A Box of Nothing by Peter Dickinson Read Free Book Online Page A

it out, forced it to become just rubbish again.
    Trying not to show he was worried, James strolled across to the window. The slit opened for him in the usual friendly way, and he gazed out. Something extraordinary was happening down on the shore, a sort of bright-coloured whirlwind moving along close to the sea’s edge. At the foot of it walked the familiar shape of the Burra. It was collecting plastic bags. Thousands of them, and more and more flapping up to join the funnel-shaped whirling column that followed the Burra along the line of rubbish. If a rat patrol came along now, James thought, it would have something to shoot at.
    Not just the whirlwind, either. Something was happening down by Soup Lake, but he couldn’t see what. Some sort of engine was pumping away, and a lot of tubes were wandering around on top of the surface. Wherever a hummock grew they darted over and sucked the gas in. It was fascinating to watch, a bit like a video game.
    The Burra was coming back up the slope now, with its whirlwind still following it. A huge ball came bouncing up beside it. As soon as they all reached the slope below the cliff the whirlwind flopped down and the thousands of plastic bags flummocked around, sorting themselves into sizes. The ball turned out to be an enormous roll of coarse cord.
    The Burra itself came in and laid a friendly green hand on the computer, which answered with a lot of quick bleeps, almost like a song.
    â€œIs it all right now?” said James.
    â€œFully recovered and eager to join in.”
    â€œThat’s brilliant. What are you going to do if a rat patrol comes along?”
    â€œThere will be time to hide. We have put sensors out. The computer has greatly extended our range for that sort of thing.”
    â€œWhat’s happening?”
    â€œHo, ho.”
    â€œOh, come on!”
    â€œWe want it to be a surprise. Ho, ho.”
    All afternoon the cavern got busier and busier. The bustle was still going on when James went to bed. He found it difficult to sleep. He kept half waking, half opening his eyes, half seeing something new being done, half dreaming he’d seen it, and by that time he was half asleep again. For instance, he saw, or dreamed, that the plastic bags were slithering around the floor, melting into each other and making an enormous patchwork sheet, which rolled itself up at one end as it was joined together. Later he dreamed that Mum was pushing the twins’ buggy across the floor of the cavern, then woke enough to see that the basket thing had finished knitting itself and had been joined by two sets of buggy wheels that it was trying out. One of them twittered, just like the twins’.
    The engine started up. It made an incredible racket and a foul smell, far worse than petrol. Whatever it was using must be made from the gas in Soup Lake, somehow. Luckily it only ran for a minute, then trundled itself over to the basket thing, which tipped sideways to help it climb in. The whole contraption wheeled away and squeezed itself out down the stairs.
    Next time James woke he saw the huge ball of string rolling to and fro across the floor, knotting itself into a kind of net, a bit like the string bag Gran used for groceries, only big enough to hold twenty elephants. James watched for a bit and fell asleep again. Next thing he knew, his mattress had tipped him out onto the floor. It had done it on purpose. The Burra was standing there looking down at him.
    â€œHo, ho,” it said.
    â€œVery funny,” said James. “What’s the big idea? Where’s everything, anyway?”
    The cavern had become very quiet, and all the things that had been clattering around before had disappeared.
    â€œThe sensors report movement up the mountain. We think the rats have sent out a night patrol.”
    â€œThey must have spotted something going on this afternoon.”
    â€œProbably. But we are ready to go, in any case.”
    Shivering, James dressed. His