Toad Away (11 page)

Limpy watched it all and nodded grimly.

Goliath's right, he thought. This is the way of the world. Kill or be killed. Fight or perish. An eye for an eye.

Limpy flexed his glands as a flying beetle with razor-sharp jaws hurtled toward him.

I wish I'd understood this before, thought Limpy as he hit the beetle full in the face with a perfectly aimed droplet of poison pus.

But I do now.

Limpy found Goliath nearby in the forest, trying to train an army.

“Atten-shun!” yelled Goliath.

Several rows of termites stood to attention in the thin streams of moonlight, but a large column of ants ignored him and started eating the termites.

“At ease!” yelled Goliath.

A platoon of ticks stood at ease on the belly of a small furry animal, but a squadron of bats swooped down and the ticks dived for cover.

“Face the front!” yelled Goliath.

The bats formed a wobbly line. Limpy could see Goliath's problem. As well as trying to stay in parade-ground formation, the bats were also sucking the furry animal's blood out through the tick bites.

“No!” yelled Goliath. “Hopeless. What was I saying before about discipline? It's not enough being perfectly formed killing machines. If you lot are gunna wipe humans off the face of the planet, you need discipline. And bombs, but we'll talk about that later.”

Limpy tapped Goliath on the shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I need some military advice.”

“Shoot,” said Goliath.

A raiding party of highly toxic caterpillars raised their barb-bristling thoraxes into firing position.

“Not you,” said Goliath.

“Make up your mind,” said the caterpillars, lowering their thoraxes.

“Goliath,” said Limpy. “If an individual was going to
do a commando attack against the humans, inflicting as much damage as possible, where would be the best place to do it?”

“You mean,” said Goliath, “what's their weak spot?”

Limpy nodded.

“Oil,” said Goliath. “They can't exist without it. You've seen them on the highway at home. Without oil they'd be carrying those cars on their backs.”

A platoon of turtles thought this was hilarious.

“Silence!” yelled Goliath.

The turtles ignored him.

“The great thing about oil,” said Goliath, glaring at the turtles, “is that if you set fire to it, it burns really well. If you're lucky, it explodes.”

Limpy remembered the oil pipeline they'd seen earlier that day.

“Thanks,” he said. “That's exactly what I wanted to know.”

“You're welcome,” said Goliath. “Sharing information and working together, that's the way to win a war.”

He looked meaningfully at the bats, who were still sucking.

Goliath's right, thought Limpy grimly as he hopped away.

That's exactly what this is.

War.

L
impy had to wait until morning before he could attack because he needed the sun to blow up the oil pipeline.

“Ow,” said the butterfly who was helping him.“That sun's hot.”

“Sorry,” said Limpy. “But that's the whole point.”

“Explain it again,” said the butterfly.

Limpy explained again how if there was a highway nearby with broken headlights on it like at home, he could use the glass to focus the sun's rays and ignite the oil. But because there wasn't, the transparent wings of a butterfly were the next best thing.

“Why do you have to fold them?” complained the butterfly. “When I agreed to help you, you didn't say anything about folding.”

“Doubles the magnification,” said Limpy. “Won't
be long now. Just think of your poor dead family members, crushed by those bulldozers.”

The butterfly did that.

“Heartless brutes,” it sobbed.

Limpy thought about his poor dead family member and her lovely smile that he'd never see again.

It helped him concentrate on focusing the sun's rays onto the oil stains. They were seeping out of what he was pretty sure was a pumping station. He could hear a rhythmic wheezing under the cracked metal cover that sounded exactly like Goliath's chest when Goliath tried to suck the petrol out of parked cars through their exhaust pipes.

“How are we doing?” said the butterfly.

“Nearly there,” said Limpy.

The oil under the sunny spot was starting to smoke. Once it burst into flames, Limpy planned to dive for cover with the butterfly while fire roared down the inside of the pipeline all the way to some distant city. Where hopefully it would set off a huge explosion destroying everything around it and teaching those mongrel humans to think twice before they killed any more innocent little sisters.

“Stop,” said a loud voice. “Stop, for swamp's sake.”

It wasn't the butterfly.

Limpy spun round and got such a shock his mucus
started wobbling even though the sun had dried it almost solid.

Cane toads.

A large group of them, hurrying toward him, alarmed expressions on their faces.

Stack me, thought Limpy. Amazon rellies.

The one at the front, who was even bigger than Goliath and a lot more noble-looking, hopped over to the pumping station and peed onto the smoking oil.

“Hey,” said Limpy angrily. “It took us ages to get that started.”

“That's right,” said the butterfly, wincing as it straightened out its wings. “I may never feature in a television nature documentary again.”

Limpy wished Goliath was here instead of in the forest teaching stink beetles how to march. He'd put these dumb rellies in their place.

The big cane toad looked down at Limpy with a stern expression.

“Do you have any idea what would have happened if you'd set that oil alight?” he said.

“Yes,” said Limpy. “I do.”

“You want war with the humans?” said the cane toad, glancing at the other cane toads in disbelief.

“Yes,” said Limpy. “I do.”

“Well, we don't,” said the cane toad. “We've got enough enemies in the forest as it is. Every second
living thing around here wants to either eat us, drown us, grow fungus on us, use us as flooring material in a nest, or take our brains out and let their kids play in our skulls. The last thing we want is humans after us as well.”

For a fleeting moment Limpy was tempted to ask the rellies what their secret was for keeping humans off their backs.

Then he remembered he didn't care anymore.

All he cared about was avenging Charm.

“The mongrel humans killed my sister,” said Limpy.

The big cane toad looked at Limpy, his face softening.

“I see,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

The other cane toads looked pretty sympathetic too. For a moment Limpy thought they were going to leave him alone so he could get back to blowing up humans.

No such luck.

“These tragedies happen,” said the big cane toad.

“Some of us have lost loved ones too. Just a few, fortunately. It's a big forest. We stay away from the humans and hope they stay away from us.”

Is that it? thought Limpy bitterly. Is that the ancient wisdom Charm gave her life for? That's pathetic. We could have stayed at home and worked that out for ourselves. Even Goliath could.

“Are you from the other side of the river?” asked the cane toad.

“Australia,” muttered Limpy.

The other cane toads looked puzzled.

“I've heard of Australia,” said the big cane toad.“A bird told me about it. Incredible place. The only things that kill toads there are humans, right?”

Limpy nodded, wishing the whole crowd of them would hop off and squirt bugs or something.

The big cane toad put his arm round Limpy's shoulders.

“I'm Raoul,” he said. “I'd like to hear more about Australia, and you look like you could do with a drink and some moisturizer on those warts. Come back to our swamp. Be our guest.”

It was a kind offer, but Limpy wasn't interested.

As Raoul steered him away from the pipeline toward the forest, Limpy came up with a desperate plan.

Push Raoul over, elbow the other cane toads out of the way, hop back to the pipeline, grab another see-through butterfly, and get the oil alight before they caught up with him.

Limpy took a deep breath, then flung himself at Raoul.

He'd tried to push Goliath over a few times, so he knew it wasn't going to be easy. But Goliath was a floppy sack of wombat guts compared to Raoul,
whose muscles felt like steel bridge cables as Limpy bounced off them.

Caught by surprise, Raoul staggered backward.

Limpy turned and started hopping as fast as he could, praying his crook leg wouldn't send him on a curve into the river.

He needn't have worried.

Before he'd done two hops, Limpy felt Raoul's powerful hand on his shoulder. His legs, even his good one, weren't nearly strong enough to propel him out of Raoul's firm but gentle grip.

“I'm sorry,” said Raoul. “I know how you feel. But I have to insist you be our guest.”

Limpy didn't bother struggling.

Pretty soon Goliath would be here to rescue him.

Then, thought Limpy, we'll ditch these wimps and get back to our war.

C
ome on, Goliath, thought Limpy. I'm sick of waiting. Come and rescue me.

Limpy lifted his head from the pillow of leaves and peered through the forest gloom.

No sign of Goliath.

In the distance Limpy could just make out Raoul and the other cane toads at the edge of their swamp, having a fight with a swarm of giant wasps. The Amazon rellies were obviously crack shots with their poison glands. The wasps were copping it bad.

Please, Goliath, thought Limpy. This is the perfect time to rescue me. While those wimps are all walloping wasps.

Still no sign of Goliath.

For the millionth time, Limpy tried to wriggle out of the creeper knotted around him. No good. Raoul had tied it too tight.

“Mongrel,” muttered Limpy.

He was so angry with Raoul he decided not to feel grateful that Raoul had placed little pads of moss wherever the creeper would have cut into his skin.

Limpy scowled at the distant cane toads.

He wasn't impressed by the Amazon rellies’ squirting skills either. All he wanted to do was get back to what was really important.

Blowing up humans.

If Raoul was a real fighter, thought Limpy grimly, he'd know that commandos don't rest till the war's won. And if he was a real rellie, he'd help me avenge Charm.

“Pssst.”

Limpy looked up and saw a familiar face peering at him out of a tangle of leaves some distance away.

Goliath.

At last.

Limpy's warts tingled with relief.

From the wavy mud streaks on Goliath's face and the way his bottom lip was jutting out, Limpy could tell he was planning a daring rescue.

Except why wasn't Goliath coming over?

Perhaps he's got slug juice in his eyes, thought Limpy, and he's not sure if it's me.

“Goliath,” whispered Limpy. “It's me. Over here.” But Goliath stayed crouched in the undergrowth.
He put a finger to his lips and glanced around the forest.

Then he started doing hand signals. Big complicated ones that went on for ages. At first Limpy thought Goliath was saying he had burrowing worms in his armpits and was planning to try and smoke them out using the sun and see-through butterflies.

“Later,” whispered Limpy. “After we've set fire to the oil.”

Goliath shook his head and repeated the hand signal. This time Limpy recognized it. It was the gesture Aunty Pru had given Goliath the time she was teaching philosophy to Charm, and Goliath wanted her to watch how swallowing dragonflies made his tummy ripple.

“Be patient,” the hand signal said. “I'll be with you in a while.”

A while? thought Limpy. Why not now?

“Goliath,” said Limpy. “Untie me now.”

Goliath tried a new hand signal.

“You're going for a swim?” exploded Limpy. “You can't go for a swim now.”

Limpy saw Goliath frown, then give up on the hand signals.

“Hang on, Limpy,” croaked Goliath. “I'm training a special rescue unit to rescue you. They're coming
along well for raw jungle recruits, and as soon as they stop eating each other, in a day or two at the most, we'll be coming to liberate you. Hang on.”