Battle of the Beetles
Praise for Beetle Boy
Winner of the Branford Boase Award 2017
Shortlisted for the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize 2017
‘Truly great storytelling.’
MICHAEL MORPURGO
AUTHOR OF WAR HORSE
‘. . . a great children’s book – funny, exciting, and genuinely eccentric.’
PHILIP REEVE
AUTHOR OF MORTAL ENGINES
‘By the end, you’ll think beetles are the coolest creatures on the planet and wish one would choose you as a companion.’
TOM FLETCHER
AUTHOR OF THE CREAKERS
‘If you already love beetles, you will love this book, but if you have still to discover your inner beetle boy or beetle girl, this imaginative, heart-stopping adventure is for you.’
MAX BARCLAY
NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM, COLEOPTERA COLLECTIONS MANAGER
‘[M. G. Leonard’s] dialogue is dark and punchy and her plot thrilling; by the end you can do nothing but hail her as an original new voice in children’s literature. I predict Beetle-mania.’
THE TIMES
‘Parents be warned: this enchanting story is likely to make beetles very popular pets.’
THE DAILY TELEGRAPH
‘A wonderful book, full to the brim with very cool beetles!’
THE GUARDIAN
A MESSAGE FROM CHICKEN HOUSE
There is no easy way to work this mystery out! I raced through M. G. Leonard’s final instalment in the Battle of the Beetles trilogy, an amazing and totally exciting story of Darkus, his friends, his family and his arch-enemies. Will Novak be saved – or will she do the saving? Will Humphrey and Pickering mess it all up again? And most importantly: will Lucretia Cutter triumph? Hold on to your beetles, folks, this adventure is a very bumpy ride INDEED!
BARRY CUNNINGHAM
Publisher
Chicken House
Contents
Chapter One: The Beetle Plague
Chapter Two: Damselflight
Chapter Three: Titanus giganteus
Chapter Four: Henrik Lenka
Chapter Five: Arcadia
Chapter Six: Helicopter Hideaway
Chapter Seven: Fighters and Flyers
Chapter Eight: ICE
Chapter Nine: The Thingamabob
Chapter Ten: Novak’s Nightmare
Chapter Eleven: Scud
Chapter Twelve: The Astronomical Clock
Chapter Thirteen: The Land of Predator and Prey
Chapter Fourteen: A River Runs Through It
Chapter Fifteen: The Predacious Pool
Chapter Sixteen: The Cloud Forest
Chapter Seventeen: Escarabajo Gigante
Chapter Eighteen: On the Lamb
Chapter Nineteen: Tannhäuser
Chapter Twenty: Mud Wallow
Chapter Twenty-One: The Queen’s Consort
Chapter Twenty-Two: Silphidae
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Hatchery
Chapter Twenty-Four: Larvae Farm
Chapter Twenty-Five: Beetle Borg
Chapter Twenty-Six: Darkus Decoy
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Unrequited Hate
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Team Beetle
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Out of the Jaws of Beetles
Chapter Thirty: Rhipicera femorata
Chapter Thirty-One: Beetle Run
Chapter Thirty-Two: Anthropocene
Chapter Thirty-Three: Humphrey’s Recital
Chapter Thirty-Four: Exodus
Chapter Thirty-Five: Beetle Zoo
Chapter Thirty-Six: Hamish MacTavish’s Haggis and Sporran Shop
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Beetle Girl
An Entomologist’s Dictionary
Copyright
For Sebastian, Arthur and Sam
Matilda, Caspian and Ryan
Claire Rakich and Dr Sarah Beynon
Books by M. G. Leonard
Beetle Boy
Beetle Queen
Battle of the Beetles
The Beetle Collector’s Handbook
No one will protect what they don’t care about, and no one will care about what they have never experienced.
David Attenborough
Children start off reading in books about lions and giraffes and so on, but they also . . . are able to go into a garden and turn over a stone and see a worm and see a slug and see an ant.
David Attenborough
From the small size of insects, we are apt to undervalue their appearance. If we could imagine a male Chalcosoma with its polished, bronzed coat of mail, and vast complex horns, magnified to the size of a horse or even of a dog, it would be one of the most imposing animals in the world.
Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man
CHAPTER ONE
The Beetle Plague
‘I’ve got the Sunday papers,’ Bertolt said, pushing Uncle Max’s door open with his shoulder and shuffling into the living room backwards. Newton, the copper-coloured firefly that was Bertolt’s closest friend, hovered above the boy’s cloud of white hair, his abdomen glowing gently.
Darkus and Virginia looked up. They were sitting cross-legged either side of an aqua-blue paddling pool filled with oak mulch and a mound of mugs. Darkus was wearing the Weevil Knieval T-shirt he’d bought in LA and Virginia was dressed in faded denim, old jeans and a hand-me-down jacket covered in badges.
‘We’re feeding the beetles,’ Darkus said, placing a pot of strawberry jelly amongst the teacups. This was where the surviving beetles from Beetle Mountain lived now, and this room in Uncle Max’s flat housed what was left of Base Camp, their den. It was where they met to plan their mission to stop Lucretia Cutter’s tyrannical attempt to take over the world.
Baxter, the glossy black rhinoceros beetle that understood Darkus better than anyone, was supervising the handing out of jelly from Darkus’s shoulder, waggling his spiky forelegs to show where it should be put.
Virginia was holding a brass plant mister over the paddling pool and furiously pumping a fine spray of water over the oak mulch, to prevent it from drying out. Marvin, the cherry-red frog-legged leaf beetle who wouldn’t be parted from her, was hanging from one of Virginia’s many braids by his bulging back legs, munching on a blob of banana jelly.
Dusting the soil from his hands, Darkus got to his feet and came over to the coffee table where Bertolt was neatly laying out the newspapers. Virginia put the mister on the floor and joined them.
‘There are more stories about crops being attacked, look, here’s one about the Colorado potato beetle destroying harvests in Russia. People are beginning to believe what Lucretia Cutter said at the Film Awards and they’re panicking.’ Bertolt pushed his glasses up his nose and looked nervously at Darkus. ‘There are reports of spoilt wheat crops in Germany now too, and three outbreaks of disease caused by a build-up of animal manure. The government is finally saying these are controlled and targeted attacks.’
Darkus moved forward to look at the papers, but Bertolt stood between him and the table.
‘And, um, Darkus, there’s something else . . .’
Virginia lifted a tabloid, reading out the headline. ‘BEETLE PLAGUE! FOOD RATIONED!’ She flicked over a page, her brown eyes scanning the words. ‘What?! I don’t believe it! The papers think Lucretia Cutter’s threat is real, but they don’t believe she’s capable of creating the Frankenstein beetles because she makes dresses for a living!’
Darkus shrugged. ‘Perhaps they don’t want to believe she’s found a way to control insects.’
‘It’s not that,’ Virginia snorted. ‘It’s because she’s a woman.’
‘Virginia . . .’ Bertolt tried to catch her eye.
‘People always think the best scientists are me
n.’ Virginia slapped the paper with the back of her hand in outrage. ‘Listen to this. “. . . the troubled coleopterist Dr Bartholomew Cuttle, Director of Science at the Natural History Museum and one-time fiancé of Lucretia Cutter, is heading up a team of geneticists and entomologists, men who’ve all mysteriously vanished in the last five years. This elite force is behind the mad fashionista’s beetle army, using Lucretia Cutter’s theatrical image to front their attack on the world.”’
‘WHAT?’ Darkus grabbed the newspaper from Virginia’s hands. ‘But that’s a lie!’ He scanned the article. ‘Why are they’re saying that about Dad?’
‘Because he’s a man,’ Virginia said, triumphantly.
Bertolt sighed and shook his head.
‘They are blaming him for the beetles! All of them!’ Darkus said, reading the article at speed. ‘This is wrong. We have to tell them. Dad’s trying to stop her.’
‘Darkus,’ Bertolt said softly, ‘it’s because he was Lucretia Cutter’s guest at the Film Awards.’ He picked up a different paper. ‘Look, the Daily Messenger says as much: “Dr Bartholomew Cuttle, seen on Lucretia Cutter’s arm at the Film Awards, is thought to be the mastermind behind the plague of deadly beetles.’”
‘That’s totally unfair!’ Darkus felt his face getting hot. ‘It’s all lies! My dad would never hurt anyone.’
‘It’s disgusting,’ Virginia nodded, ‘and they’re attributing Lucretia Cutter’s genius to a team of men.’
‘Genius?’ Darkus shouted. ‘She is not a genius.’
‘Of course she’s a genius!’ Virginia replied. ‘She’s bred a huge army of beetles that is destroying human food supplies and taking control of the planet. That’s incredible. No human has ever ruled the whole earth, and she’s going for it, big time.’ She shook her head and looked at Darkus. ‘Don’t worry, they’re going to have to acknowledge it’s her genius eventually.’
‘She’s not a genius!’ Darkus shouted, jabbing a finger at Virginia. ‘She’s a monster! She wants to starve people, and blame it on my dad and look what she’s done to Novak, and Spencer!’
‘Hey! Calm down.’ Virginia frowned. ‘I didn’t say I agreed with what she’s doing.’
‘Well, it certainly sounded like it,’ Darkus said, scowling at Virginia.
Virginia thrust out her chin, about to protest.
‘Um, guys?’ Bertolt cleared his throat. ‘Let’s not fall out again.’ He gave them a pleading smile. ‘We are all on the same side, remember?’
Virginia huffed out a sigh. ‘I’m sorry.’ She looked at Darkus. ‘I should have said evil genius.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘I’m just trying to point out that everyone is underestimating Lucretia Cutter.’ She pushed the papers around the table. ‘Blaming your dad is a false trail. It won’t help them find her or stop her.’
‘I’m not underestimating her,’ Darkus replied. Eleven days had passed since they’d returned from the Film Awards, but to Darkus it felt like years. The image of his father limping away, following Lucretia Cutter up into the rafters of the Hollywood Theater was the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep at night and the first thing in his head when he woke up in the morning.
There was a loud crack and they all jumped.
‘What was that?’ Bertolt asked, looking faintly terrified.
Virginia pointed over his shoulder. There was a thin crack in the glass of the front-room window.
Darkus cautiously knelt on the sofa, leaning over the back, to look down into the street. Standing on the other side of the road, outside the tattoo parlour, was Robby, the red-haired bully from school, surrounded by a gang of boys they called the clones. He opened the window.
‘Hey, Beetle Boy!’ Robby shouted. ‘Tell your dad, if he doesn’t call off his killer bugs, his son’s going to get swatted.’
‘Yeah!’ Each clone made a fist and punched it into their other hand.
‘They’re not my dad’s beetles,’ Darkus shouted back. ‘He’s got nothing to do with it.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Robby jeered. ‘That’s not what the papers say. They say your dad’s a murderer.’ He drew a finger across his neck. ‘They’ll probably bring back the death penalty just for him.’
‘The papers are lying,’ Darkus shouted. ‘None of it is true.’
‘Yeah? Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ Robby sneered, a flash of metal from his railway-track braces. ‘But, I’ve seen you and your gross beetles. We all have.’ The clones’ heads bobbed about on the end of their necks. ‘And we told the police about how weird you lot are, talking to bugs. What the papers say is true. I know it, and I ain’t going to stand for it.’ Quick as a flash, Robby drew back his hand and flung a stone that had been hidden in his fist.
Darkus felt the flint strike his cheek a stinging blow. He covered it with his hand as he pulled his head back from the window.
‘Oh! You’re bleeding.’ Bertolt gently pulled Darkus’s hand away so he could see the cut.
‘WE’RE GONNA GET YOU BEETLE BOY, AND YOUR DAD!’ came a shout from outside.
‘Ignore them,’ Virginia said, shutting the window as a barrage of stones hit the glass. She quickly closed the curtains.
‘How can I ignore them?’ Darkus brushed Bertolt’s fussing hands away. ‘They’re saying what everyone thinks. People believe what they read in the papers. Everyone thinks that Dad is guilty.’
There was an uncomfortable silence as Virginia and Bertolt looked at one another. The growing wail of sirens made Bertolt run to the window. He peeped through the curtains. ‘It’s the police!’ He gasped. ‘There are two cars pulling up outside the health food shop. They’re getting out. What shall we do?’
‘We can’t let them in here.’ Darkus looked about him in panic. ‘They mustn’t see the beetles. They’ll think it’s evidence that Dad is guilty.’
‘They can’t come in unless they have a search warrant,’ Virginia said. ‘I’ve seen it on TV. Tell them your uncle is out and you’re not allowed to open the door to strangers.’
‘OK,’ Darkus nodded, ‘but I’m not going to lie about Dad. People need to know that he’s trying to stop Lucretia Cutter. He’s one of the good guys.’
‘No, Darkus, you can’t say anything,’ Bertolt said. ‘Your dad needs Lucretia Cutter to believe he’s on her side, otherwise . . .’
The buzzer sounded.
Darkus looked into the hall, half expecting to see the door being smashed open. ‘It’s not fair,’ he whispered.
‘I know.’ Virginia nodded, her dark eyes sincere. ‘But we know the truth.’ She patted him gently on the back.
‘I’m going to find Dad,’ Darkus clenched his fists, ‘stop Lucretia Cutter, and force the newspapers to print an apology on the whole front page.’ On his shoulder, Baxter flicked his elytra open and closed, vibrating his soft wings in a thrum of agreement.
‘We’ll be right beside you,’ Bertolt said.
‘Every step of the way,’ Virginia nodded.
CHAPTER TWO
Damselflight
The hessian bag covering Bartholomew Cuttle’s face was making him sweat. A bead of perspiration ran down his cheek like a giddy tear. Despite the stifling heat, he was glad of the cover the cloth provided: it prevented Lucretia Cutter and her goons from seeing that he was alert and trying to pick up clues about where he was being taken.
When the sun shone Barty could make out the silhouettes of the other people in the helicopter, but the world had gone grey an hour ago. Right now, the rain was hammering down on the metal roof like an infinite shower of small stones. It wasn’t safe to be flying in this kind of downpour. Torrential rain meant reduced visibility.
We must be nearing the Biome, he thought, leaning forward.
Barty had a clear picture in his head of where everyone was seated. Gerard the French butler was in the cockpit next to Ling Ling, the deadly chauffeur flying the chopper. The goons were sat in a row opposite him, their backs to Gerard and Ling Ling. Craven was first, Dankish slum
ped beside him and then Mawling’s chunky silhouette. Spiky chitinous legs occasionally snagging the fabric of his trousers made it impossible to forget that Lucretia was sitting right next to him. On the other side of the self-proclaimed Beetle Queen there was only silence.
Novak’s sitting there, he thought. The poor girl must be terrified. He wondered, not for the first time, how she’d become friends with his son. Darkus had asked him to look after her, and he intended to keep his promise.
Lucretia had been furious when the Film Awards had descended into chaos. She had struggled to believe Barty when he’d limped on to the rooftop of the Hollywood Theater saying he’d abandoned his son to be with her, that her vision for the world was the same as his – but her ego was voracious. She had wanted to believe him. She pointed out that she could kill him in a heartbeat, and then instructed Gerard to bind his hands and cover his head with a hood.
They’d been flying for nearly four hours when they made their first stop. Craven climbed on board, fresh from releasing the genetically modified wheat weevils into the grain belt of America. Gerard had removed the hood, offering Barty water while the helicopter took on fuel. He glimpsed a sign saying ALBUQUERQUE before the hood was replaced and they were back in the air again.
The chopper needed to refuel every four hours. Barty silently plotted their route in his head as they travelled through the night. The sinking and then rising sun told him they were flying south. On the third stop, he was yanked out of the helicopter cabin by Craven, marched into a building, and shoved into a room. Pulling off the hood, Barty found himself in a sparsely furnished bedroom.
Gerard woke him with coffee, fruit and sweet bread, and the news that they’d be leaving soon. Barty guessed they were near Mexico City, and as he was guided out to the helicopter with the hood back on his head, he heard men speaking Spanish.
‘Happy Christmas, Darling,’ Lucretia Cutter said as he climbed aboard the chopper. Barty’s heart clenched at the thought of Darkus alone on Christmas Day, but he kept his face blank.