Garbage Man Read Free Page A

of what I could salvage and how best to destroy those who assailed me.
    This night, though, I know in my heart it will be worse. Somehow, the sunsets hold a clue to how the night will be and here I am, not ready. Not ready by a long chalk, with the sun slipping behind gangrenous clouds, casting ochre and meat-toned shadows everywhere. The clouds lump up into intestinal creases, promising rain and possibly lightning.
    And what do I have to get me through a night I know will be the leanest yet for bounties, the roughest yet for attacks and ambushes? My pack contains two bottles of protein supplement shakes - one strawberry, the other pineapple, for what little that’s worth. For the dark I’ve been lucky enough to discover a miner’s headlamp and spare batteries. I have syringes, antibiotics, needle, thread, bandage and scissors and one large bottle of topical disinfectant. In case of a real emergency, I have a single shot of adrenaline that might buy me enough time to find a hiding place where I can rest up for a while .
    Problem is, while I am the hunter in the daytime, at night they come looking for me. Finding somewhere with a strong enough door to keep them out, even a lone determined one, will require a major stroke of good fortune. I don’t hold out much hope. One wound tonight, one serious bite or cut, and I will be sharing the dirt with the rest of them.
    I have one thing going for me.
    In the three days I’ve been here, I’ve found good handheld weapons. After using the flick knife I arrived with, I discovered a length of hefty pipe. A couple of well-aimed blows to the head with that was enough to take any of them down. At least so far. Then in a really tight spot, badly wounded and needing to tend to myself, I found a fire axe - lightweight haft and sharp as the day it was made. Get the swing right and it removed heads in a single swipe. Using it had almost been a pleasure after that.
    Accordingly, my hand-to-hand skill increased. In one house I bested an unusually fast and deft assailant. Killing it had been a major undertaking until I found its weak spot. When I subsequently searched the house, I found manuals on martial techniques and then, completely by accident, I discovered a false section in the bedroom wall. Behind it had been built a small alcove and altar. On this altar, next to the statue of some eastern deity I didn’t recognise, was a sheathed katana . I wasted no time strapping it to myself and making a few test strokes in the air of the bedroom. As if I’d been born to hold that very weapon, the strokes from the manuals came to me like inspiration.
    It was the confidence that weapon and those skills gave me that made me so careless of the time. Feeling unassailable and swaggering into every house on every street in search of booty, I’ve passed a whole day without making any real progress.
    And now the darkness is coming; bruised, aching nightfall over a dead town full of sickness. I have my pack, lightly stocked by any standards, and I have my head-lamp, which I now put on. And I have my katana; the one thing that might surely cut through this night and lead the way to morning.
    ***
    The RefuSec Waste Management truck pulled up to the gates of Shreve District Council landfill at 6.05 mother gates were locked and the staff car park was empty save for a dust covered and dented Ford Mondeo. It was dark and an uneasy breeze agitated the gates causing them to clang softly on their hinges.
    On the other side of the entrance, a light was on in one of the prefab buildings. Another, taller block of light appeared as the door of the building opened. Briefly it was filled by the silhouette of a man pulling on a coat. The door shut behind him. As he approached the gates, the truck’s headlights picked out the day-glo stripes on his workwear.
    A light mounted on top of the fence began to pulse orange and the gates slid open with a minimum of noise from their well-maintained