Toad Heaven Page 5

  The sheep turned to the other sheep. “Any of you know where the national park is?”

  The other sheep shook their heads.

  “Sorry we can't be more help,” said the sheep to Limpy. “Hope you find it.”

  “Thanks,” said Limpy. “What about you? Are you on holiday?”

  “Not really,” said the sheep. “We're on our way to the slaughterhouse. To be killed and eaten by humans.”

  Limpy stared.

  That was awful.

  “Come with me,” he said. “To the national park. All living things are protected there. Nobody will be able to eat you there, not if you don't want them to.”

  “Thanks,” said the sheep. “But it wouldn't work. This is a locked carriage. At the other end we're put into a locked truck. And taken to a locked slaughterhouse. Anyway, we've always known this is what would happen. We're, I dunno, sort of used to the idea.”

  Limpy looked around at their placid faces with only a hint of sadness in their big soft eyes.

  Stack me! he thought angrily.

  As the train raced through the night, Limpy tried to persuade the sheep to let him rescue them and take them to a life of freedom and frolic in the national park.

  It was no good. They were polite but firm.

  Finally, sadly, Limpy gave up.

  The conversation sort of petered out after that. Limpy didn't think it was fair to keep on about the wonders of life in the national park, the brilliant mud slides and the stunning views and the fragrant bogs, not to traveling companions who'd soon be chops and sausages.

  The train had been slowing down for some time, and now it jolted to a stop.

  Limpy peered through a crack in the carriage wall.

  When his eyes got used to the sunlight, he saw a concrete platform with rows of metal fences.

  “End of the line,” said one of the sheep. “Good luck. Hope you find the national park.”

  Limpy looked around sadly at their kind faces.

  He didn't know what to say. What could you say to traveling companions who'd be ending up as roast dinners?

  Hope the gravy's not too hot?

  It didn't seem right, so he just gave them a grateful smile and said “Thanks.”

  As he squeezed through the crack in the carriage floor, he remembered something.

  The virus germs.

  Oh no, he thought. What if I've infected the sheep?

  That wouldn't be fair, his new friends having to spend their last precious hours worrying about their health.

  Then Limpy realized he was being an idiot. Humans wouldn't want to spread germs to every living animal, because if they did, they wouldn't have anything left to eat for lunch. The virus germs must just affect cane toads.

  That's a relief, thought Limpy, though it wasn't much of one.

  Limpy dropped onto the rusty beam under the train and looked around.

  His warts prickled with fear.

  Human feet in big work boots were clomping along the platform. Human feet he'd have to get past to find the national park.

  Limpy looked around some more.

  What he really wanted was a tunnel that led under the platform and under all the other scary human places outside and came up right in the middle of the national park, wherever it was—preferably next to a swamp.

  He couldn't see one.

  Which meant he'd have to go across the platform.

  Limpy took a deep breath. He waited till none of the human feet were directly in front of him, made sure he had plenty of mucus so his lips wouldn't dry out when he was hopping for his life, and hopped for his life.

  The bright morning sun hurt his eyes. He couldn't see if any boots were aiming for him. All he could do was head toward the patch of shade on the other side of the platform.

  Not too fast, he reminded himself. If you start going in a curve you'll end up somewhere fatal, like the ladies’ toilets.

  Limpy felt his mucus drying up with the effort and the stress. He dreaded hearing that horrible cry humans give when they see a cane toad. The one that sounds like they've got a bog worm stuck in their throat and they don't like the taste.

  The cry didn't come.

  Limpy threw himself into the shade, gasping gratefully.

  And saw to his relief that he was on a concrete ramp that led down into darkness. Could this be the tunnel he'd hoped for?

  An ant was trotting toward him up the ramp. Followed, Limpy saw, by a swarm of other ants.

  “Excuse me,” Limpy said to the first ant. “Is this the way to the national park?”

  “Rack off, wart-head,” scowled the ant as he hurried past. “We've got a train to catch.”

  Limpy was tempted to have breakfast, but the ants’ red bodies and red faces and red angry eyes didn't look that appetizing.

  “Thanks for your help,” muttered Limpy. “Have a nice day.”

  He turned away and headed toward the mouth of the tunnel. Before he reached it, he heard a loud cry behind him. Not, Limpy saw with relief as he spun round, from a human. From a sheep.

  The sheep were being herded by the humans out of the train carriages and down wooden chutes. The first few sheep had frozen in horror and were staring at the approaching ants.

  “Arghh!” screamed one of them. “Fire ants!”

  Limpy watched, stunned, as the sheep tried to scramble back up the chutes in panic. Then they bolted. The humans were knocked sideways as a tide of frenzied sheep thundered across the platform. Toward, Limpy saw, his own panic rising, him.

  Limpy spun back round desperately. He was trapped. Concrete walls rose up on both sides, too high to climb. Ahead was the tunnel, but soon it would be full of a frenzied stampeding mob.

  Stack me, thought Limpy, weak with terror. I'm going to be trampled to death by sheep.

  Then a voice rang out above him.

  “Limpy. Grab my arm.”

  A familiar voice.

  Limpy looked up. And even though the pounding sheep feet were only meters away, he froze in amazement.

  “Goliath!” he yelled, weak now for different reasons. Relief and quite a bit of delight.

  “Grab my arm!” shouted Goliath, hanging off the concrete wall and reaching down toward Limpy.

  “Yes!” yelled Limpy. “I'm grabbing, I'm grabbing. Stack me, am I glad to see you!”

  He lunged up toward Goliath's arm.

  Then, delight turning to anguish, Limpy remembered something.

  The virus germs.

  He pulled his arm away from Goliath's.

  “No!” yelled Limpy above the thunder of the sheep. “Go away!”

  Goliath didn't go away.

  Limpy felt muscular fingers grab the loose skin at the back of his neck. Suddenly he was dragged up the wall. Dust and wool and sheep saliva tickled his feet as the mob charged under him into the tunnel.

  “Please,” Limpy begged Goliath. “You mustn't touch me.”

  Goliath didn't seem to hear. He heaved Limpy onto the top of the wall, put his arm round him, and jumped with him down behind some wooden crates.

  “We'll be safe here till the panic's over,” said Goliath.

  No you won't, thought Limpy miserably, pulling away. You'll never be safe again. I've probably just infected you with virus germs.

  Limpy could hear the sheep bursting noisily out of the other end of the tunnel and milling around, with humans shouting at them.

  I should be down there, he said to himself, glands aching with anguish. Flattened to a pulp by hundreds of sheep feet. At least I wouldn't have done this to poor Goliath.

  Goliath was grinning at him.

  “Stack me, you look pale,” said Goliath. “Must be the shock of seeing me. I'm pretty amazed I made it here myself.”

  “Goliath …,”croaked Limpy.

  The sooner Goliath knew, the better. Perhaps if Goliath lay down and put his feet up, the germs wouldn't affect him so badly.

  Wouldn't kill him so quickly.

  “There's something I
have to tell you,” whispered Limpy.

  Goliath wasn't listening.

  “Talk about good luck,” he was saying. “You know those flying beetles you sent over to me yesterday? I mustn't have chewed one of them properly, 'cause it crawled back up my throat and gave me your message. About you saying you were dead when you weren't really. Stack me, I thought. If Limpy's saying that, he must still be alive. So I went looking for you. Couple of snakes with herbs on them told me where you'd gone. When I heard you were definitely still alive, I was delirious. Nearly choked on the snakes. Got to the train just as you were jumping on and hopped on the back myself.”

  “Goliath …,” said Limpy.

  Goliath threw his arms round Limpy again. “You don't have to say it,” he said. “I know you're tickled pink, and I am too. Tickled pink you're still alive and tickled even pinker I can go on a quest with you instead of that oversized wartbag Malcolm.”

  Limpy couldn't get a word out, partly because Goliath was hugging him so hard and partly because he felt so sad.

  I've got the most loving cousin in the universe, thought Limpy, and I may have just killed him.

  Limpy wanted to cry and never stop.

  Instead, he pulled himself together.

  It could be worse, he thought. I could have infected Charm as well.

  Limpy struggled out of Goliath's arms and was about to break the awful news when he saw what was on Goliath's back.

  A shiny pink plastic backpack.

  Limpy recognized it. He remembered the day a child having a tantrum in a passing car had pulled the backpack off her doll and chucked it out onto the highway. Limpy had waited for the car to turn round and come back, and when it didn't, he'd added the backpack to his drink can and chicken bone collection.

  Now he stared at it in amazement.

  Partly because Goliath had managed to squeeze it over his broad shoulders and partly because it was moving.

  Something inside it was wriggling and kicking and grunting.

  Stack me, thought Limpy. He's brought a bag full of bog worms to eat on the trip.

  He saw that Goliath was glancing nervously over his shoulder at the bag.

  “I was gunna explain about this,” said Goliath, pulling the bag off his back. He put it gently down and undid the flap. “What happened was …”

  He was interrupted by a roar of fury from inside the bag. The flap flew open and an irate face appeared, glaring at Goliath.

  Limpy stared in stunned horror.

  “Charm,” he croaked, backing away. “No.”

  “Mongrel!” yelled Charm at Goliath. “Kidnapper!”

  She clambered out of the bag and advanced furiously toward Goliath. Then she caught sight of Limpy and screamed with delight.

  “Limpy!”

  She started coming toward him, an amazed grin on her little face.

  Limpy backed away.

  “Incredible,” said Charm. “You're alive! Goliath was telling the truth. I thought he abducted me 'cause he was jealous of my feelings for Malcolm.”

  Limpy was desperately trying to get further away from Charm, for her sake, but the wooden crate at his back was stopping him.

  “Of course I was telling the truth,” said Goliath indignantly. “When I worked out that Limpy was still alive, I knew he'd need our help. So I had to get you away from Mr. Handsome. Who I don't reckon is so perfect, if you want to know. I reckon some of those warts are fake. Dried dung beetles with the legs pulled off.”

  Charm grabbed the pink bag and tried to swing it at Goliath's head.

  “Why didn't you talk to me?” she yelled. “Instead of kidnapping me. It wasn't like I was so dopey over Malcolm I wouldn't have listened.”

  Goliath looked pleadingly over at Limpy for help.

  While Limpy was trying to work out what to do, Charm's shoulders slumped and her face slowly scrunched into a frown. “All right, I was a bit dopey,” she muttered. Then her face lit up again. “Oh, Limpy, I'm so happy you're alive.”

  Before Limpy could stop her, she hopped over, stretched up, and kissed him.

  “No,” groaned Limpy. “No.”

  Charm stared at him, stunned and concerned.

  “Limpy,” she said. “What's the matter?”

  “It's okay, Limpy,” said Goliath. “She's your sister. It's not yucky when you kiss your sister.”

  “It's not that,” said Limpy.

  Miserably he showed them his back.

  “Sort of a lumpy scab,” said Goliath. “I think it looks quite nice.”

  Limpy told them about the scientist and the needle and the virus germs.

  There was a long silence.

  “Oh no,” breathed Charm.

  “I'm sorry,” whispered Limpy.

  “Virus germs?” roared Goliath. “I'm not gunna let any virus germs kill my family. I'm gunna pulverize them. I'm gunna rip their little legs off. I'm gunna eat them.”

  Charm put her hand on Goliath's arm.

  Limpy watched Goliath's shoulders slump. Charm and Goliath exchanged a long worried look.

  “I don't feel infected,” said Goliath. “I just feel hungry. Do you think virus germs can make you feel hungry?”

  There was another long silence.

  Then Charm spoke.

  “It's not your fault, Limpy,” she said. “If we are infected, I reckon we should make the most of the time we've got left. I reckon we should find the national park and do everything we can to get Mum and Dad and the others safely there before we die.”

  “I agree,” said Goliath.

  Limpy looked at their determined faces and wished cane toads gave each other those round metal things that humans gave each other for being brave.

  He'd give Charm and Goliath a hundred each.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let's go.”

  First they had to get away from the humans.

  And the sheep.

  Limpy didn't particularly want to run into the rude ants again either.

  The three of them hurried along the platform, keeping to the shadows and watching anxiously for boots.

  Then Charm let out a terrified croak.

  “Look out!”

  Limpy turned.

  A large gate was swinging open and a truck was backing through it, heading straight toward them. Limpy had never seen a truck drive backward before. It was a chilling sight.

  Stack me, thought Limpy. This must be how trucks sneak up on cane toads when they're not expecting it.

  “Low mongrels!” yelled Goliath. He looked around for a weapon, saw a big rusty nail poking out of a rotting fence post, dragged it out, and waved it angrily at the truck. “Let's see how you like it when I slash your tires and scratch your paint and stab your fuel tank and drink all your gasoline!”

  Limpy and Charm grabbed the loose skin under Goliath's arms and struggled to hold him back.

  “Dunno why I'm doing this,” muttered Charm. “A few truck wheels over his head would do him good.”

  Limpy looked around desperately for a way to escape.

  They were trapped between the truck and the fence and the steep edge of the platform.

  Then Limpy saw a weed-covered plastic grate in the concrete near their feet. It was covering a hole.

  “Quick, Goliath,” he said. “Help me get this open.”

  Limpy grabbed the grate and started pulling at it. Charm helped him. The truck was getting closer. Goliath gave it a last scowl as he hooked his nail under the rim of the grate and prized it up. Together, panting, they rolled the grate away from the hole.

  Charm looked nervously down into the darkness.

  “Do all wombat holes in towns have lids?” she said.

  “It's a drain,” said Limpy. “Like the stormwater one under our highway at home. Jump!”

  The truck was almost on top of them. Limpy decided this wasn't the time to tell Charm about what humans use sewers for.

  He pushed Charm into the hole. Goliath squeezed in after her. Limpy followed. As he fell, he
closed his eyes and thought of their lovely swamp. He wished he could land with a squish into soft, familiar mud.

  Instead, he landed with a painful thud and a splash.

  “You okay?” said Goliath's voice in the gloom. “I'm okay, and I think Charm's okay 'cause she's biting my knee.”

  Limpy checked to make sure that he could move all his limbs and warts.

  “I'm okay,” he said.

  Above them, one of the truck wheels rolled over the hole and stopped, blocking out the circle of daylight.

  They were in total darkness.

  “I don't like towns,” said Charm in a small voice.

  Limpy reached out till he felt her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “Don't worry,” he said. “We'll be in the national park soon.”

  He heard his voice echo down what sounded like a tunnel. He was surprised to hear how confident it sounded, because he didn't feel very confident at all.

  “Which way do we go?” asked Goliath.

  Limpy could feel water trickling over his feet. Fortunately, it didn't seem to have lumps in it.

  “This water must be going somewhere,” he said.“Let's follow it.”

  They set off, hopping slowly and cautiously.

  Limpy reached out in the darkness for Charm's hand.

  Poor kid, he thought. She didn't ask to be here.

  He gave her hand a squeeze.

  “Thanks,” said Goliath. “That feels good.”

  “Limpy,” said Charm. “Do you actually know where the national park is?”

  Limpy let go of Goliath's hand and hesitated before he answered.

  If I was Malcolm, he said to himself, I'd say “Yes, of course. I know exactly where it is. Follow me.” But I'm not, I'm Limpy.

  He took a deep breath.

  “Yes,” he said. “Of course. I know exactly where it is. Follow me.”

  “Where?” said Goliath.

  Limpy thought about confessing that he didn't know exactly where it was at all. Then he remembered the adoring way Charm had looked at Malcolm. And how jealous he'd felt.

  “To the east,” said Limpy.

  They hopped along the tunnel in darkness and silence.

  Crunch.

  Limpy stiffened.

  What was that sound?

  Slurp.

  He relaxed. It was just Goliath eating something.