by Adrian Beck
After a long first half of the season, the Crocs might finally have a chance to win a game.
But when mutant bugs start burrowing up from beneath the oval to attack, there may not even be a team left to take the field.
If Nick and his friends can’t figure out how to stop the bugs, losing the game will be the least of their problems!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
It was an unusual training session – Friday before school.
Nick and his teammates had trudged to the top of the hill behind the grandstand, which overlooked the oval and the creek.
‘Righto, Crocs, inhale that morning air,’ yelled Mr Baxter, their coach, ‘cos soon you’ll be puffing like crazy!’
‘C’mon, Dad, can’t you just give us a minute?’ muttered Bruiser, already out of breath from the uphill hike.
‘Not a bad view,’ said Ella.
‘Not front row at the ‘G but it’ll do,’ said Nick. ‘Maybe one day the Crocs should do high-altitude training!’
The morning’s session reminded Nick of the overseas camps located high above sea level, attended by AFL teams to improve performance.
‘Okay, there’s twelve of you on my right,’ said Mr Baxter, ‘and twelve on my left.’
‘That’s us,’ Bruiser explained to Nick.
‘You sure?’ asked Nick, messing with him.
‘Lefties, here’s a footy,’ said Mr Baxter, tossing Nick the ball. ‘And, Righties, here’s another.’
Taylor caught the second ball.
‘On my whistle, your aim is to be the first to the bottom to boot a goal at the grandstand end.’
All the Crocs got set to run.
‘The losing team will be doing a lap of the oval.’
‘I’ll show you how a real leader does it, Nick,’ said Taylor.
Nick grinned. ‘Sorry, but I won’t have time to be looking back at you,’ he said.
Whooooooot! Mr Baxter blew his whistle.
Nick took off. Taylor on his right. Crocs from either team close behind.
Both boys sprinted alongside the creek. Their feet skidded, jarring on rocks. For once Nick was glad to be short because he could avoid the low branches that grew across the track.
Taylor had dropped a metre behind.
Then Ella burst out in front. ‘Keep your eye out for me, Nick!’
Leaves squelched nearby as Nick reached the bottom of the hill. Taylor had caught up.
They both took long strides up the creek bank through the bushes to the oval. Just as Taylor started to tire, Kingy caught up and Taylor reluctantly passed the footy.
Nick took a bounce on the oval, but wasn’t close enough to score.
Then came the sound of a boot striking a ball.
Kingy had hoofed it. Crazy! Bruiser was the only Croc who could make that distance. And even Bruiser would struggle to score with his dodgy accuracy. Kingy’s kick needed to be the type of perfect long bomb you’d expect from the Suns’ Trent ‘The Cannon’ McKenzie.
Then Nick felt something on his ankle.
He glanced down and lost balance, stumbling forward. The ball fell onto Nick’s foot and tumbled to Ella inside the fifty. She booted it through, just as Kingy’s ball dribbled to her feet.
‘Great pass, Nick,’ she yelled, running up to him.
Guilt swept over Nick – he’d passed to her by accident!
‘Ewww. There’s a freaky kind of bug poking out of your sock,’ said Ella.
Nick angled his foot sideways and saw a half-squashed insect. It was like a witchetty grub but it glowed orange. He tried to wipe it off. Slimy green goo dripped down his fingers. ‘Woah, check out its three bitey things.’
‘They’re called pincers. Lucky it didn’t take a chomp out of you,’ said Ella.
There was more goo on Nick’s ankle, where his sock had squashed the bug’s bottom half.
‘Gross!’ said Nick, as he flicked the bug away and flung his leg about like he was doing the hokeypokey. He soon stopped when he realised that his teammates had arrived and were staring.
‘Well done, twinkletoes. Your team wins,’ said Mr Baxter.
It was nice to hear something positive from his coach for once. Mr Baxter didn’t give out many compliments.
‘Righties, you can keep running. It’s an extra lap for you!’
The Crocs on Taylor’s team groaned as they started jogging around the boundary. Taylor looked furious. Reevers smacked Kingy on the back of the head for missing the goal.
Bruiser finally jogged onto the oval, looking red in the face.
‘And when you’ve finished your lap, I want all of you to report to the centre square,’ yelled Mr Baxter. Then he glared at Nick. ‘Your captain has another great idea.’
Nick was determined to be the best captain he could be. His latest brainwave was to hand out packs to help his team prepare for games. Each paper bag contained a little alarm clock set to remind the Crocs to go to bed early, Nick’s own recipe for a pre-game dinner – beef noodles combined with chicken noodles, BBQ sauce, and more beef noodles. And lastly, a free sample of bubble bath, which was supposed to relax muscles.
With all the Crocs gathered around, Nick explained the packs’ contents, then got down to business.
‘Right. Tomorrow’s game marks the halfway point of the season. So far we’ve had some close losses. But I reckon we’re playing more like a team than ever before.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ollie.
‘Carn the Crocs!’ said Ava.
‘But best of all, it’s been awesome fun. If we keep it up, a win has to be just round the corner.’
‘We’re sure to beat the Stingrays tomorrow,’ said Reevers. ‘They haven’t won a game either.’
‘But they beat us last year,’ said Nick. ‘So we have to be really up and about!’
Thump.
‘Bruiser!’ Ella cried.
Bruiser had collapsed. He lay still on the ground, like he was asleep.
Nick ran over and shook Bruiser by the shoulder.
Then he spotted it – biting into Bruiser’s arm was another ugly orange bug.
All the Crocs huddled round.
Nick reached for the bug on Bruiser’s arm, but Mr Baxter pushed him aside. ‘Give him some space, you lot,’ he yelled.
Nick saw Bruiser shake for a second.
Everyone else was looking at Bruiser’s face. And Nick could see why. The big fella’s head seemed to be shrinking, his cheeks were drawing inward and his eyes were sinking into his head.
‘What the heck?’ muttered Mr Baxter.
‘What can we do?’ asked Ava.
‘You can all get out of the way,’ Nick replied, yanking Ollie aside as he dived for Bruiser.
Nick swiped at the bug. It went flying into the grass and disappeared.
‘Wake up, mate,’ he said. ‘Come on.’
But Bruiser just lay there with a strange sucked-in face.
‘Bruce?’ asked Mr Baxter, in what was the quietest voice Nick had ever heard his coach use.
Then, finally, Bruiser stirred. He opened his eyes.
‘Are you okay, son?’ asked Mr Baxter.
Bruiser didn’t reply.
Ella brushed his fringe from his eyes. ‘Say something!’
Bruiser stared back at them for a moment, then finally he said, ‘We’re gunna thrash them Stingrays.’
‘Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!’ Nick laughed, and he helped Bruiser sit up. The Crocs cheered.
‘I feel . . . a bit weak. Like my le
gs won’t hold me,’ said Bruiser.
Mr Baxter got his son standing. ‘Don’t try to talk, mate. I’m taking you straight to the sick bay.’
They hobbled away just as the principal, Mr Blumfield, came plodding down to the oval. ‘Okay, show’s over. Get to class!’
The Crocs started to leave, but Nick hung back.
‘Ella, wait up. Bruiser had one of those orange bugs on his arm. You saw it, right?’
‘I was a little distracted by his face caving in,’ said Ella. ‘But if that’s true we have to tell someone . . . Mr Blumfield!’ she called. The other kids slowed, glancing back at her. ‘We need to close the oval. It’s unsafe!’
Mr Blumfield’s eyes went wide. He gestured to the others to hurry back to the classroom.
‘Now, now, young lady,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t take kindly to silly rumours, especially about our beloved oval.’
‘No rumour. Fact,’ said Ella. ‘We’re under attack from weird orange bugs.’
‘Bugs?’ The principal rolled his eyes, then glared at Nick. ‘Where do you come up with this stuff?’
‘What do you think caused Bruiser to collapse?’ asked Nick, losing his cool. ‘He got bitten.’
‘By a strange bug? Prove it! Go on.’
Nick glanced around, hoping to spot the bug.
‘If you ask me, it was an allergic reaction,’ said Mr Blumfield. ‘Maybe a bee sting or something – that’s perfectly normal. So, if I hear one more word about it, it’ll be a detention for both of you. Clear?’
Nick nodded.
Ella turned away. She looked seriously miffed.
‘Now get to class,’ he said and stormed off.
Nick and Ella walked slowly towards the boundary.
‘Clearly, he’s not going to listen,’ whispered Nick.
‘Well, I’m not giving up,’ Ella replied. ‘Not after the other freaky stuff that’s happened on this oval. Where did you flick the bug?’
‘I don’t know. Sort of in this direction.’
‘If Blumfield wants proof, let’s give it to him,’ said Ella.
They both scanned the ground. Here and there, Nick noticed small mounds of dirt dotted amongst the turf, as if something had been burrowing up through the grass. Then he saw a glint of orange amongst the green – the bug!
Ella emptied her paper bag, ready to scoop it up.
‘Careful,’ Nick whispered, as Ella bent down. ‘It’s still alive.’
The bug reared up at them, and they both stepped back.
‘Did that thing just hiss at me?’ asked Ella.
The bug scuttled forward, its legs making a clicking sound.
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack.
It gnashed its pincers as though it was sharpening them for an attack. Nick could see his own pale face reflected in its big black eyes.
It charged towards him.
Nick emptied his paper bag and got down low. ‘Come on, you creepy little . . .’
The bug jumped.
It flew over the bag, heading straight for Nick’s face. ‘Argh!’
Swoooosh!
Ella swiped her bag round the bug in midair, and scrunched it closed.
‘Thanks,’ sighed Nick, then tried to look tough. ‘I knew you’d play along with my distraction tactic.’
Ella laughed. ‘Is that what that was? Your scream was very realistic.’
‘Yeah, thanks.’ Nick stared at the wriggling bag. ‘Well, now Blumfield will have to listen to us. We’ve got proof.’
But then three pincers slashed through the paper.
Nick whacked the bag out of Ella’s hand. The bug was free and it made a break for Ella’s leg.
Nick stomped on it – green goo exploded beneath his boot.
Ella flicked the goo off her leg. ‘Well, thanks and all,’ she said, ‘but there goes our proof. There’s bound to be more of these suckers, too. So what happens when the oval’s re-opened at lunchtime?’
Nick swallowed. ‘Bug attack!’
‘I’m super glad Bruiser’s feeling better,’ said Ella, as she and Nick crossed the four-square courts.
‘I’m super glad he got us out of Maths,’ said Nick.
Apparently Bruiser was beginning to recover and he’d asked to see Nick and Ella. So just before lunch they were allowed to visit him in the sick bay.
On the way, they ran into Mr Morris, their old coach. He was heading to the staffroom.
‘Looking forward to tomorrow’s big game?’ Mr Morris asked.
‘Not exactly,’ said Ella.
‘Oh? Why’s that?’ The smile dropped from Mr Morris’s face.
‘Um . . . ’ Nick looked at Ella, as if to ask, ‘Should we tell him?’
Ella nodded. It was their best chance to prevent an attack. Mr Morris seemed to suspect something was up with the oval. So he might actually believe them.
‘There’s a serious problem,’ said Nick. ‘The oval’s been taken over by mutant bugs. Full-on weird stuff has been going on down there this year – first a metal monster, then weed creatures and now this.’
Nick waited for Mr Morris to dismiss it all or tell them off like Mr Blumfield had.
But the old man thoughtfully stroked his moustache. ‘So you’re saying that something is warping all aspects of nature? Animal, vegetable and mineral?’
‘Hang on, you believe us?’ asked Ella.
‘Now, I didn’t say that,’ replied Mr Morris. ‘However, I do have reason to believe that a most unusual incident occurred down there many years ago. It’s been a swamp for as long as I can remember, though. So if whatever happened has caused some strange side-effects, no one would have noticed.’
‘They’ll notice big-time now, if Blumfield doesn’t close the oval before lunchtime,’ said Nick.
‘Principal Blumfield, Nicholas.’
‘Yeah, sorry. Anyway, he doesn’t believe us about the bugs either, but I’d swear on the Brownlow that it’s true.’
‘Look, I’m afraid a mutant-bug problem does sound rather far-fetched,’ said Mr Morris. ‘But seeing is believing, so if you happen to catch one of these little blighters, bring it straight to me. I’ll do whatever’s necessary.’
‘By then it could be too late,’ said Nick.
But Mr Morris had already disappeared into the staffroom.
The sick bay smelt like cleaning products. Big glass jars of cotton wool balls and bandaids lined the shelves.
Bruiser was propped up in bed. His cheeks still looked slightly sunken and he was definitely skinnier.
‘Dad says I’m not allowed to play tomorrow.’ He sighed.
‘Bummer,’ said Ella.
‘Yeah. They reckon I fainted.’
‘Fainted?’ said Nick. ‘As if! Anyway, I’m just glad you didn’t land on me. I would’ve been squashed into the centre square.’
Bruiser cracked a smile.
‘Thing is,’ said Bruiser, ‘it was way worse than fainting. It seemed like all my energy was being sucked out. I could feel myself shrivelling up, my legs, my arms, everything! And I couldn’t do a thing to stop it.’
Ella put her hands to her mouth. ‘That’s. Full. On.’
‘Are you okay now?’ asked Nick.
‘Not too bad. But my arm’s killing me. The nurse reckons I must’ve landed on a rock.’
Nick spotted Bruiser’s bug bite. A red welt, surrounded by dry, wrinkled skin. Nick had never see anything like it before.
‘Look, you didn’t faint, mate.’
‘Yeah. It was totally something else,’ whispered Ella. ‘Something way freakier.’
It took a lot to scare Ella and Nick was surprised to see her looking flustered.
‘It was some kind of mutant bug,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Seriously, I saw it biting you,’ said Nick.
‘It’s true. If Nick hadn’t got it off you, who knows what would’ve happened,’ said Ella.
Nick grinned. ‘You could say I’m a bit of a hero.’
&n
bsp; ‘For sure. Thanks, mate,’ said Bruiser. ‘Did you squash it? It’s gone now?’
‘Yeah, but I had one on me earlier,’ said Nick. ‘Seems like there might be a few down there.’
‘But it’s almost lunchtime,’ said Bruiser. ‘Everyone will be on the oval soon. Including our whole team for your extra training session.’
Another one of Nick’s ideas as captain was to hold optional training sessions on Friday lunchtimes. They’d been working well . . . till now.
‘He’s right,’ said Ella. ‘We can’t let this happen again.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ asked Nick. ‘There’s no time to run around catching every single bug.’
Ella grabbed one of the large glass jars and tipped all the cotton wool onto the floor.
‘We don’t have to. We’ll catch one bug in this. Then show everyone!’
Nick remembered Mr Morris’s advice. ‘Seeing is believing,’ he said.
‘Come on,’ said Ella, tugging Nick to the door.
They sprinted across the four-square courts and straight down the gravel slope that led to the oval.
‘We’ve got under two minutes,’ said Ella, checking her watch.
Nick’s pulse raced. It was like watching a nail-biter between the Hawks and the Cats.
‘Where do we start?’ asked Nick, as they reached the fence rail.
‘I can’t see any bugs. Can you? Only one minute to go before the bell,’ said Ella.
Nick glanced back at their classroom, which overlooked the oval. Mark, Ollie and a few other students were staring through the window, all itching for freedom.
‘I reckon we have to get out on the field if we want to find a bug. But I’d kinda prefer not to be bitten,’ said Nick.
He ripped the padding off the interchange bench and threw it onto the grass, then – like walking the plank – he headed out, scanning the ground around him.
‘The bell’s gunna go any second,’ said Ella, tossing him the jar.
Nick glanced back. The Grade Fours must have been given an early mark. Seven or eight of them appeared at the top of the slope.
‘On your left! Something moved!’ cried Ella.
Their schoolmates began running down the slope.
One of them kicked a footy onto the oval.
