Toad Away - Morris Gleitzman [32]
“They're the wrong ones,” he said.
“What do you mean?” said Flatface.
“The wrong humans,” said Limpy.
“No, they're not,” said Flatface. “We're here to kill humans and these are humans. Look, two legs, horrible smooth skin, runny noses most of them. But not for long. When we add our little surprise to their drinking water, they won't be doing any more running, not them or their noses.”
“There's been a misunderstanding,” said Limpy.
“This isn't what I was expecting.”
These humans weren't on bulldozers. There wasn't a single one wearing a hard hat or overalls. Most of them weren't wearing anything at all. They were strolling around the village chatting, or sitting playing with children.
Limpy stared at a mum and dad dangling their little kid upside down by his feet.
Mum and Dad used to do that to me, thought Limpy. When I swallowed a snail without peeling it first.
Deep in his guts the bad feeling got bigger.
It wasn't an unpeeled snail, it was something else.
“What were you expecting?” said Flatface. “Oh, I get it. Larger numbers, right? Look, don't worry, we're starting small to test the dosage, but then we'll move on to bigger groups.”
Limpy tried to nod. He wanted to agree, for Charm's sake, but something inside him was saying no.
“Look at them,” said Flatface, scowling at the humans. “Innocent laughing faces. You wouldn't guess how murderous their brains are, would you? Nature can be very dishonest sometimes.”
Limpy tried to imagine each one of these humans on a bulldozer, ruthlessly destroying trees, making sandwich-spread out of the forest, driving over Charm.
He couldn't.
“Come on,” said Flatface, unwrapping the leaf parcel. “Let's have a squirt of your pus in here and we're in business.”
Limpy stared at the houses around the edge of the village. They were made from twigs and dried leaves and looked small and friendly compared to the human houses back home. Limpy tried to persuade himself that inside each one was a bulldozer or a truck or a pile of really sharp pie crusts.
He couldn't.
“I can't,” he said.
Before Flatface could stop him, Limpy flung himself out of the ditch and hopped back into the forest as fast as he could.
He just wanted to be on his own, to think about Charm and trucks and bulldozers, to smash through the undergrowth like this with thorny vines slashing his face.
To feel angry again.
It didn't happen.
Flatface grabbed him from behind.
“That's not fair!” yelled Limpy as he struggled in Flatface's grasp. “Your leg is just as crook as mine. How come you can hop faster? How come you're stronger?”
“Ancient Amazon health diet,” said a nearby scorpion. “And he broods a lot.”
Then something even more unfair happened.
Flatface dragged Limpy over to a large pit dug deep into the forest floor and pushed him in.
Luckily the damp leaves on the bottom were soft, and as Limpy thudded into them his warts were only dented rather than completely flattened.
When Limpy's head stopped thumping, he squinted up. Flatface was glaring down at him over the edge of the pit. He looked pretty small, and Limpy knew that meant one of two things.
Either Flatface had shrunk, or the mouth of the pit was a long way up.
Limpy wished he'd paid a bit more attention in the math lessons Dad had tried to give him, instead of spending most of the time gazing longingly at the mud slide. He had a horrible feeling the correct answer was the second one.
“Gone shy about squirting pus, eh?” said Flatface.“I think you'll change your mind when you meet your new friends down there. I'll be back later to collect it. Bye.”
He disappeared.
I wonder what he means by new friends, thought Limpy. Probably not cane toads who like mud slides.
The answer came from the other end of the pit. It started with some loud hissing, followed by quite a lot of slithering and the sudden appearance of several pairs of red and yellow eyes staring at Limpy.
“G'day,” said Limpy. “Um, are you those giant caterpillars Raoul was telling me about? The ones that can inflate your bodies to look like big snakes?”