Toad Rage - Morris Gleitzman [17]
“Good thought,” said Goliath. He sat pondering for a while, then he broke into a grin. “Here's another good thought,” he said. “When we get down south, let's find some humans and stuff these fluffy toys up the mongrels' exhaust pipes so their cars blow up.”
Limpy sighed.
He decided not to ask Goliath if he wanted to be a mascot too.
The air brakes squealed on and Limpy found himself rolling across the floor in a flock of fluffy echidnas.
He sat up and listened.
The truck had stopped moving. It gave a shudder as the engine died.
“I think we've arrived,” said Limpy.
“Water,” croaked Goliath. “Slime. Anything.”
Limpy went over and pulled a handful of fluff out of Goliath's mouth.
“It doesn't help,” said Limpy, “when you try and eat a brushed-polyester platypus.”
“I thought it might have some moisture in it,” croaked Goliath.
Limpy knew how he felt. They'd been in the back of the truck for a whole day without a drop of liquid. Since early morning, all Limpy had been thinking about was a drink. He'd have drunk anything. Which why he was so glad Goliath hadn't done a pee.
A loud clang echoed through the truck.
“Arghh!” yelled Goliath. “What's that?”
“They're opening the doors,” said Limpy. “Quick, before they find us.”
He pushed Goliath through the hole in the side of the truck and squeezed through himself. As he dropped onto the road, a barrage of sights and sounds hit him.
Traffic everywhere.
Humans all over the place.
The night sky almost as bright as day.
Limpy huddled with Goliath under the truck and tried to take it all in.
Stack me, he thought, so this is a city.
He'd seen pictures of cities on beer cartons, but he had no idea they were so noisy. Or smelly. He could smell car fumes and animals cooking and a hundred other weird aromas. One of them, he thought with a shudder, could easily be the stuff he'd heard humans sprayed on their armpits.
“This is scary,” Goliath was saying, looking around wide-eyed.
Limpy knew how he felt. There were roads going in all directions with millions of cars and trucks on them. No wonder cane toads didn't live in cities. They wouldn't stand a chance.
“I'm staying here,” said Goliath, stepping farther back under the truck.
Then Limpy smelled something else.
Water.
He pointed to a large round building across a busy road.
“I think there's water in there,” said Limpy.
Goliath lunged forward.
Limpy grabbed on to him and tried to stop him crashing into cars and colliding with humans in his desperation to get across the road.
But once they'd hopped frantically between the vehicles and scampered into the concrete tunnel that led into the building, the smell of water was so strong that Limpy let himself be dragged along.
He closed his eyes for a moment and pretended that at the other end of the tunnel was his own swamp, with Mum and Dad and Charm waiting to hug him and tell him that everything was okay because all humans had decided to stop driving and stay in and watch telly forever.
Limpy knew it wouldn't be and they hadn't, but it felt good just for a moment.
What actually happened was almost as good.
He and Goliath burst out of the tunnel into a huge open space. Lights shimmered in the night sky. Grass glistened. The air sparkled.
“It's raining!” yelled Goliath, and flung himself into the cascade of shimmering droplets.
Limpy did the same. He felt his fear and stress start to trickle away with the water that ran blissfully over his parched skin.
Maybe cities aren't so bad, he thought, if all the big buildings have paddocks in them, and rain.
But even as he drank in the delicious water, he noticed something strange about the rain.
It wasn't falling from the sky, it was spurting up out of the grass.
Stack me, thought Limpy, no wonder humans up our way frown when it rains. They must be really confused seeing it dropping out of the sky.
Limpy didn't care where it came from.
He drank and drank.
After a while he was vaguely aware that Goliath had stopped drinking and grunting happily, and was stretching