Chapter 3:Bees!
The next mysterious event regarding their blue mate, came days and days later. This time, Murray and Greg were playing marbles in the front yard while Jeff slept curled up in a hammock nearby. Anthony had gone out on an errand to pick up art supplies for his workshop. Murray and Greg looked up from their game at the sound of faraway screeching.
"That sounds like Anthony!" Murray realized. He and the Yellow Wiggle scrambled to their feet and watched with apprehension as their drummer approached.
"He's coming fast," Greg observed in a low voice.
"Yeah—I've never seen him run like that," Murray agreed. Anthony was yelling as he pelted toward them as though fleeing from something fearsome. As he drew near, his shouting became intelligible.
"Get 'em off me!" he howled.
"Anthony, what is it?" Greg yelled back. Their blue friend was clawing at the back of himself, his eyes wild with pain. He took a deep breath and bellowed a single word—one which filled them with dread.
"Bees!" Greg and Murray took instinctive steps backward. If Anthony was being hounded by bees, they had no desire to get stung along with him. But neither could they abandon their friend in his hour of need. He was almost upon them now—as was the time for action.
"If he comes into Wiggle House, he'll let all the bees inside," Greg said in a rush, thinking out loud. "But he needs to escape somewhere…"
"Water," Murray breathed. "Let's get him to beach!" He lifted his voice and shouted, "Anthony! Follow us, mate! Quick!" He and Greg took off running, just far enough ahead that they hoped they could avoid the angry swarming insects. They raced across the field toward the ocean. Murray shot a fleeting look backwards to discover that Anthony had fallen far behind them. "Greg!" he called out, pointing. The Yellow Wiggle slowed and looked back, as well. "He's knackered," panted the lead guitarist. "C'mon, we've got to help him!"
It was a mark of their friendship how the Red and Yellow Wiggles turned without hesitation and raced back into danger's path. Anthony had sunk to the ground, still reaching clumsily behind himself to claw at his back. His mates squatted down on either side of him. They each grabbed one of his arms and slung it over their shoulders. When they stood up again, Anthony was supported between them, his feet dangling above the grass. Then Murray and Greg put their long legs to work and sprinted for all they were worth. The three band members nearly flew over the ground. The lead singer and lead guitarist waved their hands with frantic shooing gestures to ward off invisible enemies. Amazingly, neither of them got stung. In almost no time at all, they arrived at the seaside. Green grass changed to white sand beneath their pounding feet. Without missing a beat, the two Wiggles sprinted into the surf. "Here we go!" Greg yelled.
"Hold your breath!" Murray reminded them, mainly for Anthony's sake. They all inhaled deeply. With no further warning, thetwo Wiggles dove, carrying the third underwater with them. They disappeared beneath the waves. For a long moment, the tide rolled peacefully. Then the band members burst upward, gasping for air. Greg stood in saltwater up to his neck. Anthony could barely touch the sandy bottom with the toes of his shoes. Murray stared around with sharp eyes, the sentinel among them. "A lot of times, bees will wait till you come up for air, then attack again," he informed his bandmates. The other two shuddered. But after looking and listening carefully for many seconds, Murray relaxed. "I think they've gone."
Greg heaved a sigh of relief. The threesome started off for shallower water. Anthony didn't look consoled, though. His face was still tense. When a wave slapped him from behind, his breath hissed inward in a gasp of pain. The others heard. "You all right, mate?" Greg asked him. Anthony nodded, even though his face was still screwed up. Together they started to slog out of the sea. Greg, bringing up the rear, spotted an odd lump between Anthony's shoulder blades. He squinted against the dazzling sunlight. "What's under your skivvy?" he wanted to know. Anthony whirled around so that they were facing each other.
"It's nothing," he said quickly.
"If it's nothing," Greg asked suspiciously, "then why are you trying to hide it?" He looked beyond their drummer to the Red Wiggle. "Murray, you see it, too?" he asked for confirmation.
The guitarist nodded. "I see it, too," he agreed. Anthony spun around again, looking guilty. From behind him, Greg reached out deftly and grabbed the hem of the blue skivvy. Before Anthony could react, he yanked it upward. The sopping fabric covered their drummer's head and clung to his face, incapacitating him for the moment. His friends gasped involuntarily at the sight beneath his shirt. A multitude of dead insects spilled out into the saltwater. Gregrecoiled in revulsion. "Bees—must be dozens of them!"
"Paper wasps," Murray corrected him in a murmur. He plucked a brown bunch of honeycomb from the blue skivvy in distaste. "This is their nest."
"How did that get down Anthony's skivvy?"Greg asked incredulously.
"Dunno," the Red Wiggle admitted, shrugging helplessly.
"Um, guys?" came Anthony's voice, muffled from the wet fabric covering his face. "A little help here?"
"Right," Greg replied.
"Sorry, mate," Murray added. They both grabbed the soaking skivvy and pulled. With a sucking noise, it slid over the Blue Wiggle's head and off. It dropped from Murray's limp hand and sank to the ocean bottom. He was staring at Anthony's now bare back in shock. There were welts from his neck to the middle of his back. The angry red rash looked painful, to say the least. "Oh, Anthony!" Murray gasped. His mouth gaped in disbelief. "So many stings," he finished faintly.
Greg scrutinized the wound with one hand gripping their drummer's shoulder, as though guessing that he might try sneaking away from them. "No stingers, though," he observed. "That's good."
Murray shook his head. "No, wasps can sting again and again without losing their stingers." His mouth tightened. "And it looks like that's exactly what they did." He sighed deeply. "Anthony, mate—let's get you back to Wiggle House. We'll help you get cleaned up and get those stings taken care of."
"I don't need any help," Anthony told them. He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and started walking in the opposite direction.
Acting fast, Murray grabbed the Blue Wiggle's arm and spun him around to face them. "Oh, yes, you do," he admonished their drummer gently but firmly.
"Oh, no, I don't," Anthony denied it again, staring down at the seawater.
His mates raised their voices and shouted him down in unison, "Oh, yes, you do!" The Blue Wiggle still looked reluctant, but he wasn't about to argue again. He followed the lead guitarist as Murray led the way out of the ocean and back across the verdant fields to their home. Greg fished Anthony's shirt out of the ocean, then came behind them.
