by Jack Patton
While Max desperately tried to outrun Komodo, he heard the whir of Buzz’s wings as she took off.
His allies’ voices vanished into the distance. Smoke swirled around Max as he ran. From nearby came the crash and boom of burning trees toppling to the ground. Komodo’s hoarse, furious roars assaulted his ears. Max’s chest ached and his eyes were streaming.
“Got to keep going,” Max gasped. He couldn’t let Komodo catch him.
The drone of Buzz’s wings grew louder and louder. Max looked behind to see the brave hornet powering through the smoke toward him. But to his horror, he saw she was in trouble. Instead of flying straight and true, she was wobbling around in the air.
“Buzz, what’s wrong?” he yelled.
“It’s this smoke!” Buzz cried. “I can’t see where I’m going!”
As Max struggled to climb up the rocks beside the waterfall, he heard a sudden splash. He looked back to see Buzz tumbling out of the sky and into the river. Two fishing spiders immediately ran out across the water to rescue her.
I should have known, Max thought. In the human world, people use smoke to confuse wasps and bees. No wonder Buzz couldn’t handle it.
“Your rescuer has fallen, and none of your bug comrades can reach you before I do,” hissed General Komodo from right behind Max’s shoulder. “Now it is just you and me, human!”
He’s right, Max thought. After so many battles, it’s down to the two of us. A human boy against a reptile monster.
He forced himself to run on. They were on the lower slopes of Fang Mountain now, where natural paths led up toward barren, craggy peaks. There was nowhere to go but up.
Every muscle in Max’s body ached as he climbed, but there was no stopping now. Max hauled himself up stony slopes and grabbed branches to steady himself. Komodo pounded along, always right behind him, his feet sounding a THOOM, THOOM, THOOM on the bare earth.
Just as the nightmare chase seemed it would go on forever, Max came skidding to a halt. He saw that he had run to the end of a long ledge of rock that jutted out over Bug Island like a wasp’s stinger. Beyond was a sheer drop that plunged down for thousands of feet. This, he remembered too late, was Venom Point, the precipice at the very top of Fang Mountain.
Komodo came into view. “Nowhere left to run,” he wheezed.
Max wished like he’d never wished before that his magnifying glass would start to tug him into the sky and away from here.
But nothing happened.
He backed away farther across Venom Point until the heel of his sneaker scuffed against the very edge of the drop.
“What, do you expect to fly away to safety?” sneered Komodo. “You have no wings, human. No stinger, no poison, no pincers, no web. No special abilities at all. You are not even worthy to fight alongside the bugs. You are nothing!”
Max knelt down at the edge of Venom Point, next to a little dead tree that jutted out of the ground. Komodo’s words had given him an idea. He hunched over, pretending to be out of breath—he hoped Komodo couldn’t see what he was up to.
“Time to finish this,” Komodo snarled. He opened his mouth wide and came charging right at Max.
Max held his ground, trembling all over, as Komodo rushed toward him. The reptile’s mouth loomed up, gaping wide as a train tunnel. Max took a breath … and stepped backward off Venom Point.
Komodo charged forward, desperately clawing at the rock, but he was going too fast to stop. His arrogance had made him reckless. With a terrible cry, he stumbled off Venom Point.
Max dangled just below the edge, hanging from his trusty vine rope.
He watched Komodo fall and fall, until the reptile vanished from sight. Komodo let out a desperate cry but it was far too late—he would never be seen again.
I wish Webster could see me, hanging from my homemade web line, he thought. I may not be a bug, but I’ve learned some of their tricks!
From below, the bugs of Bug Island let out a hearty cheer. Suddenly, he felt something tug on his trusty vine rope. He hauled himself back up the side of the cliff face, and was welcomed by Barton and Spike, and the other bug commanders.
“You did it!” Barton cried. “Bug Island is saved.”
Max beamed with pride. The fire wall he’d created had done its job and was slowly fizzling out. From this vantage point, they could see the lizards fleeing back across the choppy waters between the two islands.
“So I guess that’s it, short-stuff,” said Spike.
“Until next time.” Max winked. He pulled the magnifying glass from his pocket. This time it was glowing. He held it up to the sky … and before he knew it, he was rushed off his feet and into the air.
Back in the human world, Max came running out of the Scout hut. His little heap of kindling was waiting for him. The other Boy Scouts were all busy with their fires.
“There you are, Max!” said the Scoutmaster. “I was going to send out a search party.”
“Have I been gone long?” Max asked.
“About ten minutes. Come on, let’s see you get your fire going.”
Ten minutes, Max thought with a grin. If only they knew.
Just as he’d done on Bug Island, he focused the sun’s rays to create a point of burning heat. His char cloth instantly began to smolder. Max leaned in and blew the fire alight.
The Scoutmaster clapped. “Excellent work.”
“Thanks!” said Max. He looked down at the tiny lick of flame he’d created, and quickly stamped it out again.
The Scoutmaster looked on approvingly. “Keeping fires under control prevents damage to the environment.”
“I know,” Max said with a smile, as he thought back to the burning forest on Bug Island. “And they can do much more than that!”
Fire Ants
“Fire ant” is the common name for over 200 species of ant, which can be found in diverse habitats across the world, from North and South America, to China and Southeast Asia. Although there are variations across the globe, they’re primarily known for their red-brown coloration and their painful sting—hence the name!
Like other species of ant, the fire ant lives in colonies built into soil. These can usually be found under fallen timber or rocks and can occasionally be seen poking up over a foot above the ground. The colony is founded by a queen—who can live as long as seven years—and is supported by up to 250,000 workers!
Unlike other species of ant, which spray acid as a defense mechanism, the fire ant likes to get up close and personal. It has a specialized, alkaloid-injecting sting, as well as mandibles for biting. It causes a burning sensation and irritation to anyone unlucky enough to have been stung.
Bullet Ants
Bullet ants are a species of ant native to Central and South America. Their range stretches from lowland rainforest in Nicaragua all the way south to Paraguay. They build their colonies of 100–200 ants at the base of trees, and survive on a diet of tree sap and smaller insects.
They’re famous for their incredibly powerful sting, which has been reported to be very painful. More painful than the paper wasp, the red harvester ant, and the pepsis wasp, its sting is supposedly as excruciating as being shot!
Given its amazing powers of defense, you might think the bullet ant would always get its own way—but it can also be a victim. Bullet ants tend to use their amazing abilities against other bullet ants in battles for the best food and colony locations. Their battles are so ferocious, some ants end up wounded and vulnerable, which is when the phorid fly chooses its moment.
The phorid fly doesn’t eat the bullet ant, though. Instead, the female of the species lays its eggs inside the wounded ant. When the time comes for the larvae to hatch, they have a ready-made meal waiting, and the bullet ant is eaten from the inside out!
The lizard’s tongue shot from its mouth like a whip. Then, slowly, it lumbered forward. Max held his breath. It was gigantic. The ground shook with every stamp of its big, clawed feet.
“How nice of you to drop in,” it hissed, “just in time for dinne
r.”
Max gulped. From where he was sitting, the lizard looked as big as a dinosaur. It could easily win a battle against the scorpion. As for the tiny human being on its back…
“Back off, you scaly bully,” said the scorpion. It raised its stinger threateningly, ready to strike. The stinger’s pointed tip was hanging right next to Max’s head, a bead of white venom on the end. Max edged away from it, lying down as flat as he could and peering over the scorpion’s eyes.
The lizard hissed. “I don’t like it when my snacks fight back,” it spat. It advanced again, backing the scorpion up against the branch they’d just climbed.
Max knew that the emperor scorpion was well armed. Its huge, powerful pincers and venomous stinger made it a dangerous enemy. But the lizard’s scaly skin would be far too thick and tough for the scorpion’s stinger to pierce.
There has to be some way out of this, Max thought, his heart pounding. Maybe the scorpion can outrun it? He looked at the lizard’s powerful legs, and swallowed hard. Scorpions could run fast, but the alligator lizard looked quick, too, and it wasn’t carrying a passenger.
The lizard opened its mouth, showing its sharp, pointed teeth, and suddenly leaped forward. Max clung on tightly as the scorpion scuttled to the side, dodging out of the lizard’s reach.
The lizard turned slowly to face them, its yellow eyes glittering. Once again, it stepped closer. Then it stopped and tipped its head to one side.
“What do you have on your back?” it asked curiously.
Max looked up to see that the lizard was staring straight at him. The scales on its flat, crocodile-like head were all the same size, except around its nostrils, where they were smaller and darker. Suddenly, Max remembered something.
“Quick!” he whispered to the scorpion. “His scales are weaker around his nostrils! Use your pincers there!”
“Stop that whispering!” bellowed the lizard. “What sort of thing are you, anyway?”
Max glared back at the lizard. “I’m his secret weapon!” he shouted.
And with that the scorpion darted forward, taking the reptile by surprise. Before it could react, the scorpion snapped one of its pincers onto the lizard’s nose. The lizard gave a high-pitched hiss and backed away, twisting its head in pain.
“Let’s go!” shouted Max.
The scorpion charged around the lizard as it retreated, holding a clawed foot to its injured snout. But Max knew they weren’t out of danger yet. The lizard might still come after them. And if it did, it would be even angrier than before.
The scorpion seemed to have realized this, too, because it was running as fast as its legs could carry it. “Thanks for the tip,” it shouted back to Max.
Text copyright © 2016 by Hothouse Fiction.
Cover and interior art copyright © 2016 Scholastic Inc.
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First printing 2016
Cover art by Brett Bean
Cover design by Phil Falco & Ellen Duda
e-ISBN 978-0-545-94519-6
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