Impersonator (Forager Impersonator - A Post Apocalyptic Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Peter R. Stone
presented itself.
I wished I could run away with my brother. In fact, we originally planned to escape the town together, but after he started foraging and struck up a friendship with his teammates, he changed his mind.
I was on my own.
* * *
Father had a few beers too many during dinner. I could tell by the sound of deep breathing emanating from his room that he fell asleep as soon as he hit the sack.
I wasn’t so lucky with my mother and sister. It took Karen an hour to fall asleep, and I had to wait until sometime past midnight for Mother to join her. Like most flats in Newhome, we had two bedrooms. One for the males and one for the females. Sons slept with their fathers, and daughters with their mothers. Several times in my younger years, I was woken by the sound of my father coming to my mother’s bed, but those are not memories I want to revisit. And as far as I could tell, that practice ceased quite a few years ago. Thankfully.
I waited another hour to make sure Mother was sound asleep and crept quietly out of bed. Then I fetched the notebook I’d been working on for years, recording escape plans and what to do once out of the town. In it I listed all the things I needed to take with me, how to masquerade as my brother, notes on how he talked and walked, his workmates names, how to grow and care for vegetables and fruit trees, even first aid.
Slipping into Father’s bedroom, I turned on his bedside table lamp and took a quick glance at the notebook.
I hurried over to my brother’s chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of baggy jeans, t-shirt, loose fitting hoodie, fingerless leather gloves, socks, runners, and one of his trademark baseball caps. Fortunately, Brandon and I were the same height, of similar build, and had the same shade of strawberry blonde hair. That’s why I figured I had a good chance of pulling this off. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to do this. It felt surreal, like a dream.
I grabbed one of Brandon’s spare backpacks and his foraging pass, which he kept in the top drawer of his bedside table.
Having everything I needed, I moved quietly for the door, catching sight of Father as I passed his bed. Even asleep, he looked troubled, tossing and turning, face twitching and eyelids moving rapidly. I wish I knew what terrified him today.
I mouthed a silent “Goodbye, Father,” wondering if he would miss me. Would he see my disappearance as one less mouth to feed, or not even notice?
As I studied him, a memory sprang unbidden to mind.
Brandon and I were five, and were in the lounge-room with Father. He’d taken us shopping at the market and bought my brother a minigolf set that had caught his eye months ago. They stood at each end of the room, batting the plastic golf ball back and forth. My brother giggled his head off every time he hit the ball.
Father bought me something too. A set of sparkling plastic bangles that cost about the same as the minigolf set. I wore half the bracelets on each wrist, and was walking up and down the lounge-room, delighting in the way they glittered in sunbeams that shone through the windows.
A heart-warming smile rested on Father’s face as he played with my brother and watched me strut about with the bangles. I’d never seen him happier.
Suddenly the front door thrust open and Grandmother and Mother walked in, carrying bags of groceries. As soon as my mother caught sight of Father, her face clouded over.
“You’re back,” Father said amicably.
“What are you doing, playing something like that in here? You’ll break my China!” she snapped. Then she caught sight of my bangles and she grimaced in disgust. She strode over to me, yanked them off my arms, and flung them in the bin. I glanced at my father, tears cascading down my cheeks, hoping he would come to my defence.
“Do not waste our money on rubbish, Husband!” she said. “The Founders taught us a woman's beauty should come from her inner self and her actions,
I wished I could run away with my brother. In fact, we originally planned to escape the town together, but after he started foraging and struck up a friendship with his teammates, he changed his mind.
I was on my own.
* * *
Father had a few beers too many during dinner. I could tell by the sound of deep breathing emanating from his room that he fell asleep as soon as he hit the sack.
I wasn’t so lucky with my mother and sister. It took Karen an hour to fall asleep, and I had to wait until sometime past midnight for Mother to join her. Like most flats in Newhome, we had two bedrooms. One for the males and one for the females. Sons slept with their fathers, and daughters with their mothers. Several times in my younger years, I was woken by the sound of my father coming to my mother’s bed, but those are not memories I want to revisit. And as far as I could tell, that practice ceased quite a few years ago. Thankfully.
I waited another hour to make sure Mother was sound asleep and crept quietly out of bed. Then I fetched the notebook I’d been working on for years, recording escape plans and what to do once out of the town. In it I listed all the things I needed to take with me, how to masquerade as my brother, notes on how he talked and walked, his workmates names, how to grow and care for vegetables and fruit trees, even first aid.
Slipping into Father’s bedroom, I turned on his bedside table lamp and took a quick glance at the notebook.
I hurried over to my brother’s chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of baggy jeans, t-shirt, loose fitting hoodie, fingerless leather gloves, socks, runners, and one of his trademark baseball caps. Fortunately, Brandon and I were the same height, of similar build, and had the same shade of strawberry blonde hair. That’s why I figured I had a good chance of pulling this off. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to do this. It felt surreal, like a dream.
I grabbed one of Brandon’s spare backpacks and his foraging pass, which he kept in the top drawer of his bedside table.
Having everything I needed, I moved quietly for the door, catching sight of Father as I passed his bed. Even asleep, he looked troubled, tossing and turning, face twitching and eyelids moving rapidly. I wish I knew what terrified him today.
I mouthed a silent “Goodbye, Father,” wondering if he would miss me. Would he see my disappearance as one less mouth to feed, or not even notice?
As I studied him, a memory sprang unbidden to mind.
Brandon and I were five, and were in the lounge-room with Father. He’d taken us shopping at the market and bought my brother a minigolf set that had caught his eye months ago. They stood at each end of the room, batting the plastic golf ball back and forth. My brother giggled his head off every time he hit the ball.
Father bought me something too. A set of sparkling plastic bangles that cost about the same as the minigolf set. I wore half the bracelets on each wrist, and was walking up and down the lounge-room, delighting in the way they glittered in sunbeams that shone through the windows.
A heart-warming smile rested on Father’s face as he played with my brother and watched me strut about with the bangles. I’d never seen him happier.
Suddenly the front door thrust open and Grandmother and Mother walked in, carrying bags of groceries. As soon as my mother caught sight of Father, her face clouded over.
“You’re back,” Father said amicably.
“What are you doing, playing something like that in here? You’ll break my China!” she snapped. Then she caught sight of my bangles and she grimaced in disgust. She strode over to me, yanked them off my arms, and flung them in the bin. I glanced at my father, tears cascading down my cheeks, hoping he would come to my defence.
“Do not waste our money on rubbish, Husband!” she said. “The Founders taught us a woman's beauty should come from her inner self and her actions,
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