Toad Away - Morris Gleitzman [16]
Limpy sighed.
“We don't have time for this now,” he said. “Charm might not be dead. She might just be hurt.”
“Yeah, well even if she is just hurt,” said Goliath, “it's still those mongrels’ fault. They're the ones whose truck squashed your leg when you were little. Charm only did this trip 'cause of your crook leg.”
Limpy stared at Goliath.
He was right.
Dad always reckoned it was no use crying over squashed legs, and Limpy usually agreed, but suddenly he didn't anymore.
Suddenly anger stabbed through him and made his warts burn.
If he had two good legs, Charm wouldn't have risked her life like this.
It was the humans’ fault.
Limpy closed his eyes and imagined a whole suburb of humans guzzling drinks while Goliath stood nearby, his bladder completely drained.
Then Limpy remembered Charm. He thought about her lying on the bags, in pain, waiting for him and Goliath to come.
He opened his eyes, blinked away the angry feelings, and grabbed Goliath.
“Come on,” he said.
The airport tarmac was very busy.
Birds and insects from all over Australia and many other parts of the world were landing and taking off continuously.
The individual in charge seemed to be a weary-looking cockroach. He was waving air traffic in and out with what looked at first to Limpy like a couple of table-tennis bats. When Limpy got closer he saw they were actually moth wings. The moth was standing at the edge of the tarmac looking annoyed.
“Excuse me,” said Limpy to the cockroach. “Have you got a moment?”
“Make it snappy,” said the cockroach. “I've got butterflies from Africa on approach and stink beetles in a holding pattern.”
“We're looking for my sister,” said Limpy. “She was on a pile of luggage next to a bus, but the bus and the luggage have gone.”
“This is an airport,” said the cockroach. “Buses and luggage don't hang around.” He paused in the middle of landing a pelican and peered at Limpy. “There was one of your lot here just now. Cute kid. On her way to the Amazon.”
“That's her!” yelled Limpy.
“Excuse me,” said Goliath to the cockroach. “That pelican just crashed.”
The cockroach ignored Goliath. “You've missed her,” he said to Limpy. “She took off ten minutes ago.”
“So she's OK?” said Limpy, giddy with relief.
“Bit knocked about,” said the cockroach. “But not too bad. Nowhere near as bruised as that pelican, for example.”
“Which bird did she leave with?” said Limpy. “And where can we find two more?”
“It wasn't a bird,” said the cockroach. “It was a plane.”
Limpy knew what planes were. Those huge shiny metal things over in the human part of the airport. Like slugs, but with wings. And much faster.
“There isn't a direct plane flight from here to the Amazon,” said the cockroach, waving in the African butterflies. “Your sister's gone via Los Angeles. Next plane to L.A. is that one over there leaving in about four hours.”
Limpy stared across at the huge plane. “What's the best way to get on it?” he wondered out loud.
“I'll get a sharp stick and bash a hole in the side,” said Goliath.
“Lots of ways in,” said the cockroach, waving the stink beetles out of the butterflies’ airspace. “Once you're on board, find yourself a comfortable pozzie before the human passengers get on. Stay away from those big things under the wings, they'll suck your eyeballs out. I prefer the overhead luggage compartments myself.”
The overhead luggage compartments were nice and roomy, with attractive decor, but Limpy was worried they were too dangerous. The plane would soon be filling up with passengers, and Limpy had noticed how human hand-luggage was mostly heavy bottles.
“We could hide in these paper bags,” suggested Goliath.
Limpy looked at the paper bags Goliath had pulled out of the seat pockets. He wasn't sure what they were for, so he shook his head.
“You never like my ideas,” complained Goliath.
“I'm not saying it's a bad idea,” said Limpy. “It's just that those bags remind me of the ones moths use when they hit air turbulence. You know, sick bags.”
“So what?” said Goliath. “There'd be room for us in there as