by J. E. Fison
J. E. Fison is no stranger to danger …
I’m the first to admit that being an international adventurer has its tricky moments: like the time I was camping in Africa and woke up to find two male elephants fighting outside the tent. Mind the tins of baked beans, would you guys! Then there was the time I was on a nighttime safari and the open-top jeep broke down, just as a pride of lions decided to start their hunt! My advice when you come face to face with a lion is: try not to panic.
In the jungles of Borneo I once shook hands with an orang-utan. I didn’t mean to and I don’t recommend it; they’re much stronger than you think. I’ve also eaten a lot of things that I wish I hadn’t. Wok-fried grasshoppers taste just like they look and rat soup tastes even worse than it sounds.
J. E. Fison – Brisbane 2011
WHICH HAZARD RIVER BOOKS HAVE YOU READ?
Shark Frenzy!
Snake Surprise!
Tiger Terror!
Bat Attack!
First published by Ford Street Publishing, an imprint of
Hybrid Publishers, PO Box 52, Ormond VIC 3204
Melbourne Victoria Australia
© J. E. Fison 2011
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
This publication is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests and enquiries concerning reproduction should be addressed to
Ford Street Publishing Pty Ltd
2 Ford Street, Clifton Hill VIC 3068.
Ford Street website: www.fordstreetpublishing.com
First published 2011
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Author: Fison, J. E., 1966–
Title: Bat attack! / J. E. Fison.
eISBN: 9781925272468
Series: Hazard River series.
Target Audience: For primary school age.
Subjects: New Year – Juvenile fiction.
Dewey Number: A823.4
Cover design: Gittus Graphics ©
Cover illustration: Marc McBride ©
In-house editor: Saralinda Turner
Printing and quality control in China by
Tingleman Pty Ltd
Dedicated to Australia’s ghost bats. They might not be that cute, but they need our help.
It should have been the best New Year’s Eve ever. My parents agreed to let me go to the Hazard River Disco – on my own. This would be my chance to stay up until midnight. To drink 100 cans of lemonade. To eat 200 packets of chips. To really have some fun with the friends I’ve made on the summer holidays.
But at Hazard River things never quite turn out the way they are supposed to ...
11.00 am: I have some work to do.
There are only eight hours until the Hazard River Disco and I have to get my hair right. Oh sure, when I go out tonight, I’ll look like I got ready in a couple of minutes. I’ll look like my hair took no time at all. But looking super cool takes a lot of work.
I’ve used a cocktail of spit, soap and glue to get my hair to stand up straight. I look in the mirror and growl. I don’t look cool. I look like an echidna that’s just swallowed a hairball. I smooth my hair into a point at the front. I scowl, put on some sunglasses and strum my air guitar. But I don’t look like a rock star. I look like a rhino ready to charge. It’s hopeless.
‘Jack,’ my friend Mimi Fairweather calls from outside the window. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Nothing,’ I say, patting my hair down. ‘I’m not doing anything. Just sitting in my room doing absolutely nothing.’
I watch Mimi drop her bike on the lawn. I’m a bit surprised to see her with a bike. Mimi lives on a yacht. It’s anchored on Hazard River. There aren’t many places on a boat that you can cycle. But I guess even yachties have to get around on land sometimes.
‘Do you want to help get the fire station ready for the disco tonight?’ she says, as she walks into the house. ‘It might be interesting.’
Mimi has a strange idea of what would be interesting. I think comic books are interesting. I think PlayStation games are interesting. Hanging up a few lights at the fire station sounds about as interesting as Maths homework or an English essay.
But Mimi is Professor Bigbrains. And to her everything is interesting. She once saw a doggy doo-doo in the grass and stopped to tell me ‘ten things I should know about dog poo’. Those are ten facts I really didn’t need to know.
‘Will they be giving out free lemonade to the helpers?’ I ask.
‘Yes, they might be,’ Mimi replies.
‘Free lemonade! Free lemonade!’ my brother Ben shouts. He dances out of the bathroom with a pile of rubbish on his head.
An old snakeskin is wrapped around his hair like a turban. There’s a feather hanging off one end and a toothbrush (that I once used to sweep up dead flies) is wedged into the front.
‘It’s a disco hat,’ he says. He pats his creation to make sure it’s still in place.
My brother the Stink Collector.
It is not a hat. It’s a smelly pile of garbage. And if he’s wearing that to the disco tonight – I’m staying home.
‘Race you to the fire station,’ Ben says. He runs out of the house with a snake’s tail and a grubby feather trailing behind him.
Ben grabs his bike from the shed, jumps on and pedals as fast as he can down Wallaby Track. Mimi is right behind him. By the time I untangle my bike from a crab pot in the shed, I’ve lost a few minutes.
‘We’re going to the fire station,’ I call to my neighbour Lachlan as I speed past his house.
Lachlan is cleaning his father’s car – his punishment for shaking up a whole case of beer last week. The first bottle his father opened sprayed him in the eye. The second he opened covered his hair. By the third, his father was getting suspicious. By the fourth, Lachlan was in big trouble.
Lachlan attracts trouble like grass attracts bull ants. He’s the undisputed Master of Disaster. But he does have his uses. Lachlan Master has been holidaying at Hazard River forever. He knows this place like the back of his hand, as my grandfather would say. Although just why anyone would want to know the back of their hand is a mystery to me.
I cycle down the track. It’s not long before I whiz past Ben. It’s not really anything to boast about. He’s riding a bike he discovered on the side of the road, among a pile of junk. The Stink Collector’s ‘greatest find’. The handlebars are bent and the brakes don’t work. It’s a wonder it’s going at all.
‘It’s not a race,’ Mimi shouts as I fly past. But she’s wrong – that’s exactly what it is.
Splat. A cane toad squishes under my wheel. I glance back over my shoulder to see it’s flattened like a pancake. Lachlan is just a few metres behind.
Flying custard pies! Where did he come from?
I put my head down and cycle like it’s the Tour de France. The tall trees on either side of the track are like crowds of spectators cheering me on. I look around. Lachlan is gaining on me. I push a bit harder. There’s just centimetres between us. It’s a battle to the death for King of the Mountain. I just need to push a bit harder and ...
SCREEECH ...
A ute, with a dog hanging out of the window, flies around the corner and roars down the middle of the track. Its wheels are spinning in the gravel. A great cloud of dust billows behind. It’s heading straight for me.
‘AHHH!’ I’m going to die ...
11.40 am: I slam on my brakes. I skid in the gravel. Lachlan smashes into me from behind. We both fall to the ground. The ute skids towards us. My heart is pounding. There’s sweat pouring down my face. I hold my breath. The ute’s engine roars. Then it veers off the track. It misses me by a metre.
I breathe
out as a backpack flies off the ute’s tray. It shoots between the trees like a rock fired from a slingshot and lands out of sight.
The ute screeches to a stop, just metres up the road. Through the dust I can see three people in the car. A man with enormous ears leans out of the window and turns to us.
‘You stupid kids!’ he shouts. ‘Get out of the way!’
He pulls his head in and roars off down the track. I’m left to choke on their dust.
‘Hey, Elephant Ears. This is not a highway. It’s a bush track. You’re gonna kill someone!’ Lachlan shouts after him.
Lachlan’s insults are lost in the wind. Elephant Ears isn’t listening. He doesn’t care if it’s a highway or not. He doesn’t care if he nearly killed Lachlan and me. He doesn’t even care if he’s lost his backpack and I’m sure not going to tell him where it went.
All Elephant Ears cares about is getting somewhere fast. Doesn’t he know this is Hazard River? No one hurries around here. There is nowhere to go. But Elephant Ears has something urgent to do. And I wouldn’t mind knowing what.
The ute takes a fork in the track and disappears into the bush.
I get to my feet and dust off my knees. There’s a bit of blood, but nothing serious.
‘That is the worst driving I’ve ever seen,’ Lachlan says. He climbs out from under his bike. ‘Even I can drive better than that.’
‘You can’t drive at all,’ I reply. ‘You’re way too young.’
‘I can drive our beach buggy,’ he says. ‘There’s nothing to it.’
Somehow I doubt that Lachlan can drive a car. Maybe he’s allowed to steer his parent’s beach buggy when there’s no one else around.
I sometimes steer Mum’s car into the garage at home. Does that mean I can drive as well? It probably does.
But the sound of Mimi screaming ends my wondering.
‘Ahhh!’ she screeches, slamming on her brakes.
Her bike skids in the gravel and collapses in half. (Her fold-up bike is very handy for storing on a boat, but not so good for negotiating the gravel.) Mimi topples off. She lands on the track.
Ben is not far behind. His head is down. He’s pedalling for all he’s worth.
‘Watch out, Ben!’ I shout. But it’s too late.
My brother is heading straight for us. He looks up. His mouth drops open. Ben’s brakes don’t work. He’s never going to stop in time.
He only has one option.
Ben swerves around us. He careers off the track and into the bush.
‘Yaaahhh!’ he screams as his bike slams into a log.
Ben flies over the handlebars and soars through the sky like a human missile.
‘I didn’t know mini dudes could fly,’ I say. ‘I’d like to try that myself.’
But I change my mind. Ben’s airborne expedition comes to a soggy end.
Splash. He lands in a billabong.
Mimi, Lachlan and I run down to the water’s edge. I look from one side of the black water to the other. I wait to see my little brother’s face. A snakeskin hat floats to the surface, but there’s no sign of Ben. I’m just about to jump in, when he emerges. He coughs and gasps for air. A lily pad sits on his head. He looks like an overgrown frog.
I fall on the ground laughing. I know I shouldn’t laugh when someone has an accident, but I can’t help it.
‘Don’t laugh. He could be hurt,’ Mimi says. But Mimi can’t help smiling either.
‘It’s not funny!’ Ben says. He blows up his cheeks and scrunches up his nose. He looks even more like a frog. ‘There could be snakes in here. I could get sucked into a whirlpool.’
‘It’s just a billabong,’ Lachlan says. ‘You’re not going to die.’
Ben dog-paddles to the water’s edge. His feet make a sucking sound as he tries to clamber out. Then he stops. Ben tries to pull his right foot out. It won’t move. He tries to pull his left foot out. It won’t move.
He wriggles his bottom from side to side. He tries to get his feet out of the sand. But he’s stuck.
‘It’s quicksand!’ he screams. ‘I’m stuck in quicksand! I’m sinking.’
It’s then I realise this is no joke. Ben can’t move. He’s slowly slipping deeper into the sand.
11.50 am: ‘Find a big stick!’ I shout. Mimi is already scouring the bush for something long enough to reach Ben.
I pull a branch from a tree. I reach out towards him. He grabs hold. The branch snaps. Ben falls backwards into the wet sand again.
‘Grab this one,’ Mimi calls, holding out a thicker branch.
Ben takes it with one hand. But he can’t hold it. He loses his grip. He sinks further into the quicksand.
‘Try again, Ben,’ Lachlan calls. ‘Hold on really tight this time.’
‘I can’t hold it. I’m sinking,’ he cries.
‘You can,’ I say. ‘You can do it.’
Ben reaches out. He grabs the branch with both hands. He squeezes tight. Mimi, Lachlan and I pull on the other end. Ben wriggles. He jiggles. He bounces. But his feet won’t move.
‘Okay. This time give it everything,’ I say. ‘On the count of three. One ... two ... three!’
Lachlan, Mimi and I heave. We groan. We strain. I expel a large amount of wind from my rear end. I can’t be certain, but I think my fart finally does it.
Slurp.
Ben shoots out of the sand. But we’re heaving so hard and Ben is squeezing the branch so tight that we fling him right over the billabong bank. He sails through the air, headed straight for a tree.
Smack. Ben slams into the tree trunk – head first.
That one has got to hurt.
He gets to his feet, slimy black sand up to his knees, tears running down his face. There’s a big red egg growing on his forehead.
A flock of cockatoos flaps out of the tree above Ben. One drops a little deposit of white poo on his head. Things are not looking good for him ... until a bag falls from the tree.
‘Hey, look what the birds have knocked out of the tree,’ he says. ‘This is my lucky day.’
Ben picks up the backpack. He gives it a shake, then unzips it. I recognise it at once. It’s the backpack that flew off the back of the ute.
‘That doesn’t really belong to you, Ben,’ I remind him. ‘You shouldn’t be helping yourself to someone else’s things.’
Reluctantly, Ben puts the bag back on the grass. He drops his head. I can tell he’s disappointed. This might have been the Stink Collector’s new best find ever.
‘Are you mad, Jack?’ Lachlan says. ‘After that maniac nearly killed us. Of course we can look in his bag.’
‘What maniac?’ Mimi asks.
‘A man with ears like an elephant’s was driving so fast up the track,’ Lachlan explains, ‘he nearly killed us. The bag fell off his ute.’
‘So it was Elephant Ears’s fault that you fell off your bike,’ Mimi says to Lachlan. ‘It’s his fault that Jack fell off his bike. It’s his fault I fell off my bike. And his fault that Ben landed in a billabong.’
‘And it was Elephant Ears’s fault I got stuck in quicksand. And smashed into a tree,’ Ben adds.
‘Well. I think it’s only fair that we take a look at his backpack,’ Mimi decides.
Lachlan grabs the backpack. He peers inside.
‘Ooohhh ... Mmmm,’ Lachlan says with his head in the backpack.
‘What’s in there?’ I say. ‘Let me look.’
Lachlan pulls the backpack in to his chest. ‘Just be patient,’ he says, pulling out a flyer from the bag.
Save Our Wildlife
New Year’s Eve Disco
Hazard River Fire Station
Starts 7.00 pm
Fireworks at Midnight
Everyone Welcome
Lachlan reads the flyer and tosses it aside. ‘That’s boring. Everyone knows there’s a disco tonight.’
He reaches into the bag again and pulls out a strange kind of headband. ‘This looks more interesting.’
‘Oh great,’ Ben says, tak
ing the headband. ‘I can wear this to the disco.’
Lachlan pulls another headband from the backpack and hands it to me. A series of small bulbs is attached to one side. I find the switch and turn them on.
Ben switches his on and off.
On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.
Mimi takes another headband from the bag. She fiddles with the light switch and turns it over.
‘I think this is a headlamp,’ she says.
Thank you, Professor Bigbrains.
‘They’re used in caves. If you wear a lamp on your head, you don’t need to carry a torch. Your hands are free to do other things, like hold onto ledges.’ Mimi waves her hands in the air. She demonstrates the great benefits of a headlamp.
‘I’m keeping mine for the disco,’ Ben says.
His snakeskin turban was lost in the billabong. He’ll need something strange to wear on his head. If I can just walk into the disco ahead of him, maybe no one will realise that we’re together.
‘Are there any caves around here?’ Mimi asks.
‘I’ve never seen any,’ Lachlan says, putting the bag on the ground and scratching his head.
I grab the backpack. And, just out of habit, I open the zips on the side pockets. Every bag I have ever opened at home has two things. No matter what the bag is used for, there is always a handful of change, somewhere in the bag, and a few lollies.
Is Elephant Ears a mint man or is he more of a chocolate man? I think I’ll find out.
I plunge my hand into one of the pockets. My fingers find something sticky. I guess Elephant Ears is a chocolate man.
‘Ohhh, gross,’ I say, pulling my hand out of the bag.
An icky, squishy chocolate éclair is stuck to my little finger. And attached to the chocolate éclair is a piece of paper.
I wipe the chocolate éclair on the grass and carefully peel the piece of paper away. I open it out. On one side is a great big chocolatey smudge. On the other is a hand-drawn map.
In the middle of the map is a word circled in red.
MINE.
‘There’s a mine around here?’ Mimi asks. ‘This area is a wildlife reserve. Mining isn’t allowed.’
‘I think there used to be,’ Lachlan says, studying the map. ‘Don’t think it’s been used for years.’