Toad Heaven (11 page)

A
s Limpy clambered over the metal wall at the bottom of the doorway, he saw that Goliath was already halfway along the passage on the other side.

“Goliath!” yelled Limpy. “If Ancient Eric were here, he'd be telling you to come back immediately.”

Limpy knew that wasn't strictly true. If poor Ancient Eric were there, a human would probably be using him as a floatie, but it was worth a try.

Goliath didn't even slow down.

Limpy went after him.

Hopping in circles wasn't a problem in the passageway. Limpy just bounced from wall to wall and made good progress. Right up until he reached Charm, who was standing frozen, staring into a room off one side of the passage.

Limpy saw that his sister was trembling with shock.

“What's the matter?” he asked, putting his arm round her.

She didn't reply.

Limpy peered into the room and saw it was a sort of shop, with racks of postcards and a big glass cupboard full of soft drinks.

Even though Charm's little body was white with salt and Limpy knew she must be as thirsty as he was, she wasn't looking at the soft drinks.

She was looking up at the shelves.

The shelves were piled with the sorts of things humans bought when they were on holiday. Sunglasses and plastic boats and pens with plankton in them. The sort of stuff that broke easily and got chucked out of cars on the way home.

Limpy realized Charm wasn't trembling because of the flimsiness of human souvenirs.

She was trembling because of the cane toads squatting on the middle shelf.

Limpy felt a shiver go down his back.

For a fleeting second he thought they were alive.

Then he realized they weren't. They were too shiny and still, and their eyes were too glassy. And they were doing something no live cane toad would ever do. They were holding miniature items of human sporting equipment.

Tennis racquets.

Cricket bats.

Golf clubs.

That's disgusting, thought Limpy. Making them pose with the very weapons that probably killed them.

Charm gave a small sob.

Limpy's heart ached. He wished she didn't have to see this. He wished he could take her home, where at least dead cane toads had flatness and dignity.

Then he remembered the virus germs. Was poor Charm imagining herself with the other cane toads on the shelf?

“Come on,” said Limpy softly, steering her away from the shop. “We can't do anything for them now. It's more important that we find Goliath.”

At that moment, from along the passage, came a loud burp.

Goliath had found food.

Goliath was in another room further along the passage.

“Look,” he said, chewing happily. “Isn't this great?”

Limpy froze.

The room was full of humans. They were standing against the walls on all sides. Goliath hadn't even seen them.

Limpy dived in front of Charm and braced himself for an attack.

It didn't come.

Weak with relief, Limpy saw why. The things towering over him weren't humans after all. Just human clothes hanging on pegs.

Goliath was chewing a sock.

“Help yourself,” he said, pointing to the bags and rucksacks on the floor.

Limpy saw that Goliath had opened several ruck-sacks and emptied out the contents. He was sitting among cosmetic bags and books and maps and underwear.

“There's plenty for everyone,” said Goliath. “I recommend those delicious deodorant sticks that humans rub under their arms.”

Limpy remembered how hungry he was.

He started checking the hairbrushes for head lice. Then he saw something that drove all thoughts of food from his mind and tummy.

Spilling out of one rucksack were some photos of humans standing under trees. The trees were full of brightly colored birds. Some of the humans had birds standing on their heads and shoulders.

Limpy peered more closely.

One of the humans was holding a frog.

The humans looked happy.

The birds looked happy.

The frog looked happy.

Limpy's warts tingled with excitement. This was exactly how he'd imagined a national park would be. No birds being shot. No frogs being dissected by scientists. Limpy studied the photos for any signs of cane toads being bashed or run over.

Not a single one.

And everything was surrounded by air, not water.

This must be another national park, thought Limpy. It's got to be.

He was about to show the photos to Charm and Goliath when he saw something else on the floor. Something that made his warts almost pop with happiness.

A pair of human shoes, caked with mud.

“Look,” croaked Limpy. “Mud.”

“Thanks,” said Goliath with his mouth full. “But I prefer sock fluff.”

“Don't you see?” said Limpy. “The underwater national park isn't the only one these humans have visited. They've also been to one with mud. They could be going to others. They could be visiting another mud national park tomorrow.”

Charm and Goliath stared at him.

“We could go with them,” said Limpy.

A half-chewed hairbrush fell from Goliath's mouth.

“You mean risk being bashed by a mob of humans just to see if they're going to another national park?” said Charm.

“This is our last chance to find a safe place for Mum and Dad and the others,” said Limpy. “What have we got to lose? If we give up now, none of us are going to survive.”

Charm nodded slowly.

Limpy was glad he hadn't needed to use the words “virus germs.”

“Let me get this right,” said Goliath, frowning.“You want us to hide in these rucksacks and not eat too noisily?”

“No,” said Limpy. “That's too risky. If the humans find us, they'll kill us before we even arrive at the national park.”

“So,” said Charm, frowning too. “How are we going to get them to take us?”

L
impy squatted on the shelf and held the little tennis racquet over his head.

“The vital thing,” he whispered to Charm and Goliath, who were squatting next to him, “is not to move.”

“This soft drink tickles,” complained Goliath.

Limpy knew what he meant. But it looked good. As it dried on their skin, it was starting to shine just like the varnish on the poor stuffed cane toads behind them on the shelf.

“Charm,” whispered Limpy. “Hold your golf club a bit higher.”

Charm did.

“Goliath,” said Limpy. “Try not to look as though you want to hit a human with that cricket bat.”

“But I do,” said Goliath.

Limpy sighed.

In the distance he could hear the humans clambering back onto the boat after their swim.

“What will we do,” whispered Charm, “if they don't want to buy any souvenirs?”

“If they don't want to buy me,” said Goliath, “I'll squirt them.”

Limpy tried to sigh again and found that the soft drink had stuck his lips together.

The humans wanted to buy lots of things.

They crowded into the shop, jostling and chattering in their weird human language.

Limpy wished he could understand what they were saying.

What he hoped they were saying was, “We'll take the three cane toads at the front. Please wrap them up really gently, and do it quickly because we're leaving now for another national park.”

What he feared they were saying was, “We're so thirsty after swimming in that salty chip water, we don't give a flying bog weevil about souvenirs; all we want are drinks.”

Limpy felt something tickling his foot. He looked down. A little spider was brushing past his toes. With tiny movements himself, ones he hoped were invisible, Limpy licked his lips till he could move them.

“G'day,” whispered Limpy to the spider. “Can you
understand what the humans are saying?”

The spider stared at Limpy in shock.

“Yikes!” it said.“A battery-operated cane toad. Now I've seen everything.”

At that moment a human reached over and picked Limpy up.

Don't move, Limpy told himself. Whatever you do, don't move.

It was fairly easy not to at first because he was rigid with fear. But then the human shifted her fingers to the ticklish spot on Limpy's tummy, and suddenly he was struggling not to giggle.

The adult human held him up in front of a child human.

Limpy stared pleadingly at the human boy's friendly freckled face.

Please don't notice I'm alive, he begged silently.

“Look,” said the mother, “isn't he cute?”

Limpy hoped she'd said, “Look, isn't he dead?”

The human boy stared sadly at Limpy.

“That's really cruel,” he said. “Killing them just to make souvenirs. I'd only want a cane toad if I could have a live one for a pet.”

Limpy hoped he'd said, “That's a lovely souvenir, Mummy, but it makes me a bit sad only having one. Can I have three?”

The mother obviously couldn't afford three, because
she put Limpy back on the shelf. Limpy saw the spider nearby, watching with interest.

“Why didn't they want me?” whispered Limpy.

“Cause you're dead,” said the spider.

While Limpy was trying to make sense of this, another human picked Goliath up.

“Boy,” said the human, putting his red face close to Goliath's. “This one's ugly.”

Limpy knew the human had said something not very nice from the expression on the human's face. Limpy looked anxiously at Goliath, whose eyes, he saw, were bulging in a worrying way.

Don't spray him, Goliath, begged Limpy silently. Please don't.

Then yet another human picked Limpy up and held him out to the woman who was collecting the money.

They said lots of things to each other. The man prodded Limpy quite a bit and turned him upside down a couple of times. Finally, sick and giddy, Limpy found himself lying on a paper bag. Goliath, he saw, was being put into another bag.

The spider was nearby.

“He's bought you,” said the spider. “And his mate's bought the big ugly one next to you. Yours got the best deal, though. A dollar off, 'cause of your crook leg.”

Limpy's stomach lurched as he felt himself being picked up again.

He peered desperately around the shop, and just before he was dropped into the bag, he saw the thing he had feared the most.

His stomach went beyond lurching, into stabs of anguish.

Charm, her tiny face frozen in an expression of hope and anxiety, was still on the shelf.

L
impy had never been a souvenir before.

It wasn't very comfortable.

It's this paper bag, he said to himself in the darkness. It's just too small for a cane toad and a plastic yabbie and a plankton pen with a really sharp point.

Limpy wished the human who'd bought him yesterday had taken him out of the bag before putting him in the rucksack. Even though that would have meant the human touching him again.

Limpy shivered at the memory.

The rucksack jolted. Limpy was stabbed in the bottom again, either by the pen or the yabbie, or possibly both.

When he'd managed to wriggle away from them a bit, he wondered how Goliath was doing.

“Goliath,” called Limpy softly. “These paper bags are a real pain, eh?”

“Not really,” said Goliath's voice from the next rucksack. “I've eaten half of mine.”

Limpy smiled.

Good old Goliath. He could make you smile even when your bottom was hurting and your back was itching and you were covered with human fingerprints and you were worried sick about Charm.

For the millionth time, Limpy hoped that Charm had been bought as well. If possible, by friends of his human, which would mean she'd be in a rucksack not too far away from the one he was in.

“Charm,” he called for the millionth time. “Are you okay?”

No reply.

Perhaps she can't hear me over the noise of the bus engine, thought Limpy.

He was pretty sure it was a bus engine.

The boat-rocking had stopped soon after Limpy was first put in the rucksack. Then there'd been a bit of jiggling that felt like the rucksack was on a human's back. Then no movement during what Limpy assumed was the night. Now Limpy was pretty sure this jolting was a bus.

“Goliath,” called Limpy. “Have you heard from Charm yet?”