Toad Heaven - Morris Gleitzman [39]
“I haven't got germs!” he yelled.
“You haven't got germs!” they yelled.
“None of us have!” yelled Limpy.
After he'd hugged them both several times, he turned tearfully to the crocodile.
“Thank you,” said Limpy. “Thank you.”
“That's okay,” said the crocodile. “I'm not really a coldhearted scavenger. That's just the way humans see me. Inside, I'm warm and kind.”
Limpy flung his arms round the crocodile's jaws and kissed it on the snout.
“Don't push it,” said the crocodile.
Limpy turned back to Charm and Goliath for more relieved hugs with them.
A wonderful thought hit him.
“Malcolm hasn't got germs either,” said Limpy. “Which means Mum and Dad haven't.”
Then Limpy sat down.
Another thought had just paralyzed him quicker than his first sight of the croc's molars.
Malcolm's back bump. The scientist must have put a tracking device in Malcolm too. Which means, thought Limpy miserably, that the humans probably know where Malcolm and Mum and Dad and the others are. They could swoop down on them and wipe them out at any time.
“Oh no,” groaned Limpy.
“What's the matter?” asked Charm.
Limpy explained what the matter was. Then he slumped back onto the mud. Suddenly it was all too much. The thought of a chopper coming out of nowhere and doing terrible things to Mum and Dad was more than he could bear, and he didn't even know what a chopper was.
Goliath, groaning, slumped next to him.
“It's hopeless,” moaned Goliath.“The humans probably know where we are too.”
“It's not hopeless,” said Charm. “We were going back to warn Mum and Dad about the germs. We can go back to warn them about this.”
Limpy looked up at her determined little face. Just the sight of it made his despair start to fade.
She was right.
Limpy turned to the crocodile.
“Any chance of a lift upriver?” he asked.
“Don't push it,” said the crocodile.
Limpy was grateful the train carriage was empty.
This was the first uncrowded part of the whole trip back.
The banana truck from the river to town had not only been bumpy, it had been crowded with spiders, mosquitoes, and snakes. Then, when the three of them had found the station, it had been swarming with humans and sheep.
Now, at last, thought Limpy, here's a chance for us to get some rest.
If only Goliath felt the same.
“Shouldn't we be watching out for everyone?” Goliath was saying, peering out between the planks in the carriage wall, squinting in the morning sun that twinkled through the trees they were clattering past.
Even though Limpy was exhausted, he understood Goliath's concern.
“No need till we get to the railway crossing,” said Limpy. “Mum and Dad and the others were heading west, so they'll be somewhere on the other side of that.”
Goliath frowned.
Limpy sighed and started to get up out of the comfortable bed he'd made for himself from scraps of soft sheep's wool. He could explain things better standing up.
Charm laid a hand on his arm.
“It's okay,” she said. “I'll draw him a diagram.”
“There it is!” yelled Goliath. “Our railway crossing!”
Limpy leaped up and peered out.
Goliath was right.
Limpy watched, throat sac tight with emotion, as his old life slid past the carriage.
The railway-crossing light, bare of flying insects in the midday sun.
The highway—unadorned, Limpy was relieved to see, by any squashed rellies.
The tree where Goliath had failed to break Ancient Eric's leaf-bug-eating record, but only because he had a swamp rat in his mouth at the time.
“I could do it now,” muttered Goliath, gazing back at the tree. “I know I could.”
Limpy strained to catch a last glimpse of his dear home.
Then it was gone.
He looked at Charm and Goliath, and he could see they were thinking the same thing as him.
Will we ever see it again?
From that point on, they didn't take their eyes off the landscape, desperate not to miss anything that looked even a bit like Mum or Dad or Malcolm.
Limpy took one side of the carriage, Goliath the other, and Charm divided her time between the two.
“There!” screamed Goliath, pointing