Diggers (10 page)

“Oh, yes. All the time.”

Grimma frowned.

“
I
know one thing,” she said. “When Masklin comes back, he's going to have somewhere to come back to.”

“Oh,” said Dorcas.

“Oh,” he repeated. “Oh. I see.”

It was bitterly cold in Big John's lair. Other nomes never came in, because it was drafty and stank unpleasantly. That suited Dorcas fine.

He padded across the floor and under the huge tarpaulin where Big John lived. It took quite a long time to climb up to his preferred perch on the monster, even using the bits of wood and string he'd painstakingly tied to it . . .
him
.

He sat down and waited until he got his breath back.

“I only want to help people,” he said quietly. “Like giving them things like electricity and making their lives better. But they never say thank you, you know. They wanted me to paint signs, so I painted signs. Now Grimma wants to fight humans. She's got lots of ideas out of books. I know she's doing it to help forget about Masklin, but no good will come of it, you mark my words. But if I don't help, things will only be even worse. I don't want
anybody
to get hurt. People like us can't be repaired as easily as people like you.”

He drummed his heels on Big John's—what would it be?—Big John's neck, probably.

“It's all right for you,” he said. “Sleeping quietly here all the time. Having a nice rest . . .”

He stared at Big John for a long while.

Then, very quietly, he said, “I wonder . . . ?”

Five long minutes went past. Dorcas appeared and reappeared among the complicated shadows, muttering to himself, saying things like “That's dead, that's no good, we need a new battery,” and “Seems okay, nothing that a good clean couldn't put right,” and “Hmm, not much in your tank. . . .”

Finally he walked out from under the dusty cloth and rubbed his hands together.

Everyone has a purpose in life, he thought. It's what keeps them going.

Nisodemus wants things to be as they were. Grimma wants Masklin back. And Masklin . . . no one knows exactly what it is that Masklin wants, except that it's very big.

But they all have this
purpose
. If you have a purpose in life, you can feel six inches tall.

And now I've found one.

Gosh.

The human came back later, and he did not come alone. There was the small truck and a much larger one, with the words
Blackbury Stone & Gravel Ltd
painted on the side. Its tires turned the thin coating of snow into glistening mud.

It jolted up the lane, slowed down as it came out into the space in front of the quarry gates, and stopped.

It wasn't a very good stop. The back of the vehicle swung around and nearly hit the hedge. The engine coughed into silence. There was the sound of hissing. And, very slowly, the truck sank.

Two humans got out. They walked around the truck, looking at each tire in turn.

“They're only flat at the bottom,” whispered Grimma, in their hiding place in the bushes.

“Don't worry about it,” whispered Dorcas. “The thing about tires is, the flat bit always sinks to the bottom. Amazing what you can do with a few nails, isn't it?”

The smaller truck came to a stop. Two humans got out of that, too, and joined the others. One of them was holding the longest pair of pliers Dorcas had ever seen. While the rest of the humans bent down by one of the flat tires, it strolled up to the gate, fiddled the teeth of the pliers onto the padlock, and squeezed.

It was an effort, even for a human. But there was a snap loud enough to be heard in the bushes, and then a long-drawn-out clinking noise as the chain fell away.

Dorcas groaned. He'd had great hopes for that chain. It was Big John's; at least, it was in a big yellow box bolted to part of Big John, so presumably it had belonged to Big John. But it had been the padlock that had broken, not the chain. Dorcas felt oddly proud about that.

“I don't understand it,” Grimma muttered. “They can see they're not wanted, so why are they so stupid?”

“It's not as if there aren't masses of stone around,” agreed Sacco.

The human pulled at the gate and swung it enough to allow itself inside.

“It's going to the manager's office,” said Sacco. “It's going to make noises in the telephone.”

“No, it's not,” Dorcas prophesied.

“But it will be ringing up Order,” said Sacco. “It'll be saying—in Human, I mean—it'll be saying, ‘Some Of Our Wheels Have Gone Flat.'”

“No,” said Dorcas, “it'll be saying, ‘Why Doesn't the Telephone Work?'”

“Why doesn't the telephone work?” said Nooty.

“Because I know what wires to cut,” said Dorcas. “Look, it's coming back out.”

They watched it walk around the sheds. The snow had covered the nomes' sad attempts at cultivation. There were plenty of nome tracks, though, like little bird trails in the snow. The human didn't notice them. Humans hardly ever noticed anything.

“Trip wires,” said Grimma.

“What?” said Dorcas.

“Trip wires. We should put trip wires down. The bigger they are,” said Grimma, “the harder they fall.”

“Not on us, I hope,” said Dorcas.

“No. We could put more nails down,” said Grimma.

“Good grief.”

The humans clustered around the stricken truck. Then they appeared to reach a decision and walked back to the Land Rover. They got in. It couldn't go forward but reversed slowly down the lane, turned around in a field gateway, and headed back to the main road. The truck was left alone.

Dorcas breathed out.

“I was afraid one of them would stay,” he said.

“They'll come back,” said Grimma. “You've always said it. Humans'll come back and mend the wheels or whatever it is they do.”

“Then we'd better get on with it,” said Dorcas. “Come on, you lot.”

He stood up and trotted toward the lane. To Sacco's surprise, Dorcas was whistling under his breath.

“Now, the important thing is to make sure they can't move it,” he said as they ran to keep up. “If they can't move it, it means it stays blocking the lane. And if it stays blocking the lane, they can't get any more machines in.”

“Good thinking,” said Grimma in a slightly puzzled voice.

“We must immobilize it,” said Dorcas. “We'll take out the battery first. No electricity, no go.”

“Right,” said Sacco.

“It's a big square thing,” said Dorcas. “It'll need eight of you at least. Don't drop it, whatever you do.”

“Why not?” said Grimma. “We want to smash it, don't we?”

“Er. Er. Er,” said Dorcas urgently, like a motor trying to get started. “No, because, because, because it could be dangerous. Yes. Dangerous. Yes. Because, because, because of the acid and whatnot. You must take it out very carefully, and I'll find somewhere safe to put it. Yes. Very safe. Off you go now. Two nomes to a wrench.”

They trotted off.

“What else can we do?” said Grimma.

“We'd better drain the fuel out,” said Dorcas firmly, as they walked under the shadow of the truck. It was much smaller than the one that had brought them out of the Store, but still quite big enough. He wandered around until he was under the enormous swelling bulk of the fuel tank.

Four of the young nomes had dragged an empty can out of the bushes. Dorcas called them over and pointed to the tank above them.

“There'll be a nut on there somewhere,” he said. “It'll be to let the fuel out. Get a wrench round it. Make sure the can's underneath it first!”

They nodded enthusiastically and got to work. Nomes are good climbers and remarkably strong for their size.

“And try not to spill any, please!” Dorcas shouted up after them.

“I don't see why that matters,” said Grimma, behind him. “All we want to do is get it out of the truck. Where it
goes
doesn't matter, does it?”

She gave him another thoughtful look. Dorcas blinked back at her, his mind racing.

“Ah,” he said. “Ah. Ah. Because. Becausebecausebecause. Ah. Because it's dangerous stuff. We don't want it polluting things, do we? Best to put it carefully in a can and—”

“Keep it safe?” said Grimma suspiciously.

“Right! Right,” said Dorcas, who was starting to sweat. “Good idea. Now let's just go over here—”

There was sudden rush of air and a thump from right behind them. The truck's battery landed where they had been standing.

“Sorry, Dorcas,” Sacco called down. “It was a lot heavier than we thought. It got away from us.”

“You idiots!” Grimma shouted.

“Yes, you idiots!” shouted Dorcas. “You might have damaged it! Just you come down here right now and get it into the hedge, quickly!”

“He might have damaged
us
!” said Grimma.

“Yes. Yes. Yes, that's what I meant, of course,” said Dorcas vaguely. “You wouldn't mind organizing them a bit, would you? They're good boys, but always a bit too enthusiastic, if you know what I mean.”

He wandered off into the shadow, his head tilted backward.

“Well!” said Grimma. She looked around at Sacco and his friends, who were sheepishly climbing down again.

“Don't just stand there,” she said. “Get it into the hedge. Hasn't Dorcas told you about using levers? Very important things. It's amazing what you can do with levers. We used them a lot on the Long Drive—”

Her voice trailed off. She turned and looked at the distant figure of Dorcas and her eyes narrowed.

The cunning old devil is up to something
, she thought.

“Oh, just get on with it,” she said, and ran after Dorcas.

He was standing under the truck's engine, staring intently into the masses of rusting pipework. As she came up, she distinctly heard him say, “Now, what else do we need?”

“How do you mean, need?” said Grimma quietly.

“Oh, to help Big—” Dorcas stopped and turned around slowly. “I mean, what else do we need to
do
to make the thing totally immobile,” he said stonily. “That was what I meant.”

“You're not planning to drive this truck, are you?” said Grimma.

“Don't be silly. Where'd we go? It'd never get across the fields to the barn.”

“Well. All right, then.”

“I just want to have a look around it. Time spent collecting knowledge is never wasted,” said Dorcas primly. He stepped out into the light on the other side of the truck and looked up.

“Well, well,” he said.

“What is it?”

“They left the door open. I suppose they thought it was all right because they'd be coming back.”

Grimma followed his gaze. The truck's door
was
slightly ajar.

Dorcas looked around at the hedge behind them.

“Help me find a big enough stick,” he said. “I reckon we could climb up there and have a look around.”

“A look around? What do you expect to find?”

“You never know till you've looked,” said Dorcas philosophically. He peered back underneath the truck.

“How are you all doing under there? We need a hand here.”

Sacco staggered up. “We managed to get the battery thing behind the hedge,” he said, “and the can's nearly full. Smells horrible. There's still lots coming out.”

“Can you get the screw back in?”

“Nooty tried and she got all covered in yuk.”

“Let it go on the road, then,” said Dorcas.

“Hang on, you said that would be dangerous,” said Grimma. “It's dangerous until you've filled the can up, is it, and then not dangerous at all?”

“Look, you wanted me to stop the truck, and I've stopped the truck,” said Dorcas. “So just shut up, will you?”

Grimma looked at him in horror.

“What did you say?” she said.

Dorcas swallowed. Oh, well. If you were going to get shouted at, you might as well get your money's worth.

“I said just shut up,” he said quietly. “I don't want to be rude, but you do go on at people. I'm sorry, but that's how it is. I'm helping you. I'm not asking you to help me, but at least you can let me get on with things instead of badgering me the whole time. And you never say please or thank you, either. People are a bit like machines,” he added solemnly, while her face went redder, “and words like please and thank you are just like grease. They make them work better. Is that all right?” He turned to the boys, who were looking very embarrassed.