The Bug Dragon Project Read online

  “After them!” Ben hissed, and charged into the garden leaving the gate to clank shut noisily behind him. He took the limestone stairs at a leap then raced along the side path ducking only to avoid his sister’s bedroom window. He found the bug dragons running along the wires of the clothes line like mischievous little chameleons, occasionally swinging down on their back legs.

  “Must’ve followed us back,” he whispered as Alf caught up beside him. “The gold one is definitely showing off. I wonder if they can understand us?”

  “Ben they’re animals. They’re not going to understand anything much.”

  Ben was not convinced. He addressed the bug dragons in a loud clear whisper.

  “Hello, I’m Ben. Can you understand me?”

  This produced some chatter between the dragons who apparently came to a decision. They all pooped down the washing and flew away.

  “Hey, those are my undies!”

  Alf was foraging for a petri dish and a brush. “Fantastic!” He said. “Solid evidence!”

  Ben snorted.

  Alf brushed the droppings into the petri dish and sniffed it cautiously. Apparently it smelled like a Slitheen scuz bucket.

  “A what?”

  “Bad. It smells bad,” explained Alf.

  “It’s a wonder you can smell anything,” said Ben. “There’s not much of it.” He sniffed cautiously and wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

  “Probably full of unidentified chemicals. Doesn’t glow though.”

  “Just as well. Can you imagine what the world would be like if poo glowed in the dark?”

  “Awesome,” said Alf.

  Humans. They’re noisy, clumsy and pretty useless in the dark. They can’t fly and there are only a few in each hive. They display curiosity, only a little aggression and minimal intelligence.

  Gypsy flew back into the shadows and took a deep breath, allowing her colours to shine once more. She had recently been assigned the task of investigating human behaviours, but it was hard work being dark for long periods – a bit like holding your breath – and she needed to regain her composure. She had won her position for being the most skilled at being dark, but the irony of it was that in her normal state she was brighter and more colourful than any of her peers and could even change some of her colours at will. As a young bug dragon she had been teased and considered frivolous. Her mother had said she was perfect and beautiful and they were just jealous, but Gypsy didn’t want to be beautiful. She wanted to be sharp and dangerous! Maybe after this assignment people would take her a bit more seriously.

  The human hive was apparently unarmed on the outside at least, but although she had spent a considerable time peering into the windows the exact nature of the interior remained a mystery.

  Meanwhile, the Bug-dragon Undercover Research Project (B.U.R.P) was officially underway.

  “Everything we observe needs to be documented on site as quickly as possible so nothing is forgotten,” said Alf. “All information collected can be recorded accurately to the B.U.R.P. file and typed up later; that way there will always be two copies. We need to be a bit careful because Dad checks my computer regularly so I’ll have to disguise it as homework. So far we have witnessed five individuals – assuming the one that took the flower was a different one to the other four. The one you saw the first night – was it the same as any of the ones we saw together?”

  “Yep, the first one. The one that bit you.”

  “So five then. We need accurate descriptions and photographs.”

  “Names might be good. So we can ID them easily.”

  The first one that had bitten Alf was duly christened ‘Needles’ and the red and gold one on the clothes line was ‘Scamp’ with his accomplices ‘Imp’ and ‘Wiley.’ Ben drew pictures as best as he could remember and coloured them in carefully. He also drew a heading for B.U.R.P on the first page of the file in balloon letters embellished with scales and hair. Even though he hated writing, he had been assigned as official scribe because he was the neatest and good at drawing. Alf however, was now having second thoughts. Nobody in the scientific community would take a heading like that seriously.

  “Well you came up with the name ‘Burp’,” protested Ben. “I was just going to call it the ‘Bug Dragon Project’. How about you take the notes and I’ll do the pictures.”

  “It’s an undercover name for an undercover project,” explained Alf. “Nobody can find out about this until we have enough information and then we need to present it to the Australasian Science Magazine or the CSIRO in a way that will protect us from fraud. The project needs to look legit and if we ever have to refer to it when anyone is listening, we can just use the word burp or actually burp.”

  You couldn’t argue with that kind of logic. Ben was especially good at impromptu burps. “Ok... but I like this heading and I’m not doing it again so deal with it.”

  Now all they needed was more information. Ben promised to keep watch in the early evenings and Alf could check his place too, even though he didn’t have much garden, but in the end they were going to have to sneak out again after bedtime.

  “I’ll come Saturday night,” said Alf.

  “You’re coming then anyway,” said Ben. “Mum’s birthday remember?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Tonight then.”

  “No, Mum’ll be up until all hours preparing for the party. You should see the stuff she’s making! Reckon she’s invited everyone she’s ever known. It’ll have to be Sunday. Both my parents will be tired and in bed early so it’ll be good then.”

  “Alright, said Alf reluctantly. “2:05 am. Make sure you’re awake.”

  “Why 2:05?”

  Alf sighed. “Because we’ve seen five bug dragons on two separate occasions.”

  Ben wondered what his parents would make of their planned nocturnal activities. He knew he’d be in trouble if he was caught – and yet something in him suggested that they’d be proud and happy that he was doing something a bit radical. After all, his Dad never stopped telling him about all the things he used to do as a kid; riding his bike or skateboard with his friends all over the streets at night, building tree-houses in the bush or dams in the creek. And then it was caving, abseiling, cross country skiing… It was a wonder his parents ever got together at all as his mother liked expensive hotels and was allergic to dirt. But they did have one passion in common – classical music. His Dad played the piano and his mother sang. At least that was what she’d call it. Weird opera stuff. All the adults seemed to think she sounded fantastic but Ben and his sister always ran away when she started up.

  Ben had tried to learn the piano but after endless frustration and lost tempers his Dad agreed he could stop trying. “You can at least read music to some extent and that’s useful,” he had conceded.

  His younger sister Emily was considered very talented. She was obsessed with ballet, and went to dancing lessons almost every day, but as if that wasn’t enough she could also play the flute with ‘great musicality’ and was good at drawing. Ben wasn’t bad at drawing either but it wasn’t a passion that he often pursued. His mother had generously offered him ballet lessons because she didn’t want him to feel left out, but the offer was scornfully rejected. One day he would fly his own plane all over the world, take spectacular photographs, record amazing events and then they’d see! He was already a pro on Flight Simulator but that never seemed to be taken as a serious skill.

  The morning of the birthday party was pretty full on. Ben had been away from school the previous day with a cold and tried to use it as an excuse to hide in his room but his parents were unsympathetic. Every time he emerged for a drink or food or to go to the bathroom, he was mercilessly pounced on and given a chore; blowing up balloons, hanging fairy lights, sweeping outside, folding up the laundry… Ben sniffed and looked as droopy as he could, but it didn’t work.

  He had already organised a present whilst visiting friends in Brisbane the previous month. Having spied a charity shop close to whe
re they were staying and not having much money, he dropped in, hoping to find something that his mother would like. After browsing the bric-a-brac to no avail, he turned his attention to the jewellery and began jangling through the many necklaces that hung on pegs near the counter. Something caught his eye. It was an unusual pendant on a leather cord; a knobbly glass rectangle peppered with flecks of colour but inset with a striking blue stone. It reminded him of an opal but with greater depth and luminosity than any opal he had ever seen. How could his mother not like this? He took it to the counter and handed over his five dollar note. The shop assistant hesitated when she saw the necklace, clearly disappointed that she hadn’t seen it first.

  “It’s for my Mum for her birthday,” said Ben.

  “Uh huh. It’s lovely,” the woman conceded reluctantly. “I’m sure she’ll be very pleased.”

  Indeed she was! Ben felt a glow of satisfaction when his mother appeared in the dining room on the evening of the party, all dressed up - complete with the necklace! The stone almost seemed to glow and pick up the colours of the dress she was wearing. “It’s a most beautiful present,” she told him and kissed him on the forehead.

  People began to arrive and Ben escaped out into the garden. Perhaps once the party was in full swing he and Alf could watch a movie. There wasn’t going to be any hunting in the forest that night. The place would be full of people until all hours and they would be missed if they tried to sneak away. But when Alf’s parents arrived, Alf was not with them.

  “Sorry Ben,” said Mr Cunningham. “Alfred’s been grounded for the weekend.”

  Ben frowned and wondered what for, but didn’t like to ask. So long as it was nothing to do with him! He decided to ask Caitlin, whom he had so far been avoiding. Ben’s Mum hadn’t yet grasped the fact that although he and Caitlin were in the same class, and her parents liked his parents, it didn’t mean that they were friends.

  “Well,” Caitlin began, warming to the subject with notable glee, “Cranford was talking about how animals adapt to their environment and Alf kept interrupting. Then the subject came up about Giraffes necks and they had an argument about the number of vertebrae or something, so that made Cranford crabby. Then a bit later Alf was caught reading a book instead of writing his project and Cranford told him off. He said something like ‘Why do you do these things when you know it will get you into trouble?’ Alf said ‘Because I know all that stuff already.’ Cranford said he needed to do what he was told if he ever wanted to graduate from school. Alf told him that his brain had a rejection setting for things that weren’t worthwhile, and that was when Cranford flipped his lid and told him to go up to the Principal’s office. Alf then spoke like a robot and said ‘Negative - order rejected. More unintelligent remarks will result in your spontaneous combustion.’ After that he tried to run out of the door, but was hauled off by Miss Griggs. He kept shouting back at Cranford and by then everyone was pretty noisy, but it sounded a bit like ‘smeghead.’”

  Caitlin turned her head to one side and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Honestly, who says stuff like that? He’s weird.”

  Ben shook his head and sighed. “He’s not weird. Well yes he is weird… but he was just frustrated because he’s bored. He’s clever, but he just says whatever comes into his head and doesn’t consider the consequences.”

  “He’s an idiot,” said Caitlin dismissively, “and he deserves everything he gets.”

  Ben scowled at her and walked away. He could picture the whole scenario. People like Caitlin always made things worse, feeding on drama and not caring how anyone actually felt.

  Ben spent the next hour trying to be interested in the other conversations around him and eyeing off the spit roast which had been cooking since before he was awake that morning.

  Somebody suggested that while they were waiting, his mum might sing. It was inevitable – most of her friends were musicians and she’d been practising. His father sat down at the piano, stretched his fingers and began the gentle introduction whilst his mother, tall and serene, gazed out over the audience and began:

  Ich stand in dunklen Träumen

  Und starrte ihr Bildnis an,

  Und das geliebte Antlitz

  Heimlich zu leben begann

  Ben winced. Where did they find this stuff? It wasn’t even English! When the song finally ended everyone applauded loudly. Ben glanced over the crowd wondering if some of them were just being polite. Various other performers then rose to the occasion, and some of them were actually ok. Fortunately Emily had protested ‘not enough room’ and ‘bad floor’ as sufficient reason not to dance.

  Finally the food was ready. The pig was declared ‘fully cooked’ and the plates were out. Ben helped himself to a generous portion of succulent pork, apple sauce and crackling, and retreated to a garden seat at the far corner of the lawn where he could continue watching the lights and action on the patio undisturbed.

  His thoughts turned back to Alf. He was probably quite happy at home playing computer games – unless he’d been banned from that as well.

  A soft whistle close by made him look up from his plate. There, on the arm of the garden chair sat the tiniest bug dragon he’d ever seen and it was watching his food intently.

  “Do you want some?” asked Ben quietly, and held out a tiny piece of pork.

  The bug dragon grabbed it eagerly and sat back on its haunches nibbling like a mouse. It was gold and red – a bit like the one they had seen on the clothes line - only much cuter. It had rounded ears and eyes, bright blue hair on its head and a short snout.

  “You’re like a little mouse,” mused Ben, “Is that a good name for you?”

  They regarded each other solemnly for a moment and Ben held out his hand. It was sniffed cautiously and then to his surprise, the little creature leapt from its perch and with a buzzing of wings landed on the edge of his plate. Another piece of pork was swiped and it zoomed away over the fence. Ben gazed after it, wondering if it would be back later.

  “Watcha doing?”

  Ben jumped. It was Emily. She was coming up the lawn with a couple of her dancing friends.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Wanna play sardines? Uncle Matt said he’d play.”

  Ordinarily Ben would have refused – but if Uncle Matt was involved it could actually be fun.

  “Yeah ok.” He glanced back towards the darkness of the trees. He wanted to look for Mouse but it would have to wait. Alf may have been grounded but the parents didn’t know what they were up to anyway. They could escape the following night.

  Everything was silent and dark. Ben dragged himself out of bed and floated across the room where he began fumbling with the door knob. It was difficult to get a grip on the slippery brass surface so he pondered slowly over the possibility of just leaving his body in bed and melting his brain out through the gap under the door. It seemed to work. Then all he needed to do was to think his way through the family room and drift peacefully through the back door without even having to open it.

  “Ben!” whispered Alf’s voice from somewhere.

  “Yep,” said Ben.

  “Wake up! Ben!” Something tapped on the window.

  Ben woke with a start. He sat up and flapped his apology to Alf then sneaked out to join him in the back yard.

  “Sorry.”

  “2:16!” whispered Alf accusingly. “I’ve been waiting for ages. Just as well you don’t have a dog.”

  “Alarm didn’t go off.”

  Alf was all prepared with his hunting kit in a bag on his shoulder. Everything they could possibly need including a couple of giant jelly snakes for extra sustenance.

  “I’ve got food for the bug dragons,” whispered Ben and told his friend all about his encounter with Mouse. “This one was really tame and liked pork so I have some here – there was tons left over. We can lure them with food - not in the garden though or someone’ll see. Let’s head for the bush.”

  “Brilliant idea!” said Alf with great animation. “W
e can work at researching their preferred diet! Once we get them used to coming for it we can put together a plate of different stuff for them to try.”

  They found a small clearing in the forest and put their offering on a rock before crouching down a short distance away to watch. Mouse was the first to arrive.

  “I’ll bet he was following us,” whispered Ben.

  “It’s a bit disconcerting knowing that they can follow us with their lights off,” said Alf.

  Other voices echoed from different directions in the bush and before long there was a small brightly coloured crowd on the rock, all jostling for a share. They spotted Needles in the group but Scamp and his friends were not there. Finally, a large and fierce looking bug dragon arrived and the others backed off respectfully. He was scarred and cranky looking. There wasn’t much meat left by the time he arrived and he ate it in one mouthful.

  “Big Boss Bug dragon,” whispered Alf.

  The large bug dragon glanced sharply in their direction. “Think he heard you,” said Ben.

  “Well if he did, he doesn’t look too concerned. Gonna photograph this one.”

  Alf rose slowly from the undergrowth. The large bug dragon growled.

  “Pretty funny from an animal that size!” chuckled Alf.

  “You’re the one who got bitten.”

  “That’s why I wore a long sleeved shirt. I’ll be ready if it springs on me this time.”

  Alf approached slowly and held up his phone. The large bug dragon glared at him but didn’t move a muscle. The others backed away slightly.

  Alf took a photo and the noise of the pretend shutter seemed to arouse their interest. Many stood on their hind legs looking curiously at the light from the phone. He edged a bit closer then squatted to point his phone more directly at the large dragon.

  “Gotcha!” he said, then paused to look at the result. “Blurry.”

  “Not surprised,” said Ben. “You’re swaying around too much. Take a deep breath and stop shuffling.”