by Jack Patton
“So we’re making a surprise attack?” Max asked excitedly. If they were lucky, this could be the blow that finished Komodo once and for all! “Which troops are you sending in first?”
Barton looked ahead to where the Pincer Plains lay flat in the distance. “So far, we only know the size of the Lizard Army, not its composition. We need to figure out what we’re up against.”
Max nodded. “So let’s send a scouting party. Buzz can—”
“It’s already done,” Barton interrupted. “I’ve sent the flies ahead as advance scouts. They can get in close and see what sort of lizards Komodo is throwing at us. Then I’ll know which troops to use.”
Max and Buzz glanced at each other. Max knew they were both thinking the same thing. “Flies? But surely the hornets are tougher?” Max said.
“Ah, but we have a lot more flies than hornets!” Barton snapped his pincers impatiently. “Besides, lizards can’t fly. What danger could they be to any airborne bug?”
“I guess,” said Max, feeling worried.
“I’m confident the new troops will be able to deal with any threat. You should see the new mantis and cicada battalions!”
“I already have,” Max said darkly. “One of the mantises nearly hacked me to pieces!”
“Oh,” said Barton. “That is … regrettable.”
“It’s okay. It was an accident,” Max replied.
“Once we know what we’re dealing with, I want your help to plan an attack,” Barton said. “Those brains of yours haven’t let us down yet!”
There was nothing to do but wait, nervously, for the fly scouts to report back. Max chatted with Buzz and Webster to pass the time, while Glower retreated into the shadows. The firefly seemed to be most comfortable in the dark.
From time to time, the bugs glanced up into the blue, silent sky. Nothing showed.
“Blast it,” Barton finally snapped. “Where are those flies?”
“Ran into something they couldn’t handle, I bet,” said Buzz quietly.
Barton ignored the hornet. “Max, would you and Spike scout ahead? See what’s keeping the flies. And stay out of sight!”
“Roger!”
Max set off on Spike. As they continued down the road, Max wondered what could have delayed the flies: Frogs, maybe, striking with their long, sticky tongues? Or webs that some careless spider had left behind?
Then he spotted something up ahead that made him look twice: A fly, buzzing high above.
“Hey, look!” he shouted to Spike. “They’re coming back!”
As the lonely fly zipped overhead, he saw a whole group of them in the distance. But Max could tell that something was wrong. The flies weren’t moving in unison, as before. They looked disordered and chaotic.
“What’s going on?” Max shouted up at the returning flies. But the panicked flies were in too much of a hurry to reply.
Soon, peering into the distance, Max could see for himself. The whole swarm began to tear back along the marching highway. But now, something else stood out clearly against the bright blue sky. Wheeling and dipping, snatching at the flies, red flashes of feathered wings plowed into the flies’ ranks.
“Uh-oh.” Spike stared in horror. “They look like—”
“Birds!” Max cried.
“GO, Spike, GO!” Max shouted. “Back to Barton! We need to sound the alarm!”
Max and Spike went charging back to the bug column, yelling as loudly as they could. A horrible thought popped into Max’s mind. Many birds preyed on insects. He suddenly realized what must have happened to the unlucky flies.
A panicking fly whizzed past Max’s head from behind. Another bounced off Spike, spun away through the air, and had to struggle to fly straight again. The fly scouts were in full retreat, zooming back to the bug column in buzzing chaos.
“So much for our scouts!” Spike grunted, scuttling for all he was worth.
Max looked back over his shoulder. As the first rank of bugs began to react, taking up battle positions, the shrieking birds shot down from the sky. They dived like bomber planes, scattering the flies. There was no mercy in their bright little eyes. Their beaks looked sharp and deadly. Spike turned back too, and gasped in horror.
“Spike, what are those?” Max yelled.
“Specially trained flycatchers, by the look of it. They’re worse than the lizards, that crew—I’ve heard they can catch a million flies each! Million-flycatchers, that’s what Buzz calls ’em!”
“Vermilion flycatchers,” Max corrected him. He’d heard of those. They were bright red, fierce, and fast bug-killers. No doubt they’d snap up a bug-sized boy, too!
The swarm of scout flies was trying to make its way back to the bug column, but the flycatchers kept swooping through it and scattering them. No sooner had they finished one fly-through than they swooped around and headed back for another. The poor flies were no match for the fierce and fast flycatchers.
Barton’s ring of bodyguards came into view at the head of the column. Max hung on tight, as Spike put on a fresh burst of speed. “We gotta warn the general!” he huffed.
When they reached Barton, they found he was already barking orders at his troops. “I want bombardier beetles ready to blast anything that comes in range! Mantis soldiers, form a defensive line. If you see anything that’s not a bug, rip it out of the sky!”
“General,” Max gasped, “we have to ground the flies.”
Barton’s pincers gaped wide in amazement. “Ground them? But on land they’ll be sitting targets.”
“Exactly! The flycatchers will dive down after them, bringing them within range of our bug forces!”
“Excellent thinking. Cicadas, signal the flies to land.”
As the cicadas blasted out their message and the flies began to drop to ground level, Max made another suggestion: “Some of the flycatchers might not take the bait. So let’s send Buzz’s hornet squadron to attack the birds in the air.”
Barton nodded. “Buzz?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” the hornet said, whirring her wings eagerly. “Squadron leaders, follow me. Ready … launch!”
As the flycatcher birds plunged down, ready to snatch up what they thought were defeated fly foes, the black-and-gold hornet fighters rose as one. Stingers braced and ready, they shot up toward the oncoming birds.
“It’s working!” Max yelled. The flycatchers, taken by surprise, swirled and flapped in confusion, squawking in rage, as the hornets bombarded them from all sides. These weren’t the helpless, bumbling flies they had scattered moments before. These were vicious, stinging warriors.
A few of the birds, crazy with greed, struggled through the hornet barrage and headed for the remaining flies, who were now trembling on the ground among their fellow bugs. Max grinned to see that the flycatchers had fallen into his trap. Now they were right where he wanted them.
“Battle Bugs, charge!” he roared, urging Spike into the fight. They charged the flycatchers, leading the bugs into the fray.
Spike slammed his stinger into a fat flycatcher before it could gobble up its target. The bird squawked and turned, flapping up into the air. With Max calling out targets, the scorpion lashed out with his pincers, and other bugs stung the birds until they had to retreat.
Behind Max came the wave of praying mantises, eager to prove themselves in their first real fight. They chanted their battle song—“Claw, Claw, Bite!”—as they raked the birds with their clawed forelegs.
The flycatchers quickly realized they’d been tricked. “Back into the air!” one of them screeched.
Max and the bugs braced themselves for rush after rush of counterattack from the flycatchers. The birds took to the skies, then zoomed down once again, on blindingly fast attack runs, diving at any bugs they could see. Spike stood with his pincers ready, snatching at the birds, as they came hurtling by.
Max hadn’t been in a battle as tough as this before. From all around came the calls of birds and the scrabbling sounds of bugs fighting for their
lives. The bugs were holding their own, but Max needed to see how Buzz and her squadron were doing.
He swerved Spike out of the action and looked up at the swarming hornets, trying to find Buzz in the dogfight.
But the next moment, a crushing pain gripped his waist and he was yanked off Spike’s back and into the air.
“No!” Max cried, as the ground disappeared at breakneck speed. Max looked around and found he was staring right into two beady black eyes.
To his horror, he realized he was in a bird’s beak. The flycatcher had blindsided him and snatched him off Spike’s back. Any second now he’d be swallowed!
“Get off me!” he yelled, elbowing the bird in the face as hard as he could. Startled, the bird dropped him. It had never met a bug that acted like that before.
Max fell through the air and landed with a bump, rolling over and over in the dust. Luckily, he was unhurt. But he had no idea where in the bug army he’d landed. Spike was nowhere to be seen, and the bugs here were in total chaos, running around in panic or burrowing into the ground to get away from the fighting.
A dark shadow fell over him. The flycatcher landed right in front of him, raising its wings like a villainous cloak.
“What are you?” it asked in a menacing, squawking voice. “Little bug with no armor and no stinger?”
“I’m something you don’t want to mess with,” Max warned, sounding braver than he felt.
The flycatcher laughed. “You look soft and delicious, like a grub. Let me see how good you taste.”
It lunged. Max looked around for anything nearby he could reach, and his fingers wrapped around a stone. With all the force he could manage, he hurled it at the bird, smacking it right in the eye. The bird let out a terrible shriek and beat its wings in a mad flurry, feathers flying everywhere.
Max scrambled away. The battle was turning into a rout. He desperately needed to find cover, fast. There was a tree nearby, but that was no good because the trunk was too smooth to climb. Some shrubs farther away looked like they might offer shelter. He could dive in among their tangled stems and hope for the best.
Max ran for them. From behind came an angry scream and a sound of furious flapping. He looked back. It was the bird, winging after him, sending up clouds of dust. The beak gaped wide. This time, Max knew, it would bite him in half.
He sprinted toward the green shrubs with a sick feeling that he wouldn’t make it. His legs ached. He couldn’t hope to outrun something that could fly. Max wondered how the basketball game would end, and what his schoolmates would say when he never came back from the locker room.
“Max!” came a shout from the base of the tree. “Over here!”
Max jerked his head around. There was no doubt where the voice was coming from. Its owner was jumping up and down, waving his wings and all his legs, showing Max exactly where to go. It was Glower, the bug resistance leader!
The firefly was half-hopping, half-flittering anxiously around a hole between two of the tree’s roots, urging Max on.
Safety! Max thought frantically.
As the bird swept in for the kill, Max dashed for the opening. He pumped his legs as fast as they could go, running for all he was worth. As the bird’s beak snapped down, trying to clip his ankles, he gave a final burst of speed and leaped into the darkness.
Max dived into the hole. The flycatcher’s beak whammed down into the dirt only inches behind him.
Glower shoved his body up against a stone that lie beside the opening. He strained with all his legs until the stone rolled across the entrance. It completely closed off the opening, muffling the bird’s angry cries.
Max leaned against the wooden walls, gasping for breath. He’d escaped being eaten alive, but now he and Glower were sealed inside the tree in the musty darkness.
“That was close,” Max said, breathing hard. “Thanks for your help back there.”
“No problem,” said Glower. The little bug sounded very calm, despite the chaos.
“What do we do now? It’s pitch-black in here,” Max continued, barely able to see his hand in front of his face.
“You aren’t nocturnal, I guess.”
Max sat down on the cool, damp floor. He felt around, wondering if there was a way out, but his fingers clutched nothing but crumbly earth and decayed wood.
“Nope, definitely not nocturnal,” he mumbled. “Maybe if we climb up inside the trunk …”
“Perhaps this will help?”
A light flared into life right in front of Max. It was so bright he had to shield his eyes. Through his fingers he could see that the glowing thing was a wide, segmented shape with Glower’s head and arms poking out the top of it. It took Max a moment to realize that it was Glower’s lower body, lit up as bright as a bonfire.
“Wow,” he gasped, impressed. “That’s some trick, Glower.”
“Sometimes, all you need is a little illumination.” Glower flew up into the air and hovered there, shedding his glow all around. In that eerie light, Max could clearly see his surroundings. It wasn’t just any old hole he’d flung himself into—it was the entrance to a tunnel.
“Did you know this was here?” he asked, amazed.
“Of course!” Glower said. “I am in charge of the underground resistance, after all.”
“Spike did say you were literally underground. I forgot!”
“There is a network of tunnels under Bug Island, which only a select few know about. We keep our secrets well hidden.”
Max turned to the stone blocking the way he’d come. “So let’s go and rescue the others! They can use the tunnels to escape—”
“No,” Glower quickly interrupted. “We can’t risk it. I need you to follow me, right away.”
Glower zoomed down into the tunnel, and Max followed. The firefly hung in the air in front of him like a lantern, showing the way.
As he walked, Max was grateful for that bobbing light. Without it, he’d be lost down here in total darkness. There was only a tiny chance he’d be able to grope his way back out again on his own. If he went any farther down, there’d be no chance at all.
The first section of the tunnel had thick tree roots running through it. Max had to clamber over and around them, while Glower’s light danced impatiently ahead of him.
Though he was glad to be alive, he couldn’t stop thinking about what was still happening on the surface. The bugs had been running in panic, as the birds attacked. What must the bug column look like now?
“Do you think Spike’s okay?” he asked Glower.
“He’s a strong fighter,” Glower said, without turning around. “He can take care of himself. And his venom is enough to make any flycatcher think twice.”
“But there were so many of them! And what about Buzz, and Webster, and Barton? Can’t we go back to the surface and help?”
“No,” Glower said.
“But that bird might be gone by now.”
This time, Glower did look back. “Max,” he said seriously, “those bugs are my friends, too. I want them safe as much as you do. It’s too dangerous to go back to the surface, but we can fight just as well from down here, using our brains.”
Max nodded, and hoped Glower was right.
Together, they descended deeper and deeper into the tunnel system. The farther they went, the more elaborate the network became. Passageways led off at angles, into the dark unknown. They picked their way along narrow ridges and through tight crawl spaces where Max had to wiggle like a grub to get through.
In some places, the tunnels were rigged with traps, and Glower had to talk Max through them, showing him where to walk. A lizard intruder would have ended up caught in a mass of sticky web, speared on a spike, or dropped through a false floor to his doom.
“Is it much farther?” Max kept asking.
Always, the answer would come back: “Not far.”
Just as Max was wondering if Glower might be a double agent luring him into danger, they turned a corner. What he saw took his breath away.
>
The tunnel opened out into a huge, cavernous space where snaking roots threaded in and out of the walls like walkways. The whole cavern was lit up like a Christmas tree. The walls, floor, and even the ceiling glowed with hundreds of tiny lights. Where the roots crisscrossed the cavern, lights went marching in a row, like a lit-up billboard or the colored bulbs at a carnival.
Every single glowing spot was a bug.
“Welcome to Covert Ops,” said Glower, with just a hint of pride.
It wasn’t just fireflies at work here, Max now saw. There were glowworms, too, fireflies in their larval stage, their bodies pulsing and flickering.
“This is our information exchange,” Glower said. “We call it the Hive.”
“It’s fantastic,” Max said.
As Glower led him down the sloped cavern sides, Max overheard the bugs whispering to one another, chattering away like old-fashioned typewriters. When they saw their leader approaching, they broke off their conversations to give him a quick salute, then went back to their work.
“Spies from all across the island pass information back here through our relay system,” Glower said. “General Barton knows everything that happens on Bug Island. I just wish we could get some agents onto Reptile Island, too. If I had that kind of access …”
His voice trailed off. Max followed him through the forest of lights, looking around in awe, until they reached a group of fireflies who were clustered around a leaf as if it were a table.
“My fellow resistance leaders,” Glower explained. “Lumens, Pulsar, Phosphor, Shyne, and Gleamer. What’s the news from the front?”
“Our forces are scattered after the bird attack,” said Lumens, her light flickering. “They’re trying to rally, but many are panicking.”
“No one saw it coming,” added Pulsar. “The flycatchers normally migrate this time of year. They’re never usually a threat. Running into a flock of them before we reached the Lizard Army is like a bad joke.”
“Then what are they doing here?” snapped Glower.