An abrupt hiss.
Landfill glared. “What?” His voice began to rise. “Cowardice before curiosity? That’s what you think?”
He waved his flame when Longwhite drew nearer, fangs flashing in firelight. “What do you know anyway?” He snarled and clacked his teeth. “You don’t know anything! You just hide here and make mischief for everyone else. Why can’t you leave me alone? I’ve had enough, Longwhite – enough of sneaking and games!”
Longwhite’s pale fur bristled. His back began to arch, and a musky stench filled the chamber.
“I don’t care if Babagoo’s got secrets! I don’t care what they are. He can keep them. It’s for my own good – all for my own good!”
Landfill shuffled back on his haunches, and kept the flame raised to Longwhite as he followed. “Cowardice before curiosity,” he spat. “Don’t you know, Longwhite? Curiosity killed the boy!”
Landfill saw a bony back hunching, and leaped aside when Longwhite lunged forward.
The lighter lost its flame and Landfill rolled in a darkness as thick and black as tar. He heard the chittering draw upon him, and scampered on all fours to the wall, where he searched blindly with his hands, found the aperture and squeezed through to the outer chamber. A quick spark from the lighter gave him just enough light to take aim and pounce at the metal ladder.
As he shot up its rungs he heard angry noises below, filling the darkness with hiss upon hiss upon hiss.
Landfill blinked in sunlight when he exited the Rippletop. After checking to his left and right, he bounded around the warehouse’s corner to the cabins.
Landfill stopped a few paces before reaching his secret, kept his distance and grimaced at its blanket of greenery. He was wiping his wrist through his hair when he heard a spry chirp from above. Looking up, he saw a red-beaked parakeet at the top of the wall, perched between teeth of sparkling glass.
“Swift!”
He puffed and scratched his cheek. The bird blinked in sunlight, twitching its head on a plump green neck.
Landfill looked back and forth between the parakeet and the foliage. He scrunched his nose and scratched his head. “Swift… You parkits have sharp eyes. You see anything here?” He pointed in the direction of the hidden hole. “Anything unusual?”
The parakeet blinked at the cabins.
“No,” said Landfill. “That’s…good. What about the other side? In the same area. Anything out of place?”
With a ruffle of feathers the parakeet took to the air.
The boy nodded slowly. “Okay… Nothing visible there.” He put a hand to his chin and started backing away. “Then I’ll leave it be. Just for a while. Just…in case.”
He nodded to himself again, then tensed when he heard a remote rumbling. With just six leaps he was around the nearest cabin’s corner, through its door and under a table. Wincing and covering his ears, he watched while several foxes snarled and circled the debris on the floor. The ceiling panels shook when the rumbling rose to a roar, and the foxes leaped and snapped at windowpanes, barking in reply to the screaming Eye.
Summer waned and withdrew, and autumn found Landfill in the Gully. He held Orwell against the baggy, threadbare jumper he’d put on to curb the cold, and was wearing tattered jeans rolled up to the knees. With the water cool against his calves, he waded down the concrete bank, and stopped momentarily to watch red leaves floating around his legs. A mild breeze sent them fluttering from the Thin Woods, which had changed from green to crimson and gold. Chrysanthemums and crocuses splashed the earth there with colour.
Orwell, who was now large enough to cover Landfill’s chest, yapped and licked the boy’s face. Landfill laughed and yapped back, burying his face deep in the pup’s fur. “Want to know why we’re here?”
Orwell yapped again, his sapphire eyes sparkling in the light. Landfill adjusted his hold so he could support Orwell’s belly and let his legs hang down. “A little treat. I know how you watch the wooflers in the water – how you watch but can’t go in. And I’ve never seen a sorrier muttling. So I’m lending a hand.”
He crouched and lowered Orwell into the water. With a huge canine grin, Orwell began to splash excitedly with his front legs. Landfill smiled in the spray, but sighed at the sight of the pup’s rear legs, which hung limply beneath the water’s surface. A cheery bark brought his smile back, and he rocked Orwell from side to side in the water.
“How’s that for a bath? Better than a wash from Woolf’s tongue, eh?” The water rose to the hem of his jumper as he moved deeper into the Gully. Orwell splashed and paddled, and Landfill joined in with his sprightly yipping.
Suddenly the boy fell silent. He cocked his ear. He could hear noises from further down the Gully: barking from Muttbrough. The dogs were agitated. Something was wrong.
Pulling Orwell to his chest, Landfill splashed through the water towards the nearest bridge, then ran up the bank so he could crouch in the nook where the bridge’s end met the slope. He listened out for Hunger’s Eye, but there was nothing; only the dogs. When the barking continued without any hint of a rumble, he left the Gully and moved quickly, under cover of the Woods. He longed to drop to all fours and lope between the trees, but didn’t want to leave Orwell behind, so he continued on his feet.
The towering concrete wall of the Pale Loomer began to appear between the tree trunks ahead, and Landfill could see dogs running. Something else caught his eye: a shadow slipping along the gangway that bordered the Loomer. Before he could get a better look, it vanished with a slam of the Loomer’s side door. Landfill jumped behind a tree and leaned cautiously out to look again. The shadow was gone, leaving the dogs to bark and scratch at the door’s flaking paint.
With a steady eye on the door, Landfill hid behind tree trunks and continued towards the Loomer. When he reached the dogs, he crouched next to Woolf and handed Orwell over.
He unrolled his wet jeans from his knees while whispering, “What was it, Woolf? What went through the door?”
Woolf lapped silently at Orwell’s wet fur, so Landfill crawled to the other dogs. His glass blade flashed when he took it from his pocket. He kept his voice low and patted the dogs’ heads. “Easy, wooflers. Easy. Settle down and stay here. Might not be safe.”
Landfill crept to the door, but hesitated when he touched its handle. Returning the blade to his trousers, he bit his lip, lowered himself to all fours and followed the wall around its corner.
He stopped at the edge of the Loomer’s main opening. Putting his hands against the wall, he tilted his body and peered inside. Sunlight entered through windows and holes, falling upon mildewed pallets, scuffed train tracks and a floor green with mould. Machines were covered in powdery crusts of turquoise and emerald, and stalactites hung dripping from stained arches and gangways.
Seeing no sign of intruders, Landfill crouched and – keeping to the cover of machines and concrete pillars – crept through the cavernous chamber. After treading through a pool of stagnant water, he climbed some metal steps and prowled the raised gangway that lined the inner wall.
The boy’s nose twitched. A new scent was in the air – something that pierced the must and mould. Something faint and flowery, but with a sweetness that tickled his nostrils. A noise came from a doorway he’d just passed – an echoing scrape – and he dived into a shadowy alcove. When he heard footsteps on the gangway, he covered his mouth to catch his shuddering breaths.
The footsteps were moving away from him, towards the stairway. At one point they stopped, and all became so quiet that the drip-drop of stalactites rang like a downpour in Landfill’s ears. A brief flash filled the chamber, obliterating shadows and forcing Landfill to shrink even further into the alcove. Then the footsteps continued.
As they descended the steps, Landfill held his breath and leaned a little from the alcove. Skin prickled at the nape of his neck. A dark, hooded figure was leaving the stairway and stopping at the edge of the stagnant puddle. It seemed to look around, scrutinizing machines and dials. Its head s
topped moving, so that its face was aimed at the rusty fire extinguisher propped against a wall.
Landfill’s spine turned to ice; the intruder must have seen the mice that lived in a crevice by the extinguisher. He whimpered and pushed his hands into his belly, trying to fight the nausea. When the Outsider took a step towards the extinguisher, he left the alcove and squatted by the railing.
The Outsider drew in on the mice, and the boy found himself sneaking, on toes and fingertips, along the gangway. While the Outsider tampered with a black device in its hands, Landfill descended the stairs with his belly almost brushing every step. The hairs on his arms felt as brittle as glass, and the steps seemed to slip and sway beneath his clammy palms.
The intruder was on its haunches now, leaning in over the extinguisher. Slowly, soundlessly, but with his heart racing so hard he feared it would give him away, Landfill crept across concrete and inched his way to the Outsider’s rear. He held his breath and stopped just behind the crouching figure, realizing with a painful twist of the gut that he had no idea what to do next.
Fretting silently, Landfill noticed long hair – as slick as silk and impossibly clean – tumbling down from the side of the intruder’s hood. He couldn’t resist tilting himself, just a little, trying to get a glimpse of its face.
His nostrils flared. He could only see hints of some features – the protruding nub of a nose, a shadowy cheek – but they were enough to keep him tilting, twisting, leaning just that little bit further.
Brown eyes and soft lips – smiling lips – came into view. Landfill was trying to comprehend that the face wasn’t like that of the Outsider in the Pit – that if anything it was more like his own – when those brown eyes flitted towards him. He realized with a whimper that he’d gone too far.
He straightened up to twist and run, but the Outsider shot to its feet and clipped his chin with the side of its head. Landfill yelped and reeled, with pain sending white flickers through his vision. He saw the intruder flinch and rub its head. The knock to his chin had sent his hand to his pocket, and as soon as he pulled out his blade the Outsider gasped. With lips twisting, it lunged and butted its black device against Landfill’s nose. A small glass rectangle glimmered before his eyes, and with a click and a flash, everything disappeared.
Blinded by whiteness, Landfill heard a gravelly scrape and took a thump to the chest. The air seemed to hurtle behind him, and he felt hard ground fly up to wallop his back. He lashed out wildly with his blade, felt it catch and heard a cry. The blade was knocked away, and Landfill wailed when something heavy crushed his outspread arms.
When his vision returned, he saw the Outsider straddling his torso and arms and holding something above its head. Its chest rose and fell in brisk jerks, and its eyes were wide and white with terror. Landfill struggled to tear his pupils from the red swell on the Outsider’s temple, and when he finally did he clocked the fire extinguisher gripped between its raised, trembling palms. He turned his head aside and winced, waiting for the impact of metal against skull.
But the extinguisher didn’t fall. It remained in the air, and Landfill saw the Outsider’s grimace quake and falter. A tear ran down its cheek and – after tossing the extinguisher aside – it shuffled from his body and retreated towards a pallet, where it sat and put its head in its hands.
Landfill scrabbled onto his haunches. With his eyes brimming, he found his blade and backed himself quickly against the wall, where he snivelled quietly and tried to control his breathing. When he finally found his voice it was quivering and weak. “Could have hurt me.” He sniffed and rubbed the tears from his cheeks. “But you…you…”
The Outsider lifted its head slowly from its palms, and looked at the fire extinguisher on the ground before returning Landfill’s stare. “Didn’t? Course I didn’t. How… Why…” Something seemed to catch in its throat.
Landfill gawped at the intruder’s mouth. It took him a moment to process what he’d heard – to grasp that he’d understood the Outsider’s words.
The Outsider wiped a sleeve across its eyes and tried again. “Why would I? You looked even more terrified than me.”
Its voice was thick with phlegm, but Landfill heard delicacy beneath the clog of tears. There was no rawness to the intruder’s tone – none of the gruffness or bile he was used to from Babagoo. He became aware of a stickiness on his hands, and glanced down to see the blood on his blade and fingers. He swayed on his haunches, lost for a moment in that red, lurid sheen.
A small sniff had him raising his eyes. He stared at the intruder, eyeing the black device that hung from its neck, and noticing the stark cleanness of its grey hooded top and tight blue jeans. The Outsider had long, auburn hair that shone like foxes when they left the Gully. And its face… There was a softness to it that confused the boy – a softness as intriguing as it was alien. A plump roundness in its cheeks. Small lips. Brown, heavy-lidded eyes beneath thin, tidy eyebrows. It looked young – perhaps not much older than Landfill himself.
The intruder spoke again. “And look at you. You’re just a kid.” It touched the cut on its temple and hissed, and its voice hardened. “What’s wrong with you? Why’d you sneak up on me like that?”
Landfill glanced at the crevice in the wall. “You were going to hurt the mice.”
“Hurt them? I was taking pictures.” The Outsider pulled at its hood to dab the wound. “Why would I want to hurt mice?”
Landfill didn’t reply. He was grappling with the words lodged in his throat, and finally managed to force them out. “How’d you get in?” He grimaced and braced himself for the answer, his stomach cold with dread.
The Outsider studied him while it replied. “A tunnel under the wall. Beneath some nettles. I’ve been looking for a way in for ages. Is that how you got in?” Its eyebrows rose. “What? What is it?”
Landfill’s entire body had become pale. He fought the fresh tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, and battled an urge to vomit on the spot. He belched roughly, and had to take a deep breath before he could speak again. “Why’d you come here? Was it Hunger’s Eye? Did it see me?”
The Outsider’s face was blank. “I…I don’t know what you mean. I came here for photos.”
Landfill shook his fringe. “You do know.” He pointed up with his blade. “The Eye. Flying above all the time. Looking for…for me.”
The Outsider furrowed its brow and blew some air through its cheeks. Then it looked at the sky through the chamber’s opening. Its eyes widened. “You mean the jets? From the base?” It tilted its head. Something that was almost amusement crept into its expression. “They’re not looking for you. It’s just military exercises. They wouldn’t even notice you.”
Landfill was scrunching his face and shaking his head. He had his free hand pressed against his ear.
The Outsider’s voice softened, just a little. “Hey, why don’t you put that glass down. I’m not going to hurt you. Not if you don’t hurt me.” It got slowly up from the pallet, took a step forward.
Landfill stopped shaking his head and hacked the air. Some colour had returned to his face. “Stay back! Stay back and shut up!” The hairs stood erect on his arms. “You won’t trick me! You’re jabbering nonsense. Fibbery and mischief!”
The Outsider stopped moving and held up its palms. “Look. Calm down. I—”
The glass flashed again. “Stay back!”
The Outsider stayed put. With those soft lips drooping, it rubbed its chin. “Where are you from? You’re not from town, are you? I’ve never seen you there. Are your parents with you?”
Landfill only glared in reply.
“Where’s your mum and dad? Do they know you’re running around barefoot and assaulting people?”
Landfill grimaced. “Nonsense words. Tricks and gibberish.”
The Outsider frowned. Its tone hardened again. “Your mother and father. Are they here?”
Landfill’s blade dipped. His gaze dropped as he repeated the word beneath his breath. “Mother�
�” He spoke more to himself than to the intruder. “Heard that…somewhere…”
The Outsider nodded. “Yeah, your mother. Where is she?”
Slowly, Landfill raised his eyes. The Outsider studied his straining features, and its face darkened. “Something’s wrong here.”
Landfill stepped towards the Outsider and raised his blade – still wet with blood – to its face. “You’re wrong here.”
The Outsider took a step back, its eyes shimmering. “No. Something’s very…off here. Why—”
A distant shout, cracked and harsh: “Landfill! Where are you, boy?”
Landfill flinched, and they glanced as one through the Loomer’s opening. The boy’s face crumpled, his breaths bursting and shallow.
“Who’s that?” The intruder’s forehead furrowed. “Hang on. They don’t have security here, do they?”
Landfill was wincing and pressing a hand to the back of his head. He opened his eyes and jumped towards the Outsider, slashing with his blade. “Leave,” he hissed. “Go the way you came and don’t come back.”
The Outsider looked him in the eye, nodded and started to sprint. Landfill sprinted too, following the Outsider into daylight and across asphalt. Babagoo’s voice also seemed to follow, narrowing its distance from the pair: “Landfill! Where are you? You should be at the vejble patch!”
The Outsider dashed past the Rippletop’s front and around its corner, followed closely by Landfill and his flashing blade. When they got to the cabins, they found some dogs sniffing around the tunnel’s mouth. Vonnegut was among them. The huge Alsatian tensed before twisting to bare his fangs at the Outsider.
Landfill grunted and waved his hands, and the hounds backed away. He turned to the Outsider. “Get out.”
Scavengers Page 11
