Amberville - By Tim Davys Page 0,76

the peculiar landscape of refuse.

Like many nights before, Bataille had been deeply embroiled in conversation with the hot-tempered Louise, a beige-brown terrier with deformed eyes who, based on some sort of principle, never agreed. For many months they had discussed the relationship between inherited instincts and inherited desires, but their quarrels were not particularly committed. They sat in a couple of deck chairs that were patched together with black tarp. Far away were the abandoned streets of Lanceheim, and for Bataille and Louise the four stuffed animals who made their way into the Garbage Dump were as obvious as an armada on the open sea. If not equally terror-inspiring. Bataille didn’t even stop talking.

“Do you think they’re on their way here?” asked the terrier, when the hyena paused at one point.

“Who?” asked Bataille.

Louise nodded toward Lanceheim.

“Anyone you recognize?”

Louise shook her head. “Not at this distance.”

“No,” said Bataille. “But that doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Louise giggled.

“Is this the plan?” asked Snake.

Because no one answered, he continued in a tone of voice that was just as unnatural as it was indignant. “Are we just going straight into the Garbage Dump, look up the rat, and convince her to change the list? Is that the plan?”

Tom-Tom snorted.

“Damn, how ridiculous you are now, Marek,” said the crow. “It’s clear as hell that Eric has a plan.”

“Do tell, Eric,” Snake asked scornfully, “about this plan. Let’s hear it.”

Eric Bear was walking a few meters ahead of the others and finally discovered a hole in the fence, farther north than he’d thought, but here it was. He nodded.

“We go in here,” he said, pointing.

Sam took a few quick steps up to the bear and whispered, “You’re sure about this?”

But Eric didn’t answer, pretending not to hear; he was already on his way into the Garbage Dump. He climbed carefully up a mountain of trash where you had to keep your wits about you so as not to step on something that would give way and slide down. The lights from Lanceheim didn’t extend more than a few meters into the area, after which the moon would have to guide them where they slowly and with great care climbed alongside one another up the trash mountain. Each time someone stepped on an object that fell down, all four of them stopped until the sound died out. Only after having assured themselves of renewed silence did they continue to climb. They’d all heard what happened to animals who made their way uninvited into the Garbage Dump.

Higher and higher they climbed, and when after more than half an hour they stood atop the mountain and looked out over the threatening contours of the Garbage Dump, which seemed to stretch into infinity in the moonlight, they were thoroughly out of breath.

Without uttering a word, Eric pointed out the direction, and they started walking south. He realized that they were forced to climb down onto the Left-hand Road and up onto the trash mountain again before they could make their way onto the Middle Road and begin the march toward the Garbage Town. Judging by the climbing they had just carried out, it would take them at least a few hours. But the night was long and there were no other alternatives. The despair which had been growing all day in his heart now burst out in full bloom, and the steps over the treacherous terrain felt heavy.

“We’re going right into a trap,” whispered Snake to Sam, who was walking beside him. “And you know it.”

Sam didn’t answer.

“What are they doing?” asked Louise.

She was standing on a stool next to Hyena Bataille and thus could whisper the words right into the hyena’s ear. The hyena shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He was holding a telescope to his eyes, and slowly lowered it.

“They’re on their way south,” he said. “Toward the Left-hand Road.”

“Should we take them there?” asked Louise.

“You can bet your sweet ass on that,” said Bataille.

“Who are they?” asked Louise.

“Three strangers and an animal that I hate more than any other animal on this earth,” answered Bataille.

This surprising answer caused Louise Terrier to feel ill at ease. A Bataille in a bad mood was a danger to everyone.

When the four stuffed animals came up to the precipice that led down to the Left-hand Road, they had been in the Garbage Dump for almost an hour. They had proceeded in silence, and their misgivings grew in step with their fatigue. The dump was silent and deserted, a fact that