The Foragers Read online

  It was a memory…or as I liked to call it, a vibe of a memory. I felt for my things on the ground but no memories came with it. I couldn’t vibe into anything. The more I tried, squeezing my things hard, and forcing my attention on it, the more my stomach lurched. Chunks of food in a creamy chyme finally propelled into the air and splattered onto the ground. I heaved again and once more sprayed the ground with bubbling bile. My stomach contracted and I grabbed my burning throat. I coughed and leaned forward and let the last of it dribble from my lips. Sweat engulfed me, and trembling all over I collapsed against the tree for support. The dart lay in the wooden chips, its fletching made of feathers, and its inner casing lined with goo. I fumbled for it and brought it close to my face. I looked at my watch again. Two days left. I had two days left to make it out of here alive. I took a deep breath and held it in.

  Faint rays of sun peeked through the entanglement of branches and beech trees around me. The light and shadows danced on my skin. I closed my eyes to think. The pecking of the spotted nutcracker with a mix of squirrel calls filled the air. A cool breeze ran behind my ears and through my hair.

  Think.

  My watch ticked. I held my breath as the next wave of heat washed over me.

  “There’s nothing here,” a voice said. Three white semi-blurred faces with freckled skin and blonde hair, stared down at me. They blended into one when they spoke.

  “They must have gotten his badge first,” one said, polishing his blow gun and carrying darts in one hand. An upturned smile formed on his face as he laughed.

  “Shall we kill him?” another said, joining in.

  “He’s already dead,” the third added.

  A surge of air snapped me out of my inner state.

  “No,” I groaned. If they didn’t take my badge, who did? A flinching headache spread across my temple. I reached for my right pocket and tugged on a small yellow note. With this, I wouldn’t have to go home. With this, I could make it to the next round of the competition. With this, I could find Dad. I grinned and picked up my journal from the ground. I opened it to make sure Dad’s picture was still inside the flap. I couldn’t believe how none of the Kuma Hunters recognized him after so many years since he disappeared. I tossed everything back inside the bag and strapped my fishing pole to it. I tracked down the weasels’ prints in the mud, and followed them to a stream called The Anmon River. The big brown weasel and its cubs stood on a rock at one end of the current. They each waved a paw at the water. I set my things down and looked at my reflection. Dried mud stuck to the ends of my short black hair. I looked just as young as Dad was in the picture. I imagined greying hair on my head and a scar under my left eye, slanted down like an arrow pointing to my lips. I focused on Dad and his scar, feeling it burn into my head. With the pain came memories. And a voice: “Our village is under attack.”

  I could see it again. The Kuma Hunter carrying a man with a bleeding face into my home. Mother falling to her knees in tears. My hands trembling from the fear.

  “Was it the bears again?” I’d asked.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” the Kuma Hunter warned.

  “Go back to your room, my son,” Mother urged, sliding the paper-walled doors shut. I pressed my ears to the walls and listened.

  “Aomori is filled with bears,” the Kuma Hunter said. “You shouldn’t live here with a child of his age.”

  “We have nowhere else to go! He may be eight but he’s strong like his father,” Mother said. “Come on, Haruki…stay with us.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the memory abate. It was no good to dwell on the past. Staring back into my reflection, I wondered if I would recognize Dad when I saw him.

  What did his scar look like now?

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the water and marched onto the rocks that extended across the river. A stream of yellow ayu, red char fish, and black and white spotted iwana trout swam together. My stomach growled as I watched the red char fish jump over the small rocks against the stream and dive back down. I looked to the end of the trail of rocks where the big weasel lay. A red char fish jumped and the weasel caught it. I watched the stream on my end and laid my hands above the rocks. The fish wriggled past my legs, as though my existence held no threat to them. They were fearless in the absence of predators. If fish went missing one by one, their population wouldn’t notice. By the time a fish identified its predator, it would be too late to warn the others because then it would be eaten, just as my badge number was taken. I was just like the fish here, not knowing who my predator was.

  A red char fish finally jumped into my hand. I squeezed my fingers around it and watched it wriggle between my palms. I looked for the big weasel to show me what to do next, but it walked back to the other side with the dead fish in its mouth. I stared right into the eye of the fish, wondering if it could see me. Its eyes bulged out from the pressure. I took a deep breath, guilt ingraining itself into my mind. I closed my eyes to think. I felt the fish’s hunger, merging with mine.

  Vibing into things that didn’t think was easy. Humans were more complicated. I pictured the taste of its white flesh on my tongue, and salivated at the thought of it. It was either the fish or me dying of starvation. I impulsively smacked its head against the rock so it wouldn’t warn the others. Blood oozing out of its neck made me regret it after.

  “Someone’s going to catch us!” a feminine voice echoed in the woods.

  I dropped the fish into my bag, and sank into the water, my head hidden just behind the rocks. A woman and a man emerged from the bushes. The woman pointed at the fire and gestured with her other hand at the man to put it out. The man’s wet black hair plastered to his face as he bent down and dropped a few sticks into a pile. He rolled up his sleeves and opened his kit.

  “What are you doing?” the woman yelled at him.

  “Gum?” he asked. She shook her head and he popped it into his mouth. I watched him chew and my stomach knotted. The man then grabbed a stick and rubbed it against the bark of a tree. He brought it closer to his face and smiled. “That should do it.” He tossed it back into the pile of wood. He took the gum wrapper and put it on both ends of a battery. A fire ignited in the middle and spread across the sticks.

  “Pine sap,” the man laughed.

  “Is this your plan?” The woman crossed her arms.

  “Stop worrying, Koko.” The man stuck his hands out to dry. “I’m sure we lost them. Besides, even if they found us, what’s the worst that can happen? They’re just going to ask for our badges and all we have to do is say no.”

  “We’re in the middle of a forest.” The woman stomped towards the river. “They could do anything to us and no one will ever know.”

  “Honey, they would be smart not to leave dead bodies in a forest, otherwise this whole place would be shut down,” the man said. “Come on, if contestants had actually been killing each other all this time, you think we wouldn’t know about it? This is the real world we’re talking about here.”

  Koko filled up her blue hat with water. She spun around and held her hat over the fire.

  “What are you doing?” The man jolted from his spot and grabbed her wrists.

  “Move,” Koko said. A shadow moved through the forest. The hat slipped from the woman’s grasp and she grabbed her bag.

  “You thought you could run away forever?” A rough voice came from the rustling bushes.

  The man sprawled onto the ground, digging his heels into the mud. He burned his elbow on the fire and grasped his arm in pain. Koko screamed for him to run as she disappeared into the forest.

  More shadows turned up.

  “Go after her,” the man from the bushes ordered. The men that stood behind him nodded. I counted three of them, as they went after the woman.

  “Take it easy, Shima, matte gureyo…” The man on the ground cowered by the fire. “It-it’s just a game.”

  Shima walked out of the shade, his face shadowed by a baseball cap. He dressed like a hitchhiker and carr
ied a black backpack equipped with mountain-climbing ropes.

  “Is that your wife who abandoned you?” Shima asked.

  “She’s not my wife,” the man replied. One of Shima’s friends, with long brown hair and glasses, grabbed the man when he tried to escape.

  My fists tightened and I wanted to help, but my body wouldn’t move. Jamming my knee into the sand, my shoulders shook in the water. Mother was right, I wasn’t ready.

  With a sharp kunai pointed at the man’s throat, Shima’s friend pulled out a badge from the man’s jacket pocket. “Twenty-one,” he said.

  “That would make your wife twenty-two,” Shima smirked and rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Jun, bring him with us. His wife will come back for him.”

  They picked up the couple’s bags. Jun dragged the weak man, and they disappeared through the bushes. I waited a few moments and exhaled, realizing I had been barely breathing. I didn’t even want to vibe into seeing what these men would do to me if they found me. Taking comfort in the burning fire, I backed away from the rocks, swam toward its warmth, took the red char fish out of my pocket, and skewered it over the flames.

  “Itadakimasu,” I breathed, thanking God for humbly receiving this food, then nibbled on the fish. From the stirring bushes, a man’s blue eyes stared deeply into mine. He was covered in dirt, as if he’d just climbed out of a hole. Fear crippled me, and my legs couldn’t run. Entirely soaked, I held out my only means of defense—the skewer.

  “I don’t have my badge,” I said. The man’s presence towered over me. His eyes shone, his shoulders relaxed, and he laughed. Shame sank in and my face reddened with anger. I read sixty-four on his dirty badge. It hung from his chest like he was challenging his predator for a fight rather than hiding.

  “I’m not after you, boy,” he said, stepping towards me. I backed away. The man sighed. He walked past me and bent down to the river. “What’s your name?”

  I didn’t answer. The skewer in my hand almost snapped. Get him, a voice kept telling me. What is wrong with you?

  The man washed his face and I gradually recognized him as an American.

  “I’m Nick.” He turned around and offered his hand. When I hesitated, he sighed and added, “Do you speak English? Did you see a group of men pass by here with badge numbers like…this one?” Nick reached for his belt pocket. I picked up a rock from the ground.

  “Easy.” Nick gestured for me to lower my weapon. “It’s just paper.” Nick unfolded a yellow piece of paper with nine on it. Hooks and wires hung from his waist.

  “AHH!”

  Both of our heads jerked towards the sound. The scream scared off some birds in the distance.

  “I guess they found his wife,” Nick said and put the paper back in his pocket. “Good luck to you, kid.”

  I fixed my eyes on him until he disappeared into the woods. My chest felt heavy. I dropped to my knees and punched the wet soil.

  I let him walk away from me!

  My body shook as the effect of the drug in the dart took its toll on me again. I collapsed by the fire. A crumpled yellow note fell out of my hand. I stared at its center and slipped into darkness again.

  By the time I opened my eyes, I saw orange rays fill the purple-blue sky. I turned over onto my side to find a bright red bird with a yellow belly nibbling on a fish bone a few inches away. My eyes widened in disbelief. Every muscle in me froze as I admired the rare animal. I rummaged through my bag quietly and pulled out the journal, flipping through the pages. My finger landed on a drawing of a kingfisher. I had never seen one this big and up close before. Its red beak and yellow throat marked it as a male. He sniffed the ground till his bill uncovered another fishbone from the soil. The fisher clasped the fishbone with his bill and his head snapped in the direction of the water. He flew up fast. If it weren’t for his bright red color, I would’ve lost sight of him. He rose ten meters above the water’s surface and kept his head perfectly still. The fluttering of his wings quickened, allowing him to stay in one place without actually moving. His tail beat in the air and kept his body stationary. The wings flapped several times per second. The bird’s head froze. His bill remained shut as he waited in silence.

  SPLASH.

  The bird plunged into the water and rose up with a big red fish in his bill. He flew above my head—close enough for me to see a smaller fish in the big fish’s mouth. It rendered me speechless, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. I glanced into the water to find a number of big red char fish devouring smaller ones.

  “It’s infanticide,” a voice in my head said. I turned to see a man with a scar slanted up when he smiled.

  I felt like I was eight again.

  “Dad, is that you?” I said. Please let it be real, please let it be real.

  “I’ll take this,” the man said. He took a small red char fish from my little hands and tied it to the hook of his fishing line. “They make great bait. Big fish love to prey on the young, just as the rich and powerful feed off the rest of us. These fish are going to wipe out their entire population one day.” He lowered his line into the water. “The trick is to identify the prey and predator. Only then you can win.”

  The fishing line tightened.

  “The best way of attack is to make sure the prey is unaware of being hunted.”

  I stared at the smoke rising from the burnt out fire. When I turned, the man was gone and the vibe left with him. I wiped my wet eyes. All my worries lost their sting, and hope filled my heart again. Perhaps it had been there all along, trapped by my sorrow.

  “Thank you, Dad,” I said. Returning to my bag, I pulled my fishing rod out of its case. I tested the line, adjusted the hook into place, and an idea formed in my head. I refused to be powerless. I took my steps carefully by the mud tracks. The path had become slick under the rain, the only clues to the ruts being the puddles. It rose steeply ahead. Narrow rocky passes covered the path, with the mud prints no more than a mild disturbance in the soil. Amidst the bushes, a thin wire stretched over the ground. I bent down to examine it and saw Koko’s emptied bags tossed into a bush. With one touch, I could see what had happened. I walked over the trap until there were no more prints, just another wire stretched an inch above the ground. I heard footsteps approaching and found my way up the nearest hornbeam. One of the hitchhiker’s men stood below me. He crouched down and examined my prints.

  “Jun,” a voice called. Jun turned around and triggered the wire. It made a clicking sound. The man looked down at his foot and the rope tightened like a noose around his ankle. It yanked him from the leg to the lower tree branch of the hornbeam I was camouflaged in.

  “Hey! What is going on?!” Jun barked. “Get me out of this thing!”

  A black backpack landed in the middle of the open ground, empty of its mountain climbing ropes. I looked in the direction it came from. A tall man with big blue eyes stepped through the bushes, a belt of muddied tools dropped from his waist. He rolled up his sleeves and I saw his badge. Nick. He reached into the pocket of the man tied upside down and pulled out a badge.

  “What?!” Nick gasped. I peered through the hornbeam leaves to get a better look at the number and almost fell. Air lodged into my throat and a tremor came over me. In the eye of my mind, I saw a security office.

  “Have you seen this man?” I showed a picture to a long-haired Kuma Hunter.

  The Kuma Hunter took the picture, shrugged, and pressed it against my chest, right where my badge was tucked in.

  “You’d better get going,” he said. “You don’t want to be late.”

  I snapped out of it, realizing that the Kuma Hunter was Jun. He took my badge before the contest even started! I watched Nick hold badge eighty-eight in his hand.

  “Where’s badge number nine?” Nick lowered his head down to the man’s face, a few inches above the ground. “I saw you holding it! Where did you put it?”

  Nick’s prey laughed hysterically. “You think I’m crazy enough to carry bait on me?”


  Nick desperately searched the other bags.

  “Where did you get this?” He held up badge eighty-eight only for it to be snatched away by a hook.

  “What the…”

  I reeled in the thick fishing line and aimed for Nick’s badge this time. The hook latched onto the pin. Nick looked down at his chest. I pulled on the fishing line over the tree branch and jumped to the ground. The pin tore through Nick’s shirt, and the badge flew up into the tree, over the branch, and landed in my hand. I now had two badge numbers: sixty-four and eighty-eight.

  “You…” Nick choked on his words.

  I pulled out my yellow piece of paper. Nick noticed the number.

  “Sixty-four?” He took a step towards me as if the truth finally hit him. “Wait!” Nick called when I climbed onto a branch. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  I looked deep into the Shirakami-Sanchi forest, feeling lighter than before. Just as the bird caught the predatory fish distracted by its own prey, I did the same. The forest’s red creatures welcomed me.

  “Fisher,” I said. “It’s Fisher.”

  Chapter Two

  Celio

  “Shh…” I placed one finger over my lips and pointed to the horned white and grey animal near the white snag tree. Eli poked her little golden head through the bushes. We both watched the serow munch on light brown mushrooms.

  “It’s beautiful!” Eli gasped. “Celio, look!”

  The serow’s ears stiffened. Its furry head froze. Eli covered her mouth with her child-like hands. We listened to the sound of our breathing. The serow’s mouth twitched. Its red tongue licked its grey snout.

  Eli plucked blue flowers from the bushes, stacked the petals on top of each other and squeezed them. “Do you think she eats flowers?”