Toad Rage (2 page)

“And in these parts,” said Dad, “the highway is where the flying insects are. It's just bad luck that humans use highways too. All we can do is accept it. It's the way it's been since the dawn of time.”

“But why do they hate us, Dad?” said Limpy. “Why
do they go out of their way to run us over?”

Dad thought hard for a long time. Then he gave an

exasperated shrug.

“It's just the way things are,” he said to Limpy.

“Now go and tidy your room and don't worry your

dopey old head about it.”

I can't help worrying about it, thought Limpy miserably as he pushed his way through the big tropical leaves into his room. It's just the way I am.

He carefully lifted Uncle Roly onto the uncle stack.

“I don't know what Mum's moaning about,” Limpy said to himself. “I don't reckon my room's that untidy.”

He looked around at the neat piles of rellies. Uncles by the bed. Aunts in the corner. Cousins next to the mud patch.

The only way I could make these tidier, he thought, is if I had some of those racks.

He'd seen a picture of the racks in a newspaper that had been chucked out of a passing car. Humans used them for storing round, flat metal things, but Limpy could see they'd be perfect for dead rellies.

He straightened up Uncle Roly on the uncle stack. In a couple of days he'd be adding Uncle Bart to it.

Poor old Uncle Bart, thought Limpy. He spent most of his life saying “stack me,” and soon I will be.

A voice interrupted his sad thoughts.

“Limpy.”

Limpy turned round.

Mum and Dad had followed him into his room.

He started to tell them about the racks, but they didn't give him a chance.

“Limpy,” said Mum gently. “I know we get a bit cross with you sometimes, but we just want to say that we're really glad you're still around.”

They both gave him a hug.

Limpy glowed with pleasure. Most of his brothers and sisters had been swept away from home ages ago, when they were still blobs of spawn, and sometimes he worried he was a bit of a burden to Mum and Dad.

“If you ever got flattened, you know, more than you have been already,” said Dad, “we'd be really, really sad.”

Limpy glowed even more.

He started to tell them he felt the same about them, but just the thought of a Mum and Dad stack made his throat ache so much he had to stop.

Instead he said, “And Charm too?”

Mum smiled. “Of course,” she said. “We're glad she's still around too.”

Limpy glowed again. A lot of parents were ashamed of kids like Charm. Kids who'd stayed small because of pollution. But he could tell by looking at
Mum and Dad's faces that they loved his younger sister as much as they did him.

“Where is Charm?” he said. “I haven't seen her since I got back.”

“She went down to the highway,” said Mum, “to get me some mozzies for dessert.”

Limpy stared at her in panic.

“She shouldn't be going to the highway,” he said. “She's too young.”

“She's got to learn to collect food like everyone else,” said Dad. “Anyway, she'll be fine. She's with Goliath.”

Limpy felt anxiety stab through his glands.

Not cousin Goliath.

Anyone but cousin Goliath.

Limpy tried to make a frantic dash through the leaves and off in the direction of the highway, forgetting that if he hopped too fast, his crook leg made him go in circles.

He grimaced with frustration. This is the one drawback, he thought as he staggered around the room, of having one leg shorter than the other.

He crashed into a stack of rellies. Uncles rolled in all directions.

“Calm down,” said Dad. “Charm'll be okay. Goliath'll look after her. He's big and strong and sensible.”

“Big, yes,” Limpy wanted to shout. “Strong, yes. But
can someone who sits in the middle of the road and tries to wee on passing traffic really be described as sensible?”

Limpy didn't have time to stand around shouting.

In the distance, from the direction of the highway, he heard the faint sound of a sixteen-wheeler slamming on its air brakes.

He had to get to Charm before it was too late.

L
impy's head was spinning by the time he got to the highway, partly because he was out of breath and partly because he'd been round in so many circles.

It didn't matter.

He could see Charm and she was okay.

So far.

She was sitting in the moonlight in the middle of the road, a small figure next to a much larger one.

Limpy peered anxiously at the hulking figure of Goliath at her side and saw he was holding a stick.

“Oh no,” groaned Limpy.

His warts prickled with fear.

He could feel the vibrations of an approaching vehicle.

If he didn't act quickly, Charm and Goliath wouldn't be okay for much longer.

“Charm,” he yelled, but it just came out as a
desperate croak. He hurled himself at her, but found himself going round in circles again.

Then Charm looked up, saw him, and hopped over, eyes bright with pleasure.

“G'night, Limpy,” she said, smiling up at him. “How's it going?”

Limpy stared at her weakly.

“You could have been killed,” he said. “What were you doing?”

“Goliath's got a plan,” she replied. “He said he wants to show the humans that we're not going to take them running us over lying down.”

Limpy sighed. When they were handing out brains, Goliath must have swapped his for extra warts.

Limpy could feel the vehicle getting closer.

Goliath was facing the direction it was coming from, gripping his stick like a spear.

“Goliath,” yelled Limpy. “Don't be a dope.”

Goliath ignored him.

Headlights swung round the bend in the highway and came toward them, bathing Goliath in dazzling white. Goliath rose unsteadily on his back legs.

“Mongrels,” he yelled, waving his stick at the oncoming lights. “Big bums.”

Limpy started hopping toward Goliath.

Not too fast, he told himself. Stay in a straight line.

He got to Goliath with only a couple of wobbles,
reached up, grabbed Goliath's big warty shoulders, and tried to drag him off the road.

It was no good. Goliath was too much of a lump.

Then Limpy realized Charm was next to him and she was yanking at Goliath's leg.

“I was trying to tell him this was dopey when you arrived,” she panted.

Together they managed to drag the protesting Goliath across the bitumen.

“Hey,” yelled Goliath indignantly. “You're spoiling my ambush.”

“Ambush?” puffed Limpy. “You can't ambush a vehicle.”

“Yes I can,” retorted Goliath. “I've planned it all out. At the last minute I'm gunna hop to one side and smash the windscreen and rip the doors off and demolish the engine.”

“Goliath,” wheezed Limpy as they all collapsed in the grass, “you're a cane toad. That's a stick. A vehicle's about a thousand times bigger than you.”

Goliath, his warts glowing with determination, glared at Limpy.

“I can still give the duco a really nasty scratch.”

“Not,” said Limpy, “if you're being flattened by a large number of radial tires.”

“Limpy's right, Goliath,” said Charm. “You should have thought about that.”

Goliath, frowning, thought about it now.

“I'll stab the tires with the stick till they explode,” he said, “and then those mongrels'll drive off the road and get smothered by their own air bags.”

The vehicle, a car, roared past. It swerved slightly and thumped over an aunt in the exact spot where Goliath had been sitting.

They all stared at the flat aunt.

Limpy gave a sad sigh.

There was a long silence.

“Yeah, well, she didn't have a stick, did she?” Goliath muttered finally.

His bulging shoulders sagged.

“Poor Aunty Violet,” said Charm.

Limpy looked at his little sister's sad face and felt his warts tingle with love and then prickle with worry.

It could have been Charm.

Limpy had an awful vision of her out on the tarmac night after night, proudly collecting her own food while huge trucks and convoys of holidaymakers swerved across the road and aimed straight at her.

Unless, thought Limpy, I can find a way to stop humans from hating us.

Suddenly he knew he couldn't put it off any longer.

Not till next month, not till next week, not till he'd had time to get braver and make a will.

He had to start tonight.

L
impy found Ancient Eric at the far end of the swamp, eating a snake.

“Go away,” said Ancient Eric, “I'm having my tea.”

Limpy had expected something like that. Ancient Eric, as well as being the oldest and wisest cane toad in the district, was also the grumpiest.

It must be hard to stay cheerful when you look like that, thought Limpy sympathetically.

Even though the moon was behind a cloud, Limpy could see just how unkind age had been to Ancient Eric. His poor old body was a disaster. The years had shrunk his skin and turned it tragically smooth. You could see his muscles rippling when he moved. He didn't have a wrinkle or a crease or a decent-sized wart on him.

Poor thing, thought Limpy.

Ancient Eric paused in the middle of getting the snake down his throat.

“You still here?” he said.

“I won't take up much of your time, Mr. Eric,” said Limpy. “I just want to ask your advice.”

Ancient Eric gulped the snake down a bit further.

“What advice?” he said.

“Well,” said Limpy, “I was wondering if you knew where I could find some humans.”

For a moment Limpy thought Ancient Eric was going to choke.

“What do you want with humans?” demanded Ancient Eric when he'd recovered and swallowed the snake.

“I want to try and find out why they hate us so much,” said Limpy. “So I can try and do something about it.”

Ancient Eric thought about this for a long while. Then he spoke.

“I'll tell you why humans hate us,” he said in a low voice.

Limpy moved closer.

“Humans hate us,” whispered Ancient Eric, “because they've always hated us. It's the way things are. We have to accept it, just like we have to accept that flying insects are attracted to highway lights and
crawling insects are attracted to wombat poo. It's a fact of life.”

Limpy sighed. He remembered that Dad had been one of Ancient Eric's students.

The snake stuck its head out of Ancient Eric's mouth and rolled its eyes.

“You're not listening to him, wart-brain,” it said to Ancient Eric. “The young bloke doesn't want to accept that his loved ones are going to end up as waffles. He wants to go on a quest to discover great truths that will bring peace and security to cane toads for countless generations to come. Got it?”

The snake made scornful noises as if it couldn't believe it was being eaten by such an idiot.

“Do you mind?” snapped Ancient Eric to the snake. “When I want advice from my dinner, I'll ask for it. Get back inside.”

The snake rolled its eyes again and slithered back down Ancient Eric's throat.

“He's right,” said Limpy quietly. “That is what I want to do.”

“See,” said a muffled voice from inside Ancient Eric.

Ancient Eric leaned forward and turned his head so one angry pink eye glared straight at Limpy.

“I know exactly what you want to do, young man,”
rumbled Ancient Eric. “I'm just trying to save your scrawny neck.”

Limpy opened his mouth to protest, but Ancient Eric didn't give him a chance.

“What do you think would happen if I told you where you could find humans?” he continued in a voice that sent shivers down Limpy's glands. “If I told you about a place up the highway to the north where humans stop to put gasoline in their cars? A place so far away, even I haven't been there. A place so dangerous, no cane toad has ever returned from it more than two centimeters thick. What do you think would happen if a young squirt like you tried to go there and make contact with humans, eh?”

Limpy shivered, even though the night air was as warm as mouse blood.

“Two words,” said Ancient Eric. “Count them. First word, horrible. Second word, death.”