“That's her!” yelled Limpy.
“Excuse me,” said Goliath to the cockroach. “That pelican just crashed.”
The cockroach ignored Goliath. “You've missed her,” he said to Limpy. “She took off ten minutes ago.”
“So she's OK?” said Limpy, giddy with relief.
“Bit knocked about,” said the cockroach. “But not too bad. Nowhere near as bruised as that pelican, for example.”
“Which bird did she leave with?” said Limpy. “And where can we find two more?”
“It wasn't a bird,” said the cockroach. “It was a plane.”
Limpy knew what planes were. Those huge shiny metal things over in the human part of the airport. Like slugs, but with wings. And much faster.
“There isn't a direct plane flight from here to the Amazon,” said the cockroach, waving in the African butterflies. “Your sister's gone via Los Angeles. Next plane to L.A. is that one over there leaving in about four hours.”
Limpy stared across at the huge plane. “What's the best way to get on it?” he wondered out loud.
“I'll get a sharp stick and bash a hole in the side,” said Goliath.
“Lots of ways in,” said the cockroach, waving the stink beetles out of the butterflies’ airspace. “Once you're on board, find yourself a comfortable pozzie before the human passengers get on. Stay away from those big things under the wings, they'll suck your eyeballs out. I prefer the overhead luggage compartments myself.”
The overhead luggage compartments were nice and roomy, with attractive decor, but Limpy was worried they were too dangerous. The plane would soon be filling up with passengers, and Limpy had noticed how human hand-luggage was mostly heavy bottles.
“We could hide in these paper bags,” suggested Goliath.
Limpy looked at the paper bags Goliath had pulled out of the seat pockets. He wasn't sure what they were for, so he shook his head.
“You never like my ideas,” complained Goliath.
“I'm not saying it's a bad idea,” said Limpy. “It's just that those bags remind me of the ones moths use when they hit air turbulence. You know, sick bags.”
“So what?” said Goliath. “There'd be room for us in there as well.”
Limpy decided not to get into an argument about it. There wasn't time. The human passengers would be getting on the plane very soon, and Limpy knew he and Goliath wouldn't pass as flight attendants, not even if they did their nicest smiles.
“Look,” said Limpy. “Here's a good hiding place. Under the seat next to this rolled-up plastic thing.”
It was a good hiding place.
The passengers got on and Limpy and Goliath weren't discovered, not even when Goliath gave a loud whimper during takeoff.
Limpy nearly gave a whimper himself when he saw how close the nearest human feet were. He was glad he and Goliath had been able to wedge themselves under the strap holding the rolled-up plastic thing to the underside of the seat.
“Ow,” said Goliath. “My ears just popped.”
“Don't worry,” said Limpy. “I think it's normal.”
“A couple of my warts have popped too,” said Goliath.
Limpy wasn't sure if that was quite so normal.
“I hate planes,” grumbled Goliath. “They're cold and noisy and cramped and this rolled-up plastic tastes yucky.”
Limpy sighed.
“What about poor Charm,” he said. “She had to do this all by herself.”
He tried not to think about Charm hiding in an overhead luggage compartment in her plane, or in a paper bag, or even worse, in one of the engines.
Instead he reminded himself what a sensible sister she was. She wouldn't do anything stupid, not on such an important quest.
The thought made Limpy feel better. Goliath seemed to be calming down too.
“You're right,” said Goliath quietly.“I'm being selfish. This is a good hiding place. When does the in-flight meal service start?”
“Limpy,” said Goliath. “I don't think this is such a good hiding place after all.”
Limpy was trying to have a doze to take his mind off Charm. In his imagination he was in the Amazon, learning the secrets of a peaceful life from happy peaceful cane toads and happy peaceful humans and a very happy and peaceful tree fungus.
“Limpy,” repeated Goliath, more urgently.
Limpy sighed but didn't open his eyes.
Why can't Goliath ever stop complaining? he thought wearily. OK, it is a bit cramped under this seat, and this strap cuts into your warts something chronic, but it's not all bad. There's a feast of crumbs and food scraps under here, and Goliath really enjoyed that lump of old bubblegum he found.
“Limpy,” said Goliath, his voice wobbling.“Did you hear me?”
Limpy felt himself getting cross. He took a deep breath through his skin pores and reminded himself that poor Goliath had a good reason for being a whinger. His parents had split when he was very young. A truck had run over them and they'd each ended up completely split in half.
“Limpy,” said Goliath, sounding really upset now.
Limpy opened his eyes to ask Goliath to try and forget he was an abandoned child and to be patient for the sake of cane toads everywhere.
The croak froze in his throat as he saw what was peeking at him and Goliath under the edge of the seat.
Two upside-down human faces.
It could have been worse, thought Limpy.
The humans could have been angry, violent adults.
These two nice little kids are much better, decided Limpy. Especially as they just want to play with us instead of bashing us with heavy hand-luggage.
Limpy tried to stay as quiet as he could. He didn't want to wake the kids’ parents, who were dozing in their seats with the cabin lights off. But the game the kids were playing made that a bit difficult.
“Ooh,” giggled Limpy. “That tickles.”
“I know what you mean,” muttered Goliath.
Limpy had never worn dolls’ clothes before. They felt strange, but it was partly because the army outfit the boy was putting on him was a bit tight around the tummy.
The boy put an army helmet onto Limpy's head. It was a bit tight too, but Limpy didn't mind, because the boy was grinning happily.
So this is what it feels like to be friends with a human, thought Limpy, grinning happily too.
While the boy struggled to clip an army belt round Limpy's middle, Limpy wondered if this was the ancient secret his rellies in the Amazon had discovered. That humans don't hurt you as long as you let them dress you up.
Later on, the kids fell asleep.
Limpy turned round slowly on the boy's knee, careful not to wake him.
“Goliath,” whispered Limpy. “Are you OK?”
“No,” said Goliath, wriggling uncomfortably on the girl's lap. “My dress is too small.”
“I think it looks nice,” said Limpy.
“These earrings are stabbing my ears,” said Goliath.
“That's a shame,” said Limpy. “They match your eyes.”
“And these shoes are killing my feet,” said Goliath. “Every time I try and kick them off, I stab myself in the ankles with the high heels.”
Limpy sighed.
Goliath just didn't understand how important it was to the future well-being of cane toads everywhere to be a good pet.
“This is good,” whispered Limpy to Goliath. “If humans start adopting cane toads as pets, our problems are over.”
“No, they're not,” grumbled Goliath. “This lipstick tastes yuck.”
Limpy had to admit he didn't feel completely good either, but he was pretty sure he would once his new owner worked out his tummy size.
Then Goliath noticed his little girl was asleep.
“I'm out of here,” he muttered.
Before Limpy could stop him, Goliath hopped onto the back of the seat and swung himself across the ceiling of the plane, hanging by his arms.
Limpy went after him, clinging
desperately on to reading lights and air-flow nozzles. Luckily most of the passengers were still asleep, and those that were awake were watching a movie on the screen at the front of the cabin.
Limpy prayed none of them would cop a high-heel shoe in the head.
“Goliath,” whispered Limpy. “Come back. If you start a fight now, it'll delay the next meal.”
Goliath obviously hadn't thought of this, because he stopped so suddenly his wig fell off.
Unfortunately he stopped right in front of the movie projector box. His shadow loomed onto the screen. Limpy got to him as fast as possible and pulled him away.
By then, the passengers watching the movie were on the edges of their seats, thrilled by the sudden brief appearance in a teen love scene of the sinister shadow of a large toadlike monster.
Limpy felt like his brains were going to plop out through his ears.
Relax, he told himself. It's natural to feel like this when you're being carried upside down by one leg, especially in a strange airport.
Limpy hoped the little boy didn't suddenly get overtired after the long flight and drop him.
He glanced over at Goliath, who was upside down too, clasped by the little girl to her chest.
Goliath didn't look too good.
His dress was bunched up round his neck and his shoes were on back to front. Limpy wasn't sure if he was scowling or just trying to take his earrings off with his mouth.
Hope he doesn't pop a brain-wart, thought Limpy anxiously. If he starts spraying poison pus around here, we're done for.
The kids’ parents were standing at a counter showing a couple of small books to a human official. Limpy didn't want to think what the official would do with his gun if Goliath started shooting off at the glands.
Luckily Goliath looked too weary for that.
Then the little girl grabbed Goliath's hand and tried to jam his fingers up his nostrils.
“Baby pick nose,” she said.
Limpy didn't understand what she was saying, and he could see Goliath didn't either, but he hoped it was “Try and stay loose and floppy like your cousin Limpy so the official thinks you're just a stuffed toy or novelty pencil case.”
Whatever the little girl said, it must have worked, because when she gave up trying to fit Goliath's big fingers into his nose, Goliath didn't make a fuss. He just looked a bit disappointed, and the official waved them all through.
Suddenly they were in the biggest room Limpy had ever seen. It was even bigger than the supermarket, freezer included. Luggage was rumbling round on long, flat giant snakes and humans were bumping into each other with big trolleys on wheels.
The kids’ father went over toward a luggage snake and their mother bent down and wiped the girl's face with a tissue.
Then she saw Goliath.
“Lucy!” she yelled. “Where did you get that ghastly thing? Put it down! It's dangerous! Don't touch it!”
Limpy hoped she was saying, “What delightful pets you've both found, we must tell all our friends so they can get their own.”
But when the woman snatched Goliath from the little girl and flung him onto the floor, Limpy knew she probably hadn't said that.
The little girl burst into tears.
The little boy did too, and dropped Limpy.
The woman tried to run Limpy over with a trolley.
Limpy didn't let the army uniform slow him down, or the blow to the head he got from the floor, or his hopes of being a human pet.
He dodged the trolley and grabbed Goliath, who was looking pretty dazed too. Together they hopped around trailers and bags and human feet until Limpy saw a soft-drink machine and dragged Goliath under it.
“I'm never doing dress-ups again,” said Goliath.“Except for dressing up in mucus to attract slime slugs.”
Limpy felt the same way. As he struggled out of the combat pants, he vowed never to wear any sort of pet uniform again. For a start, they were too tight and too hard to get off.
Not as tight as high-heel shoes, though. Goliath was having to eat those off.
“Hurry up,” said Limpy. “So we can find Charm and catch the next plane to the Amazon together.”
Limpy peered out from under the soft-drink machine.
A lot of the humans had gone, including the little kids and their parents, but there were still plenty milling around.
Limpy's insides sank.
“How are we going to find Charm in this huge airport?” he said.
“Easy,” said Goliath, swallowing part of a shoe.“We'll round up all the humans and put them in a prisoner-of-war camp, and everyone who's left will either be an insect or an animal or Charm.”
Limpy sighed. Sometimes he wished Goliath's ideas weren't quite so daring. Or quite so stupid.
“I know,” said Limpy. “We'll find the part of the airport the planes to the Amazon leave from. That's where we'll find Charm.”
A horrible thought hit him.
In an airport this size, planes to the Amazon might leave from different parts. They might go to the wrong part and miss her.
Then Limpy saw something that gave him a fairly daring idea himself.
At a counter nearby, a human was speaking with her mouth close to what looked like a swamp reed stem with a seed pod on top. Her voice was booming out across the arrivals hall.
“Charm would be able to hear that,” said Limpy.“Even if she's up at the other end of the airport.”
Goliath looked embarrassed and patted his stomach.
“I'm sorry, that was a bit loud,” he said. “Shoes give me wind.”
Limpy and Goliath had to wait quite a long time in the waste bin under the counter.
“Mmmm,” said Goliath.“This sandwich is deliciously juicy.”
“It's a printer cartridge,” said a passing ant.
Finally the human at the counter was called away, and Limpy seized his chance. He hopped up onto the counter, dragged a box of luggage labels over to the swamp reed stem, hopped onto the box, and spoke into the seed pod in his clearest voice.
“Attention, Charm,” he said. “This is Limpy and Goliath. Don't get on the Amazon plane yet. We're coming with you. Meet us at the …”
Where would be a good place to meet?
“Rental-car counters,” said Goliath.
Good idea, thought Limpy. He knew what rental cars were. Most of the cars that tried to drive through the bush to remote picnic spots and got bogged in mud holes were rental cars.
“Charm, meet us at the rental-car counters,” said Limpy into the seed pod.
He looked around the arrivals hall. As he'd hoped, none of the humans were paying any attention. To them, his announcement had probably sounded like an electrical fault. But every other creature in the place was staring, curious and interested.
Good, thought Limpy. Now Charm will turn up in no time.
Charm didn't turn up.
Not even after a lot of time.
Limpy and Goliath searched the whole airport terminal, asking all the insects and rodents and sniffer dogs if they'd seen her.
None of them had.
“I don't trust those sniffer dogs,” muttered Goliath, glaring at the beagles.“One of them sniffed my bottom. I reckon they've captured Charm and handed her over to their human masters as a war spy.”
Limpy didn't think that was very likely.
They questioned some head lice on the back of a seat in a deserted departure lounge. The head lice hadn't seen Charm, but they told Limpy not to give up, there were three other terminal buildings she could be in.
Limpy sagged with despair.
“This place is too big,” he said to Goliath. “We'll never find her.”
“That's if she's here at all,” said Goliath. “She could be in a child's dollhouse over on the other side of the city for all we know. Being forced to try on shoes.”
Limpy and Goliath dragged their weary bodies out of the departure lounge in the direction of the next terminal. As they crossed a dusty expanse o
f tiled floor, Limpy felt dizzy with tiredness. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath.
“Stack me,” said Goliath, pointing to the floor.“That's Charm.”
Limpy looked down.
And nearly fainted.
He was standing on Charm's head.
Traced in the dust was the outline of Charm's face, bigger than in real life and perfect in every detail. Even her warts were in the right place. Her eyes were as warm and loving as the real things.
“Careful,” said an indignant voice. “Don't tread on her.”
Limpy, head spinning even more now, staggered off the picture.
A dust mite was glaring at them, claws on hips.
“D-d-did you draw that?” stammered Limpy.
“Yes,” said the dust mite. “And I don't care who knows it. Fate only brought us together for a few precious minutes, but she won my heart forever. I'd give anything to see her gorgeous face again, but I know I won't, so my love will have to live on in art.”
“Mental,” whispered Goliath in Limpy's ear. “It's the dust.”
Limpy barely heard him. He was so excited he could hardly speak.
“You've seen my sister?” he croaked.
The dust mite looked startled.
“Sister?” he said, backing away. “I didn't know she was anyone's sister. Not that anything happened. No kissing or anything. I was just doing a bit of street art. I specialize in old masters, but with more dust. This vision hopped over and asked me how to get to the Amazon. At first I thought she meant that Internet bookshop, but she explained she was trying to get to the real Amazon.”
Limpy would have grabbed the dust mite if he'd been able to pick it up. He stepped closer, looming over the terrified artist.
“Did you help her?” he said. “Has she gone to the Amazon?”
The dust mite nodded.
“We found a weevil who'd spent a lot of time in the air-traffic controllers’ lunchroom. He told her about a flight she'd be able to catch if she hurried.”
Disappointment swept over Limpy like the sour water humans sometimes threw out of their cooler.
“When did she leave?” he said.
“Quite a while ago,” said the dust mite. “I did her portrait after she left and I can only move one grain of dust at a time.”
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