Scavengers

by Darren Simpson

  “The seed,” interrupted Landfill.

  Babagoo ground his teeth and took a long breath. “Yes, the seed. Into the Pit it went. And that’s where you started to grow, like the rarest of flowers. A wallflower from the filth.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “A little miracle, Landfill. That’s what you were – what you’ll always be.”

  He smiled and ruffled Landfill’s hair, then leaned forward and offered his beard so Landfill could reciprocate. But the boy didn’t move.

  Babagoo cleared his throat. “So…I happened to find you. And seeing how precious you were, I had no choice but to take you to the only place you might be safe from the Outsiders. I took you to Hinterland, and that’s where we hid – where you’ve been safe ever since. Although, back then, Hinterland wasn’t what it is now. Oh no – it was a cold, forgotten, dead place. Which was a good thing. Only a forgotten place can be such a blind spot, such a sanctuary. But back then it was all decay, steel and silence.”

  Babagoo sighed and stared at the flames in the stove. “It was only after you were brought in that it came alive. As you grew, Hinterland grew with you. Of course, I dealt with repairs, with the wall, boards and charms and the like. But the rest was Hinterland. I filled this Den and built the tunnel from the cabinet to the Pit, but Hinterland decked itself with flowers and vines. I locked the gates and put glass in the wall, but Hinterland hid the gates and nettled its flanks. I smuggled in seeds for vejbles, and bleaters for your milk, but all your other friends, all the other amnals… Well, Hinterland didn’t so much provide them; they came in response to your little baby calls.”

  The scavenger chuckled to himself. “So that’s where you came from. You were saved from Outside, and I for one am glad you were. Not that it was easy. We had some close calls, believe me. You suffered the fire-flush many a time. But you refused to die. Rarely even cried. You’ve always been such a stubborn little fighter.” He laughed again and beamed at the boy.

  Landfill’s eyes returned to his dominoes. “A seed, then. I grew from a seed.”

  “Of course.”

  Landfill nodded stiffly and sucked in his lips. His thin muscles tensed before he spoke again. “You didn’t find those wooflings in the Pit. I saw them this morning, coming out of Woolf. From inside her.” He looked up and saw Babagoo’s smile vanish in an instant.

  “What? You’re not supposed to go near amnals with the swelling! I told you not to even look at Woolf until I’d dealt with her!”

  “And you always said the small amnals come from Outside. That you rescue them, like you did me.”

  Babagoo’s features rippled, as if unable to decide which emotion to settle on. He moved his lips, searching for words. “I said…I said…”

  “And you told me to believe only Babagoo. Rule four. But how—”

  Babagoo growled and clacked his teeth. “Don’t throw rules at me, you little skulk!”

  He was on his feet now. He had the attention of the goats, and the cats were sitting up in their boxes. “And listen closely. Never once did I say that smaller amnals don’t come from other amnals. So if you’re trying to suggest I’ve lied to you, you cocky little urchin, look me in the eyes and say it so I can give you a slap!”

  Landfill grimaced at his dominoes. He seemed to sag, and his lips were crumpled. “But you lied about the wooflings from Woolf. And you’ve never said how smaller amnals come from bigger ones. I thought of seeds… I thought…” He shook his head. “What about the other amnals with the swelling? Have they made smaller amnals too? Is that what happens when you take them to the cabinet?”

  Babagoo didn’t reply. Landfill heard coarse breaths as the scavenger’s chest heaved up and down.

  No one spoke, until a bleat from Kafka made Babagoo shuffle his feet. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke his voice was quieter. “Listen, Landfill…I’ll admit… The smaller amnals come from bigger amnals. They come from their swollen bellies.”

  Landfill sniffed and wiped his nose on his forearm. His eyes were still locked on the dominoes. “So why didn’t you tell me? You always said the swelling’s an illness. Is it?”

  Babagoo hesitated. “Not…as such.” He grunted and gradually returned to sitting on the floor.

  He was silent for some time, then sighed. “Landfill… I couldn’t tell you the truth about where the smaller amnals come from. Had to hide it to…protect you.”

  “From what?”

  “From the Outsiders.”

  “How can—”

  Babagoo’s finger shot up. “Don’t question it, Landfill. I did this to protect you. Just like everything else I do. That’s all you need to know. Don’t ask questions, and take my word for it. Babagoo’s always right.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me, boy.” Babagoo’s tone was more of warning than appeal.

  Landfill shrugged sullenly and flicked a domino across the floor. “Is there anything else?”

  “How’d you mean?”

  Landfill glanced up at Babagoo, but quickly dropped his gaze. “Anything else you haven’t told me?”

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  The reply came through clenched teeth. “Don’t insult me, boy.”

  Landfill shrugged again. The crackling of the fire filled the long silence that followed.

  Eventually, Landfill raised his head and looked Babagoo in the eye. “What about me? Did I come from inside a…a bigger me?”

  Babagoo snorted. “Course you didn’t.”

  “What about you? Did you come from a bigger you?”

  Babagoo frowned at the grainy panels on the ceiling. His words were hesitant. “I…suppose I did.”

  Landfill’s eyes flashed. “Will you ever make a smaller you?”

  Babagoo’s mouth hung open. A watery glaze coated his eyes. “Once…I did…I made…” He gasped suddenly, as if in pain, and slapped both hands to his face.

  “Made what?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Is that where Outsiders come from? From inside other Outsiders?”

  Slowly, Babagoo lowered his hands. “Do you have to ask so many questions?”

  “Is it where they come from?”

  A deep breath. “Yes.”

  “So you were an Outsider?”

  Babagoo looked into the corner of his eye. “I was certainly Outside. You know I was. That’s how I found you. And it almost killed me. Had the hunger, for a time.”

  Landfill’s eyes were wide. “You had the hunger?”

  Babagoo nodded grimly. “How else would I know how awful it is?”

  Landfill was still staring at him. “What’s it like?”

  Phlegm rattled in the scavenger’s throat, and he gave in to a sudden bout of coughs. When he was done he spat at the floor. “Hideous. Can’t be described.”

  “Can you try?”

  Babagoo clambered to his feet and started pacing. His plaid overcoat billowed behind him. “Okay. Think of the pain you get in your belly when I’ve not been able to get gull or grubbins from the Pit. Now multiply that pain a million times, and still you’re nowhere near. The hunger infects your stomach with fear, and when your stomach’s full it infects your mind with hate. It blinds you and makes you do awful, awful things…”

  He winced and dragged a knuckle down his face before continuing. “It eats up your insides and leaves your outside as a shell to hold in your mush. Oh they wear masks to hide it, but the rot’s there alright, right behind their faces – right down to the bone. Can you imagine it, boy? Can you imagine what it’s like to feel your innards on the turn?”

  Landfill shook his head.

  “Such a cruel madness, Landfill – a madness that fills Outside with weapons and walls, screams and savagery. But something happened. I realized how sick I was – how sick everyone was. After that, the Outsiders chewed me up and spat me into the Pit to die. But then I found you, and Hinterland found us. And I healed, Landfill. All the rot left inside from the hunger… I got better. In some ways, I have y
ou to thank for that.”

  Babagoo stopped pacing, put his face in his hands and groaned. “I’m tired. Let’s discuss this another time. You look tired too, boyling. I’d say it’s slumbertime.” He raised a finger when Landfill opened his mouth. “Slumber. Time.”

  After they were settled on their separate sides of the mattress, Landfill spoke from beneath Babagoo’s coat. “Can I ask one last question, Babagoo?”

  “No.”

  “Can I go to the Spit Pit with you tomorrow?”

  Babagoo shook his head. “Told you a hundred times – it’s too dangerous. You’re not ready. Now stop asking. I’ll tell you when it’s time. And the time will come quicker if you stop pestering. Now goodnight. Get slumbering, Landfill.”

  “Goodnight, Babagoo.”

  Landfill didn’t go to sleep. When Babagoo started snoring, he sat up and watched the stove’s fire peter out.

  Darkness consumed the Den. Landfill listened to the animals, and waited for the scavenger to stir.

  It didn’t take long. Babagoo muttered, whined and ground his teeth. Landfill hushed and soothed, but the scavenger wouldn’t settle. Veins rose on his forehead.

  “Ss…” he hissed. “Sssorry…”

  “It’s okay,” whispered Landfill. “It’s sleep-sweats. Just sleep-sweats. Sshhh…”

  “Sshh…ame.” Babagoo’s leg twitched like a dog’s.

  “Shame?”

  “Shadows.” The scavenger’s eyelids trembled. “Shadows…”

  “Shush, Babagoo. No shadows. Just us. Shush now.”

  The veins vanished from Babagoo’s forehead, and he gradually stopped trembling.

  Landfill dabbed the sweat from the scavenger’s face. When he seemed deep in sleep, he drew carefully away and left the mattress. After skirting the goats, he fumbled around a console’s top until his fingers skimmed a pile of plastic lighters. Taking one of them caused another to drop to the floor, and Babagoo groaned at the sound. Wincing all the while, Landfill held his breath and waited for the scavenger to settle down again.

  When Babagoo’s snoring resumed, Landfill tiptoed to the door and – with one hand shielding the worst of the flame – quickly tested the lighter. The Den was lit momentarily, and Landfill spotted Kafka’s eyes on him from across the room. The goat’s slit-like pupils flashed wetly before darkness returned. Looking in Kafka’s direction, Landfill raised a finger to his lips, crept from the Den and closed the door quietly behind him.

  Outdoors was brighter, for the sky was star-packed and cloudless. It draped Hinterland’s surfaces in pale, silvery light, so that they shone in stark contrast to the blackness of the wall, which was broken here and there where specks of glass caught the moon. Landfill jogged across gravelly concrete, hopping nimbly over heather and weeds. He batted a hawkmoth away from his cheek; when the skull on its back flickered, he glanced at the wall and thought of Joyce, wondering whether the red squirrel might still be alive.

  On the tips of his toes, Landfill crept across one of the ramshackle steel bridges that spanned the Gully. Every creak that echoed along the concrete ditch made him cringe, and as soon as he was close enough, he hopped off the bridge and into the Thin Woods. Here, the starlight was blocked by a black canopy of leaves, but Landfill dropped to all fours and loped with ease around wraithlike tree trunks. As he left the trees the starlight returned, broken only by the darkness of the conveyor overhead. He was almost at his destination.

  Landfill rounded the Ivy Stack’s corrugated walls. Darkness descended when he entered its murky opening, so he took the lighter from his shorts and ignited its flame. Amber light quivered against the walls, and Landfill had to duck when squeaking bats fluttered over his head and into the night. Once they’d gone, he raised his lighter and moved cautiously through cavernous spaces. The ground felt powdery beneath his soles, and disturbed piles of sediment rasped while he passed huge machines that slumbered in the shadows. He stepped over cables and fallen beams, and eventually reached the conveyor’s mouth.

  The conveyor had a plastic ceiling, but much of its corrugated side-panelling had fallen away, allowing moonlight to illuminate the steps that ran alongside the conveyor’s belt. Returning the lighter to his pocket, Landfill began to climb the steps.

  He’d gained some height before the corridor ahead became a vacuum of pitch black. The conveyor was approaching the height of Hinterland’s wall, and the panelling’s gaps beyond that point had been boarded up by Babagoo – as had all windows and openings higher than the wall’s crest.

  Landfill stared through the final gap before Babagoo’s boards began. After some time he tightened his lips, nodded to himself and climbed through. He clung like a lizard to the conveyor’s exterior frame, and clambered carefully onto its top.

  As he worked his way upwards he began to slow down. He could see the silhouette of Hinterland’s wall dropping slowly away, and the sky’s shifting shape made his stomach knot.

  He fought a surge of nausea, closed his eyes and whispered to himself: “Rule twelve – never rise…above the wall.” Keeping his eyes closed, he took several deep breaths and continued to climb, feeling around the plastic with his hands and naked feet. A breeze against his bare ribs made him falter, and when he opened his eyes he couldn’t help crying out.

  The sky had unfolded into an infinite geometry that was impossible to comprehend. Panting rapidly, Landfill clung to the conveyor, with his belly, chest and limbs pressed tightly against its top. He whimpered at the stars that spun above him, and feared that letting go would send him toppling into the sky.

  With his cheek pinned against plastic, he swivelled his eyes and looked out over the wall. Darkness was all around, apart from to the west, past Hinterland’s four towering chimneys. Through watering eyes, Landfill could make out a low patch bordered by luminous specks. Beyond that was an area illuminated by grids of yellow and orange light. Smaller dots of light traversed the surrounding darkness in slow curves and lines. And beyond that, a distant, fiery glow on a black horizon.

  Landfill gawped and moaned, and became aware of something else. Among the sky’s pricks of light, a red star seemed to be blinking. Transfixed, he watched the red star grow, and as it rose he heard a familiar rumbling. The rumbling became louder while the star drew closer, and Landfill realized that Hunger’s Eye was coming for him.

  An animal sound flew from his mouth. He tried to move but couldn’t. It was impossible to know which way was up and which was down. His fingers refused to release the conveyor’s ridges.

  Hunger’s Eye drew nearer; the rumbling became a roar. But still Landfill couldn’t move. The Eye was bearing down upon him, causing the conveyor to creak and rattle beneath his belly. Landfill couldn’t even cover his ears when the screaming shook the panels. With his eardrums in agony, he closed his tear-filled eyes and waited for the end.

  But the screaming became a roar, and the roar became a rumble.

  It took some time before Landfill was able to open his eyes. When he did, he saw the red star blinking in the distance, continuing on the course from which it had come. He squinted and thought he saw the star attached to something dark – a shadow of a shadow, vaguely triangular and fading into night.

  After he’d finally been able to peel himself from the conveyor’s top, Landfill sprinted through the Thin Woods. He blubbered as he ran, with snot and tears streaming down his face. Upon reaching the Woods’ fringe, he stooped and panted and rubbed his wrist against his lips. The scream of Hunger’s Eye was still ringing in his ears – a shrill accompaniment to the hammering of his heart.

  When his hearing started to return, Landfill was struck by Hinterland’s silence, and wondered whether he’d gone deaf. He peered around, taking in the Gully, the Nook, the black wall and its flecks of starlight. Everything was so calm and quiet – exactly as it was before the Eye had torn up the sky.

  Landfill took a deep breath. His heartbeat began to steady.

  As he raised an arm to wipe the snot from his lips, somet
hing clutched his wrist from behind. His cry was muffled by a large hand that shot out to cover his nose and mouth, and he was yanked roughly back into the Woods. He tried to fight, but a strong arm had slipped down to pin his hands to his sides.

  He thrashed his head and felt cracked lips against his ear. A voice growled through gritted teeth.

  “Oh now you’re done for. Now you’re as good as dead.”

  Landfill twisted his neck to gasp through clamped fingers. “Babagoo!”

  Babagoo threw him to the ground. “I saw you, boy. Came searching when I woke up with you gone. Saw you on the conveyor. Rule twelve – never rise above the wall!”

  “But—”

  “Don’t but me! Shown your true colours now, you bony back-stabber. I’ve seen with my own eyes that you’re a filthy little traitor!”

  “Babagoo…” The boy scrabbled up, only to be pushed down again.

  The scavenger was backing away with arms outstretched. “Don’t come near me! Don’t touch me! Don’t you see what you’ve done?” Babagoo looked upwards and continued to back away. “They’ll be on their way now, Landfill. They know you’re here. But they don’t know about me!”

  The scavenger spun on his boots and ran for the nearest bridge across the Gully. Landfill got up and scampered after him, but stopped to raise his hands against the swish of Babagoo’s penknife.

  Babagoo jabbed the blade in Landfill’s direction. “Don’t come following me, boy! You got yourself into this sordid pickle, and the least you can do, after everything – everything! – I’ve done for you, is keep me out of it. Come any closer and I swear I’ll put this blade into both your eyes.”

  Landfill could almost feel the knife slicing the air in front of his nose. “Please, Babagoo! Please.” He was beginning to cry. “Was just trying… I was trying—”

  “You were trying to get yourself killed! Either that or you were passing a message to the Outsiders.” The scavenger leaned in close to sniff air, then recoiled with his nose in the crook of his elbow. “Argh! I can smell the rot! Have you got the hunger? Is that it? Are you wearing a mask now?” He snorted, and took the boy by surprise by spitting into his eyes.