by Jack Patton
With special thanks to Adrian Bott
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
SOAPBOX SNAIL
MISTY MARSHES
RESCUE MISSION
SLIMY SECRETS
CAVE-IN!
CAPTURED
FACING THE ENEMY
ESCAPE ROUTE
A TITAN DEFEAT
REAL LIFE BATTLE BUGS!
ALSO AVAILABLE
COPYRIGHT
Max Darwin pushed open the door to the garage and grinned. His dad was not an organized person. Unlike Max’s bedroom, where the bug tanks were all arranged in neat order, his dad’s garage was a mess. Boxes were piled on top of one another. Tools were stuffed into old ice cream tubs. An abandoned cup of coffee was growing multicolored mold.
Max decided it looked like something out of a disaster movie, where humanity had to survive by salvaging whatever junk it could. Even the corkboard on the wall was covered with random notes, doodles, and designs. But in the entire jumble, one thing in particular stood out. Pinned in the center of the board was a brightly colored flyer. It read:
GRAND SOAPBOX DERBY!
A Day of High-Speed Fun at Hilly Park
Homemade Soapboxes Only—No Store-Bought Vehicles Allowed!
Max had decided to enter, and soon after, he and his dad had begun working on a design for the soapbox. Now, despite the mess all around them, their hard work had paid off, and they were about to put the finishing touches on their vehicle.
“You need a hand with that?” Max asked, as his dad knocked over a jam jar full of wrenches.
“Oof, sure,” his dad grunted. “Let’s assemble this thing together.”
The soapbox was made from wooden slats taken from an old bed, with four old wheels from a baby stroller. The best part of the whole thing was something Max’s dad had found at a yard sale: a huge, hollow, plastic snail shell!
Max thought snails were awesome. Some people confused them for insects, although Max knew that they were actually mollusks. However, that didn’t mean they weren’t fascinating creatures, and part of the world of mini-beasts he loved so much. Also, it would be kind of funny having what looked like a super-slow snail in a super-high-speed soapbox derby!
Carrying the shell between them, Max and his dad moved it over to the soapbox and carefully lowered it down. Four bolts stuck up from the frame, and with a loud grating noise, the shell slid over them and into place. Max and his dad tightened nuts onto the bolts until the shell was secure.
“It looks amazing!” Max cried.
His dad grinned. “Sit inside and see how it feels.”
Max wriggled into the cockpit. The chair had square foam-rubber cushions, which were surprisingly comfortable, and there was an opening in the front of the shell so that Max could steer with a loop of rope.
“It feels great!” he said, steering the front wheels left and right. “But where’s the brake going to be?”
“You don’t have a brake on an old-fashioned soapbox,” his dad said.
“How do I keep from running into a tree?” Max asked nervously.
“You steer around it!” His dad laughed.
I suppose I’ve got the shell to protect me, Max thought, leaning back. But still …
His dad knocked on the top of the shell, making a hollow bonk-bonk noise. “Come on. Let’s load this beauty into the car.”
Max hopped out and grabbed one end of the buggy. With his dad grabbing the other side, they maneuvered the whole thing out of the garage. Max tried to focus on what he was doing, but his mind raced and his hands felt sweaty.
This afternoon, he’d be racing downhill. All week he’d been excited, but now that the race was actually here, he felt nervous. The hill was steep, and he’d never attempted something like this before.
He took a deep breath and helped his dad lift the buggy into their SUV. Then he stood on the driveway, going through his mental checklist, while his dad started up the car.
“Oh, wait,” Max called. “I forgot one thing.”
His dad rolled down the window. “What’s the problem?”
“Gimme a minute, Dad. I just need to grab something from my room.”
Max bounded inside and ran upstairs. On the desk in his room, he quickly found what he was after. Two long springs with Ping-Pong balls on the ends—the Soapbox Snail’s eyestalks! He couldn’t go anywhere without those.
As he grabbed them, his hand brushed over his prize possession, The Complete Encyclopedia of Arthropods.
Suddenly, he froze on the spot—the encyclopedia’s pages were glowing!
He gasped. “The Battle Bugs—they need me!”
The encyclopedia was more than a detailed guide to insects, bugs, and other arthropods of all kinds. It was also a magic gateway to Bug Island, a secret realm where intelligent, talking bugs lived. Max had been there many times, shrinking down to bug size and helping his bug friends in their struggle to survive against the reptile army.
“But I’m supposed to be going to the soapbox derby!” Max groaned. Then he remembered: Time moved differently on Bug Island. Max had often been away for days in the bug world and returned to find that only minutes had passed in the human world.
“Okay, let’s do this,” he said out loud, as he opened up the encyclopedia. He leafed through the pages until he found the double-page map of Bug Island; light shone up on his face from the glowing pages. There was only one more thing he needed: the magnifying glass that came with the book. He took it out and held it over the map.
Suddenly, a powerful wind whirled around his room, ruffling the curtains and making the paper on his desk fly around in the air. Max felt himself lift off his feet.
“Whoa!” he cried.
The book seemed to grow larger and larger, but Max knew it was actually him that was tumbling down into the pages, through the dark hole that opened up in front of him.
That’s strange—the gateway isn’t usually dark! Max thought.
But before he had time to worry about it, Max was being whisked through the portal, straight to Bug Island …
Max knew he was heading for something gross. He could tell by the smell: a blend of stagnant water; rotten vegetation; and old, black mud. It was a bit like the smells of a well-used soccer field in the rain. Then, suddenly, came the impact: a squelch that left him standing in cold, boggy sludge up to his knees.
“Gross!” he yelled, as he shook dirt off his hands.
Max took a second to get his breath back, then looked around into the nighttime that enveloped him. This was way darker than night ever seemed at home. He took a step forward and then hesitated. With this little light to see by, he could easily blunder into a deep bog or pool and never come out again. Better to take it real slow.
“This is some welcome to Bug Island,” he muttered as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark.
Through the leafy cover overhead, he made out faint stars and a slim crescent of moon. All around lay stretches of black, oily-looking water with patches of firmer ground rising up from it. Reflected stars glimmered in the surface. Farther away into the marsh, a dim blue mist hovered over the water like smoke.
Max decided not to stick around—predators could be anywhere in the dark and he would have no idea. He heaved himself out of the marsh and trudged up to higher, drier ground, leaving a glistening trail of swamp sludge in his wake.
He looked out from the hill, and, suddenly, he knew where he was. “The Misty Marshes!” he said out loud. I’ve seen these on the encyclopedia map! That means the jungle is … this way!”
He peered into the distance, and sure enough, he thought he could make out the silhouette of trees. “If I can just reach the jungle, I can find the bug camp! As long as Barton hasn’t moved it again.�
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The night air was damp and chilly against his skin. Max was dressed for a day at the park, not a night in the marshes. He zipped up his hoodie and kept moving. The outline of the jungle, even blacker than the sky overhead, loomed in the distance.
Max jumped over yet another soggy spot and noticed a strange depression in the ground. There were more little pockmarks and holes nearby. He paused for a while, trying to figure out what kind of bug could have made them, then shrugged and moved on. The Misty Marshes were beginning to give him the creeps.
Suddenly he stopped. A light had flashed up ahead.
Max peered into the distance, suddenly alert.
It flashed again.
“What is that?”
Although it was just a tiny flicker against the blanketing darkness, Max’s hope grew. Only one thing made a light like that—a firefly! And that meant Max wasn’t alone in the dark after all.
Max sprinted toward the light and his grin grew broader as he recognized the glowing insect. It was his trusted friend, the head of the bug underground intelligence network, Glower.
“Hey, Glower!” Max shouted. “I’m glad to see you! I can hardly see a thing out here!”
“No problem!” came Glower’s faint voice shouting back to him. “I’ll come to you! Don’t go near the …” His voice faded away.
“Near the what?” Max hollered, but Glower’s words were lost on the night air. Max gritted his teeth and ran on toward Glower’s light.
The firefly zoomed toward him. Glower was flying so low he was almost brushing the ground. Suddenly, though, something burst out of the ground from one of the dark holes. It was snakelike, reptilian, and moved with a hunched wriggle that made Max feel sick with fear.
“Glower, watch out!” Max shouted.
“Huh?” Glower said.
The reptile twisted around to glare hatefully at Max. He had never seen anything like it before. It had a long, scaly body and a stubby little head, just like a snake. But it also had small, clawed forelimbs, just like a true lizard.
A Mexican worm lizard!
The worm lizard lunged up at Glower, chomping and scrabbling. The firefly darted out of the way, but not quickly enough.
“Another tasty morsel,” the worm lizard hissed in delight.
“Max, get out of here!” Glower shouted, as the reptile grabbed him by the leg. A quick tussle, a sudden tug—and Glower’s light vanished.
“No!” Max yelled. He ran to the hole.
The light from Glower was plummeting down, getting smaller and smaller as the worm lizard dragged him away. Max caught a glimpse of Glower’s panicked face. Then he was gone.
Max stood for a second, numb with shock. Then he pulled himself together. Glower needed him. He had to find the others, fast.
He ran to the edge of the jungle and headed between the massive trees, looking for the bug camp. To his relief, it wasn’t long before he caught sight of the termite towers looming above the forest floor. The bug sentries saw him first, and Spike the emperor scorpion came dashing out to give him a ride the rest of the way.
“Max, you’re back!” Spike said happily. But soon, he saw the stern look on Max’s face, and knew something was wrong. “What is it? What happened?”
“We need Barton, now!” Max said, hurrying into the Battle Bugs’ camp.
Soon after, Max stood before the Battle Bug command team: Spike, Webster the trap-door spider, Buzz the hornet air ace, and, of course, General Barton, the titan beetle who led the bug forces. Nearby sat Spotter, the dragonfly who’d helped Max beat back the crocodile forces on his last visit.
Still breathless, Max told the bugs about the worm lizard snatching Glower.
“I feared the worst when Glower failed to report for duty,” Barton said, gravely.
“Have things been bad here?” Max asked.
“Well, the river patrols you suggested have been working out great,” said Spotter. “No sign of any crocs—”
“Yes,” Buzz interrupted. “But Glower isn’t the first bug to go missing …”
Barton nodded. “We’ve heard reports of bugs being hauled underground and never seen again. But until now, nobody had seen the culprit up close.”
“The worm lizard,” Max said. “It must have snatched all those other bugs, too!”
“Exactly,” rumbled Barton. “Now that you’re here, Max, and we finally know what we’re up against, it’s time to take action.”
“Let’s form a search party to look for the missing bugs,” Max said instantly.
Spike snapped his pincers in the air. “Yes! I knew Max would get right to work. Didn’t I tell you, Buzz?”
Max paced up and down, thinking about whom to have on the team. “Webster, can you come? We could use your web lines to help us climb down the hole.”
“If you’re sure I w-won’t get in the way,” said Webster, nervously.
“I’ll come too, sir!” squeaked a voice from the back of the cave.
Max looked over and saw a very strange sight—a set of glowing feelers waving over the other bugs’ heads.
“Ah, Cadet Roxy,” boomed Barton. “Move aside, bugs. Let her through.”
Max watched openmouthed as Roxy slid toward him on multiple legs, casting light all around her. She was a millipede, and her entire body was glowing with a pale, soft light.
“I can climb and I light up,” she explained, “and I have some other tricks, too.”
Max thought for a second. Roxy’s luminescence would be perfect for the mission.
“Welcome aboard!” Max said.
The millipede beamed even brighter in delight.
Max organized the bugs, and, soon, he, Webster, and Roxy set out from the bug camp on the rescue mission. Spike stayed behind to patrol the perimeter with Barton and the other forces.
Max marched in front, ready for action.
“Remember the Battle Bugs’ motto,” Max said. “Never leave a bug behind! So, let’s go find Glower!”
Max, Roxy, and Webster cautiously made their way out of the jungle and across to the edge of the swamp. Max knew Glower was counting on him—the Battle Bugs were the only ones who could save him now.
He kept glancing across at Roxy. With her glowing, semitransparent body gliding up and down the humps of earth, she made for a strange sight. Shadows shrank and lengthened as she passed by.
“How do you do that?” he asked her. “I know fireflies like Glower can light up their abdomens, but that’s just one part of their bodies. You’re glowing from one end to the other!”
“It’s called bioluminescence,” Roxy said proudly. “The chemicals in our bodies react to produce light. All the millipedes in my genus have it.”
“What genus is that?”
“Motyxia!” said Roxy. “And that’s not all. We’re poisonous, too—all over!”
“Wow!” Max said. “So I shouldn’t touch you, right?”
“Right!” Roxy said. “Unless you want to be seriously knocked out—”
Roxy was so caught up in her conversation with Max that she nearly blundered into the big, dark hole in front of her. Only Webster’s quick reaction saved her from falling over the edge.
“Oops!” Roxy gasped, steadying herself and waving her feelers around. “I get a little carried away sometimes.”
“C-careful!” Webster whispered. “W-we don’t want to lose another bug!”
The three of them gathered around the edge of the hole. It looked crumbly and dangerous. Not one sliver of light penetrated its depths.
“Is this w-where the worm lizard took Glower?” Webster asked.
“I’m certain of it,” Max said. “See those claw marks in the ground? The worm lizard made those. Glower’s down there somewhere, and hopefully so are the other missing bugs.”
Webster peered down the hole. “It looks dark and deep, Max. Normally, I like it underground, but only in holes I’ve dug myself!”
“In that case, Roxy’s definitely the right bug for the trip,” Max
said. “We’re going to need all the light we can get.”
Max explained his plan to the others. “We’re going to lower ourselves down the hole, one by one. Webster, we’ll need plenty of silk.”
“No problem,” he whispered.
“I’ll go first!” Roxy volunteered. “I can light up the way.”
“Good thinking,” Max said. “Webster, spin a silk loop around Roxy and lower her down. We need to do this fast. There might be more worm lizards around.”
Webster quickly went to work with his spinnerets. In less than a minute, Roxy went scrambling over the edge of the pit—this time on purpose. She hung in space, dangling by a single webbing thread that gleamed in the light from her body.
“Good to go!” she said, and gave Max a little salute.
Webster let out more and more silk, gradually lowering Roxy down the hole.
Max watched her slowly descend into the darkness. Strange noises from nearby made him jump: a scraping noise that might be a reptilian claw, a quiet hiss that might be a predator waiting to attack. The Misty Marshes had lost none of the creepiness from his last visit.
“Can you go any faster?” he asked.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Webster panted.
Max was sure it wasn’t fast enough. He was beginning to think something was watching them.
Eventually, after what felt like hours, the faint call finally came: “I’ve reached the bottom!”
Max peered down and saw Roxy waving from far below, looking tiny as a glowworm.
“Great! Now my turn,” he told Webster.
Webster spun out some silk. Max took the gluey, sticky stuff in his hands and held it to his waist. Then, he spun around until it was securely wound around him like a belt. He wouldn’t fall out of that in a hurry.
Webster braced himself to take Max’s weight. Max climbed over the edge of the pit. Fragments of earth broke away in his hands and he fell, tumbling silently, into the dark.
Max gulped. He steadied himself with his legs against the shaft wall and began the slow descent.
It wasn’t as easy as he’d expected. Webster’s line came in fits and starts, which made Max bounce about jerkily, like a toy on a string. He tried to use his legs to control his descent, but he couldn’t see what he was doing in the dark. He’d bounce off the wall, spin around in the middle, and then bounce off the opposite wall.