Toad Heaven - Morris Gleitzman [9]
Limpy held his breath as the four-wheel drive swerved, missing him by less than the width of a non-flattened uncle, and thundered after Goliath.
Limpy raised his head and watched with shaky relief as Goliath led the vehicle toward the deep part of the swamp.
He felt like cheering, right up until Goliath tripped on a twig and disappeared headfirst down a wombat hole.
“Oh no,” croaked Limpy, scrambling to his feet.
He could see other cane toads peering from their hiding places, anxious faces gleaming in the spotlight.
“Get back under cover!” yelled Limpy.
“It's okay, everyone,” said another voice loudly. “I'm here now.”
Limpy's mouth fell open as the massive figure of Malcolm sprang into the spotlight. Malcolm paused for a moment, flexed his perfectly formed thighs, then headed for the swamp with huge, muscular hops.
The four-wheel drive charged after him.
I don't believe it, thought Limpy as he tried to keep up. Malcolm's risking his life for us. Perhaps I've been wrong about him. Perhaps underneath all that handsomeness and ambition, he's a decent bloke after all.
Ahead, Malcolm suddenly veered to one side.
Limpy saw that Malcolm wasn't heading for the deep part of the swamp anymore; he was heading for Ancient Eric's cave.
What had happened? Had one of Malcolm's legs gone crook as well?
No, Limpy realized. Malcolm was doing this on purpose.
“Look out!” yelled Limpy, but it was too late.
As Malcolm leaped over Ancient Eric's rock, the human saw it for the first time and hit his brakes. The four-wheel drive went into a skid and slammed into the rock.
The sound of the impact echoed across the swamp.
Then silence, except for the chugging of the engine.
Limpy wondered if the human was dead. He kept on wondering this as he crept warily toward the still vehicle.
Until, slowly, the driver's door started to open.
Limpy looked around in alarm. Rellies and family members were emerging from their hiding places, clearly visible in the moonlight.
I've got to distract the human, thought Limpy. Stop him from seeing all the others.
Limpy flung himself forward.
Then he spotted Malcolm in the shadows near the vehicle.
Perhaps Malcolm was having the same idea.
But it wasn't Malcolm who hopped toward the pair of feet that were emerging from the driver's door.
It was Charm.
Limpy saw Malcolm give her a little push and Charm look up at him adoringly, then turn and hop bravely toward the feet.
Limpy couldn't believe it. The wartbag was sacrificing Charm to save his own skin.
“No!” yelled Limpy.
He lunged forward and somehow managed to get to the feet first, so it was his body the warm human fingers closed around instead of Charm's.
Limpy felt himself being lifted high into the air.
Defiantly he looked at his captor.
And felt his poison glands go wobbly with relief.
The human had a beard and was wearing a khaki shirt and shorts.
It was plumage Limpy recognized. He'd seen photos of similar humans in magazines chucked from passing cars. He'd watched blokes like this one in action on portable tellies in human campsites. He'd heard koalas whisper dreamily about this wonderful plumage after they'd eaten too many gum leaves.
He's a conservationist, thought Limpy happily. He hasn't come to kill us, he's come to save us.
Even though Limpy was out of breath, he tried to yell that to the others, and kept trying until he saw the big gleaming needle in the human's other hand and felt it jab into his tummy warts and everything went black.
“Ouch,” said Limpy.
Daylight was stinging his eyeballs.
Something else was stinging his back. Worse than stinging, hurting. He hadn't felt pain like it for years, not since the truck had run over his leg.
I don't get it, thought Limpy. Why's my back hurting? The needle went into my tummy, not my back.
A horrible thought hit him. Perhaps it was a fork wound. Perhaps the human had tried to eat him while he was unconscious.
Would a conservationist do that? Limpy hoped not, for all their sakes. But