Gremlins, Go Home!

6

The bulldozer roared and clattered like an angry demon with a hide of yellow steel. Instead of breathing fire, though, it puffed dirty black smoke into the clear sky.

It bore straight down on the Gremlin Hollow, pushing a huge pile of sand ahead of it on its wide ugly blade. Gremlins were dashing everywhere, screaming in terror and rage. O’Rigami was madly trying to fold up his kite before the ’dozer’s treads ground it to shreds. Baneen huffed and puffed and made wild motions with his magical hands. The bulldozer didn’t even slow down, although the driver sneezed once.

Rolf saw the great machine boring straight at him, like a moving mountain of sand threatening to bury him.

Mr. Sheperton barked furiously. Baneen fluttered up into the air, screeching, “It’s no good, no good at all! He can’t see us or hear us!”

And then Lugh’s giant voice roared out, “WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE DUSTY SKIES OF GREMLA IS GOING ON HERE?”

Before anyone could utter another word, Lugh looked up at the approaching bulldozer.

His brows pulled down into a terrible scowl. His cheeks puffed out and his nostrils flared dangerously.

“A great ugly mechanical monster, is it? Well, we’ll just see about that.”

The bulldozer had just reached the edge of the Hollow, still pushing sand ahead of it. Some of the sand was already spilling into the Hollow and pouring over some of the gremlins who were shrieking and scattering every which way. O’Rigami’s hands were flying faster than the eye could follow, folding up the precious kite. Rolf stood straddling his bike, with Baneen floating up at about his eye level and Mr. Sheperton growling and tense beside him.

Lugh thrust out his jaw and eyed the machine angrily. Fists planted dangerously on his hips, he strode off to one side of the oncoming monster, fury and vengeance in every stiff-legged, four-inch-long step.

“What’s he going to do?” Rolf wondered.

“Not…” Baneen started, then pressed both his fists into his mouth and stared at Lugh, goggle-eyed. He zipped downward and touched his feet to the sandy ground.

Lugh thrust out his right arm and pointed at the yellow bulldozer. His voice became mighty and terrible:

“MAY THE GREAT AND THUNDEROUS CURSE OF GREMLA FALL UPON YOUR HEAD!”

Baneen fainted.

Mr. Sheperton snorted, almost like a sneeze.

Rolf hiccupped.

And the bulldozer slowed. Its roar became a rumble, then a squeak. The smoke-belching exhaust stack seemed to tremble, then shot a sheet of blue flame fifty feet into the sky. Both treads of the bulldozer snapped, and all the wheels fell off.

The driver yelled something wild and leaped from his seat as if his pants were on fire. He dived headfirst into the sand. The bulldozer’s engine dissolved in a huge cloud of smoke. The metal sides of the machine fell away and turned to rust as they hit the ground. The whole machine seemed to crumble, like a balloon when the air goes out of it.

In less than a minute there was nothing left except a badly frightened driver and a mess of steaming, rusting machinery that was fast disappearing into the sand.

Lugh nodded his head once, the way a man does when he knows he’s finished a task and done it well.

“Be that a lesson to all of you,” he said firmly, “gremlin, man and beast alike. Lugh of the Long Hand is not to be pushed about.”

Rolf simply stared. The bulldozer was completely gone now, hardly even a wisp of steam left to mark where it once stood. The driver was sitting on the sand, looking as if he didn’t believe any of this, even though he had seen it. He was a young man, Rolf saw, with long black hair and a sun-bronzed skin. He kept shaking his head and staring at the spot where the bulldozer had been.

While Rolf watched, Baneen stirred himself and climbed weakly to his feet, using Rolf’s leg for support. “I was afraid Lugh would invoke the Great Curse. It’s a wonder it didn’t bury us all with its terrible magic.”

Another man was running up to the bulldozer driver. He was older, black skin shining with perspiration where his shirt was open and showing his chest.

“Hey, Charlie, what did you stop for? Where’s the ’dozer?”

Charlie extended a shaking arm and pointed. “It… it was right there…” His voice was trembling.

“Was?” The black man took a quick look around. “Where is it now?”

“Gone. Dissolved. Fell apart and rusted away—just like that.” Charlie tried to snap his fingers, but it didn’t work.

The black man stooped down and picked up a tiny fragment of rusted yellow-painted metal. “Rusted out?” His voice had suddenly gone high-pitched with shock. “A whole ’dozer don’t rust out, not all at once.”

“Thi-this one did!”

Charlie stared at his partner, then reached down and yanked him up onto his feet. “Come on, friend. You been out in the sun too long. We better get out of here before the ranger patrol flies past.”

As the two men disappeared back over the rise, Lugh bellowed to the other gremlins, “Well, what are you standing there for, with your mouths hanging open? Back to work, all of you, before I turn you into toadstools.”

Gremlins seemed to sprout out of the sand everywhere and hustled about busily. O’Rigami began to unfold his kite once more, just as calmly as if nothing had ever disturbed him.

“Lugh, me princely protector,” Baneen called out, “You wouldn’t be wanting that great heap of sand to stay there, would you now?”

“Well said. Get rid of it, trickster. And the beast’s tracks, too.”

Baneen smiled happily and danced a small circle around himself. “Ah yes, we wouldn’t want them that near us, again, would we? Even to cover their own tracks.”

Rolf looked up and saw the pile of sand growing dim and shimmering in the heat from the blazing sun. Before he could blink three times, the little mountain had completely disappeared. And so had the tracks of the bulldozer’s caterpillar treads.

“Won’t they wonder how their tracks vanished?” Rolf asked.

“Ah, no, lad,” Baneen answered lightly. “Men never question their good luck. It’s only the bad luck they wonder about.”

“Maybe you ought to leave the tracks, though,” said Rolf. “So I’ve got something to show to the authorities when I report this.”

“Report? Report, lad? Sure, and there’s nothing to report,” said Baneen, hastily. “Their murderous machine’s nothing but a pile of rust now, and the villains themselves have gone. Or, indeed, maybe they were no villains at all, but a couple of humans from the ranger station down the beach a ways, just doing their jobs.”

Mr. Sheperton growled, swinging his head about so that he and Baneen stood nose to nose, almost touching.

“Why were they so anxious to get away before the next patrol plane came over, then, might I ask?”

“That’s right,” said Rolf.

“Hmm, they did say something like that, didn’t they?” Baneen cocked his head to one side, as if thinking. “Scalawags! To think they’d push sand into our Hollow, our one little wee spot on the whole face of this vast and watery… But come, come, there’s wisdom in letting well enough alone. They’re gone now.”

“But you can’t let them get away with doing something like that, here in the very heart of the Wildlife Preserve,” said Rolf. “I’ve just got to report them. What if they come back?”

“Ah, now, they won’t be back at all, at all,” said Baneen.

“How do you know?” Rolf demanded.

“Well, it’s my gremlinish second sight tells me. Indeed—” Baneen closed his eyes and touched his nose thoughtfully with the tip of one green finger. “I see the Hollow here… and the beach… tomorrow… and the next day…” He opened his eyes. “No sign of the rascals or another such fearful mechanical monster. You can rest easy, lad, and not trouble yourself further.”

“Why,” demanded Rolf, “are you so set against me reporting them?”

“Yes,” rumbled Mr. Sheperton. “Answer that, will you? You’re not telling everything you know. No more gremlin trickery, Baneen. Who are these men, and what are they up to?”

“And what makes you think I’d know?” Baneen said.

“I know you know,” the dog answered.

“Do you now?”

“Yes I do.”

“Hmp! These English and their superior airs.”

Mr. Sheperton growled, low and menacing. Baneen danced away from him and skipped behind Rolf.

“Well now… I’m not saying that there’s anything I know for certain. But—well, sure and it’ll do no harm to show you something.”

Baneen trotted out toward the far edge of the Hollow, and Rolf followed him up the slope, across a couple of sandy little hillocks, and out toward the beach.

Padding along beside Rolf, Mr. Sheperton grumbled, “That little green rascal knows far more than he’s told us.”

“But,” Rolf said, squinting against the glare of the dazzling sun that beat off the white sand, “If he really knew what was going on, would he have let the bulldozer get so close to nearly burying the Hollow?”

Mr. Sheperton seemed to shake his head. “There’s no telling what a gremlin will do—except that it will be bad for any humans nearby.”

Rolf turned to stare at Baneen, just ahead. The boy could hear the hissing boom of the surf now, and felt the tangy salt breeze on his face. He started to run up toward where Baneen was, but the gremlin turned and put a finger to his lips, waving at Rolf to get down.

Bursting with curiosity, Rolf crawled on his stomach up to the top of the dune. Laid flat out, he peered through the grass. Mr. Sheperton lay beside him, panting wetly in his ear.

At first glance, the beach looked perfectly ordinary. But then Rolf saw that someone had dug a narrow channel into the beach, and put a sort of bridge over it. The bridge was covered with a thin layer of sand. The surf was breaking far out in the water, at least a hundred yards before the channel.

“Somebody’s built a breakwater out there, like an underwater sandbar,” Rolf said.

“Yes,” agreed Mr. Sheperton. “And a place to bring in a boat and hide it under that sand bridge.”

“Camouflage.”

The putt-putting of an engine made Rolf turn his head toward the right. A boat was puffing through the sea, heading straight for the disguised channel. As the three of them watched, the boat came in and two grimy looking sailors in tattered shirts and shorts leaped from its deck and tied it securely to the posts that held up the bridge.

“They’re the villains that sent the mechanical beast at us,” Mr. Sheperton muttered. “They wanted more sand to cover their bridge and dump into their breakwater.”

Another man appeared on the ship’s deck. He was chunky and fat-faced. He wore a blue jacket and white slacks, and even had a perky little captain’s hat perched on his head. He squealed orders at the two sailors, who were now back on the boat, sweating and struggling with heavy boxes.

“Come on, come on,” the captain piped at them in a nasty nasal, high-pitched voice. “I want all the telescopes and binoculars stored away here so we can use all our space to carry people on the day of the launch. Move it, move it!”

“So that’s it,” Mr. Sheperton said. “He’s the one that your father was worrying about. Bringing in tourists to watch the launch from here on the beach.”

“There must be more to it than that, though,” said Rolf. “They wouldn’t go to that much trouble for a boatload of tourists two or three times a year.”

“Quite right! How about that, you gremlin?” Mr. Sheperton demanded of Baneen.

“Ah well,” said Baneen uncomfortably, “sure and the one in the sailor hat there does bring in people with guns to hunt and fish, now and then.”

Rolf felt suddenly sick—in his mind’s eye he saw images of the brown pelican and the young piglets, bloody and slaughtered.

“But this is a Preserve!” he said, fiercely. “It’s the one little piece of the environment around here that’s protected! And you say I shouldn’t report someone like that?”

“But we’ve never let them harm the wee beasts and birds,” said Baneen, hastily. “Not since we’ve been here has one of his hunters gained a single prey—”

“That doesn’t make any difference!” said Rolf. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing. I’m reporting this man and his crew.”

“No lad, you can’t!” said Baneen. “Listen to me, now. We mustn’t have police and rangers and suchlike stamping up and down the beach here and tramping all over our Hollow.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rolf. “But this is one thing I just have to do.”

“But you’ll listen to me for a moment before doing it, won’t you?” pleaded Baneen. “Wait, Rolf, just a second whilst I bring you one who can plead our desperate case better than myself…”

“Don’t listen to him, boy,” growled Mr. Sheperton.

“I don’t see how they’ve managed to avoid being seen, anyway, before this,” said Rolf. “You ought to be able to see that oil slick and boat smoke from a ranger plane pretty easily.”

He turned to look suspiciously at Baneen.

“Now, now!” cried the gremlin. “It was just the slightest touch of magic we’ve used in their favor, to be sure—just enough to keep them from being seen. Nothing invisible, mind you. Just a wee distraction or two to make the patrol rangers look the other way as they fly past the noise and dirt. But just a minute. Wait right here—”

He disappeared with a popping noise.

“Let’s not wait for him, Shep—Mr. Sheperton, I mean,” said Rolf.

“Quite right!” rumbled Mr. Sheperton. “Enough of the blackguard’s lies and evasions—”

Baneen popped back into existence, pulling along with him another gremlin—also wearing green, it was true, but with a long, sad, greenish blue cloak around his shoulders, long dark hair hanging down under his hat, and a violin case under his arm.

“Rolf, let me—” puffed Baneen, breathlessly, “introduce that grand—gremlin musician— O’Kkane Baro.”

The other gremlin took his hat off his head and swept it before him as he bowed gracefully. He had a handsome, if tragic, face.

“Glorious to acquaint you!” he cried, in a rich, full voice, “Glorious! If my heart was not breaking, I would dance with joy. But who dances in a world like this? I ask you!”

He sat down mournfully in the sand, laying the violin case aside. Rolf stared at him.

“Hist!” whispered Mr. Sheperton in his ear. “Don’t let this rascal fool you, either. He’s a gypsy gremlin. Do you know what Hokkane Baro means, in the Romany tongue?”

“Ah, but the heart of our poor friend is indeed breaking,” said Baneen sorrowfully. “All these thousands of years that he has lived, now, only in the hope of seeing Gremla again—”

“Ah, Gremla, my sunshine, my beautiful!” exclaimed O’Kkane Baro resonantly, covering his eyes with one hand. “Never to see you again. Never… never!”

“Hokkane Baro means,” whispered Mr. Sheperton severely, “the big trick, a con game they used to play on gullible peasants.”

Rolf nodded. He had no doubt that Mr. Sheperton was right. But O’Kkane Baro’s unhappiness was so convincing he began to feel a twinge of guilt in spite of himself.

“You’ll see it,” he said to the dark-haired gremlin. “Don’t worry.”

“Ah, but will he?” said Baneen. “Now that you’re determined and all to report what you’ve seen. Sure, and it’s only a matter of minutes after the authorities come prowling around here that our magic will be spoiled and our last chance at Gremla lost for good.”

“Ah…” said O’Kkane Baro, unshielding his eyes. “But, why should we weep?” he spread his arms. “Let us laugh… ha, ha!” Rolf thought he had never heard such mournful laughter in his life.

“Yes, laugh!” cried O’Kkane Baro, rising to his feet. “Laugh, dance, be gay—sing! Music!”

He clapped his hands; at the sound, the lid of his violin case opened and a gremlin-sized violin floated out and up into the air. A gremlin-sized bow floated after it and poised itself over the strings.

“Play, gypsy!” commanded O’Kkane Baro, stamping his foot on the sand. The violin began to play, a wild, thrilling air. “Weep, gypsy—” The violin switched suddenly to wailing chords. Tears began to run down O’Kkane Baro’s cheeks.

“Gremla… lovely Gremla… nevermore shall we set eyes upon thee…” he sobbed.

The music was overwhelming. Baneen was also crying. Tears were running as well out of Mr. Sheperton’s nose and Rolf was blinking desperately to keep from joining them in tears.

“Wait…” begged Rolf. “Wait…”

“Why wait?” keened Baneen. “All is over. And just because someone could not go two days before reporting some scoundrels. Ah, the whole gremlin race, robbed of its last, last chance! Didn’t I say we’d see none of the animals or birds would come to harm? But did that soften the hard heart of someone I need not name? No—”

“Wait!” gulped Rolf. “All right. Two days. I can wait two days—but stop that violin!”

“Ah yes, stop the instrument, O’Kkane Baro!” sobbed Baneen. “It’s myself can barely stand the sorrow of it, either.”

Weeping, O’Kkane Baro waved at the violin, which stopped playing and packed itself, with its bow, back into its case. In the silence, a high-pitched voice, the voice of the boat captain came clearly to their ears.

“…there! Right over the ridge there. Don’t just stand there, get over after them! You heard the music coming from there until just a second ago!”

Rolf leaped to his feet and stared over the crest of the dune. The two sailors they had seen, the boat captain right behind them, were coming toward the dune. They all shouted when they saw Rolf.

“They spotted me!” Rolf cried. “What’ll we do now?”

“Try an old gremlin trick, lad,” advised the voice of Baneen behind him. “Run!”