Bernie’s lungs felt as if they would burst as he raced through the jungle, trying desperately to keep up with Ivy. She was a way faster runner than him. He could hear the croaking and crashing of the toad behind him and the distant buzz of the drone from above.
Where is she going? he wondered, as he was smacked in the face by various bits of vegetation. Bernie didn’t have a great sense of direction, but he was pretty sure they weren’t heading back towards the buggy.
Suddenly, Ivy disappeared.
Bernie was about to call out when the ground gave way beneath him. He tumbled forward into a ditch, landing with a thud beside Ivy. She placed a finger to her lips.
Bernie looked up to see the giant toad leap over them and power on into the jungle, the fading buzz indicating that the drone continued to follow it.
They sat in silence, listening, as the seconds ticked by.
‘All right,’ Ivy finally said. ‘They’re definitely gone.’
‘What just happened?’ asked Bernie, struggling to his feet and trying to wipe the dirt off himself. ‘What was that thing?’
‘It looked like a really big albino toad,’ said Ivy, jumping up. ‘Never seen it before. But every time we discover a new creature, we use drones to follow it around. Eventually, we’ll capture it, bring it back to the centre to study it, tag it with a tracker and then release it. There are all sorts of scientific, medical and environmental benefits to the research we do here.’
‘Oh!’ Bernie’s mind was still reeling despite Ivy’s face being alight with excitement. ‘Do you get many giant amphibians?’
‘That’s the first one I’ve seen,’ Ivy assured him. ‘But, as I said before, there have been other . . . unusual animals.’
Bernie thought about what other possiblities there might be. No wonder his mother had been recruited. Weird animals were kind of her thing.
‘Giant toad,’ he whispered. ‘There have been reports of toad- and frog-like cryptids over the years.’
‘There have?’ Ivy asked.
‘There are reports of giant toad creatures in certain parts of the world. And they’re white,’ explained Bernie. ‘But they don’t run on their hind legs. The only one that supposedly does that is the Loveland Frogman. But there’s no hard evidence that the frogman exists. It’s pretty much thought to be a myth.’
‘Wow. You’re really into this stuff, aren’t you?’
‘Um . . .’ Bernie felt rather self-conscious having his interest pointed out like this. Was she judging him? ‘I guess.’
‘Maybe you could stick around and join the research team?’ Ivy suggested.
Bernie’s heart skipped. ‘Me?’ So she wasn’t judging him.
‘If we can convince my dad.’ Ivy pulled a face. ‘Which won’t be easy.’
Bernie thought about it, then quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn’t here to research cryptids, no matter how awesome that sounded. He was here to make sure his mum was okay.
‘You know,’ said Ivy, smiling, ‘I reckon we should probably get out of this ditch and get back to the centre.’
They had barely begun to climb out when an odd sound made them stop. A whistling noise from above, followed by the sound of something falling through tree branches. They both turned in time to see a shape crash through the canopy and land with a splat further along the ditch.
They cautiously made their way towards it. Beyond some overhanging ferns, they saw a soft pulsing glow in a patch of mud. Ivy pulled aside the fronds so that she and Bernie could get a better look.
‘What is it?’ asked Bernie.
‘No idea,’ answered Ivy.
Whatever it was, it heaved and pulsed with an inner light, illuminating the dim ditch. It was a greyish-white mass. Bernie thought it looked like a mouldy ball of cotton wool, about the size of a basketball. It throbbed and quivered, making the mud around it bubble.
Bernie stared at it with a mixture of fascination and revulsion. There was something about the way it expanded and contracted with each throb that seemed familiar and unnerving.
Throb, throb!
Throb, throb!
Throb, throb!
‘It’s like a heartbeat,’ whispered Bernie, feeling his own pulse quicken. He suddenly felt hot and sweaty, as if the island’s humidity was closing in on him.
A portion of the thing’s surface began to move – distending, swelling out into a lump.
‘It’s alive.’ Ivy’s whisper matched Bernie’s.
‘And it’s growing,’ added Bernie.
The thing was getting bigger – slowly but steadily. It was now almost twice its original size. The lump began to change colour, beige and brown ripples swimming across its grey surface.
‘Is that lump getting hairy?’ asked Ivy.
Bernie swallowed hard. Coarse hairs were indeed sprouting forth.
‘I don’t like this,’ said Bernie, stepping away.
Ivy, on the other hand, took a step closer, reaching out a hand.
‘What are you doing?’ hissed Bernie.
‘It’s giving off heat,’ said Ivy.
With a sudden convulsion, claws pushed themselves out of the hairy lump.
Ivy staggered back, knocking into Bernie. The two of them fell into the mud. The misshapen thing gurgled.
‘We need to tell Dad about this,’ murmured Ivy.
‘We need to get out of here,’ cried Bernie.
The gurgling took on a harsher, rasping quality.
‘Good idea,’ agreed Ivy.
As they scrambled up the side of the ditch, the gurgling became a screech. Loud and long, it echoed through the trees.