The Bromeliad 1 - Truckers

13

i. Arnold Bros (est. 1905) said, A1t~ is now Fin­ished; ii. All Curtains, Carpeting, Bedding, Lingerie, Toys, Millinery, Haberdashery, Ironmongery, Elec­trical; iii. All walls, floors, ceilings, lifts, moving stairs; iv. Everything Must Go.

From The Book of Nome, Exits Chap. 3 v.I-IV Later on, when the next chapters of The Book of Nome came to be written, they said the end of the Store started with a bang. This wasn't true, but was put in because bang sounded more impressive. In fact, the ball of yellow and orange fire that rolled out of the garage, carrying the remains of the door with it, just made a noise like a giant dog gently clearing its throat.

Whoomph.

The nomes weren't in a position to take much notice of it at the time. They were more con­cerned with the noise made by other things nearly hitting them.

Masklin had been prepared for other vehicles on the road. The High Way Code had a lot to say about it. It was important not to drive into them. What was worrying him was the way they seemed determined to run into the lorry. They emitted long blaring noises, like sick cows.

'Left a bit!' Angalo shouted. 'Then right just a smidgen, then go straight!' 'Smidgen?' said the signaller, slowly. 'I don't think I know a code for smidgen. Could we-' 'Slow! Now left a bit! We've got to get on the right side of the road!' Grimma peered over the top of The High Way Code.

'We are on the right side,' she said.

'Yes, but the right side should be the left side!' Masklin jabbed at the page in front of them. 'It says here we've got to show cons consy-' 'Consideration,' murmured Grimma.

'-consideration for other road-users,' he said. A jolt threw him forward. 'What was that?' he said.

'Us going on to the pavement! Right! Right!' Masklin caught a brief glimpse of a brightly lit shop window before the lorry hit it sideways on and bounced back on to the road in a shower of glass.

'Now left, now left, now right, right! Straight! Left, I said left!' Angalo peered at the bewildering pattern of lights and shapes in front of them.

'There's another road here,' he said. 'Left! Give me left! Lots and lots of left! More left than that. ... !' 'There's a sign,' said Masklin, helpfully.

'Left!' shrieked Angalo. 'Now right. Right! Right!' 'You wanted left,' said the signaller accusingly.

'And now I want right! Lots of right! Duck!' 'We haven't got a signal for-' This time 'whoomph' wouldn't have done. It was definitely 'bang'. The lorry hit a wall, ground along it in a spray of sparks, rolled into a pile of dustbins and stopped.

There was silence, except for the hissing sounds and pink, pink noises from the engine.

Then Dorcas's voice came up from the dark­ness, slow and full of menace.

'Would you mind telling us down here,' it said, 'what you're doing up there?' 'We'll have to think of a better way of steering,' Angalo called down. 'And lights. There should be a switch somewhere for lights.' Masklin struggled to his feet. The lorry appeared to be stuck in a dark, narrow road. There were no lights anywhere.

He helped Gurder stand up, and brushed him down. The Stationeri looked bewildered.

We're there?' he said.

'Not quite,' said Masklin. We've stopped to, er, sort out a few things. While they're doing that I think we'd better go back and check that everyone's all right. They must be getting pretty worried. You come too, Grimma.' They climbed down and left Angalo and Dorcas deep in argument about steering, lights, clear instructions and the need for a proper supply of all three.

There was a gabble of voices in the back of the lorry, mixed with the crying of babies. Quite a few nomes had been bruised by the throwing about, and Granny Morkie was tying a splint to the broken leg of a nome who had been caught by a falling box when they hit the wall.

Wee bit rougher than the last time,' she com­mented drily, tying a knot in the bandage. 'Why've we stopped?' 'Just to sort out a few things,' said Masklin, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt. We'll be moving again soon. Now that everyone knows what to expect.' He gazed down at the dark shadowy length of the lorry, and inquisitiveness overcame him.

'While we're waiting, I'm going to take a look outside,' he said.

'What on earth for?' said Grimma.

'Just to, you know, look around,' said Masklin awkwardly. He nudged Gurder. 'Want to come?' he said.

'What? Outside? Me?' The Stationeri looked ter­rified, 'You'll have to sooner or later. Why not now?' Gurder hesitated for a moment, and then shrugged.

Will we be able to see the Store,' he licked his dry lips, 'from the outside?' he said.

'Probably. We haven't really gone very far,' said Masklin, as diplomatically as he could.

A team of nomes helped them over the end of the lorry and they swung down on to what Gurder would almost certainly have called the floor. It was damp, and a fine spray hung in the air. Masklin breathed deeply. This was outside, all right. Real air, with a slight chill to it. It smelled fresh, not as though it had been breathed by thousands of nomes before him.

'The sprinklers have come on,' said Gurder.

'The what?' 'The sprinklers,' said Gurder. 'They're in the ceiling, you know, in case of f...' He stopped, and looked up. 'Oh, my,' he said.

'I think you mean the rain,' said Masklin.

'Oh, my.' 'It's just water coming out of the sky,' said Masklin. He felt something more was expected of him. 'It's wet,' he added, 'and you can drink it. Rain. You don't have to have pointy heads. It just rolls off anyway.' 'Oh, my.' 'Are you all right?' Gurder was trembling. 'There's no roof!' he moaned. 'And it's so big!' Masklin patted him on the shoulder.

'Of course, all this is new to you,' he said. 'You mustn't worry if you don't understand everything.' 'You're secretly laughing at me, aren't you!' said Gurder.

'Not really. I know what it's like to feel fright­ened.' Gurder pulled himself together. 'Frightened? Me? Don't be foolish. I'm quite all right,' he said. 'Just a little, er, surprised. I, er, wasn't expecting it to be quite so, quite so, quite so outside. Now I've had time to come to terms with it, I feel much better. Well, well. So this is what it's like,' he turned the word around his tongue, like a new sweet, 'outside. So, er, big. Is this all of it, or is there any more?' 'Lots,' said Masklin. 'Where we lived, there was nothing but outside from one edge of the world to the other.' 'Oh,' said Gurder weakly. 'Well, I think this will be enough outside to be going on with. Very good.' Masklin turned and looked up at the lorry. It was almost wedged in an alleyway littered with rubbish. There was a large dent in the end of it.

The opening at the far end of the alley was bright with street lights in the drizzle. As he watched, a vehicle swished by with a blue light flashing. It was singing. He couldn't think of any other word to describe it.

'How odd,' said Gurder.

'It used to happen sometimes at home,' said Masklin. It was secretly rather pleasing, after all this time, to be the one who knew things~ 'You'd hear ones go along the motorway like that. Dee-dah dee-dah DEE-DAH DEE-DAH dee-dah. I think it's just to get people to get out of the way.' They crept along the gutter and craned to look over the pavement at the corner, just as another bawling car hurtled past. 'Oh, Bargains Galore!' said Gurder, and put his hands over his mouth.

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 were 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.

They might have thought: that's an unusual vehicle, it seems to have lost quite a few things it should have, like one headlight, a bumper and most of the paint down one side, and picked up a number of things it shouldn't have, like some bits of bush and more dents than a sheet of corruga­ted iron.

They might have wondered why it had a 'Road Works Ahead' sign hanging from one door-handle.

And they would have certainly wondered why it rolled to a stop.

The police car behind it stopped rather more impressively, in a shower of gravel. Two men almost fell out of it and ran to the lorry, wrenching open the doors.

If the watchers had been able to understand Human, they'd have heard someone say, All right, chummy, that's it for tonight and then say, Where's he gone? There's just a load of string in here! And then someone else would say, I bet he's nipped out and has legged it over the fields.

And while this was going on, and while the policemen poked vaguely in the hedge and shone their torches into the mist, the watchers might have noticed a couple of very small shadows run from under the rear of the lorry and disappear under the car. They moved very fast, like mice. Like mice, their voices were high-pitched, fast and squeaky.

They were carrying a pair of pliers.

A few seconds later they scurried back again. And, almost as soon as they'd disappeared under the lorry, it started up.

The men shouted and ran back to their car.

But instead of roaring into life, it went whirr, whirr, whirr in the misty night.

After a while one of them got out and lifted the bonnet.

As the lorry vanished into the mist, its single rear light a fading glow, he knelt down, reached under the car, and held up a handful of neatly cut wires...

This is what the watchers would have seen. In fact, the only watchers were a couple of cows, and they didn't understand any of it. Perhaps it nearly ends there.

A couple of days later the lorry was found in a ditch some way outside the town. What was stran­ger was this: the battery, and every wire, light bulb, and switch had been taken out of it. So had the radio.

The cab was full of bits of string.