Battle of the Beetles

by MG Leonard

  Humphrey snorted and rolled towards Pickering, like a gargantuan fleshy boulder, crushing him against the wall of the helicopter. Pickering thrashed about. ‘You’re SQUASHING ME!’ he squawked.

  ‘Huh?’ Humphrey sat up and farted.

  ‘Oh, my . . .’ Pickering made a retching sound. ‘YOUR INSIDES STINK!’

  Humphrey looked, bleary-eyed, at Pickering. ‘Oh, no, we’re still in the blasted jungle, aren’t we?’

  ‘Arghhh, huuhhh, ug, argh!’ Pickering spluttered.

  ‘Shhhhhh, they’ll hear you. It’s just a bum burp.’ Humphrey rubbed his eyes with his sausage-like fingers. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘How should I know what time it is? Neither of us has a watch!’ Pickering snapped. ‘All I know is that it’s getting light outside and we need to get out of here before we get caught – or choke to death.’

  ‘I’ll choke you, if you’re not careful.’ Humphrey held his hands up threateningly, and Pickering immediately calmed down. ‘Anyway, I can’t help it,’ Humphrey grumbled. ‘It must have been those purple berries we ate yesterday. They’ve made me gassy.’

  He rolled towards the luggage compartment door, pushing it open with his feet, and slid out, waggling his legs until they found the ground. Once he was standing he held his hand out for Pickering, who accepted it and leant on Humphrey to scramble down.

  The air outside was still. Fog drifted around them like a terror of waltzing ghosts. The leaves at the edge of the clearing glittered menacingly with moisture, and Pickering was overcome with dread. He longed for the dirty air of London and his old life, before he’d discovered the beetles. Then he remembered the day Lucretia Cutter had paid him a visit, the money she’d promised him, and his heart throbbed. They were here to make sure she kept her promise and get what was rightfully theirs, half a millon pounds.

  Pickering followed Humphrey into the forest, all his senses alert. The sun was rising, and they didn’t want to get caught beside the helicopter by Lucretia Cutter’s men.

  When they’d first made their escape from the helicopter luggage compartment, directly after landing, they’d stumbled into the forest fringes and hidden. There was the big commotion about the missing luggage. Dankish, Mawling and Craven had come to blows about who would tell Lucretia Cutter that her luggage was gone.

  ‘If we admit to being in the helicopter,’ Pickering worried, ‘they’ll know it was us that threw out the luggage.’

  ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about,’ Humphrey replied. ‘It was just a bunch of dresses.’

  They’d decided that they’d keep a low profile, biding their time until they could talk to Lucretia Cutter in person and explain that they had only thrown her luggage out of the helicopter because they’d wanted to spend some time with her. Pickering was certain that if they could get Lucretia alone, and explain everything they’d been through to see her, she’d be flattered. He had read in his romance novels about how ladies like it when a man risks life and limb for love. Then they could talk reasonably about the matter of the money she owed them.

  Humphrey wasn’t so sure, and since they’d landed he’d become increasingly grumpy. Ten nights trapped in the luggage compartment of the helicopter had left him half crazed and very hungry. He’d thought they were going to land in Hawaii or Florida, in a holiday home by the beach, so when they’d finally jumped out of the chopper, he was horrified to see that they were in a jungle, with no fast-food restaurants for hundreds of miles. Humphrey’s limited conversation had reduced to grunts, snorts and death threats. Pickering was certain that if they didn’t find food soon, Humphrey would eat him.

  They had no idea where they were, or which country they were in, and they couldn’t set off into the rainforest without risking getting lost or killed, so they were stuck until they could find a way to talk to Lucretia Cutter.

  The first night in the forest had been torture. They’d tripped over a half-man, half-skeleton, dressed in a white lab coat, rotting on the forest floor, and decided that going up to the Biome and knocking on the door might not be a very good idea. Then after trekking around the entire building they realized there wasn’t a door. Exhausted and irritable, they found a big tree with a hollow in its roots. Humphrey thought it would make a comfy place to sleep. He grabbed an armful of leaf mulch from the hole to make it comfy, and was startled by a huge reddish brown tarantula that lived there. It lifted its front two legs, hissing, before it leapt at him bearing its fangs. Humphrey fell backwards screaming, Pickering threw a stick at the spider, and the pair ran into the forest.

  Pickering suggested they should sleep up a tree, but Humphrey had problems climbing. Eventually, they agreed that one of them would lie on a fallen tree trunk and sleep while the other kept watch. Humphrey slept first. Pickering sat up, terrified by the haunting night cries of howler monkeys. When it was his turn to sleep, Pickering had just nodded off when he was shaken awake by a wide-eyed Humphrey, who pointed silently at a large jaguar watching them from the edge of the clearing. Humphrey roared as loudly as he could and ran at the large cat, which bounded away. The petrified cousins sprinted back to the helicopter, leaping into the luggage compartment, closing the door on the rainforest and sleeping fitfully until dawn.

  After their night of terror, they had decided to make the luggage compartment their bedroom. They spent their days in the fringes of the forest, foraging for food and waiting for Lucretia Cutter to come outside for a stroll. They waited and waited, seeing Craven, Dankish and Mawling, as well as Ling Ling, and even once the French butler, but Lucretia Cutter never came outside.

  As if this wasn’t enough to terrify him to death, Pickering couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Perhaps it was all the living things that stared at them from every branch and hole in the forest, but he swore he could feel human eyes watching them, and so he jumped and spun round with every crack and rustle of the forest.

  At night he cuddled his baby blanket to his face, his Muckminder, and imagined it was Lucretia Cutter’s cheek. His heart went pitter-patter at the thought of her name. He must be brave and keep his and Humphrey’s spirits up. He was certain that battling the jungle would be the way to win his lady’s heart, and he would be rewarded with true love and a trunkload of cash.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Fighters and Flyers

  ‘I’m nervous,’ Bertolt whispered.

  ‘It’s going to be fine,’ Darkus said under his breath. ‘Once we’ve had our boarding passes scanned and looked at the camera thing, we’ll be sifted into one of those queues.’ He pointed with his forehead. ‘They’re looking for bombs and weapons, not beetles.’

  ‘I know, but my heart is racing, and I feel sick.’

  Bertolt did look a bit green. ‘Once we’re on the other side, you’ll feel better,’ Darkus said.

  Bertolt nodded.

  Uncle Max and Virginia came striding out of the airport newsagent’s, followed a by a chattering Calista Bloom – Bertolt’s mum – and a politely nodding Barbara Wallace – Virginia’s mum.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Darkus asked, seeing his uncle’s furrowed brow and dark expression.

  Virginia shoved the Daily Messenger in front of him and Bertolt. ‘The world governments are threatening to bomb Lucretia Cutter! Well, actually, it says your dad and Lucretia Cutter, but . . .’

  ‘What!’ Darkus leapt up.

  Bertolt took the newspaper from Virginia. ‘Hang on a minute. It says here that international powers are discussing the possibility of a targeted strike. It doesn’t say that they are actually going to do it.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at Darkus. ‘It could be a bluff, to try and scare her.’

  ‘It could be.’ Uncle Max nodded. ‘We have to hope they don’t know where she is.’

  ‘Lucretia Cutter’s not stupid,’ Virginia said. ‘She will have expected this and prepared for it. I’m sure your dad’s safe, Darkus.’

  ‘What are you children talking about, that makes your faces s
o serious?’ Barbara Wallace asked, as she and Calista Bloom approached.

  ‘Nothing,’ Bertolt said, smiling sweetly as he folded up the newspaper and tucked it under his arm.

  ‘Are you all ready to go, Bertikins?’ Calista Bloom giggled apologetically as Bertolt blushed. ‘Oh! Sorry, yes, I forgot. I mustn’t call you that any more. Silly me.’

  ‘Yes, Mum, I’m ready.’ Bertolt stood up and let his mum hug him. ‘Be gentle,’ he hissed. ‘Remember? The fireflies!’

  ‘Of course, dear, how could I forget? I was up half the night helping you stitch the new lining into your blazer.’

  ‘Shhhh!’ Bertolt glared at his mother.

  ‘Oh, Berti . . . I mean, Bertolt.’ She pinched his chin affectionately. ‘No one is listening!’

  Darkus grinned. Bertolt hated breaking rules, but they’d thought long and hard about how to bring the beetles to Prague, on to Ecuador and into the Amazon, and the best idea they’d had was to divide the Base Camp beetles between them. Bertolt had twenty-seven fireflies hidden in tiny pockets stitched into the lining of his blazer, although Newton remained in his favourite place, nestled deep in Bertolt’s thick white frizzy hair. Darkus had the fighters and the flyers, the titans, bombardiers, Hercules, Atlas, tiger and dung beetles, hidden in pouches on his canvas belt and in his trouser pockets. All three children were wearing khaki combat trousers, with pockets down each leg, in preparation for their trek into the jungle. Baxter and the biggest beetles were hiding in the compartments around his belt. The smaller beetles – the bombardiers, the tiger beetles and the dung beetles – were divided up amongst his trouser leg pockets, which were lined with oak mulch and damp moss.

  In her trouser pockets, Virginia carried the frog-legged leaf beetles, the ladybirds, the giraffe-necked weevils and the jewel beetles. Marvin had disguised himself as a hair bobble, wrapping himself tightly around the end of one of her braids.

  They each had a rucksack, containing the survival packs Barbara Wallace had given them for Christmas together with a portable pooter, pyjamas, underwear, washbag, cagoule and T-shirts. They had to travel light: only one giant suitcase was being checked in, and that contained all the equipment they needed to look after the beetles, plus their penknives, sleeping bags and camping gear.

  ‘Right, it’s time to go through to departures,’ Uncle Max said, looking at Darkus. ‘Are you ready?’

  Darkus nodded.

  ‘Follow me,’ Uncle Max said, and Virginia and Bertolt kissed their mothers goodbye.

  ‘Good luck,’ Barbara Wallace said to her daughter. ‘I’m very proud of you, Virginia.’

  Darkus saw tears welling up in her eyes, and turned to Uncle Max, not wanting to intrude.

  ‘Just hang back until I’ve set all the alarms off,’ Uncle Max said, as they scanned their boarding passes and stared at the cameras taking their picture. He strode ahead, lifting his hat to the lady who indicated which queue they were to join.

  Darkus, Bertolt and Virginia each stepped up to the conveyor belt and put their coats and backpacks into a plastic tray. Uncle Max rolled his tray along towards the X-ray machine, walked up to the body scanner and stepped in. There was a wailing noise, and a flashing light went off. A man on the other side asked him to step backwards, but instead Uncle Max stepped towards him.

  ‘I say! What does that noise mean?’ he exclaimed loudly.

  ‘Please, sir!’ the security officer barked. ‘Step back through the machine.’

  ‘Do you think it was my watch?’ Uncle Max rolled up his sleeve to reveal a large chunky metal watch.

  ‘Please, sir! Step back!’

  Darkus ran his thumbs along his belt, releasing the poppers. ‘Are you ready Baxter?’ he whispered, to the glistening eyes staring up at him from the open compartment.

  Uncle Max stepped back in the wrong direction. The security man lost his patience and blew a whistle. The security woman who was standing on the children’s side of the body scanner moved to help her colleague. Darkus quickly lifted out the rhinoceros beetle, throwing him up into the air. Baxter cracked open his elytra and his amber wings shot out, propelling him up.

  ‘Go! Go! Go! Go!’ Darkus whispered as all the other beetles took off, following Baxter up into the high ceiling of the airport.

  ‘Aarghhhh!’ A woman screamed and pointed. ‘BATS!’

  Bertolt stepped towards the female security officer. ‘Is it my turn to go through the machine now?’ he asked.

  ‘No, kid, this man has to return and go through again.’

  ‘Whose bag is this?’ asked a security officer from behind the X-ray machine.

  ‘Oh! That’s mine!’ Uncle Max exclaimed, walking towards him.

  ‘GET BACK HERE, SIR!’ the original security guard shouted. ‘Will you kindly remove your watch and your shoes, and pass back through the body scanner.’

  ‘Goodness!’ Uncle Max said. ‘Well, now I’m all confused. Where should I go first?’

  The woman took Uncle Max’s arm and pulled him back through the machine, which was set off again by his watch. Everyone in the queue was staring at Uncle Max as he performed the part of a confused bumbling Englishman perfectly.

  ‘Excuse me. Is it my turn yet? Bertolt asked again.

  ‘Go, kid, go through.’ The female security officer waved him through without even looking at him. Bertolt skipped through the machine, which didn’t make a sound. The security staff were all watching Uncle Max as he very apologetically took off his hiking boots and unclipped his watch while delivering a monologue about ‘technology these days’.

  Darkus walked through the body scanner next, followed by Virginia. They grinned at each other as they picked up their backpacks and slung them over their shoulders. Bertolt was waiting for them underneath the metal beam that all the big beetles were now perched on.

  The three children turned their backs on the security checkpoint and opened their rucksacks wide. Darkus looked up and made a high chirruping sound by sucking his back teeth. Immediately, all twenty-one beetles dived down, opening their wings to steer their flight, landing in the bags. The children did up their bags, and looked round to see how Uncle Max was doing.

  Uncle Max was stripped down to his boxer shorts and vest, proclaiming loudly that he had metal pins in his leg from a biking accident years ago, and that he couldn’t very well take his leg off to go back through the blasted machine. Darkus gave him the thumbs-up, and as soon as Uncle Max saw the sign, he stopped acting up.

  ‘Oh, you know what it could be?’ He lifted his safari hat off his head and handed it to the security officer. ‘It’s a pith helmet. It has brass rivets.’ He hopped through the machine without setting it off. ‘Ta-da!’ he cried triumphantly.

  The security officer shook his head as he placed the hat in a tray on the conveyor belt and waved Uncle Max through. Uncle Max picked up his shoes and clothes from the trays and put them back on. ‘Now, old chap, what’s the issue with my hand luggage?’ he asked the officer emptying out his rucksack.

  The man held up three bottles of water.

  ‘What were they doing in there?’ Uncle Max exclaimed. ‘Dearie me! I’m losing my faculties. A thousand apologies.’ He nodded as the officer held them over a bin. ‘Of course you can get rid of them. They’re only water. Are we all done? Marvellous stuff.’ He waved at all the security staff. ‘Thank you. You’re all doing a wonderful job.’

  The children walked ahead of Uncle Max until they were out in the main departure lounge. ‘That was brilliant!’ Virginia chuckled.

  ‘Why, thank you, Virginia.’ Uncle Max beamed as he fastened the laces of his boots. ‘Are all the beetles accounted for?’

  ‘Yes,’ Darkus nodded, ‘but the big ones are still in our backpacks. We need to get them back into their pouches before someone gets crushed or loses a leg.’

  Uncle Max pointed to the door of a disabled toilet. ‘Why don’t you three pop in there and sort out the beetles? I’ll keep my eyes peeled.’

  Darkus nodded, a
nd Virginia and Bertolt followed him into the room and shut the door. Five minutes later they all shuffled out. ‘Ready,’ Darkus said.

  ‘Great. Now, we are at gate X, because it’s a privately chartered flight.’ Uncle Max put his safari hat back on. ‘Follow me.’

  Motty was waiting for them on the tarmac, dressed in her battered brown leather jacket and khaki cargo pants. She saluted the children as she saw them striding out of the airport doorway.

  ‘Are we ready to fly?’ she asked.

  Baxter clambered out of the neck of Darkus’s oversized green jumper and waved his legs.

  ‘Yes.’ Darkus smiled at the rhinoceros beetle. ‘We are.’

  As they filed on to Bernadette, Motticilla’s trusty black Beechcraft 90 aircraft, Darkus felt a surge of excitement. Finally, he was on his way to strike a blow against Lucretia Cutter.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ICE

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Darkus stood on the stage, in the wings of the Panorama Hall, the lecture theatre where the International Congress of Entomology was taking place. ‘Where is everybody?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Professor Appleyard asked, poking his head around the gold curtain and peering out. His grey eyebrows lifted, turning the wrinkles on his forehead into deep furrows.

  ‘All the entomologists.’ Darkus pointed at the scattering of empty yellow seats in the auditorium. ‘Why haven’t they come? Don’t they know how important this is?’

  ‘Darkus, they have come,’ Professor Appleyard, replied, looking out into the hall. ‘Everyone’s here.’

  ‘But there are only a few hundred people.’

  ‘Well, obviously, not every single entomologist on the planet comes to this congress, but there is a representative here from every major university, zoo and museum in the world.’

  Darkus felt this news like a body blow. He was shocked. ‘But insects are so important – to the planet, to the world’s ecosystems, to humans. I thought there would be more scientists.’