Toad Rage (3 page)

Limpy's throat sac was quivering so much he thought for a moment his dinner wanted to join in the conversation too.

“Understand?” demanded Ancient Eric.

Limpy nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Limpy nodded again.

“Then go away.”

Limpy couldn't move. He tried to open his skin pores as much as possible to get more oxygen into his body. Mum was always telling him to do that when he was rigid with anxiety.

After a bit his throat sac relaxed just enough for him to speak.

“There is just one more thing, Mr. Eric,” he croaked.

“What?” grunted Ancient Eric.

Trembling, Limpy looked Ancient Eric straight in the eye.

“Which way is north?”

“T
he gas station?” gasped Charm.

She stared up at him, eyes wide with horror.

“You can't go there, it's too dangerous,” she pleaded. “Goliath reckons there are humans there with fingernails the color of blood, and some of them have got blue hair, and teeth that try and jump out of their mouths.”

“Shhh,” whispered Limpy. “Keep your voice down. I don't want Mum and Dad to hear.”

He took Charm by the hand and led her out of her room and through the thick foliage to the edge of the swamp, where they couldn't be overheard.

“Humans aren't like us,” said Charm desperately. “They sleep at night and go out in the sun. Goliath reckons it's 'cause they've got small brains. What if they make you go out in the sun? You'll burn up.”

Limpy looked down at his sister's dear, anxious face.

“I'll stay in the shade,” he said gently. “I'll get a pair of those black glasses humans wear. Don't worry.”

But he could see that Charm was very worried.

“What if it's too cold for you at night where humans live?” she said frantically. “In our biology class Ancient Eric told us that humans make their own body heat. They plug themselves into electricity or something. Stuff we can't do. What if there's no warm rocks or bitumen for you to sit on? You'll catch a cold and die.”

“I'll find a sleeping human,” said Limpy, “and sit on it.”

He tried not to let Charm see him shudder at the thought.

“You mustn't go,” pleaded Charm, flinging her arms round him. “It's too dangerous.”

“I have to,” said Limpy. “I have to try and stop humans from hating us.”

Gently he explained to her how none of the family would ever be safe until he did.

Charm frowned and nodded.

“Okay then,” she said. “I'm coming too.”

Limpy sighed. This was what he'd dreaded. Now he'd have to say stuff he'd rather not hear.

“You can't,” he said. “Even though I'm going to be
very careful not to get sunburned or catch a cold, it still might be a little bit dangerous.”

He paused, wishing there was a less scary way of saying it.

There wasn't.

Limpy watched the faint light of dawn creep through the swamp. He found himself looking at his favorite climbing bush and his favorite mud hole and his favorite patch of slimy moss, hazy in the soft gray light.

The memories that rippled through him were soft too, but they still made his glands ache.

Dad showing him how to eat a freshwater prawn without getting the spikes up his nose.

Mum letting him and Charm make a slippery slide down her back.

Him and Charm making Mum and Dad wet themselves with laughter on family picnics by pretending to be mud worms with ticks in their tummies.

Limpy looked down at Charm's anxious face.

“It wouldn't be fair to Mum and Dad,” he whispered, “if we both went and neither of us came back.”

Charm squeezed him even tighter. He put his arms round her and hugged her and felt like he never wanted to let her go.

“Don't worry,” he said, “I will be coming back. That's what I want you to tell Mum and Dad. But wait
till I'm far enough away that they can't try and stop me.”

Charm didn't say anything, and for a moment he thought she was thinking of more reasons why he shouldn't go.

Please, he begged her silently, don't.

She didn't.

Instead she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

“They'll be so proud when I tell them,” she whispered. “You think they don't care about what happens on the highway, but they do. I've seen Mum when she dusts your room. Sometimes she stops and puts her head in her hands.”

Limpy felt his eyes getting hot. He wanted to go to Mum right now and hold her head gently in his hands.

He didn't.

Charm kissed him on the other cheek.

“Bye,” she whispered. “Be careful.”

“I will,” said Limpy, to himself as well as to her.

“Y
ou'll never make it,” sneered a blowfly, buzzing past Limpy's head. “The gas station's miles away. You'll get heat exhaustion and wander round in circles till you collapse in a heap and galahs peck your warts off.”

Limpy ignored the blowfly.

The day was too hot for snacks.

Instead he plodded on, wishing that Queensland highways had big shady leaves next to them instead of straggly grass and sunbaked dirt that half-cooked your feet.

To take his mind off the scorching sun, Limpy tried to remember happy things. Like the top puddle he'd found in a shady ditch earlier on. He'd sat in it for ages, drinking in the delicious muddy water through his thirsty skin.

Now, plodding northward, his mouth felt dryer than a lizard's lounge room.

“Give up, you big handbag,” yelled an ant. “You haven't got a hope.”

Limpy changed his mind about snacks and his tongue shot out.

Ants were small, but they were juicy.

It was easier at night.

Limpy could smell water at night, and several times he found swamps not too far from the road.

Sitting in one, he closed his eyes for a rest and sadness bubbled up inside him like that gas you get from eating dung beetles.

He missed Charm. He'd never been away from her for a whole day and half a night before.

Limpy sighed.

He hoped she'd stay away from Goliath and traffic until he got back.

With a weary groan, Limpy dragged himself out of the swamp and headed north again.

As he trudged, to take his mind off worrying about Charm, he worried about how hot the sun would be the next day.

The next day the sun was hot enough to melt a maggot.

Limpy staggered along the edge of the highway from one tiny patch of shade to the next, desperately wishing he had some of that white liquid humans rubbed on their skins in the sun.

He was so thirsty he'd drink anything.

Cars and trucks roared past, covering him with dust and fumes.

By the middle of the day he was almost a goner.

His head was spinning and he could see things shimmering on the road ahead. Stacks of flat rellies that vanished as you got closer. Pools of cool water that disappeared when you tried to walk through them. A red can with brown liquid dribbling out of it.

Limpy tried to walk through the can and banged his head.

It was real.

So was the liquid.

Limpy let it trickle over his skin and drank it in gratefully.

It left him very sticky, but able to trudge quite fast.

The sun was starting to get a bit lower, but nowhere near as low as Limpy's spirits.

As he plodded on, he stared down at his legs. They were so tired they were numb.

He couldn't feel them.

It was like being a tadpole again.

Limpy wished he was a tadpole again, and that a bird would swoop down and snatch him up and fly to the gas station with him in its beak.

Even in its lower digestive tract.

Anything, so long as he didn't have to stagger any further.

Limpy wondered whether if he lay down and tucked his legs under him, birds would think he was a big tadpole.

He looked up to see if any big birds were flying overhead.

Instead he saw, towering into the sky at last, the big plastic signs of the gas station.

Limpy sat in the gas station parking lot, staring.

Not at the cars or the trucks or the buildings or the litter. At the area of bush fenced off next door.

He'd never seen anything like it.

Inside the enclosure were kangaroos and koalas and emus and possums and parakeets and goannas and turtles and … and …

And humans.

Stack me
, thought Limpy.

The humans were patting the kangaroos and stroking the koalas and grinning at the emus and winking at the possums and chatting with the parakeets and taking photos of the goannas and introducing their kids to the turtles.

At no stage was any human trying to run over any animal with any form of vehicle.

Limpy's heart was racing.

He started to hop toward the enclosure.

It was what he'd always dreamed of.

Friendly people.

He saw a group of humans standing next to a caravan at the edge of the parking lot. He changed direction and hopped toward them.

No point competing with kangaroos, koalas, and possums, he thought, when I can have this lot all to myself.

He wondered what they'd do first. Pat him? Stroke him? Introduce him to their kids?

One of the women in the group pointed to him and screamed.

Limpy stopped.

Perhaps she's just pleased and excited to see me, he thought hopefully.

But she didn't look very pleased.

She looked pretty upset.

So Limpy wasn't that surprised when the other humans in the group bent down, picked up rocks, and charged at him.

L
impy hopped frantically in circles as rocks whizzed past him.

The humans were getting closer.

Limpy forced himself to slow down enough to hop straight. He flung himself into the thick undergrowth at the edge of the parking lot.

Trembling, he crouched in the long grass while the people stamped around and shouted things.

He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he was pretty sure they weren't offering to share any ants with him.

After a while the people went back to their caravan.

Limpy stayed in the grass, weak with shock and disappointment.

I don't get it, he thought sadly. Humans can be friendly to possums and koalas, why can't they be friendly to cane toads?