by Jack Patton
“I’m really sorry,” the dragonfly said. “My wings gave out on me as I was coming in to land. The rain has soaked them through. My name is Spotter, by the way. You must be the Max I’ve heard so much about.”
Max nodded, still a little breathless from his near fall.
“I need to talk to you, urgently. Barton, too.”
Max hurried her down the tunnel into the shelter of the inner chambers. Barton, Spike, and the others were gathered in a domed room. Bugs clung to the walls and ceiling, sheltering from the rain. The glowing bodies of fireflies lit the room with a soft, crimson light, reminding Max of emergency lighting when the power goes off.
“Spotter!” Barton cried. “One of my best reconnaissance bugs. Glad to see you made it through the storm.”
“I’m afraid I have bad news, General,” the dragonfly said. “I was on patrol over Darkmist Lagoon below Eternity Falls, when I saw something I never expected to see again.”
All the bugs listened in fearful silence.
Spotter went on: “I saw them clear as day—lizards!”
At the word lizards, the bugs went crazy. Buzzes, clicks, whirrs, and squeaks of alarm went up. Grasshoppers rebounded off the walls and wood lice instantly rolled up in balls. The racket completely drowned out what Spotter was saying.
“QUIET!” Barton roared.
The room fell silent again.
“Lizards?” Barton repeated, aghast.
“That’s impossible!” Spike added.
“We defeated them!” Buzz protested.
“And the lava bridge was de-de-destroyed!” Webster stammered.
“I know what I saw,” Spotter said. “A group of lizards, gathered at the water’s edge. And I knew I had to act fast. I had to tell Max. So I flew up into the sky and just kept going. Eventually I broke through into the amazing place where Max comes from!”
Max was astonished. “If there are lizards at Darkmist Lagoon, that means they’ve somehow found a way back onto Bug Island. We have to do something.”
“Yes we do, my human friend,” Barton said. “I propose we assemble a group of water-based insects to check out the sighting.”
“Got any particular bugs in mind?” Max asked.
“I do,” Barton said, “First Officer Hawthorn, present arms!”
In an instant, a platoon of shield bugs stood before Barton.
“His troops can walk on water, as well as being fierce fighters with strong defenses. Isn’t that right, Hawthorn?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” rasped Hawthorn.
“Bring it on!” hollered the shield bugs.
Max nodded. Like Barton, these bugs had clearly been itching for something to do. Well, now their wish would be granted.
“Right. The storm has died down. Time to move out. Ready to get the old double act back together, Spike?” Max asked.
“Anytime!” said Spike. He lowered his head so that Max could climb up. Max sat on Spike’s back, riding him like a trusty warhorse.
With Barton leading the way, Spotter in the air, and the shield bugs marching in formation close behind, the expedition set off for the lagoon. Nobody spoke a word. Max could tell they were all thinking about what they might find: If the lizards were back, then so was the war!
The rain was still falling, but now it was only a light mist. The bug expedition wasn’t in danger now—not from the rain, anyway—but it did make the forest feel spooky and gloomy. As Max and Spike followed Barton through the jungle foliage, a rich smell rose up from all around them.
Spike, usually brave and tough, was worried. “What if the lizards have come back, Max? What are we gonna do?”
“We beat them once,” Max reminded him. “We can do it again.”
“But what if it’s a new sort of lizard? With wings? And it breathes fire?”
Max laughed. “Then we’ll just have to use new tactics. And we might need a fire extinguisher.”
“Keep quiet!” Barton snapped. “If those scaly creeps really are back on our island, we don’t want to let them know we’re coming!”
Spike fell silent.
The expedition plodded over bulging tree roots and around moss-covered rocks that loomed overhead like the ruins of ancient castles. Not one bug made a sound, except for the faint drone of Spotter’s wings from above.
“This is a fool’s errand,” grumbled First Officer Hawthorn. “I bet that dragonfly didn’t even see any lizards.”
“If Spotter says she saw lizards, then I believe her,” Max said.
Soon, in the distance, Max caught the sound of rushing, churning water.
Eternity Falls, he thought. We’re nearly at the lagoon.
Sure enough, he saw the glint of water through the trees. The group silently approached in the shadow of the forest, until Barton signaled them to stop. “Any farther and we’ll be seen,” he warned.
Max looked out across the broad lagoon, all the way to the trees on the far side. The waterfall crashed and roared, sending spray up into the air.
Then he caught sight of something that chilled his blood. Up ahead, at the water’s edge, three smooth, green lizards crept slowly along. They glanced all around with beady little eyes.
“It’s true,” he whispered. “They’re back!”
“Is that it? Only three?” Barton rumbled.
Max was puzzled. This wasn’t some terrifying new lizard troop. They were just common lizards—definitely a threat, but hardly a deadly one.
They were muttering to one another as they walked. Max couldn’t hear a word because of the thundering waterfall. He watched them from the shadows and tried to figure out what they were doing.
“I think they’re scoping the area out, Barton,” he whispered.
Barton nodded. “You’re right. But for what?”
“Let’s get a little closer, Spike,” said Max. “Keep your tail down. They might see it poking out from the leaves.”
Spike obediently tucked his segmented tail down. Together, they moved stealthily through the foliage.
Max could hear their hissing voices, but he still couldn’t quite make out the words. He strained to catch what the lizards were saying. One of them said something like “landing.”
Then an angry bellow from the forest startled him. It was First Officer Hawthorn. “I’ve had about enough of this skulking!” the bug raged. “I’m not letting a bunch of lizards wander around the lagoon on my watch.”
“NOO!” Max shouted. “Wait!”
It was too late; First Officer Hawthorn readied his troops. “Shield bugs,” he screamed, “CHARGE!”
The three lizards looked up, taken completely by surprise. A brown wall of shield bugs was bearing down on them through the mist, galloping out of the forest like a cavalry charge.
“So much for stealth,” Spike said.
The shield bugs slammed into the lizards, bowling them over and sending them sprawling in the wet mulch. One of them toppled over the edge of the lagoon and fell in with a plop.
Glaring, the other two lizards rolled back onto their feet. They launched a vicious counterattack, clawing and snapping at the bugs.
The shield bugs really did look like shields; they had broad, tough backs protecting them from attacks from above and in front. In a group, they were like Roman legionnaires, with their shield-like bodies forming a turtle-shaped mass.
First Officer Hawthorn clambered onto his own troops’ backs and scurried across them so he could jab a lizard on the nose with his pointy mouthparts.
“That trigger-happy bug’s wrecked the whole plan!” Max grumbled. “Come on, Spike. We may as well join the attack now!”
Max and Spike galloped into the fight, coming at the lizards from the side. The lizards had no idea they had been hiding so close by, and Spike’s powerful charge came as a total surprise. He struck with his stinger, injuring one of the lizards and narrowly missing another.
The lizard who had fallen into the lagoon came slithering back out, dripping wet and furious. “Stand
your ground, fools! Pick those bugs off one by one.”
One of the lizards grabbed a shield bug in his mouth and flung him into the lagoon, where he landed on his back and started to float away like a stray leaf, kicking his legs angrily.
“Now the scorpion,” hissed the lizard leader. “He’s the most dangerous of the group. Take him down.”
The lizards rushed at Spike, ducking under his pincers and shoving him with their blunt heads. “Turn him over!” the leader yelled. “He can’t use that stinger if he’s on his back.”
Spike rolled back and forth like a boat in a storm as the lizards tried to upend him. The shield bugs nipped and scratched at the lizards, but the advantage of surprise was gone and they couldn’t do much to hurt them.
Up on Spike’s back, Max fought to keep control. It was impossible. The mist was making Spike’s plating slippery, and Max had nothing to hang on to. The lizards shoved, Spike reared up, and Max went tumbling off his back.
“Argh!” he yelled as he landed hard on the muddy ground.
Max struggled to his feet. His hands, knees, and face were plastered with wet mud. It was hard to see through the haze of rain, but he could make out Spike’s huge form grabbing at the angry lizards. “Max?” Spike bellowed. “Where’d you go, little buddy?”
“Over here!” Max yelled. He ran in Spike’s direction, but an ugly sight lunged into his path.
It was the injured lizard, the one Spike had stung. Half its face was swollen and it squinted at him through one open eye. “You’re not going anywhere,” it slobbered, its fat tongue lolling out of its mouth.
Max had no choice. He turned and ran.
The lizard came hobbling after him. Spike’s venom was slowing it down, but not by much. Max darted this way and that, but the lizard was on him at every turn.
He desperately looked around for somewhere safe to run. To his horror he realized the lizard had chased him right up to the brim of the lagoon. All this drizzly mist was making it hard to see where he was going. If he tried to swim, the lizard would snap him up for sure.
Then he saw a fallen tree branch overhanging the water. The lizard lunged suddenly, missing Max by mere inches.
There was nowhere else to go. Max clambered up the branch, the slimy wood leaving brown patches on his palms. He felt the branch wobble beneath him and knew the lizard was still in pursuit. It had climbed onto the branch behind him!
I’m really in trouble now, he thought. Spike was nowhere in sight.
He retreated farther up the branch, which dangled above the water and sagged alarmingly under his feet. The grinning lizard advanced on him, shuffling forward on its belly. With its one good eye and its evil leer, it made Max think of a pirate. And I’m walking the plank!
He looked down into the water and wondered if he should jump. It was a long way to fall, and he couldn’t tell what might be lurking in those depths.
Thunder rumbled. The lizard was almost upon him. It opened its red mouth, yawning wide, showing rows of sharp teeth. Max shrank back as far as he dared, onto the last precious few steps of the branch.
A brilliant white flash lit the sky. Lightning arced down into the branch they were clinging to. There was a groan, a splintering sound, and a sickening crack.
Max stared in horror and saw the blackened, smoldering wood where the lightning had struck. The branch broke with a sudden snap, and fell. Max went tumbling into the waiting waters of the lagoon.
The water of Darkmist Lagoon was shockingly cold. Max fought not to panic. He’d dive-bombed into water dozens of times back at camp. He just had to stay calm and remember what to do.
He swam hard for the surface. In the murky underwater light he saw the long, dark shape of the smashed-off branch sinking down and down. There was no sign of the lizard that had been chasing him. Max hoped it wasn’t ready to swim up and bite his ankles.
He broke the surface and took a deep gasp of air. On the shore, the Battle Bugs were still fighting the remaining lizards. He shouted for help but his calls were lost on the wind.
He tried to swim back, but suddenly he realized he was being pulled away by the powerful current. The force of the waterfalls flowing into Darkmist Lagoon was creating an underwater pull that was sweeping him out of the bay and toward the river.
“Max!” yelled Spotter the dragonfly. “Keep your head above water. I’m coming to get you!”
She zoomed toward him, flying low above the water like a rescue helicopter. Max battled the water, pumping his arms and legs, but he was caught in the current’s grip and picking up speed.
He felt the gust from Spotter’s fast-beating wings on his face as she came in for the rescue. Max reached out a grateful hand, and she dipped down so she could bring her legs within reach.
“Grab on! I’ll carry you!”
“I’m trying!” Max gasped as his outstretched hand brushed one of her legs. He tried to grab it, but a surge of water dragged him under again. He could still hear her muffled cries as the current swept him out of the lagoon and into the faster-flowing section of the river.
“Spotter? Where are you?” he yelled as he kicked his way to the surface again.
Max gasped and puffed as the icy water of the river swirled around him. The lagoon continually emptied itself into the narrow waterway, which made for a fast-flowing river. Max struggled to swim for the bank, but the current was just too strong. At camp they would have warned him not to try going down it in a canoe, let alone try to swim in it without a life jacket!
He tumbled and twisted as the river rushed between rocks. The shore was way out of reach. Fragments of twig, broken off when the lightning struck the branch, swept past him and away.
He caught a glimpse of what lay ahead. “Oh, no!” He gasped. The river was anything but gentle. It foamed and roared, with jagged chunks of rock sticking up like icebergs. “I’m heading into rapids!”
Max had to do something or he’d be smashed on the rocks like a bug on a windshield. An idea flashed into his mind. If he could find something to hang on to, he might be able to keep his head above water. He lunged for one of the bits of branch as it rushed past.
“Gotcha!” he cried. He wrapped his arms around it and clung on for dear life.
The rapids swallowed Max up and he was hurled into a nightmare of surging foam, looming rock faces, and plunge after plunge into deep water. He had barely enough time to fill his lungs before he went under again.
The last time he’d been through anything like this, it was the log flume ride at his favorite theme park—only that had been fun, not deadly. His knuckles were white and his fingers numb with cold, but he still hung on. Slowly, the torrent became a flow, which became a gentle wash. Max kicked his legs and found he could dog paddle toward the shore.
At last.
Max let go of the twig and pulled himself out onto the sandy bank. For a moment he just lay there, dazed and soaked to the skin. The warm sunlight felt good on his face.
Wait. Sunlight?
He got to his feet and looked around. The storm had passed and the sun was streaming down through a ragged gap in the clouds. There was no more mist.
“Well,” he said to himself, breathing hard, “I may be soaking wet and miles away from the other bugs, but I guess things could be a lot worse!”
If he was ever going to find his way back to the bug camp, he had to get his bearings. Max took a good long look around, checking out the environment.
The river had washed him into a gorge. The muddy riverbanks stretched for only a little way before large, rocky cliffs rose up on either side. It was like being at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.
“I’ve seen this place on the map,” he said to himself. “It must be Flintfang Gorge!”
Max thought about trying to return the way he’d come, but decided against it. There was no way he could struggle against the water’s flow, and besides, there might be more lizards that way. He didn’t really like the idea of going back into the river and heading downstrea
m, either.
The only other way out of here was to climb up the cliffs. They looked pretty steep, and not at all safe.
Max stared at their loose, crumbly surfaces, and wished—not for the first time—that he could just turn into a many-legged bug and go scampering up them easily.
“Anyone up there?” he shouted. “Spike? Buzz? Spotter?”
No answer came.
Max heaved a sigh and trudged toward the bottom of the cliff. Then he spotted something that made his heart thump like a deathwatch beetle.
Tracks in the mud. Deep, dragging ones, left by something huge. He couldn’t tell what kind of creature it was, but he knew for sure it wasn’t a bug.
“That settles it,” Max announced. “I’m getting up those cliffs and out of here!”
Feeling determined, Max began to climb. He made it up about a fifth of the way before the rock he was putting his weight on tore free. He went skidding down the side with a yell.
Max picked himself up, brushed off the dirt, took a deep breath, and tried again.
His second attempt was even worse than the first. A chunk of flint gave way under his foot. Max slid all the way down, yelling, as the rocky surface broke apart like so much loose dirt. A fat boulder that looked like something left over from Stonehenge came rolling down toward him. Max struggled to his feet and dived out of the way—not quite fast enough.
The boulder came to rest on top of him, pressing his leg painfully down into the mud. A forceful tug told him he was stuck tight.
“Oh, great!” he yelled. “Can this day get any worse?”
Suddenly a dark shadow appeared above him, and two rows of jagged teeth came into view. There was no mistaking the great, brutish power of what was staring down at him: a huge saltwater crocodile.
“Oh, I think things can get much worse,” it hissed in glee.
Max wriggled and tugged for all he was worth, fighting to pull his leg out from under the rock.