Toad Heaven

by Morris Gleitzman

  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?”

  Limpy 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.

  Limpy 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?”

  “No,” said Goliath's voice. “Why, doesn't she want her paper bag?”

  Limpy wished he were more like Goliath.
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  If I had a smaller brain and a bigger stomach, he thought, perhaps I wouldn't worry so much.

  About Charm.

  About the virus germs.

  About whether the bus really was heading to another national park.

  About what would happen if they couldn't escape from their humans and had to spend the rest of their lives on a mantelpiece.

  What I need, thought Limpy, is something to take my mind off things.

  He started eating his paper bag.

  The bus stopped with a jolt.

  Limpy winced, pulled the plankton pen out of his bottom, and listened.

  The humans were getting off the bus.

  This was the moment Limpy had been waiting for. “We're at the national park and Charm is with us,” he said to himself. “We're at the national park and Charm is with us. We're at the national park and Charm is with us.”

  Goliath reckoned if you said something enough times, it came true. He was always saying things like “I can fit another swamp slug into my mouth, I can fit another swamp slug into my mouth,” and sometimes he could.

  Limpy realized that the noise of the bus engine had stopped too. He could hear another noise now, and it wasn't how he'd imagined a national park would sound.

  It was a roar.

  A loud roar that wasn't getting softer or coming to an end, just going on and on and on.

  What could it be? A huge campground generator? A very angry wild pig? A truck upside down in a ditch with its accelerator jammed on?

  It didn't really sound like any of those.

  Then another thought came to Limpy.

  He'd heard a roar like that before, but not so close.

  It was the roar of a plane.

  Limpy had seen them often, flying high over the swamp, and a wise old buzzard had told him all about them.

  This bus is on the ground, thought Limpy, which means the plane must be on the ground too. Which means we're probably at an airport. Which means there could be lots of planes.

  A horrible possibility was growing in his mind.

  Panic started to churn in his guts.

  What if the humans get onto the planes with their luggage? thought Limpy. The pilots will wind up the big rubber bands and we could all be flown to different places. Me and Goliath and Charm might never see each other again.

  “Quick!” yelled Limpy. “Goliath. Charm. We've got to get out of here.”

  Limpy felt for the hole he'd chewed in the paper bag and ripped it into a bigger hole and scrambled through. He fought his way up through a tangle of human clothes and shoes to what he hoped was the top of the rucksack.

  Yes, that felt like a flap. He'd seen them on wombats’ bottoms.

  Limpy wrestled it open and dragged himself out.

  As his eyes slowly got used to the dim light, he saw that the luggage compartment of the bus was huge. Rucksacks were piled almost as far as he could see.

  “Goliath,” he croaked. “Charm. Where are you?”

  “Here,” said Goliath's muffled voice.

  Limpy threw himself at the rucksack he thought the voice had come from. He got the rucksack open and heaved out human clothes wildly.

  There were Goliath's legs.

  Limpy grabbed them and hauled on them.

  “Hey,” protested Goliath as he emerged. “I'm eating. There's a hat in there that's full of white flaky stuff that's really yummy. Like dried coconut, only better.”

  “We've got to go,” said Limpy. “But first we've got to find Charm.”

  Limpy scrambled to all corners of the luggage compartment, yelling Charm's name over and over, hoping desperately that Goliath's repeating trick would work this time.

  It did.

  “Down here,” called a tearful voice.

  “Yes,” shouted Goliath. “She's here. We've found her.” He kissed something in his fist. “Thank you, lucky rabbit poo.”

  Limpy felt faint with relief.

  He dragged Goliath down a mountain of luggage and there was Charm, kissing something herself.

  When Limpy saw what she was doing, he felt such a glow of love that he almost forgot the danger they were in.

  But not quite.

  Gently he pulled her away from the paper bag and from the lips of the shiny cane toad inside it.

  “I was just giving him the kiss of life,” said Charm. “To try and revive him. He might not be completely dead.”

  “Charm,” said Limpy softly. “He's full of sawdust.”

  “So what?” said Charm tearfully. “Goliath eats heaps of sawdust.”

  Limpy sighed and turned to Goliath.

  “You explain,” he pleaded.

  “Explain what?” said Goliath. “I don't understand anything. I don't even understand why a human would keep delicious food in his hat.”

  Limpy dragged them both toward an air vent. On the way, he told them about the airport.

  They listened to the roar.

  And understood.

  Together the three of them frantically pounded at the air vent with the miniature cricket bat and the tennis racquet and the golf club.

  It was no good. The metal strips wouldn't budge.

  Then daylight flooded into the gloom of the luggage compartment. Limpy squinted fearfully into the glare.

  The bus driver had opened the compartment door and was pulling luggage out.

  Limpy grabbed Goliath and Charm and dragged them into the shadows.

  “Shall we all get into the same rucksack?” whispered Charm. “At least that way we'll all be together.”

  Before Limpy could reply, a figure came crawling into the compartment.

  Limpy recognized the figure. It was the young human who hadn't wanted to buy him. The boy started dragging bags from the back of the compartment and pushing them out toward the driver.

  “Quick!” whispered Limpy. “Into this rucksack.”

  They were too late. The boy grabbed the rucksack while Goliath was trying to climb into it. Goliath fell back onto Limpy and Charm. The three of them lay there, dazzled by daylight, while the boy stared at them.

  “Wow,” said the boy. “Live cane toads.”

  Limpy, trying not to move a muscle, hoped the boy had said something about dead cane toads and putting them back into the rucksack.

  No such luck.

  The boy's freckled face broke into a grin, and his eyes widened.

  Limpy knew that look. He'd seen human kids give that look to possums and mice and wallabies in campsites. It was the look humans gave to animals they wanted as pets.

  “Hop for it,” he croaked to Charm and Goliath.

  Too late again.

  The boy picked them up in a wriggling armful and dropped them in a tangled heap down into his wind-breaker.

  Limpy moved his bottom off Goliath's face and took Charm's elbow out of his mouth. He could feel the boy's hand supporting them on the other side of the windbreaker, which was rocking from side to side as the boy crawled.

  Then they all went into a tangle again.

  Limpy guessed the boy had climbed out of the bus and stood up. Now it felt as if the boy was walking.

  “I'm gunna bite through this cloth,” growled Goliath, “and spray him.”

  Limpy thought about this. It seemed a reasonable thing to do under the circumstances. Then he thought about the boy's friendly freckled face.

  “No,” said Limpy. “He just wants us to be his pets. Maybe he'll be happy with just one of us. He can have me.”

  “No,” said Charm, gripping Limpy's head.

  Limpy gently pulled himself away. “I've got virus germs,” he said. “You two might not. It's better you both find the national park and get Mum and Dad and the others there.”

  “No,” said Charm again.

  “I'm definitely gunna spray him,” said Goliath.

  Before Goliath could start chewing the windbreaker, the boy's hands reached down inside it and lifted the three of them out.

  Limpy started to tell Goliath
and Charm to look really bad-tempered and unfriendly so the boy wouldn't want them as pets. He stopped when he realized the boy was placing all three of them on the ground.

  “Go on,” said the boy, smiling. “Hop it before the souvenir hunters get you.”

  Limpy hoped the boy was saying, “I only want the one with the crook leg; you other two grumpy-looking ones can go.” Then he realized the boy was gesturing for all three of them to go.

  “Come on,” said Charm.

  Limpy looked up at the boy, who was still smiling at them. For a fleeting moment he felt he wouldn't mind being a pet with a human like that. If his life had turned out differently.

  “Thanks,” he said to the boy.

  He knew the boy couldn't understand him, but he hoped the boy could see the gratitude in his eyes.

  “Come on,” said Charm.

  The three of them hopped away as fast as they could, Goliath and Charm on either side of Limpy so he wouldn't hop crooked.

  Limpy glanced back at the boy, who waved to them and started walking back toward the bus.

  The roar was louder than ever.

  Limpy looked anxiously toward the plane to make sure it wasn't going to take off and squash them.

  What he saw stopped him mid-hop.

  It wasn't a plane.

  It was a huge torrent of water plummeting down a sheer hillside. The humans were leaning over a fence, taking photos of it. The roar was from the water smashing into the rocks below.

  “Stack me!” squeaked Goliath.

  “A giant waterfall,” gasped Charm.

  But it wasn't the fresh, cool water that made Limpy's glands tremble and his warts tingle. Even though his parched nose could smell that there wasn't enough salt in it to flavor a single chip.

  It was what lay beyond. A green and fragrant landscape that seemed to go on forever. Mighty trees and lush undergrowth and shady swamps buzzing with happy swamp life.

  Limpy knew what it was.

  He'd never been more sure.

  It was toad heaven.

  The national park was everything Limpy had dreamed of.

  Big.

  Beautiful.

  Safe.

  Very swampy.

  Once the three of them were far enough away from the bus, Limpy really started to enjoy it.