The Outsider climbed into the hole, but paused to look at Landfill. “You coming too? You don’t want to get caught in here. Your parents could get fined.”
Landfill clutched his blade in both hands. “Please get out.” He aimed the blade at the Outsider, but a note of pleading rang in his voice. “Please go away and never come back. Never come back or tell the other Outsiders. Please.”
“Outsiders?” The intruder gawped at him from the hole, and its brow began to crumple. “Listen. I’m going to be back tomorrow. Meet me, okay? Here, in this spot.”
Landfill blinked and stuttered, unable to work out what he wanted to say. Meanwhile, the Outsider had wriggled into the tunnel and vanished from sight.
Another call from Babagoo: “Landfill!”
Landfill dropped to the ground to scrabble frantically with his hands, grabbing at foliage and doing his best to cover the hole. Vonnegut barked and nuzzled his hair, and Landfill kept working while he replied. “I know! I’ll fill it in later. The Outsider won’t… It won’t get back in. I’ll block it soon. No time now.”
When the tunnel was hidden, Landfill sprinted from the cabins with the dogs bounding beside him. He turned a corner and saw Babagoo crossing the Rippletop’s tracks.
Landfill puffed and scratched his cheek in greeting, but the scavenger just raised an eyebrow. “What’re you playing at? I heard noises.”
“I… It was the dogs. They…got worked up.”
“You’re hurt.”
The boy followed the scavenger’s gaze, and saw the Outsider’s blood on his fingers. “Cut myself playing. That’s why the dogs got worked up. Nothing worrisome. Just a nick.”
Babagoo searched his expression, then took a deep breath. “You should be tending vejbles, and I need to get to the Pit. Respect the routine, Landfill. Rule—”
“Fourteen.”
Babagoo’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, fourteen.” He nodded slowly and tapped his trapper hat. “So stop dawdledallying and hop to it.”
Landfill took his opportunity and scarpered. He lapped at his wrist as he ran, and nearly fell over when his tongue crossed a sticky trickle of red.
He gaped again at the Outsider’s blood. It tasted exactly like his own.
Later on, Landfill wolfed down dinner and got an early start on the animals’ evening feed. He loped around Hinterland with his plastic bag of gull, with eyes that moved constantly towards the Rippletop.
He was sweating when he reached Muttbrough. The dogs gathered around him, tongues flapping against spittle-soaked jaws.
“Can’t stay, wooflers,” he panted. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Something needs doing. Got a hole to—”
He fell silent when he saw Woolf at Muttbrough’s trough. She was lifting Orwell by the nape of his neck and propping him at the trough’s edge. The boy’s eyes widened when he remembered where he’d first heard that word – the one Babagoo had used for Woolf that time. He whispered it – “Mother…” – and took a slow step back.
Landfill threw down some meat and ran. He completed the evening feed in good time, stopping by the hole only to tidy its foliage.
The following day, Landfill ate his lunch as quickly as he could.
Babagoo watched him from the other side of the stove. He picked some meat from his beard and plopped it into his mouth. “I take it you don’t fancy some gull with those vejbles.”
Without taking his mouth from his food, Landfill shook his head.
“Didn’t think so.” The scavenger rolled his eyes. “Then at least take your time with those taytoes, lad. You’ll choke if you don’t slow down.”
Landfill gulped down a wad of potato so big it made his eyes water. “Hungry,” he coughed.
“Hungry and quiet. Can’t help noticing you’ve barely spoken a word today. Weren’t exactly chatty last night either. What is it? Something on your mind?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Babagoo chewed some more gull, spat a bone to the floor. “No sign can be a sure sign.”
Landfill ignored him.
“How’s your cut?”
The boy looked at the nick he’d cut into his finger the day before. “Fine.” He polished off the last of his beetroot and got up.
“Where you off to?”
“Lull-time, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes. That it is. You just seem in a rush. Going to give yourself belly pains. Where’re you heading?”
“Nowhere. Just want a wander. Feeling restless.”
“Restless, eh?” Babagoo wriggled his bushy eyebrows at Kafka, who was grazing on the remains of a mouldy straw basket. He returned his attention to the boy. “If you’re that restless, you can come help me mend panels in the Ivy Stack.”
Landfill was already exiting through the metal door. “Not that restless.”
He heard the scavenger grunt, just before the door slammed. “Didn’t think so.”
Upon nearing the Rippletop, Landfill checked over his shoulder. No sign of Babagoo. He looked up and searched the sky’s deep blue. Hunger’s Eye hadn’t passed over since he’d encountered the Outsider. He wondered miserably whether that meant anything.
There had been no trace of the intruder during his dawn inspection. He’d checked around the hole during the animals’ morning feed too, but there was nothing. He half-expected to find nothing again when he passed the northernmost cabin, and inhaled sharply at the sight of the Outsider sat cross-legged next to the hole, plucking petals from a purple crocus. Its grey hood was down, and it wore a plastic band around its neck, with two cups at its ends, the padded rims of which rested beneath the Outsider’s jaw.
Landfill whipped out his blade. He aimed it at the cabin nearest to the hole. “In there. Now.”
The Outsider raised an eyebrow. “How about you put that glass away first? Hasn’t it done enough harm already?”
Landfill shook his head and the Outsider shrugged.
“Okay,” it sighed. “We’ll do things your way. But if you come near me with that thing, I’m going to shout and make all the noise I can. Maybe that man’ll come check it out. You didn’t seem keen on him finding us yesterday.”
It got up and brushed dirt from its hands. Before following it into the cabin, Landfill glanced over his shoulder again and tidied the hole’s foliage with a shaking foot.
When he entered the cabin, he saw foxes bristling beneath a wonky table. The Outsider was standing by the window, watching them with a white, tidy smile as curious as it was unsettling.
“God,” said the Outsider. “I love foxes. They’re gorgeous, aren’t they? You see them around town at night sometimes, but I’ve never been this close.” It clucked its tongue at the foxes. “Hey. Hey there…”
“Get down,” hissed Landfill, his eyes on the window. “Low.”
“Alright, alright.” The Outsider crouched, but its attention was still on the foxes. “Hey, don’t be scared.” Its brown eyes twinkled. “Ah, just realized… Got something you might like.”
Landfill crouched too. His eyes flitted between the Outsider and the window, and he raised his blade when the Outsider reached into its top.
“Fancy some of this, little guys?” It took out a small packet of biscuits and held one out to the foxes. “Don’t be shy,” it said, then peered at Landfill. “You want one?”
Landfill shook his head, and held up a palm when two foxes edged out from under the table, their dark nostrils twitching. “No. Rushdie. Carter. Stay away. Get back.”
“They’ve got names? Cute. And what about you?” The Outsider turned its eyes to Landfill. “You might not have shoes, but I’m guessing you at least have a name.”
Landfill shook his head. His lips were pressed firmly together.
“That man, the voice we heard… He called for Lanville. You responded to that. Is that your name? Lanville?”
Landfill’s lips were rigid.
“I’m Dawn, by the way. If you’re not going to answer, I’ll assume you’re Lanville. Is that right, Lanvill
e? Strange name, though. Lanville. Sounds a bit posh. You certainly don’t look posh. You hiding a silver spoon somewhere, Lanville?”
“Landfill,” blurted the boy.
The Outsider tilted its head. “Your name’s Landfill? As in rubbish?”
“As in precious.”
The Outsider’s laugh was buoyant and bright. It fluttered around the cabin like an exotic bird. “Suit yourself, Landfill. Hey!” The last word was addressed to the foxes, who were finishing the biscuit still in its hand. Two further foxes had left the table to sniff its fingers, and it took more biscuits from the packet.
Landfill adjusted himself so that his knees were on the floor. The Outsider’s laughter had weakened his legs somehow. His stomach tingled in an unfamiliar way, and he struggled to steady the blade in his hand. “Don’t even try to hurt the foxlers.”
The Outsider glared at him abruptly. Its cheeks and small lips tautened with something close to disgust. “Can you stop with this hurting animals stuff? And what’s with the ‘foxler’ talk? They’re foxes.” It shook its head, pouting slightly. “And talking of hurt, you cut me pretty badly yesterday.” It tapped a brownish patch that hid the wound on its temple. “That bit of glass you’re messing about with isn’t a toy, you know. I’d throw it away if I were you, before someone gets seriously hurt.”
Landfill didn’t respond. He had to blink the sweat from his eyes, even though the cabin was musty and cool.
The Outsider adopted Landfill’s posture by resting its knees on the frayed carpet. Its pout gradually disappeared, shifting into something more resigned. “Listen. I’m not sure what happened yesterday. I think we both got a bit of a scare – freaked each other out. But you know, that’s what happens when you go sneaking up on people. Accidents happen, yeah?” It tapped the patch on its temple again and sighed. “Anyway, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Landfill had been braced for anything but an apology. It struck him like the parry of a second blade, and the glass began to slip between his thumb and fingers. His mouth fell open. “Sss…sorry?”
“Yeah.” The Outsider nodded glumly. “For knocking you over like that. For nearly…you know…with the extinguisher…” It puffed its cheeks and shrugged. “You scared the life out of me, and when you got that glass out I thought it was a knife. You can imagine what went through my head, right? I lost my senses for a second. It was a close call.”
It forced a laugh and puffed out its cheeks again. “Anyway, I wanted to clear the air and check you’re alright. I was scared, but you looked terrified. Like, ready to soil those tatty jeans of yours. But you’re okay, right?” The Outsider frowned. “You don’t look okay, if I’m honest. Are you still a bit rattled? I know it took me a while to stop shaking. Adrenaline, huh?”
The words sounded strangely faint to Landfill. They trailed behind the movements of the Outsider’s lips, as if they came from far away. He felt like he wasn’t really there – like he was watching the scene from outside the cabin. He gazed abstractly at the Outsider’s face, contemplating the smoothness of its skin, its strange softness. There was something in the Outsider’s shape too – in the curves of its chest and waist…
His mouth became suddenly dry. The Outsider must have noticed him licking his lips. “You thirsty?”
He shook his head.
The biscuits were gone, and the foxes had moved on to licking the Outsider’s fingers. “Tickles,” it giggled. It watched the foxes lapping away and chuckled lightly, and Landfill felt that tingle in his stomach again.
The Outsider’s smile disappeared when it returned its attention to Landfill. “So what’s the deal? Do you hang out here?”
Landfill didn’t reply. He was unable to follow or connect his thoughts. A detached numbness was spreading through his head and body.
The Outsider shifted awkwardly on its knees. “Actually, there’s another reason I came back. Your face, when that man called… First I thought we were running from a security guard or something, but this place has been shut off for years. And he called out for you. Mentioned a vegetable patch, which seems sort of odd. Who was he?”
Landfill was thrown back into his senses. He gasped suddenly, as if surfacing from the Gully for air. “He…he’s…gone. You won’t find him, so don’t even try.”
The Outsider shrugged. “But who is he? Why were we running from him?”
“He’s gone.”
The Outsider raised its eyebrows and whistled quietly. “Touchy subject, I guess.” It sat on the carpet and crossed its legs. “Are there any other kids here? It’s not the safest place to play, you know.”
Two foxes had their heads against the Outsider’s thigh. Landfill watched the Outsider’s hands while it stroked them. Its fingers were so smooth – so clean and nimble. They moved in such a gentle way, circling Carter’s dark ears and brushing Rushdie’s chin.
All moisture seemed to have left the boy’s mouth. He swallowed with some difficulty before speaking. “You’re different.”
“How’d you mean?”
Landfill gestured towards the Outsider’s hips with his blade, then pointed at its chest.
The Outsider’s back straightened. Those heavy-lidded eyes sharpened. “You what? You think you’re funny?”
“The other Outsider… In the Pit. It didn’t have that shape. Me and…” The boy bit his lip. “I don’t have it either. You’re…different.”
“Outsider? In a pit? You called me an outsider before. Is this a game? Is that what you play here?”
Landfill didn’t respond. The Outsider rolled its eyes. “Okay. I’ll play along, Landfill. I have this…shape because I’m female.” It tilted its head and turned its palms to the ceiling.
“Feemail?”
“Yup. You’re a he and I’m a she. Are we done now?”
Landfill’s eyes widened. “You’re…you’re a she?”
“Wow.” Dawn huffed through her nose. “Now you’re being plain rude. I’ve got to say, your manners are nearly as bad as your BO.”
“BO?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You don’t smell too great.”
Landfill’s nostrils flared. “I smell hunkadory.” He leaned forward and sniffed. “It’s you who smells queer. You don’t even have a smell. Not one that’s…yours, anyway.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Dawn matched Landfill’s glowering look. “Shall we drop this now? I didn’t actually come here to play games.” She got back to her knees, shuffled forward and started when Landfill moved away, his blade raised and quaking.
“Don’t come closer!” he said. “Stop jabbering and stay back! Stay back or I’ll…I’ll…”
The foxes began to bristle. Dawn shushed and stroked them until they settled down, all the while with a close eye on the boy.
“Nonsense and trickery,” continued Landfill. “It won’t work! Don’t want to talk to you.”
“Really? Then why’d you come to meet me? And can you please stop waving that glass about? I can see you’re too scared to do anything with it. I’m not stupid. You can barely hold it straight. You’re trembling like a leaf.”
Landfill didn’t respond. They scrutinized each other in silence.
Finally, Landfill released a deep breath. He ran his tongue across dry, cracked lips. “You said something. Yesterday. You asked about my…mother. What did you mean?”
“Oh god, here we go again…”
“What’s my mother?”
Another roll of the eyes. “Em-Oh-Tee-Haich-Ee-Arr. The person who made you. The person you came from.”
Landfill’s eyes grew larger. His blade dipped. “From…from inside the mother?”
“Yessss,” droned Dawn. “The woman who cares for you. Who probably shouldn’t be letting you—”
“Lies!” Landfill’s blade snapped back into place. His voice was harsh. “I wasn’t made by a mother. I don’t have one.”
Dawn forced a laugh. “Of course you do. Everyone has a mother. Even I have one.”
She paused and shrugged. “Had one, at least.”
“Well I’m not like you! I didn’t come from a mother and I don’t have one! I don’t have…anything!” Landfill’s chest was heaving, and the breaths shuddered from his nostrils as he tried to control his voice.
Dawn’s mouth hung limply open. The boy gulped at air and became dizzy when her scent – that ticklish, flowery aura – filled his lungs. The way she looked at him made his face prickle with heat. Her expression was almost too soft – too wounded – to bear.
“You’re getting all worked up,” she said. “Maybe you should put that glass down and try to relax.”
The blade felt heavy in the boy’s grip – so heavy he needed both hands to keep it up. He tried to speak harshly, but couldn’t contain the quaking in his throat. “If I put this glass anywhere, it’ll be in you.”
Dawn shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”
Landfill snarled. “I do.”
“Then why are you crying?”
The boy squeezed his eyes shut and whined when he felt the tears run down his cheeks. He was barely aware of the fact that Dawn had eased down his blade and put a hand on his shoulder. She spoke quietly, her breath warm against his ear.
“Hey. It’s okay.”
She reached into the neck of her top, and Landfill saw something gleaming through the blur of his tears.
“See this necklace?” said Dawn. “My mother gave it to me. It’s the only thing I have left of her. I was really young when she died. Never actually knew her. And my dad went AWOL before I was even born. I’m fostered.” She touched Landfill’s shoulder. “So I know what you’re saying. Sometimes it really does feel like you never had a mother. Like you came from nowhere. I know how it is. I’ve cried and got angry, just like you. Sometimes I still cry, even now. And that’s okay, you know? It’s good to cry.”
The foxes were gathering at Landfill’s ankles, brushing their whiskers against his jeans. He smelled that honey-flower scent again. It seemed to come from Dawn’s hair, which hung so softly, so silkily, like a balm against his cheek.
She rested a hand on his back, right between his shoulder blades. “It’s funny, isn’t it? To miss something you never had. You surround yourself with friends and keep yourself distracted, but it’s always there, every time you think about it. A big empty hole. The feeling that…you’re alone.”
Scavengers Page 12
