Scavengers

by Darren Simpson

  “Landfill.” A gruff but restrained call from below. Landfill twisted his neck and puffed with relief to see that Babagoo hadn’t turned the ravine’s bend.

  But it wouldn’t be long before he did.

  Doing his best to ignore the junk that scraped his skin, Landfill whirled around and scrabbled down the slope. His eye caught a dull flash to the right. When he recognized it as a metal tray, he leaped sideways onto it and, speeding down the hill, released a frightened cry that was almost a giddy laugh. With his cape flapping behind him, he leaned back and held tight, and caught sight of Babagoo as the tray soared over the edge where the bluff suddenly steepened.

  A howl escaped Landfill’s throat just before he crashed into a heap of broken chairs. The tray protected him from spikes of rotten wood, but made a metallic clatter that had Babagoo searching the slopes with eyes as full of terror as of rage.

  “What…” he began. “What…?”

  Landfill rolled and cried out when flames of agony exploded in his wrist and shot up his arm. Babagoo was stomping towards him, glaring back and forth between the boy and the slope from which he’d come.

  “How high did you go?” He spat the words through gritted teeth. “How high did you go?”

  Landfill could barely hear him over the roaring in his ears. The pain from his wrist seemed to spread to his stomach, and he could taste bile rising beneath his tongue.

  Babagoo raised his voice. His cheeks bristled and writhed with a life of their own. “How. High. Did. You—”

  “To the top!”

  Babagoo stopped abruptly. His arms shot out, dirty fingers pinching frantically at the air. “Have to move.”

  Landfill cradled his arm and licked his wrist, and bleated in agony when Babagoo hauled him to his feet.

  “Move or die,” quaked Babagoo. “You went too high. They’ll have seen you. They’ll be coming.”

  Landfill did his best to stay upright while the scavenger dragged him along. They were soon scrambling through a network of grooves in the rubbish – a winding labyrinth with close, reeking walls lined by shrieking gulls.

  Babagoo stopped and cursed. His foot had sunk into some loose rubbish, and something was making him wince with pain.

  Landfill clutched the scavenger’s arm. “What is it?”

  Babagoo was trying to pull his leg up with both hands. “Stuck! It’s stuck!”

  Landfill crouched and reached for Babagoo’s ankle, but was sent reeling by a violent shove.

  “Don’t meddle with it,” gasped Babagoo. “Something heavy on my foot. You’ll make things worse. Been in this fix before.”

  Landfill’s pupils darted in every direction, frantically checking crests and corners for any sign of pursuers. “What did you do?”

  “Leverage. Used a curtain rail to lift the weight away.” The scavenger’s head swivelled back and forth. “But there’s nothing like that here. You’ll need to find something – anything long and strong. We can use that crate over there as a fulcrum.”

  Landfill’s hand rose to his mouth. “Can’t leave you. The Outsiders…”

  “Exactly! They’ll have us if you keep pottering. So get searching! Go, boy, go!”

  While Babagoo wrestled with his bags, Landfill turned away and – doing his best to ignore the pain from his wrist and the cuts on his feet – ran as quickly as he could. He scanned the ground and walls as he moved, but after turning several corners still hadn’t found anything of use. He glanced over his shoulder and – realizing he wasn’t sure of the way back to Babagoo – wheeled on himself and dropped to all fours. He tried to retrace his route, but the rubbish surrounding him looked unnervingly unfamiliar.

  He couldn’t help calling out for Babagoo, but his voice was snatched by the breeze and lost to the gulls. He got back to his feet and tried moving more carefully through the maze, scrutinizing the waste for anything he’d seen before. Upon approaching a bend he stopped. Something had appeared at the bottom of the corner ahead…

  It was a thick black boot, attached to a leg covered in coarse, flapping trousers.

  Landfill’s head twitched to and fro in search of somewhere to hide. There was nothing. He was surrounded by tight, looming walls, and the corridor of crud extended far behind him, with the cover of its nearest bend painfully beyond reach.

  Taking the blade from his pocket, Landfill crouched into a pouncing stance, and watched the Outsider step into view.

  The Outsider stopped when it saw Landfill crouched in the filth. It rubbed its gloved fingers together and stayed where it was.

  Landfill couldn’t tell how the Outsider was reacting. Its eyes were hidden behind thick, plastic goggles, which were darkened beneath the cap of a white hard-hat. A wide bandage, stained with dirt and blood, was tucked into its grimy shirt and coiled scarf-like around its lower face, covering the tip of its nose, its mouth, chin and neck.

  After eyeing Landfill for some time, it reached slowly into its grubby yellow vest. Landfill remained poised with his blade aimed high, and watched the Outsider extract a chocolate bar from beneath the vest. The Outsider shook the bar at the boy, causing its wrapper to glitter and flash. Then it held the bar out and beckoned with a finger.

  Landfill glowered and jabbed the air. “Go away.” His voice broke, and he had to shout against the cacophony of gulls. “Go away or I’ll kill you!”

  The Outsider tipped its head, jiggled its chocolate treat.

  “Go away!”

  The Outsider shrugged and took a step backwards. Landfill nodded sternly, but was thrown when the Outsider hurled the bar into the air. Landfill followed its trajectory, saw seagulls screech and flap as it flew into their midst.

  When his eyes returned to the ground he saw the Outsider sprinting forward; by the time he managed to spin away, the Outsider was on top of him. It grabbed his wrists and rolled him roughly onto his back, and Landfill howled at the agony that shot once more up his arm. When he kicked with his knees, the Outsider released his wrists and wrestled his legs to pin them beneath its own.

  With his hands free, Landfill took aim and swiped at the Outsider’s throat. But the Outsider saw it coming, and caught Landfill’s hand just before it reached the bandaging beneath its chin. Landfill’s legs were trapped, and his injured wrist was once more in the Outsider’s grip and crushed against the ground. The boy grunted and spluttered, trying to force his attacking hand against the Outsider’s fist – to slowly push the blade towards the Outsider’s face.

  To his surprise, the Outsider’s arm seemed to give, just a little. The shaking blade was moving slowly away from Landfill, edging closer and closer to the Outsider’s cheek. With his blade inching through the air, Landfill glared into the Outsider’s face. He could almost see eyes boiling behind those lenses, and noticed something wrong with the skin exposed between the goggles and crusty bandaging. The pink-grey flesh was blemished by black and green pocks, and bulged lewdly while the Outsider pushed back against Landfill’s hand.

  Landfill roared and jerked his torso upwards, and the Outsider shuddered when the blade entered rippling grey flesh. Taking advantage of the Outsider’s surprise, Landfill dragged the blade down its cheek. The Outsider pushed back enough to stop the glass from going deep, but as the blade moved downwards the flesh swelled and parted.

  “Wha—” Landfill gaped in horror when something moved within the wound. The Outsider growled and shook its head, and Landfill saw a small beetle emerge from the now-flapping skin. It scuttled out from the gash and across the Outsider’s goggles, causing the Outsider to jerk its head back in an attempt to cast it off.

  With the Outsider distracted, Landfill twisted to one side, put his teeth to its grounded wrist and bit as hard as he could.

  The Outsider’s scream was muffled by bandaging. When it pulled its hand away, Landfill slammed his freed palm against its face. The flaring pain in his wrist made his eyes water, but he pushed with all his might so that the Outsider began to topple. Landfill continued to push until he
could wriggle away and clamber to his hands and feet.

  Panting and grunting, he loped away without even a glance back. He flew from one corridor of dross to the next, dashing in random zigzags in an attempt to shake off his pursuer. Something caught his eye in the ramparts of rubbish: a blue plastic barrel nestled horizontally in refuse, just above ground level. It was empty and looked like it might just be big enough.

  After checking behind him, Landfill sprinted to the barrel, crouched, pivoted and backed into its hollow. He covered his mouth with his good hand and, trying to control his trembling sobs, watched through the barrel’s opening for any sign of feet.

  Landfill had no idea how long he’d been hiding when he heard the crunch of soles against rubbish. He tried to squirm deeper into the barrel, but could get no further from its opening. As the crunching continued to draw nearer, he realized he’d cornered himself. If the Outsider found him, he’d have nowhere to run.

  Landfill scrunched up his eyes. He could feel snot and tears streaming hotly down his face. Doing his best to hold his breath, he watched through the opening and willed the Outsider to continue past the barrel, to not notice something so low down.

  That crunching reverberated through the barrel, and Landfill saw a boot come down close to his face. A whimper escaped his lips, and became a throaty cry when he saw corduroy above the boot. “Babagoo!”

  “Landfill?”

  The boy popped his head through the opening, and looked up to see a bewildered Babagoo jerking his head every way but down. “Babagoo, I’m here.”

  The scavenger looked down. His grisly expression dissolved when he saw the boy clambering at his feet. “Landfill! You’re… You’re okay!” The words caught in his throat and came out almost as a question. Reaching down, he pulled Landfill up and held him tightly against his chest. “You’re okay,” he croaked. “I feared the worst.”

  Landfill sobbed into Babagoo’s shoulder. “Outsider… It came…”

  “I know, my boy, I know. I heard it coming. Had to force my foot free so I could hide around a corner.” He winced at the memory and gasped. “May have done myself some harm, but harm’s a small price to pay. I stayed low and hoped against hope the Outsider wouldn’t cross your path. Where’s it now? What happened?”

  “It tried to give me sugar grubbins. Didn’t work, so it went for me. Had me down but I cut its face and gave it the slip. Never been so scared.” The boy struggled to talk between sobs. “So much hate there, Babagoo. There was rot and hate and…”

  He gave in to a fit of tears, and felt Babagoo tense suddenly against him.

  “What happened after that, lad? Where’d the Outsider go?”

  “Don’t know. I ran and hid in the barrel.”

  Babagoo’s grip was loosening. He looked around with bulging eyeballs. “Then we have to keep moving. We have to get back to Hinterland. Come, Landfill, come!”

  After lowering the boy, Babagoo took his good hand and they ran together. With their dross capes flapping behind them and bin bags knocking their knees, they hissed and hobbled, but kept up a brisk pace.

  It wasn’t long before they’d reached the Pit’s edge, shuffled through the prickly crawlway and entered the glade. Babagoo sent Landfill through the fridge first, slipped in and slammed its door behind him, then followed the boy up the steep tunnel. Landfill moved blindly but swiftly, with a feeling of crawling into black sky.

  Babagoo coughed behind him, and paused to catch his breath before carrying on. “It used sugar grubbins, eh? That’ll be bait – something sweet but rotten inside. That’s the Outsiders, alright. There’s always masks. Always deceit.” His voice hardened. “Now tell me, boy – did you follow rule twenty-eight?”

  Landfill screwed up his eyes. “Twenty-eight… Is that… Is it—”

  “Not good enough, Landfill! Rule twenty-eight – if you’re seen by an Outsider, move in a direction away from Hinterland and hide until it’s safe to return. Did you do it?”

  Landfill spluttered. “I don’t know! Was too frightened.”

  “Again, boy – not good enough. When you’re frightened is when you need the rules the most. Fear should be your friend, not your foe.” He was silent for a moment. “It’s a worrisome thing. That Outsider got to us far too quickly. Shouldn’t have been so close. I only hope this doesn’t mean they’re on to our scent – that they’ve turned their eyes to Hinterland. Can’t help pondering whether that’s something to do with your mischief on the conveyor a while back.”

  “It can’t be! That was so long ago.”

  “Don’t be so stupid, boy! It’s just like the Outsiders to take their time. Rule six. What is it?”

  “No sign—”

  “Can be a sure sign!” Babagoo’s tone became increasingly bitter. “The Outsiders are sly like that. The hunger breeds cunning. We can only hope I’m wrong – that this is all coincidence.”

  He wheezed and growled in the gloom. “This would never have happened if you’d followed the rules, young skulk. You won’t be leaving Hinterland again any time soon, mark my words. No more Spit Pit for you. You’re scared of taking gulls, you’re a terrible sneak and you’ve got no respect for the rules. As useful as a lump of boy dung. In fact, boy, I’m sorely tempted to drag you back down there and leave you for the Outsiders. I thought there was a use for everything, but in your case I’m obviously…obviously—”

  A loud bout of coughing rang through the tunnel. Landfill scuffled backwards in the darkness to find Babagoo slumped and shuddering.

  Landfill squatted in the Rippletop’s black belly. The chamber was lit by his lighter, but he stared glumly at the ground, trying his best to ignore the crunch of cockroach. When the sounds finished, he raised his face to the dark pipes.

  “It worked, Longwhite. Got Babagoo to take me Outside. A couple of days ago. I know now. I know.”

  A pale scuffling.

  “Babagoo’s not hiding anything about Outside. It’s horrorific. It’s madness, and it doesn’t make sense. I saw a dead mowler, Longwhite. Just like the woofler outside the wall. Dead, and left to stink in the sun. They get buried in Hinterland, but Outside it’s rot and maggots – that’s all they get.”

  His eyes shimmered in the lighter’s flame. “There’s a sickness out there. I saw amnals turning against each other. Saw gulls fighting. Fighting so they could hurt a starling! Must be the hunger. Even the amnals are infected.”

  Longwhite slipped out from between pipes. He squeaked and ran his length across the boy’s ankles.

  “The edge?” Landfill nodded. “It’s like I thought. Saw it from below – from the other side. The ground doesn’t become sky beyond the wall’s west side. It falls away in a slope. Hinterland’s on a hill, with the Spit Pit at the bottom.”

  A muted squeak. Landfill sat down so Longwhite could curl up between his crossed legs.

  He ran his fingers through warm, coarse fur. “Yes, there’s lots of Spit Pit down there. I climbed up high. Looked over a crest and saw…saw how big the Pit is. A lot bigger than Hinterland. So much waste. Big piles of it, rising to the sky. I saw Outsiders. A few in the distance, moving around the Pit, and one up close. Too close. They wear white, round hats and yellow vests. I saw a few cabins at the Pit’s edge, like the ones in Hinterland. And there were things… Yellow machines with spikes on their wheels and huge…shovels.

  “But beyond the Pit… I saw ground like the ground around the wall – grass, heather and rocks. And there was something else, quite close to the Pit. A grey and red area with buildings – most of them in rows with sloping roofs. Things were moving between them. Shiny rolling machines and…more Outsiders. I think that’s where I saw that grid of lights, when I was on the conveyor that night. Must have come from there.

  “There were grey lines leaving the area, with rolling machines on them. They moved along the grass and heather, sometimes past patches like the Thin Woods, but not so thin. Some of the lines joined a thicker line that headed west – a strip that shone with more ma
chines. It went right to where the ground stops again and becomes sky. It goes so far, Longwhite, and it falls away! Is it another edge?”

  A long chitter.

  Landfill nodded. “I’ve got more questions too. But they won’t be answered.”

  Longwhite uncurled and left Landfill’s lap with a hiss.

  Landfill grimaced. “I’m not going Outside again, Longwhite! Not even if Babagoo lets me. Have you seen this?”

  He moved his lighter to illuminate the cuts and bruises all over his body, then licked the back of his arm. “Nearly broke my wrist! And I told you about the amnals – the way they are out there. Dead or mad! And that’s not the worst.

  “The Outsider I saw up close – it attacked me. And I deserved it, because I broke the rules. The rules are there for a reason, Longwhite. They keep me safe. They keep us all safe.”

  Longwhite was upright on his hind legs. His jaws parted to reveal needle-like teeth.

  Landfill raised a finger. “Don’t want to hear it. All breaking rules does is cause trouble. I nearly died out there. Nearly got Babagoo killed too – he barely made it back. The strain had him off his feet all day yesterday. His legs are all swollen and the mattress is soaked with sweat. The little strength he had was spent on curses for me. And him being stuck there meant no meat from the Spit Pit, which meant no feeding for the amnals!

  “They had to go hungry, Longwhite. They were unhappy. Something was in the air. Something…awful. And it was all my fault, Longwhite. All my fault.”

  Landfill stared at the floor. He was silent for a while, until a squeak from Longwhite made him lift his head. “What? What else is out there?”

  Chattering quietly, Longwhite dropped back onto all fours.

  Landfill raised his eyebrows. “Beauty?” He frowned and rubbed his lips. “Yes, there’s beauty.” A sudden shake of the head. “But not enough. And I don’t care. Hinterland has beauty. Hinterland is beauty. I don’t care about Outside any more. The only thing I care about is keeping it out. It’s just too big. And it keeps getting bigger! Every time I think I’m used to it, I look again…and see it still moving away, in every direction.”