Undergardeners by Desmond Ellis

Chapter 1
    Mouse lay in his bed wondering what had woken him up. His room was bright but colorless, the jealous moon having replaced the colors of the daylight world with many shades of gray. The dark hands of the white-faced clock on the table beside his shadowy bed pointed out that it was past midnight and time he was asleep, which he had been until something woke him. The model airplanes that dangled from the ceiling circled slowly in the breeze from the open window as though waiting for clearance to land.
    He was a bit sore from helping his father put up a new fence around the back garden; he knew it was his own fault for trying to prove—as he always did when he got the chance—that being small wasn’t the same as being weak. Because of his size, he was called Mouse by just about everyone except his mother, and even she sometimes forgot to call him by the name she had given him. His size meant he was sometimes made fun of at school, but he’d learned to take it in good humor; the teasing only got worse if he looked upset. So what if he was small for his age? He was only nine and he wasn’t finished growing yet. But maybe he’d take it a little easier with the fence-building tomorrow.
    There was only one fencepost left to put up. Four had been positioned eight feet apart, and his father had been digging the fifth hole when the post-hole digger struck the rock. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t shift that rock, and his father had finally given up. He had measured off six feet from the last post, driven a stick into the ground to mark the spot, mussed up Mouse’s hair and said, “Let’s call it a day.”
    Mouse closed his eyes, held his breath and listened to the darkness. There wasn’t even a creak from the house, as though it too was holding its breath. He felt himself drifting off to sleep again. The bed felt soft and warm and…There it was again! He jackknifed upright. A voice! That’s what had woken him—a voice. And it was coming from the garden.
    â€œAll clear. They’ve gone to six.” The voice was crisp with authority and carried clearly on the still night air. Mouse reached the open window in two bounds—and gasped in surprise at what he saw. Tiny lights were gathered around the last hole he and his father had tried to dig. Maybe it was a trick of the moonlight, but the rock they hadn’t been able to move now looked as though it was standing on its end. There was a faint glow from the hole below. Feeling a little uneasy, he wondered for a second if he should call his parents.
    One of the tiny lights now began to arc through the air, each arc accompanied by a strange voice. “Hun. Hoo. Hee. Hoar. Hive. Hix.”
    The crisp voice he had heard first asked, “Are you sure?”
    The strange voice grunted in reply, “Hov hoarse h’yme shure.” What on earth…? All thoughts of calling for his parents disappeared.
    â€œDouble-check the distance, please,” the crisp voice said. “We have to be certain it won’t interfere with the air-shaft. Now hop to it.”
    The light began its bounding flight back in the direction from which it had come, making the same strange sounds as before, but in reverse order this time. “Hix, hive, hoar, hee, hoo, hun.” Mouse stared; the lights clustered around the hole were tiny lanterns carried by several small creatures. And whatever was making the strange sounds was hopping along on all fours with one of the lanterns between its teeth. I’m dreaming, he thought. That’s it. I’m still asleep and I’m dreaming about weird goings-on in my garden.
    Just then there was a horrified scream.“Look out!”
    The lanterns scattered in all directions, making streaks of light through the darkness as they went. One lantern hesitated, did a rapid zigzag back to its starting place, hesitated again and shot off in another direction. It halted