The Bromeliad 1 - Truckers

by Terry Pratchett

  The Store was on fire.

  Flames fluttered at some of the upper windows like curtains in a breeze. A pall of smoke rose gently from the roof and made a darker column against the rainy sky. The Store was having its last sale. It was hold­ing a Grand Final Clearance of specially selected sparks, and flames to suit every pocket.

  Humans bustled around in the street below it. There were a couple of lorries with ladders on them. It looked as though they were spraying water into the building.

  Masklin looked sidelong at Gurder, wondering what the nome was going to do. In fact he took it a lot better than Masklin would have believed, but when he spoke it was in a wound-up way, as if he was trying to keep his voice level.

  'It's... it's not how I imagined it,' he croaked.

  'No,' said Masklin.

  'We... we got out just in time.' 'Yes.' Gurder coughed. It was as if he'd just had a long debate with himself and had reached a deci­sion. 'Thanks to Arnold Bros (est. 1905),' he said firmly.

  Pardon?' Gurder stared at Masklin's face. 'If he hadn't called you to the Store, we'd all still be in there,' he said, sounding more confident with every word. 'But-' Masklin paused. That didn't make any sense. If they hadn't left, there wouldn't have been a fire. Would there? Hard to be sure. Maybe some fire had got out of a fire bucket. Best not to argue. There were some things people weren't happy to argue about, he thought. It was all very puzzling.

  'Funny he's letting the Store burn,' he said.

  'He needn't,' said Gurder. 'There's the sprink­lers, and there's these special things, to make the fire go out. Fire Exits, they're called. But he let the Store burn because we don't need it any more.' There was a crash as the entire top floor fell in on itself.

  'There goes Consumer Accounts,' said Masklin. 'I hope all the humans got out.' 'Who?' 'You know. We saw their names on the doors. Salaries. Accounts. Personnel. General Man­ager,' said Masklin.

  'I'm sure Arnold Bros (est. 1905) made arrange­ments,' said Gurder.

  Masklin shrugged. And then he saw, outlined against the firelight, the figure of Prices Slashed. There was no mistaking that hat. He was even holding his torch, and he was deep in conversa­tion with some other humans. When he half turned, Masklin saw his face. He looked very angry.

  He also looked very human. Without the terrible light, without the shadows of the Store at night, Prices Slashed was just another human.

  On the other hand...

  No, it was too complicated. And there were more important things to do.

  'Come on,' he said. 'Let's get back. I think we should get as far away as possible as quickly as we can.' 'I shall ask Arnold Bros (est. 1905) to guide us and lead us,' said Gurder firmly.

  'Yes, good,' said Masklin. 'Good idea. And why not? But now we really must-' 'Has his Sign not said If You Do Not See What You Require, Please Ask?' said Gurder.

  Masklin took him firmly by the arm. Everyone needs something, he thought. And you never know.

  'I pull this string,' said Angalo, indicating the thread over his shoulder and the way it disap­peared down into the depths of the cab, 'and the leader of the steering wheel left-puffing team will know I want to turn left. Because it's tied to his arm. And this other one goes to the right-pulling team. So we won't need so many signals and Dorcas can concentrate on the gears and things. And the brakes~ After all,' he added, 'we can't always rely on a wall to run into when we want to stop.' 'What about lights?' said Masklin. Angalo beamed. 'Signal for the lights,' he said, to the nome with flags. 'What we did was, we tied threads to switches-' There was a click. A big metal arm moved across the windscreen, clearing away the rain­drops. They watched it for a while.

  'Doesn't really illuminate much, does it?' said Grimma.

  Wrong switch,' muttered Angalo. 'Signal to leave the wipers on but put on the lights.' There was some muffled argument below them, and then another click. Instantly the cab was filled with the dull throbbing sound of a human voice.

  'It's all right,' said Angalo. 'It's only the radio. But it's not the lights, tell Dorcas~' 'I know what a radio is,' said Gurder. 'You don't have to tell me what a radio is.' 'What is it, then?' said Masklin, who didn't know.

  'Twenty-Nine Ninety-Five, Batteries Extra,' said Gurder. 'With AM, FM, and Auto-Reverse Cassette. Bargain Offer, Not to Be Repeat­ed.' 'Am and Fum?' said Masklin.

  'Yes.' The radio voice droned on.

  '-ggest fire in the town's history, with fire­men coming in from as far afield as Newtown. Meanwhile, police are searching for one of the store's lorries, last seen leaving the building just before-' 'The lights. The lights. Third switch along,' said Angalo. There was a few seconds pause, and then the alley in front of the lorry was bathed in white light.

  'There should be two, but one got broken when we left the Store,' said Angalo. 'Well, then, are we ready?' '-Anyone seeing the vehicle should contact Grimethorpe police on-' 'And turn off the radio,' said Angalo. 'That mooing gets on my nerves.' 'I wish we could understand it,' said Masklin. 'I'm sure they're fairly intelligent, if only we could understand it.' He nodded at Angalo. 'Okay,' he said. 'Let's go.' It seemed much better this time. The lorry scraped along the wall for a moment and then came free, and moved gently down the narrow alley towards the lights at the far end. As the lorry came out from between the dark walls, Angalo called for the brakes, and it stopped with only a mild jolt.

  Which way?' he said. Masklin looked blank.

  Gurder fumbled through the pages of the diary.

  'It depends on which way we're going,' he said. 'Look for signs saying, er, Africa. Or Canada, perhaps.' 'There's a sign,' said Angalo, peering through the rain. 'It says Town Centre. And then there's an arrow and it says-' He squinted. 'Onny-' 'One Way Street,' murmured Grimma.

  'Town Centre doesn't sound like a good idea,' said Masklin.

  'Can't seem to find it on the map, either,' said Gurder.

  We'll go the other way, then,' said Angalo, haul­ing on a thread.

  'And I'm not sure about One Way Street,' said Masklin. 'I think you should only go along it one way.' Well, we are,' said Angalo smugly. 'We're going this way.' The lorry rolled out of the side road and bumped neatly on to the pavement.

  'Let's have second gear,' said Angalo. 'And a bit more go-faster pedal.' A car swerved slowly out of the lorry's way, its horn sounding - to nome ears - like the lost wail of a foghorn. 'Shouldn't be allowed on the road, drivers like that,' said Angalo. There was a thump, and the remains of a street light bounced away. 'And they put all this stupid stuff in the roadway, too,' he added. 'Remember to show consideration for other road-users,' said Masklin, severely.

  'Well, I am, aren't I? I'm not running into them, am I?' said Angalo. What was that thump?' 'Some bushes, I think,' said Masklin.

  'See what I mean? Why do they put things like that in the road?' 'I think the road is more sort of over to your right,' said Gurder.

  'And it moves around, as well,' said Angalo sullenly, pulling the right-hand string slight­ly.

  It was nearly midnight, and Grimethorpe was not a busy town after dark. Therefore there was no one rushing to run into the lorry as it slid out of Alderman Surley Way and roared up John Lennon Avenue, a huge and rather battered shape under the yellow sodium glare. The rain had stopped, but there were wisps of mist coiling across the road.

  It was almost peaceful.

  'Right, third gear,' said Angalo, 'and a bit fast er. Now, what's that sign coming up?' Grimma and Masklin craned to see. 'Looks like "Road Works Ahead",' said Grimma in a puzzled voice.

  'Sounds good. Let's have some more fast, down there.' 'Yes, but,' said Masklin, 'why say it? I mean, you could understand "Road Doesn't Work Ahead". Why tell us it works?' 'Maybe it means they're stopping putting kerbs and lights and bushes in it,' said Angalo.

  'Maybe-' Masklin leaned over the edge of the platform. 'Stop!' he shouted. 'Lots and lots of stop!' The brake-pedal team looked up in astonish­ment, but obeyed. There was a scream from the tyres, yells from the nomes who w
ere thrown forward, and then a lot of crunching and clanging from the front of the lorry as it skidded through an assortment of barriers and cones.

  'There had better,' said Angalo, when it had finally stopped, 'be a very good reason for that.' 'I've hurt my knee,' said Gurder.

  'There isn't any more road,' said Masklin, simply.

  'Of course there's road,' snapped Angalo. 'We're on it, aren't we?' 'Look down. That's all. Just look down,' said Masklin.

  Angalo peered down at the road ahead. The most interesting thing about it was that it wasn't. there. Then he turned to the signaller.

  'Can we please have just a wee bit of back­wards,' he said quietly.

  'A smidgen?' said the signaller.

  'And none of your cheek,' said Angalo. Grimma was also staring at the hole in the road. It was big. It was deep. A few pipes lurked in the depths.

  'Sometimes,' she said, 'I think humans really don't understand anything about the proper use of language.' She leafed through the Code as the lorry was reversed carefully away from the pit and, after crushing various things, driven on to the grass until the road was clear.

  'It's time we were sensible about this,' she said. 'We can't assume anything means what it says. So go slow.' 'I was driving perfectly safely,' said Angalo sulkily. 'It's not my fault if things are all wrong.' 'So go slow, then.' They stared in silence at the rolling road. Another sign loomed up. 'Roundabout,' said Angalo. 'And a picture of a circle? Well. Any ideas?' Grimma leafed desperately through the Code.

  'I saw a picture of a roundabout once,' said Gurder. 'If it's any help. It was in We Go to the Fair. It's a big shiny thing with lots of gold and horses on it.' 'I'm sure that's not it,' muttered Grimma, turning the pages hurriedly. 'I'm sure there's something in here some-' 'Gold, eh?' said Angalo. 'Should be easy to spot, anyway. I think,' he glared at Grimma, 'that we can have a little third gear.' 'Right you are, Mr Angalo sir,' said the sig­naller.

  'Can't see any golden horses,' said Masklin. 'You know, I'm not entirely certain-' 'And there should be cheerful music,' said Gurder, pleased to be making a contribution.

  'Can't hear any cheer-' Masklin began. There was the long-drawn-out blast of a car born. The road stopped, and was replaced by a mound covered in bushes. The lorry roared up it, all wheels leaving the ground for a moment, then thumped down on the other side of the roundabout and continued a little way, rocking from side to side, on the opposite road. It rolled to a halt.

  There was silence in the cab again. Then some­one groaned.

  Masklin crawled to the edge of the platform and looked down into the frightened face of Gurder, who was hanging on to the edge.

  'What happened?' he groaned.

  Masklin hauled him back up to safety and dusted him off.

  'I think,' he said, 'that although the signs mean what they say, what they say isn't what they mean.' Grimma pulled herself out from underneath the Code. Angalo untangled himself from the lengths of string and found himself looking into her furious scowl.

  'You,' she said, 'are a total idiot. And speed mad! Why don't you listen?' 'You can't speak to me like that!' said Angalo, cowering back. 'Gurder, tell her she can't call me names like that!' Gurder sat trembling on the edge of the plat­form.

  'As far as I am concerned right now,' he said, 'she can call you what she likes. Go to it, young woman.' Angalo glowered. 'Hang on! You were the one who went on about golden horses! I didn't see any golden horses? Did anyone see any golden horses? He confused me, going on about golden horses-' Gurder waved a finger at him. 'Don't you "he" me-' he began.

  'And don't you "young woman" me in that tone of voice!' screamed Grimma.

  Dorcas's voice came up from the depths.

  'I don't want to interrupt anything,' it said, 'but if this happens one more time there are people down here who will be getting very angry. Is that understood?' 'Just a minor steering problem,' Masklin called down cheerfully. He turned back to the others.

  'Now you all look here,' he said quietly. 'This arguing has got to stop. Every time we hit a problem we start bickering. It's not sensible.' Angalo sniffed. 'Weweredoingperfectlyallright until he-' 'Shut up!' They stared at him. He was shaking with anger. 'I've had just about enough of all of you!' he shouted. 'You make me ashamed! We were doing so well! I haven't spent ages trying to make all this happen just for a, a, a steering committee to ruin it all! Now you can all get up and get this thing moving again! There's a whole truckload of nomes back there! They're depending on you! Understand?' They looked at one another. They stood up sheepishly. Angalo pulled up the steering strings. The signaller untangled his flags.

  'Ahem,' said Angalo quietly. 'I think ....es, I think a little bit of first gear might be in order here, if it's all the same to everybody?' 'Good idea. Go ahead,' said Gurder.

  'But carefully,' said Grimma.

  'Thank you,' said Angalo politely. 'Is that all right by you Masklin?' he added.

  'Hmm? Yes. Yes. Fine. Go.' At least there were no more buildings. The lorry purred along the lonely road, its one remain­ing headlight making a white glow in the mist. One or two vehicles passed them on the other side of the road.

  Masklin knew that soon they should be look­ing for somewhere to stop. It would have to be somewhere sheltered, away from humans but not too far away, because he was pretty certain there were still plenty of things the nomes were going to need. Perhaps they were going north, but if they were it would be sheer luck.

  It was at that moment tired, angry with his mind not entirely on what was in front of him that he saw Prices Slashed. There was no doubt about it. The human was standing in the road, waving its torch. There was a car beside him, with a blue flashing light on top.

  The others had seen it, too.

  'Prices Slashed!' moaned Gurder~ 'He's got here in front of us!' 'More speed,' said Angalo grimly.

  'What are you going to do?' said Masklin~ 'We'll see how his torch can stand up to a lorry!' muttered Angalo.

  'You can't do that! You can't drive lorries into people!' 'It's Prices Slashed!' said Angalo. 'It's not people!' 'He's right,' said Grimma. 'You said we mustn't stop now!' Masklin grabbed the steering strings and gave one a yank. The lorry skewed around just as Prices Slashed dropped his torch and, with respectable speed, jumped into the hedge. There was a bang as the rear of the lorry hit the car, and then Angalo had the threads again and was guiding them back into something like a straight line.

  'You didn't have to do that,' he said sullenly. 'It's all right to run into Prices Slashed, isn't it, Gurder?' Well. Er,' said Gurder. He gave Masklin an embarrassed look. 'I'm not sure it was Prices Slashed, in fact. He had darker clothes, for one thing. And the car with the light on it.' 'Yes, but he had the peaked hat and the ter­rible torch!' The lorry bumped off a bank, taking away a large chunk of soil, and lurched back into the road.

  'Anyway,' said Angalo, in a satisfied voice, 'that's all behind now. We left Arnold Bros (est~ 1905) behind in-the Store. We don't need that stuff. Not Outside.' Noisy though it was in the cab, the words created their own sort of silence.

  Well, it's true,' said Angalo defensively. 'And Dorcas thinks the same thing. And a lot of younger nomes.' 'We shall see,' said Gurder. 'However, I suspect that if Arnold Bros (est. 1905) was ever any­ where, then he's everywhere.' 'What do you mean by that?' 'I'm not sure myself. I need to think about it.' Angalo sniffed. 'Well, think about it, then. But I don't believe it. It doesn't matter any more. May Bargains Galore turn against me if I'm wrong,' he added.

  Masklin saw a blue light out of the corner of his eye. There were mirrors over the wheels of the lorry and, although one of them was smashed and the other one was bent, they still worked after a fashion. The light was behind the lorry.

  'He's coming after us, whoever it is,' he said mildly.

  'And there's that dee-dah, dee-dah noise,' said Gurder.

  'I think,' Masklin went on, 'that it might be a good idea to get off this road.' Angalo glanced from side to side.

  'Too
many hedges,' he said.

  'No, I meant on to another road. Can you do that?' 'Ten-four. No problem. Hey, he's trying to overtake! What a nerve! Ha!' The lorry swerved violently.

  'I wish we could open the windows,' he added. 'One of the drivers I watched, if anyone behind him honked, he'd wave his hand out of the window and shout things. I think that's what you're supposed to do.' He waved his arm up and shouted 'yahgerronyerr.' 'Don't worry about that. Just find another road, a small road,' said Masklin soothingly. 'I'll be back in a minute.' He lowered himself down the swaying ladder to Dorcas and his people. There wasn't too much going on at the moment, just little tugs on the big wheel from the steering groups and a steady pressure on the go-faster pedal. Many of the nomes were sitting down and trying to relax. There was a ragged cheer when Masklin joined them.

  Dorcas was sitting by himself, scribbling things on a piece of paper.

  'Oh, it's you,' he said. 'Everything working now? Have we run out of things to bump into?' We're being followed by someone who wants to make us stop,' said Masklin.

  'Another lorry?' 'A car, I think. With humans in it.' Dorcas scratched his chin.

  'What do you want me to do about it?' 'You used things to cut the lorry wires when you didn't want it to go,' said Masklin.

  'Pliers. What about them?' 'Have you still got them?' 'Oh, yes. But you need two nomes to use them.' 'Then I shall need another nome.' Masklin told Dorcas what he had in mind.

  The old nome looked at him with something like admiration, and then shook his head.

  'It'll never work,' he said. We won't have the time. Nice idea, though.' 'But we're so much faster than humans! We could do it, and be back at the lorry before they know!' 'Hmm.' Dorcas grinned nastily. 'You going to come?' 'Yes. I, er, I'm not sure nomes who've never been outside the Store will be able to cope.' Dorcas stood and yawned. 'Well, I'd like to try some of this "fresh air" stuff,' he said. 'I'm told it's very good for you.' If there had been watchers, peering over the hedge into that mist-wreathed country lane, they would have seen a lorry come thundering along at quite an unsafe speed.