Barry hated the term "dumpster diving"—he considered himself a "freegan" He was proud that almost everything he owned was scavenged from the trash.
Thigh-deep in the bin behind Rossi’s, Barry was only slightly creeped out by the sea of dismembered mannequins surrounding him. Finding the actual mangled corpse under a piece of cardboard, however, sent him into complete panic.
“I need police—” Barry’s phone went flying when the moulded forearm pierced his chest. He could only gurgle as plastic fingers prodded, and frozen mouths whispered, “Welcome…”
***
“Score!” Wally pocketed the phone, then climbed into the dumpster, searching for treasure…
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Network Error by Kristin Lennox"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Teke Two by Liam Hogan"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Kent Town Station by James M. Rose"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Future’s Reflections by M. Tensor"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>