by Jacob Rayne
This time he looked up straight away and saw a section of the garbage bag move a little.
He strained his eyes, but couldn’t see anything to suggest why it was moving.
Duke’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his skull.
His entire body was tensed ready to strike.
Still Davey was puzzled to see why, until he saw part of the garbage move again.
It was like a magic eye puzzle in the old world; a picture with strange, nonsensical images on the outermost layer, but when you focussed your eyes and stared at it for a while, a hidden image appeared as if by magic from behind the others.
This was the same; one second the section of garbage bag wall that Duke was barking at was just a pile of rubbish, the next it was a man dressed from head to toe in the black plastic bags, presumably to pass through the mountains undetected.
He was completely covered, save for two small eyeholes and a larger mouth slit.
Still, he’d blended in perfectly. Davey would never have seen him if it wasn’t for Duke.
Now he couldn’t unsee him.
He shuddered as he realised that the man had probably been following them since Duke had first stopped and barked.
With mounting fear, he scanned his surroundings, trying to train his eyes to see through the garbage bags to see if there were any more of the ominous men lurking.
He saw at least three more, carefully concealed among the waste.
The sight of them made his skin crawl, made his heart beat into overdrive.
Duke barked at the nearest one, which was a good way up one of the slopes.
It was too far to climb up, which was the only reason Duke wasn’t moving in, jaws gnashing, to rend the hidden voyeur a new arsehole.
Davey tried to hide his shock, tried to pretend he hadn’t seen them, and carried on walking.
From his peripheral vision, he watched the nearest one.
Their fluid movements made his flesh creep; it was distinctly unsettling how they moved through the garbage, until now undetected.
His mind reeled with potential answers for who they were and why they were watching him.
None of them were good.
They didn’t seem to come any closer, just kept following at their slow but steady pace.
Davey’s legs were blazing, his wounds sticky and oozing something that he didn’t dare investigate further.
He felt utterly drained.
The carpet of garbage bags was very hard to walk on, seeming to sap the little strength that he still possessed.
He looked round, saw that there were still three of the garbage men following them, carefully hidden among the millions of black bin bags that formed the Garbage Mountains.
As they turned a slight corner, there was an inner wall of garbage, carefully piled up to almost the height of the outer edges of the mountains.
It split the path off into two.
Both paths looked as daunting as the other; more of the same endless slog through stinking piles of filth.
Davey scanned the walls and saw a few more of the garbage men hidden on both sides of the barrier.
‘Which way, boy?’ he asked Duke, who was tensed up and sniffing the air.
Duke turned away from the junction and started walking back the way they had come.
When Davey followed, he noticed that the garbage men began to move down the slope a little, as though they didn’t like this decision.
‘I think they want us to go this way, boy,’ he said.
Duke growled but did as he was bid.
When they reached the fork in the road, Davey flipped a coin.
It landed heads so he went to the right.
They plodded on for maybe another mile, then the path curved round to the left.
Davey noticed more of the garbage men slowly crawling along the walls of the valley after them.
The reek got worse around here; and Davey was sure he could smell something burning.
The putrid stench of death seemed to hang in the air.
After the path curved round, Davey found himself staring at a huge pile of bin bags.
The turn off was a dead end.
He counted four of the garbage men on the hill.
Duke growled and turned around.
Davey turned too.
They rounded the corner, but the path was blocked by half a dozen of the garbage men, linking arms so they couldn’t get past.
Duke barked loudly and dived at the man in the middle.
The man held firm as Duke’s claws ripped furrows in his bin bag shirt and exposed the pale, clammy skin beneath.
One of the men darted in and threw a garbage bag towards Duke’s head, but he threw his head to the side and leapt up, sinking his teeth into his attacker’s arm.
His cry of pain was muffled by the garbage bag that was over his head, but Davey saw that he was bleeding heavily.
While Duke had the man on the back foot, he darted in, hitting him at the knees and knocking him onto his arse.
Duke showed no mercy; his powerful jaws clamped down and punctured the man’s neck.
Growling menacingly, Duke tore the man’s throat out in a hot hail of blood.
He shook his head from side to side, patters of gore pattering onto the bin bag suits of the dead man’s companions.
Davey broke his paralysis and pulled the gun.
He took a few seconds to line up a shot and his patience was rewarded when he hit one of them in what he figured was its head.
He heard the sound of a shattered skull hitting the inside of the bin bag with a liquid splat and the man fell, torrents of blood seeping through the neckline of his plastic hood.
The next man ducked Davey’s second bullet which buried itself in one of the millions of rotting bin bags that formed the outer edge of the mountains.
He hit Duke with a hard kick to the ribs then threw a wild haymaker at Davey.
It wasn’t the best punch, but it was fast and it caught Davey off guard.
His lips were mashed into his teeth anew, re-opening the slit created by Old Jimmy’s bony knuckles during the harrowing attack in the Freelands.
As Davey staggered back, the coppery taste of blood once more filled his mouth.
Sadly, it was a taste to which he was growing accustomed.
The bin bag men darted down from the walls and swarmed him.
They did the same to Duke; seemingly dozens of them pouring from the walls of the canyon.
He saw one of them thrust a bin bag over Duke’s head and he knew that his friend would hate this, given the circumstances in which they had met.
Sure enough, Duke began to roar and whimper and thrash.
But the bag was tight.
Davey saw Duke’s struggles weaken as his lungs began to starve.
Then his world was darkness as a similar bag was thrust over his own head.
His panic evaporated beneath his rage at the thought of Duke being forced to relive his worst memory.
He pulled his knife and sunk it into the leg of the man behind him.
Warm blood splashed his hand.
The grip on him weakened a little.
He lashed out with the knife, not caring where he hit, just wanting them to bleed.
An impact from the side made his world do a flip then he was being roughly manhandled to the floor.
The knife was twisted out of his grip by a cruel hand.
He was flipped onto his belly, vicelike grips pinning his arms and legs.
He felt hands regain their grasp on the bin bag over his head and tighten the makeshift weapon to the point where he couldn’t breathe.
A knee in the back of his shoulder blades made his neck crack and made escape impossible.
His panic reached a peak when he realised that he really couldn’t breathe this time.
Then it was gone as he just faded away into the darkness.
4.4
Davey awoke with a start and immediately began
gulping in air like a drowning man resurfacing from beneath the tides.
His relief was immeasurable, but he was also on edge.
He wasn’t sure where he was, and everything was still dark.
At first, he thought that maybe the floodlights that surrounded the Garbage Mountains had been extinguished, but the smell of plastic made him realise the bag was still over his head, albeit much looser than it had been previously.
He tried to move his arms to pull it off, but realised that they were bound tightly behind him by what he assumed was another bin bag.
‘Don’t move, don’t fight,’ said a low, menacing voice. ‘Or else I’ll pull the bag tight again.’
‘Ok,’ Davey said, his words echoing strangely around the inside of the plastic bag. ‘I won’t.’
‘Good.’
‘What do you want with me?’
‘Shhh, you’ll use all your air up. There will be time for questions later.’
Davey did as he was bid; being strangled out was not something he was keen to ever experience again.
He listened for signs that Duke was still near, but he couldn’t hear him.
This produced a pang of alarm.
Things didn’t look good for his new friend.
After what seemed an age, the man by his side pulled the back of the bag.
If he wanted to remain conscious, he had to stand.
‘Walk. Slowly,’ the low voice hissed in his ear.
The dark plastic prison wrapped around his head obliterated most of his senses, but in the background he could hear conspiratorial, sly voices.
He could also hear the crackling of hot coals.
‘Is he ready?’ a gruff voice said from off in the distance. It seemed obvious that this was the voice of the leader.
‘Yes.’
‘Then bring him over. Give him something to eat.’
Davey’s eyes were momentarily blinded by the sudden influx of light when the bag was lifted.
It was akin to having his retinas set on fire.
Mercifully it only lasted for a second, while a hand that looked more dirt than flesh shoved a fistful of hot, shredded meat into his mouth.
It burnt his lips and tongue a little, but he was so hungry he was happy to overlook this.
He chewed greedily, savouring the juices that each press of his jaws squeezed from the meat.
When it was gone, the bag was lifted, and again his eyes were seared by the light.
Another hand – this one stinking of something that Davey tried not to identify – shoved another fistful of dripping meat into his mouth.
He chewed slowly this time, savouring the flavours.
It was the best barbecue he’d ever had; the seared meat tasting like a cross between chicken and pork.
‘You want more?’ a gruff voice said.
It took a few seconds before Davey realised they were talking to him.
‘Yes, please.’
Another lift of the bag.
Another burst of light stabbing him in the eyes.
Another delicious mouthful of chargrilled flesh.
‘That’s all for now, leave some for everyone else,’ a distant voice said.
Davey was content for now.
The juices were still strong on his lips, the flavours lingering on his taste buds.
He listened and tried to figure out what was going on around him.
He could hear the greedy smacking of lips, accompanied by the crackle and hiss of a fire in full bloom.
The occasional whisper of plastic as one of the bin bag clad men moved.
In the blink of an eye, everything changed.
Davey’s surroundings were a blur of noise and motion.
‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,’ a distorted voice said, sounding like it was coming from a loudhailer.
Then it sounded like a flurry of bricks raining down on the camp.
Davey had no idea where the attack was coming from – the darkness inside the bag was disorienting in the extreme, and the noises seemed to come from everywhere.
The dull thuds of blunt instruments hitting fragile flesh came from somewhere off to his left.
He decided his best bet was to slide onto his belly, hope that he blended in with the other millions of garbage bags strewn about the floor.
He tried his best to play dead, to just lie still and not react to what was going on around him, and, though he occasionally flinched, he thought he was doing a good job of it.
‘Jesus saves,’ and another torrent of distorted bible verses spewed from the loudhailer, greeted with jeers of derision from the bin bag men.
More sounds of violence came, then gunshots began to echo all around.
‘Leave the boy alone, you filthy heathen scum,’ the voice over the loudspeaker said.
A jarring array of voices came up from the bin bag men all around him.
More gunshots came, this time accompanied by the sounds of falling bodies and gushing blood.
Footsteps slammed the dirty floor as the survivors fled.
‘The Lord is my shepherd there is nothing I shall want,’ the loudspeaker said. ‘Though I walk through the valley of death I shall fear no evil. Depart from here, you godless scum, or my M-16 shall send you to the gates of Hell.’
Footsteps approached Davey’s position, forcing him to lie as still as he could.
He didn’t breathe.
He didn’t even dare blink.
A booted foot slammed the bin bag next to that on which he rested his head and, though he resisted with all of his will, he jolted a little.
‘He’s alive,’ the voice called.
Light once more assailed his eyes as the bag was torn from his head.
‘Salvation is at hand, young man,’ the man who’d found him said, placing a strong hand under his armpits and helping him up.
Davey staggered to his feet, wishing his hands weren’t tied behind his back so he could either defend himself, or – more likely in his present condition – shield his eyes from the agonising glare of the fire and the floodlights.
‘It’s ok, young man,’ another voice said. ‘The Lord walks with us in these hellish lands. He won’t let you come to any harm.’
When Davey’s eyes had grown used to the light, he looked at the object suspended on a wooden broom handle over the flickering flames.
He didn’t want to believe his eyes, but there hung a dog, its innards carved out, its abdomen a raw, empty shell.
Its eyes were glazed over, its mouth hanging open in what looked like the canine equivalent of a scream of pain.
His strength deserted him and he fell to his knees in the trash.
A rusting Coke can dug into his shin, but he didn’t notice.
Tears filled his eyes.
Vomit rocketed up his throat and sprayed the garbage bags in front of him.
The chunks of chargrilled flesh tasted like poisonous ashes in his mouth at the realisation that it was Duke he had eaten.
These sick fucks had barbecued his own dog and fed him to him.
The thought of it made him heave again, his stomach cramping in agonising waves to force the vomit up his throat.
‘Come, leave this… godlessness behind,’ said the man who had found him first.
He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him to his feet.
Davey had no idea which party was the more dangerous – he’d heard nothing but stories that scared the shit out of him about Cross and his band of religious zealots – but figured this was where King Solomon wanted him to go, so he may as well take the risk.
He looked round and saw that some of the garbage men were hiding among the refuse around them.
They didn’t seem to be planning an attack, just watching.
The man with the M-16 aimed a few rounds into the garbage piles – seemingly to make a point more than anything – then they pulled Davey into their vehicle; a huge bulldozer painted white with red crosses across the doors and
bonnet and tracks.
At the front of the vehicle was a huge plough with ‘The Lord is on our side, we will not fear,’ sprayed upon it in eighteen-inch letters.
The man shoved Davey into the vehicle.
Due to the size of the tracks it was a long way up.
‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness,’ the man with the loudhailer announced to the surrounding area.
He aimed a few shots into the air then the truck shot forwards, smashing a hole through the side of one of the garbage walls.
They demolished roughly a dozen of the walls before they were out of the compound.
‘They have one of these too,’ the man confided in Davey. ‘They move the walls of the garbage island every other day, to disorient those lost in the maze and to make it hard for us to get in there to help anyone they get their hands on.’
‘How long have you been watching me?’ Davey said.
‘Not long. We saw them feeding you and realised it was time to make a move.’
‘Why? They were looking after me better than anywhere else I’ve been.’
‘They were fattening you up,’ said a chubby man from the cockpit of the truck.
Davey frowned at his own naivety.
‘They were gonna eat you.’
After the loudspeaker man’s unsavoury revelation, the men in the cockpit with Davey had sunk into an awkward silence.
Davey did his best not to think of the fate he may have met, were it not for the intervention of Cross’s men.
He also did his best to forget about the grisly end that Duke had met.
He failed at this last, seeing the seared, gutted carcass whenever he closed his eyes.
The scene brought fresh tears to his eyes and waves of nausea crashing over his stomach.
Finally, he decided that he was better off trying to engage in conversation with the men, if only to take his mind off everything that had happened.
‘So where are we going?’ he asked.
‘To the land of God,’ the loudspeaker man – Preacher Kelly he introduced himself to Davey as – replied.
Davey had no doubt that Preacher Kelly believed this, above pretty much everything else.
