The Bug Dragon Project

by Suzie Taylor

  Ben yawned. “I don’t think he’d let me do that.” He didn’t bother to say he didn’t know how to build one. “Let’s just focus on the food thing for now. If we gain their trust they might let us follow them to wherever they’re coming from.”

  It was all beginning to feel like hard work. Ben closed the door carefully behind him and padded back to his room. He failed to see Emily standing silently at the end of the hall watching him, instead heading straight for his bed, exhausted. Even though they were only going out every second or third night, his sleep pattern was ruined. On the nights he wanted to sleep through, he found himself waking up at one in the morning and lying there for hours unable to drift off again, only to slip into a deep slumber about half an hour before he had to get up for school. The strain was beginning to show.

  “What’s up with you?” His mother demanded as he yawned for the second time over his cornflakes. ”Have you been playing on your computer when you should be asleep?”

  Ben protested his innocence. They were working him too hard at school - that was all. His sister snorted.

  “Well you’d better start going to bed earlier. I guess you’re just growing. Emily - your turn to fold the washing this afternoon. Do it before ballet and make sure you put it all away; don’t just leave it in piles in the lounge-room.”

  “You can do it,” whispered Emily as soon as her mother left the room.

  “No way,” protested Ben. “It’s your turn. Mum said.”

  “You fold that washing or I’m gonna tell.”

  “Tell what?”

  “What you and Alfy have been up to!” she crowed.

  Ben was taken aback then riled at her. It was top secret. She needed to mind her own business and leave him alone. What did she know about it anyway?

  Not much as it turned out, but just enough to get him into trouble.

  “You just stay out of our way,” Ben growled, but what could he do? In the end, he folded the washing and grumbled at the unfairness of it all. They would have to be more careful.

  Ben listened at his door then opened it a crack and peered into the hall. Everything was dark and quiet apart from the steady monotone of his father’s snoring. Good. They were all asleep.

  The kitchen was bright with moonlight. He retrieved a packet of meat scraps hidden behind the sauce bottles at the back of the fridge, and put it in his pocket. The microwave clock flicked to 11:56pm. They had decided to meet at midnight that night, thinking a little earlier might make a difference to what they saw. Glancing out the window, a shadowy movement caught his eye; Alf had already arrived and was wandering about on the lawn. Ben had stopped using the noisy family room door to go outside. Instead, he headed for the laundry and it was then that he noticed the light under the office door and caught his breath, wondering what to do. His Mum must have decided to work late! Should he warn Alf or sneak back to bed? Before he had a chance to think it through there was the sound of a chair being drawn back followed by footsteps and he darted for the laundry, barely making it before the office door opened. His Mother headed for the kitchen.

  ‘Turn the light on…’ begged Ben silently, but she didn’t. The kettle began its slow steady crescendo. If she looked out the window she’d see Alf! Ben opened the laundry door as quietly as he could and ran around to the back lawn.

  “Hey check this…” began Alf, but Ben pushed him down into the shadows.

  “Shut up!” he whispered, and at that moment the back door squealed and his Mum stepped outside. Ben froze.

  “Who’s there?” she demanded. “Ben, is that you?”

  Ben stood perfectly still, his heart pounding. He knew she could see him. Alf shrank back into the bushes.

  “Ben?”

  He did not reply, but stood there gazing stupidly into space.

  His mother walked out and took him by the shoulders.

  “Ben, what do you think you’re doing? Wake up!!”

  “Eh?” he murmured pretending to regain consciousness. “I dunno…”

  “Sleepwalking!” his mother sighed. “No wonder you’re so tired. Now go back to bed.” She propelled him back into the house and he dragged his feet as they went. Having reached his room, she helped him out of his dressing gown and tucked him in.

  “Sorry Mum,” said Ben sleepily.

  “It’s ok,” she said. “Just go to sleep… and stay there!”

  Ben lay awake for what seemed like ages. He heard his mother cleaning her teeth and moving about in the bathroom before the house became silent once more. Did she often work that late?

  “Sleep, sleep, sleep,” he told himself. But just as he started to drift off there was a noise at his window; scratching and tapping on the glass.

  “Oh Alf, no.” he groaned.

  The scratching continued. Ben finally dragged himself up, yanked the curtains open and found himself glaring not at Alf, but at Mouse. There was a hole in the flyscreen and he had climbed through so that he was now stuck to the glass like a gecko, grinning mischievously. He scampered across the window a little way and flicked his tail light on and off a few times.

  “I s’pose you can come in…” Ben opened the window a crack and Mouse darted inside only to be confronted by a plastic model of a knight on horseback on the windowsill.

  “S’ok Mouse. Nothing here will hurt you.”

  Mouse wanted to explore. He flew across to the bookshelf and ran its length before dropping down to the computer where he discovered the nice clicking sound the keys made when he ran and jumped. Fortunately Ben had remembered to shut it down that night. Mouse leapt from the keyboard to the computer mouse and it skidded along the desk a short way. He then leant over and bit the cord.

  “No you don’t” said Ben, prising him off. Mouse wriggled free and shinnied up the wall, his little feet making a faint pattering sound as he went. Upon reaching the ceiling he amused himself with jumping from one aircraft to the next until he finally reached the light (which was off) and did a few circuits around the lampshade.

  “Wanna see what it does?” Ben suggested with a grin, and switched it on.

  Mouse immediately fanned his ears out as big as they would go and fluffed up all the hair on his neck.

  “Here look,” said Ben demonstrating the switch. Mouse was delighted and flew down to have a try, flicking it on and off a number of times until Ben pushed him gently to one side.

  “That’s enough. Someone might see.”

  Mouse explored the toy boxes under the bed and found all the blue stuff. The most exciting find was a ball with coloured lights that flashed when it was bounced. Ben flicked it across the floor for him to chase and chuckled at his attempts to tackle it. The ball was big enough for him to climb on and he leapt onto it as it rolled, wrapping his body around it and trying to bite it as it slowed to a stop.

  Eventually he tired of that game and decided to explore the wardrobe. Scampering through the coat-hangers and climbing up and down Ben’s clothes, he eventually sniffed his way into Ben’s dressing gown pocket where he began scrabbling and squeaking with great excitement. Ben had forgotten about the meat.

  “Alright, alright! You can have it. Settle down!” Ben extracted the bag, opened it and fed him one piece at a time until he had had enough.

  “You’re gonna have to go,” he said at length. “I’m tired. C’mon.”

  But Mouse had other ideas. He flew to the bedroom door, peered underneath and began running this way and that along the gap, wanting to go out.

  “Sorry, I can’t let you out there.”

  Mouse gave him the wide eyed look but Ben shook his head. He put the rest of the meat in the waste paper basket, lay back on his bed and shut his eyes.

  Mouse chattered his disapproval then jumped back on the keyboard, hoping for a reaction. Ben snored.

  Mouse flew to the window where he sat in silent contemplation for a while before giving up and zooming out into the darkness.

  Ben smiled wryly to himself, shut the window and slumped back on
his bed with a sigh. He was glad Mouse was becoming so tame but there was something about the whole scenario that bothered him. Bug Dragons were really tiny, which meant their brains were tiny – even smaller than a chicken’s! How could they be that intelligent? They were too small to be smart, and their movements didn’t have the sharp quickness of small animals. Mr Cranford had said that characteristic was because the nerve impulses in small animals had less distance to travel, but bug dragons were like large animals that had been downsized. It was like they were out of their zone. They didn’t make sense.

  Mouse sat high up in a tree and looked down at the house a little frustrated. So close! He was the first to make it inside, but only into one room. If the rest of the house was to be explored he’d need to sneak in during a brief moment when the door was open... and how often did that happen? The large boy always shut the door behind him and every window of the hive was guarded by mesh. What could such big creatures possibly be afraid of? Mouse paused in his thoughts to snap up a passing mosquito. He might not be able to make himself dark for any length of time like Gypsy, but there had to be a way of getting in.

  Mouse reluctantly had to admit that he quite liked the larger of the two boys. He certainly had some interesting things in that room and was happy to share. They even had awesome food on offer! It was a little upsetting that they showed so much generosity. Mouse told himself sternly to get a grip on reality. What they had was not theirs and it should never have come into their possession.

  “We’re gonna have to be ultra careful from now on,” said Ben.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mum’s convinced that I’m sleepwalking and Em must’ve spotted us outside last week sometime ‘cos she threatened to tell.”

  Alf was unimpressed by that news; the last thing they needed compromising their mission was the interference of a female agitator! Perhaps Ben could try using his window instead of the back door? As for his mother, three days was ample break for her to forget about the sleepwalking thing. “Put a rolled up blanket in your bed in case she checks your room,” he advised. “I always do that.”

  Ben wondered that Alf’s parents could even see their way to his bed, let alone wonder if there was a body in it. Tidiness was not one of Alf’s talents – but he was not alone. His entire house was a shambolic haven of activity which always made it an interesting place to visit. There were books everywhere. Even the toilet room was wallpapered in a blue and orange collage of old penguin book covers. Alf’s Mum was one of those types who was always making something – usually all over the dining room table. Alf’s interest in science fiction had spilled beyond his room in the form of a huge poster of a Dalek with the word ‘Exterminate!’ on his bedroom door and a tentacled alien doorstop to the laundry. There was also a bookshelf in the family-room entirely devoted to Sci-fi novels (many with the word ‘Asimov’ emblazoned down the spine) and memorabilia that included an actual set of Klingon teeth. On the naturalist front there was a collection of bird skulls above the piano, a terrarium coffee table filled with plastic dinosaurs, ferns, fossils and chunks of petrified wood. But best of all, there was a huge wooden aeroplane propeller that hung above the back door, a relic from Alf’s great Grandfather’s adventures in deepest darkest Africa.

  Ben loved that propeller. The wood was beautifully smooth and polished and it made him dream of a time when life was more adventurous and there were still lands to be discovered and explored. Why didn’t his family have any interesting things like that? As he gazed at it, he wondered what inspired someone to think of making a propeller in the first place. After all there were no animals with propellers! Humming birds, hoverflies and Bug dragons… It was mesmerising the way in which they could hover completely stationary in midair and then zoom away at such astonishing speed, but where did the idea of a propeller or helicopter come from?

  The next nocturnal expedition was carefully planned. There would be no wandering about on the lawn this time; they would wear dark colours and stick to the shadows. Alf ultimately took things a step further and coloured his face with charcoal so that the circles around his eyes glowed owlishly in the moonlight. It was one of those uncomfortable summer nights when the air had failed to cool at sundown and everything felt humid and heavy.

  “Got some egg,” Alf informed Ben, showing him a jar of sloppy yellow.

  “Yuk. Surprised it isn’t cooked in this weather. What’re we gonna do with it? We can’t just pour it on a rock, and the jar will be difficult for them to get into.”

  “Didn’t think of that,” said Alf as he pulled the head off his jelly python.

  Ben remembered that there was a bird feeder near the patio in their back yard and went back to get it. It was perfect – a plant pot saucer with a bolt through the middle that supported a wooden roof. They took it out the back gate so as not to be seen from the house and hung it from a branch.

  “Come and get it!” Ben called softly as he poured the egg into the saucer.

  At first there was no response. Ben shone his torch briefly on the feeder then switched it off. There was a murmur close by. One voice called to another and was answered by a third… until an excited chorus of chattering, whistling and calling echoed through the bush. Tiny specks of light began to appear in the darkness and quickly drew closer and closer from all directions, until the feeder was festooned in an impressive array of light and colour. Dozens of excited bug dragons jostled for a position as they crammed around the saucer, climbing up and down the bolt and lapping the beaten egg like hungry puppies with a bowl of milk.

  “Wow,” breathed Ben. “I guess they like egg.”

  Alf approached cautiously to take a picture. The bug dragons ignored him until he came within an arms-length, at which point Growler turned and bared his teeth.

  Alf put on his gloves, only to find that his enlarged fingers made it almost impossible to work the camera.

  “You need to wear purple for Growler,” Ben pointed out. “But this is amazing! They’re actually getting through all that egg… and there are still more of them coming.”

  Gypsy, watching from behind the ivy on the fence, felt hard done by. She loved egg. But instead of enjoying the treat with the others, she had to sit back and attempt to make recordings of the impossible noises these humans were making. The King knew some human words and so did Nexus who also had translators. The humans did look as though they meant something when they made those sounds, and their faces were quite expressive. Gypsy frowned at the device in her hands. What was it she had been told to do? She made a series of slight adjustments then tossed it up in the air where it hovered obediently, its tiny probes all aimed at where the boys were standing. The green light was flashing so it had to be working! Gypsy reverted her gaze longingly back to the feeder. Maybe her friends would remember she was there and leave her some? But treats or not, tonight was going to be her night. Mouse had tried. Now it was her turn to demonstrate her true worth! She would follow them back and sneak inside with them when they opened the door. That was the easy part; the hard part was going to be finding a way out again. She could wait until the morning if necessary but that would mean emerging into the daylight and having to hide until the next evening. Her strength might survive that alright, but her colours would fade for weeks. Ugh!

  When all the egg was finally gone and the plate had been licked completely clean, the bug dragons began to disperse. A few hung around to see what the boys would do and Mouse landed on Ben’s head, making him hunch his head down into his shoulders, grimacing. His claws were all scratchy!

  “72,” said Alf.

  “What?”

  “There were 72 of them.”

  “Nah, more than that.”

  “I counted twice!”

  Ben managed to dislodge Mouse who protested loudly with a series of high pitched squeals.

  “You didn’t see the ones that were riding on your back,” said Ben. “Mouse, cut it out!”

  “He’s been wiping his hands in your hair
!” Alf laughed.

  Mouse looked expectantly at them for a moment then began to search Ben’s pockets, chattering crossly.

  “Hey! You’ve eaten enough already mate, go away,” said Ben. “No pork! No toys!”

  Mouse expressed his disapproval then disappeared behind a tree.

  “He knows what he wants,” Ben observed. “Perhaps feeding them is not such a good idea. They might end up like seagulls...”

  “Mission successful!” said Alf with satisfaction as he put away his phone. “I got a recording of Mouse’s noises. They haven’t sabotaged the microphone! Question is can I make sense of it? I wonder if speeding it up or slowing it down will make a difference? If I can record enough of this perhaps I can break down the sound patterns and start to get an idea of speech structure.”

  “You can do that?” asked Ben incredulously.

  “Probably not,” admitted Alf reluctantly. “Hey who is that? I haven’t seen that one before!”

  “Sorry little rainbow girl, it’s all gone.”

  “Am I seeing right? Is she wearing an earring?”

  “Looks like it. She’s awesome. Deserves a name. How about ‘Scheherazade?’”

  “What?! No. Something simpler. Crystal?”

  “Boring. I mean check out the hair!”

  “She kind of looks crazy and serious at the same time.”

  Gypsy finally accepted that she’d missed out and flew away into the forest. Once she was sure the boys were not looking she turned out her lights and doubled back towards the house.

  Ben unhooked the birdfeeder. “Maybe next time if we feed them bit by bit instead of all at once, none of them will miss out. They might get even tamer that way too.” He yawned and looked at his friend who was busy taking notes on his tablet. “Don’t you ever get tired? I’m stuffed.”

  “The energy banks have registered a lower reading than usual,” Alf conceded without looking up.