, every step a nail in the coffin of the doomed attempt to escape this horrid town. Ever-lengthening, oppressive shadows from ten-storey apartment blocks cast the streets into gloom, adding to my miserable frame of mind.
    I wondered if I could ask my father to delay his plans to marry me off. I doubted I would consider trying to escape if I had a husband, even if it was a prearranged. I wondered if Brandon might come home today. If he did, and he gave Father money for his room and board, maybe that would make him back off his plans. I was not