Toad Heaven - Morris Gleitzman [15]
Limpy cleared his throat.
The snakes twitched in alarm, glowered resentfully at Limpy, and slithered away.
Limpy looked down at Ancient Eric.
It was one of the saddest sights he'd ever seen. A once-proud leader, flattened. And worse, with skin so smooth he looked like a human dinner plate with a grumpy mouth and surprised eyes.
Oh well, thought Limpy. At least the poor thing can't catch anything from me.
“Mr. Eric,” said Limpy. “Things are pretty crook at the moment. I know there's nothing you can do, so I'm going to have a crack at saving everyone myself. I may not have much time left, but if I can find that national park to the east, perhaps I can rescue the others from Malcolm and get them safely there.”
Loud hissing and chortling came from the nearby shadows.
“Fat chance,” said the snakes. “He's kidding himself. What an idiot.”
Limpy ignored them. He leaned forward and gripped Ancient Eric by the edges.
“Sorry about this,” said Limpy. “I know I'm not meant to touch you, you being so important. But you need a final resting place where you won't be pestered. I think you'll find it's more dignified under my bed.”
Limpy heaved Ancient Eric onto his shoulders. Ignoring the pain from his back, he hopped slowly round the edge of the swamp till he reached a familiar front path.
It didn't feel good, being in the place with everyone gone. Okay, not quite everyone. The flat sun-dried rellies were still there, aunts stacked in one corner of Limpy's room, uncles in another, cousins at the foot of his bed.
Limpy put Ancient Eric reverently into a pizza box and slid him under the bed. Then Limpy said goodbye to the flat rellies. It took a while because he wanted to do it individually and some of them were stuck together.
Finally he finished and went outside.
Limpy paused, gazing at the dear swamp he loved so much. In the moonlight, the still water and lovely weeds were full of shadows.
And memories.
They flooded through him.
Dad teaching him not to eat giant mangrove slugs while they were kissing because if you swallowed two at a time they got stuck in your throat.
Goliath gobbling stinkweed until he had wind so bad he could speed through the water without using his arms or legs.
Mum telling Limpy and Charm that the swamp would always be their home, as long as Goliath didn't pollute the water too much.
Limpy shook his head sadly and sent the memories back into the darkness.
Would he ever see his dear home again? Would he ever know such love and happiness again?
Probably not, thought Limpy.
But there wasn't time to hang around feeling sorry for himself.
He had a train to catch.
Limpy crouched in the grass next to the train tracks and smeared sticky sap onto his knees and tummy and forehead.
“That won't make much difference,” said a nearby centipede.
Limpy didn't answer.
He thought the centipede was probably right, but when you were going to fling yourself at a train moving faster than a stampeding goanna, you needed all the help you could get.
A loud whistle shrieked in the distance.
The centipede put quite a few hands over its ears.
Limpy tensed.
As the light on the front of the train hurtled toward him out of the darkness, he tried to think of positive things.
How the train would almost certainly slow down as it went over the highway crossing.
How his back wasn't hurting so much now, more sort of itching. And that might just have been from when he'd stretched the skin trying to pull himself away from the sticky sap tree.
Then the mud under Limpy's feet started to tremble and the metal tracks hummed and suddenly the train was thundering through the crossing and past Limpy.
Not slowing down at all.
“Jump!” screamed the centipede.
Limpy jumped.
For a while he thought he was dead. Arms and legs ripped off and head bouncing into the centipede's front yard.
When he realized he was still in one piece, he knew that at the very least he must be completely flat, with his face peering out of his own bottom and his brains leaking out of his ears.
So he was pretty surprised when he