by Jack Patton
With special thanks to Adrian Bott
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
GAME ON
ROAD TO BATTLE
RAPID RESPONSE
THREAT FROM ABOVE
THE HIVE
TUNNEL TROUBLE
LONG SHOT
BATTLE BUGS ATTACK!
MANTIS MOVES
REAL LIFE BATTLE BUGS!
PREVIEW - BATTLE BUGS 4: THE CHAMELEON ATTACK
COPYRIGHT
On the basketball court at Burgdale Elementary, the tension was running high. Burgdale was playing Green Park, a local rival. Both schools had plenty of fans cheering them on and chanting at each other across the court. The score was tied at 24, with a couple of minutes left.
At the top of the key, Max Darwin watched eagerly for a chance to score.
He caught the eye of Green Park’s captain. The tall boy smirked at him. “Go get changed, Darwin!” he yelled. “The game’s in the bag.”
Max gritted his teeth and stared right back. “It’s tied with five minutes on the clock. I don’t call that ‘in the bag.’ ”
Burgdale couldn’t lose today … not to Green Park, of all schools! There was more at stake here than just a game. Last year, Green Park had humiliated Burgdale with a 32–6 defeat. Max had missed a few baskets and blamed himself for the loss. Today, he was going to make up for that.
A Green Park player threw the ball in, but a Burgdale guard intercepted it and started to dribble, looking for someone who was in the clear.
Max held up his hands; his teammate quickly threw him the ball, and Max pivoted toward the basket.
Now was his chance! None of the Green Park players were near the hoop. He had a clear shot.
“Go, Max, go!” screamed someone from the bleachers.
Max hesitated. It was a long shot from where he was standing—maybe too long. He was a good player, but it was risky to shoot from so far away.
Max made up his mind. Better play it safe, he thought, dropping the ball back down. A little closer and he could go in for the layup.
Dribbling quickly, Max dodged past two Green Park guards as he made for the hoop. It was right in front of him now. He couldn’t miss. He took the shot—but out of nowhere, the Green Park captain appeared and slammed the ball out of the air, away from the basket. In the next second, he slammed into Max, who went flying.
Max fell hard on his butt. “Ow!”
“Aww, I’m sorry, Darwin,” cooed the Green Park captain. “Did I wreck your shot?”
He held out a hand as if to help Max up, but Max knew he’d just snatch it away and laugh if Max tried to take it. He got up on his own.
“Foul!” shouted the Burgdale fans, but the referee didn’t seem to notice.
“Time out!” roared Coach Baker.
The Green Park players rolled their eyes and sneered.
The Burgdale team gathered around Coach Baker. He put his hands on his hips. Max looked down at his sneakers. He’d been so close to glory.
“The ref must be blind!” said the coach. “But we can’t just hand them this game on a plate, right?”
“No, Coach,” came a few mumbles.
“You gonna lose your nerve, just when it counts the most?”
“No, Coach.” A little louder this time.
“I can’t hear you.”
“No, COACH!” they thundered back.
“That’s better.” The coach leaned in close. “Let me tell you somethin’ important that holds true on and off the court. Are you listening, Max?”
Max looked up into the coach’s serious brown eyes. “Yes, Coach.”
“Good. Listen up and repeat after me: Sometimes you gotta take a long shot, ’cause it’s the only shot you got!”
Max knew those words were meant for him, but the coach was making the whole team say it so he wouldn’t feel bad.
As he repeated the words, he flinched. Something was tickling his arm. He went to brush it away but stopped and looked instead.
An ant! It must have climbed onto him when he was knocked to the hardwood. It looked like it was waving its forelegs at him.
“So, you ready to fight? Are you ready to win? Are you ready to go back out there and beat Green Park?” Coach Baker yelled.
“Yes, COACH!” the team yelled back.
Max glanced down at his feet. There was another ant, crawling on his sneaker. He knelt down and pretended to tie his lace so he could get a better look.
Bug Island came rushing into his mind. Even the excitement of a basketball game couldn’t compare to the adventures he’d had there. As special adviser to the heroic bug forces of the Battle Bugs, he’d helped them out against their lizard foes twice before. Last time, he and the Battle Bugs had defended a mountain pass against collared lizards, cleverly using the talents of golden orb weavers, bombardier beetles, and termites. Before that, he’d helped some army ants make a bridge to evacuate bugs that were in danger.
Even though it was terrible timing, Max knew what the sight of this ant outside of its natural habitat must mean: The bugs needed his help!
Max quickly thought of a plan. Maybe if he slipped away now, he’d still be back in time to beat those Green Parkers.
“Coach?” he said quickly. “Can I use the bathroom?”
Coach Baker sighed and looked at his watch. “Make it quick.”
As Max ran to the locker room, he could hear the Green Park team laughing. Max shook his head. He’d be back to deal with them soon. But right now he had bigger things on his mind.
The locker room was empty, so Max pulled out The Complete Encyclopedia of Arthropods from his bag. The huge leather-bound book was glowing softly around the edges. So the Battle Bugs did need his help! It must be time for another adventure.
Time moved slowly in the real world when Max was on Bug Island, but he knew he’d still have to be quick, or he’d miss the end of the game … and that would be a disaster he’d never live down.
As Max opened the book and pulled out the magnifying glass, he could just make out a stream of ants. They were moving in a long column. The bugs were on the march. But why? And where?
It looked like he was about to find out. The book’s pages loomed up at him, growing huge as a brick wall, as Max shrank down to bug size. He began to spin like a swimmer caught in a whirlpool. He was headed to Bug Island once more!
Max landed with a bump on something that looked like a long, green diving board with a pointy tip. It wobbled underneath him.
He hung on tight and tried to figure out where he was. It took him a second to realize he was hanging on to a single blade of grass. Being shrunk down to bug size wasn’t easy to get used to, no matter how many times he did it.
He stood up carefully. In the distance loomed the edges of a jungle. For once, Max had ended up in a clearing and had a good view of his surroundings. The other times he’d landed on Bug Island, he’d found giant flowers or trees towering over him, but not now.
Max couldn’t tell where exactly he was, but it was lush and green and hot. He hadn’t fallen into Reptile Island by mistake—thank goodness. According to the bugs, that place had sand and rocks all over it.
Close by, the grass changed to bare earth. It appeared to be a path of some kind, leading off in both directions as far as Max could see. By the look of it, many bugs had trampled it down over the years. A main road, for sure. But where did it lead?
Max peered into the distance. He could see Fang Mountain rising above the jungle. The crafty lizards had once tried to find a way through a mountain pass there, but Max had managed to block their way with a rockfall.
There was always some new danger coming from Reptile Island. For many years, Bug Island had been separat
e from Reptile Island, cut off by the sea. Bugs of all different kinds had lived together in peace, safe from lizard predators. Then one day, a volcano erupted. The lava that flooded down to the sea cooled into rock and formed a land bridge. Now the two islands were joined, and the bugs were under constant attack from the lizards.
When the bugs were in desperate need of help, they turned to Max. But where was the danger this time? He couldn’t see anything but grass for miles around.
“Where are you, bugs?” Max said to himself.
Right on cue, he heard a droning noise, faint and far away, but coming closer.
“Buzz!” he yelled, leaping to his feet and setting the blade of grass boinging up and down again. He waved, hoping his friend was on the way. Buzz, the hornet, was the flight commander of the Battle Bugs. Riding on her back, high above the island, was always a thrill. Max couldn’t wait.
But it wasn’t Buzz at all. The drone grew louder and louder until it was deafening. A black cloud had appeared in the distance, and now it came rushing toward Max, hovering just above the ground.
Max could see now that it was a huge swarm of flies coming his way, and they weren’t slowing down. Max watched them grow closer and closer. Then he remembered that every single fly in that swarm was as big as he was. In seconds, it would be like standing in the middle of a busy highway. He had to get out of the way!
Max lowered himself to the ground and started running. But it was too late. The drone had grown to a roar now. The first of the flies flew past in a rush of wind, a bluebottle as big as a bull. Then the swarm hit.
He was caught up in a black snowstorm of huge, buzzing bodies. One of them knocked him flat on his back. He looked up and caught flashes of domed eyes, blurry wings, and wobbling mouthparts flashing past too fast to see.
He tried to stand. “It’s me!” he yelled. “It’s Max! General Barton’s friend!” But none of the flies seemed to hear. They buzzed past him, swerving this way and that in total chaos.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the swarm passed by. Max watched the cloud move off down the road.
“What in the world was that about?” he said out loud.
At least he was in the clear now. Or so he thought.
Beneath his feet, the ground trembled. “NOW what?” Max groaned.
The sound grew louder until Max was certain what it was—the dull, thudding footsteps of a lot of bugs. Suddenly the flies’ charge made sense. They had been scouting ahead of whatever was coming now …
Max saw them crashing through the grass, tall green bugs with bulbous eyes and V-shaped heads, their powerful legs bending the blades back as they marched. There was no mistaking their clawed, folded forelimbs, which they whipped out in front of them to the rhythm of the march. Praying mantises—hundreds of them!
Max had hoped to run off the road and wait until they passed by, but there was no avoiding the mantises. They marched in formation, chanting a gruff song as they stomped toward him:
“Fight! Fight! Claw, claw, bite!
Reptiles, reptiles, we will smite!
Beat them back with mantis might!
Claw! Bite! Fight, fight, FIGHT!”
They thundered over Max, paying no attention to him at all. Max ran desperately between their legs, helplessly caught in the stampede. He shouted for them to watch where they were going and that he was a friend, but the mantises just kept singing their marching song. They either couldn’t hear him, or didn’t care.
A mantis leg whacked him, hard as a tree branch, and flung him back through the air.
“Get out of the way,” the mantis roared, marching ahead as if nothing had happened. Max tripped into the next bug, and in a terrible moment he knew those snapping forelegs would slice him in half unless he did something.
He quickly curled into a ball like a wood louse, pulling his arms and legs in, and the mantis claws whipped past so close he could feel the breeze.
Max tumbled down to the ground, rolled, and got up. As the last of the mantises passed by, he looked down the path to see what could be coming next. The way his luck was going so far, it would be a tidal wave of ants!
But to his delight, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. “Hey! Max! Hooman bean! Is that you?”
“Spike!” he yelled in relief. “Am I glad to see you!”
Spike, the emperor scorpion, came lumbering up. “Good to see you, too. Hop on!”
Max gratefully climbed onto Spike’s smooth armor-plated back. He felt a lot safer now. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I was almost killed twice in the last five minutes!”
“The Battle Bugs are on the march,” Spike said proudly. “We’re going to war.”
“Is it the lizards? Are they back?”
“It’s the lizards, all right,” Spike said, sounding furious. “We’ve had word from the underground bug resistance—”
“Underground?” Max interrupted.
“Yes. It’s a network of bugs that use underground tunnels to run supplies and carry messages. They told us that a whole lizard battalion is based on the Pincer Plains.”
“So that’s why you need my help!”
Spike nodded. “This is a big one, Max. General Barton needs your brain!”
Now that he was safe on Spike’s back, Max could relax a little and take in the amazing sight of the bug march. The insects and arachnids trooped along in a snaking column that wound along the path far out of sight in each direction. Spike scuttled along past the praying mantises, who marched in step and kept up their deadly-looking, claw-snapping chant.
Something, somewhere was busy keeping them in rhythm with a shrill marching beat. It made a high-pitched SKREE-SKREE noise until Max had to stuff his fingers in his ears.
“What is that?” he asked Spike.
“The cicadas!” Spike told him. “Over there on the left, marching behind the orb weaver spiders. Isn’t it stirring?”
“That’s one word for it,” Max yelled. He took a good look at the cicada brigade. They were fat, bulbous insects with long wings and bulging eyes. Their sound seemed too loud to come from something so small, but the beat managed to keep all the other insects in line.
“HALT!” came a cry from far ahead. The bugs passed the word to one another down the line, from ladybug to water boatman to cricket to centipede, all the way through the ranks until it reached Spike and Max: “Halt! Go no farther for now.”
The battalions came to a stop. Immediately, many of the bugs began to groom themselves, rubbing their legs together or whirring their wings.
Max stood up on Spike’s back. “What is it? An attack?”
Moments later, another command came buzzing down the line: “All bugs to hold position until fly scouts report back. NO, repeat, NO attacks to be made without permission. Special adviser Max, please report to General Barton immediately.”
“Where’s Barton?” Max asked.
“He’s right up at the front, leading the march,” said Spike. “Don’t worry, I’ll have us there in a sec.”
So the flies hadn’t been at the front of the march at all. They’d just been the first bugs Max had seen.
Max and Spike made their way through the crowd to the very front of the line, where a surly-looking ring of stag beetles stood facing outward, forming a defensive line.
“Stop right there!” one of the stag beetles roared. “Nobody reaches the general without authorization!”
“At ease, soldier,” came Barton’s deep voice from inside the ring. Max could see the enormous titan beetle’s head looming above his bodyguards. “Max is a friend. Let them through.”
To Max’s delight, it wasn’t just Barton waiting for him. Buzz, the hornet, and Webster, the trap-door spider, were here already, too. Buzz greeted him with a cheery “Hey there!” and Webster squeaked “Hello!” shyly and shuffled backward.
Standing in Barton’s shadow was an insect Max had never met before. He was a winged beetle about Buzz’s size, with antennae that twitched eagerly as
if he were tuning in to a radio signal. Max was startled to see a faint glow coming from his abdomen. That identified him at once. This bug was a firefly!
“Welcome back to Bug Island, Max,” Barton rumbled. “Glad to see you made it here in one piece.”
Max thought of the slicing mantis claws that had nearly cut him to bits but decided not to mention it. “Happy to help, General. What’s up?”
“I’ll explain. First, let me introduce you to Glower, the leader of the underground resistance.”
The firefly stepped forward. “I’m more of a manager than a leader, really,” he said modestly. “The resistance is a team effort.”
Max liked the quiet, polite insect immediately. “Glad to meet you, Glower.”
“Likewise, Max. I’ve heard a lot about your brains.”
“Glower and his staff of fireflies and glowworms have a very important job,” explained Barton. “They pass intelligence to our troops from their spy stations.”
“How?” Max asked curiously. The firefly didn’t look very strong or fast, so why would he be a messenger? It didn’t seem to make sense.
“With signals,” said Glower. “Fireflies like me can use our glowing bodies to signal to one another. We flash in special patterns that only we can understand.”
“A team of fireflies can flash a message from one side of Bug Island to the other in less than a minute,” Barton said proudly.
Max’s mouth fell open. “That’s incredible!” It was just like how spies in the human world used to signal to one another, using Morse code or secret messaging symbols.
“One of our lookout posts reports that General Komodo is massing his troops on the Pincer Plains,” Glower went on. “The lizards have been pouring across the lava bridge.”
“Luckily, thanks to the underground resistance, we have a chance to hit them first. Rapid response. Pow!” Buzz added, her wings beating enthusiastically.
“That’s why we’re mar-marching,” stammered Webster. “I wanted to stay in my burrow, but they said I wasn’t allowed.”
“Fresh air will do you good,” Buzz said, giving Webster a cheery poke with her foreleg. Webster made a “meep” noise and curled his legs up.
