Toad Away - Morris Gleitzman [20]
Limpy didn't think that was very likely.
They questioned some head lice on the back of a seat in a deserted departure lounge. The head lice hadn't seen Charm, but they told Limpy not to give up, there were three other terminal buildings she could be in.
Limpy sagged with despair.
“This place is too big,” he said to Goliath. “We'll never find her.”
“That's if she's here at all,” said Goliath. “She could be in a child's dollhouse over on the other side of the city for all we know. Being forced to try on shoes.”
Limpy and Goliath dragged their weary bodies out of the departure lounge in the direction of the next terminal. As they crossed a dusty expanse of tiled floor, Limpy felt dizzy with tiredness. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath.
“Stack me,” said Goliath, pointing to the floor.“That's Charm.”
Limpy looked down.
And nearly fainted.
He was standing on Charm's head.
Traced in the dust was the outline of Charm's face, bigger than in real life and perfect in every detail. Even her warts were in the right place. Her eyes were as warm and loving as the real things.
“Careful,” said an indignant voice. “Don't tread on her.”
Limpy, head spinning even more now, staggered off the picture.
A dust mite was glaring at them, claws on hips.
“D-d-did you draw that?” stammered Limpy.
“Yes,” said the dust mite. “And I don't care who knows it. Fate only brought us together for a few precious minutes, but she won my heart forever. I'd give anything to see her gorgeous face again, but I know I won't, so my love will have to live on in art.”
“Mental,” whispered Goliath in Limpy's ear. “It's the dust.”
Limpy barely heard him. He was so excited he could hardly speak.
“You've seen my sister?” he croaked.
The dust mite looked startled.
“Sister?” he said, backing away. “I didn't know she was anyone's sister. Not that anything happened. No kissing or anything. I was just doing a bit of street art. I specialize in old masters, but with more dust. This vision hopped over and asked me how to get to the Amazon. At first I thought she meant that Internet bookshop, but she explained she was trying to get to the real Amazon.”
Limpy would have grabbed the dust mite if he'd been able to pick it up. He stepped closer, looming over the terrified artist.
“Did you help her?” he said. “Has she gone to the Amazon?”
The dust mite nodded.
“We found a weevil who'd spent a lot of time in the air-traffic controllers’ lunchroom. He told her about a flight she'd be able to catch if she hurried.”
Disappointment swept over Limpy like the sour water humans sometimes threw out of their cooler.
“When did she leave?” he said.
“Quite a while ago,” said the dust mite. “I did her portrait after she left and I can only move one grain of dust at a time.”
“Shall I eat him?” said Goliath.
Limpy shook his head. He had a rule never to eat anyone who felt the same way about Charm as he did, no matter how much he wanted to. Plus he needed travel details.
“This flight Charm caught,” he said. “When does the next one leave?”
“Not till tomorrow,” said the dust mite. “And not from this airport. It's a flight that leaves once a day from a private airfield way over in that direction.”
Limpy felt despair rising again.
“It's OK,” said the dust mite.“You've got all night to get there. I'll draw you a map.”
He started moving grains of dust into the shape of a street. Then he stopped and looked pleadingly up at Limpy.
“When you see her,” he said,“could you tell her that Myron sends his love?”
Limpy and Goliath took a long time to find their way out of the airport, mostly because Goliath stopped at every food-vending machine to see if he could get his tongue down the coin slot.
Once they were outside and hopping along the dark streets, Goliath announced he wanted to do commando raids on human houses.
“Nothing large scale,” he said. “Just toilet-splashing and car-scratching.”
Stack me, thought Limpy. At this rate we're never going to get to that airfield.
He said no a lot of times and in a very stern way.