Drop Bears Down Under

By Hannah Carter

“You’re telling me that in the future, Australia is overrun by cannibalistic koalas called drop bears?”

I blinked at my large companion—Squatch, our resident bigfoot—as I tried to make sense of the vision that had guided me and my cryptid companions Down Under.

He adjusted his Outback hat. “Yup. Right after the zombie kangaroo infestation reached critical, but before the giant spiders took over Sydney.”

I flapped my wings to create a slight breeze as the sun beat down on us. I could practically feel my feathers fizzing in the heat. I had thought my native West Virginia was hot in the summer, but that was before we landed here. “And the only way to stop it is to find where the cannibalistic curse began and smother these creatures with Vegemite to turn them back into normal koalas?”

“You got it, mate.” Squatch slapped me on my back, and I caught a short glimpse of the future as I staggered. One might think that was strange, but, as the famous Mothman soothsayer, I’d had prophetic visions all my life—hence why a ragtag team of time travelers had come to the past to seek my assistance to avert an apocalypse.

And why we’d come to the Great Dividing Range in New South Wales on a very sunny afternoon. Because if we were to stop the world from certain destruction, we had to first go on a drop bear hunt. That would have been easier if the van we’d rented, a beat-up Kombi, hadn’t decided to bite the dust back in Bombay. So Squatch and I now faced the drop bears alone, while our other two crewmates tried to fix our fried ride.

Thunk.

Something shook a branch above my head and showered me with leaves. I froze as my owlish ears swiveled around.

“Seems we have our first drop bear,” Squatch whispered. He reached into his fanny pack and pulled out some Vegemite. “I’m going to try to catch it before it can bite your head off.”

“Lovely,” I whispered.

Thunk.

Another batch of leaves sprinkled over me.

“Squatch…”

My colossal companion reached out a hand slowly, slowly…

The branch quivered again.

“Don’t look up,” Squatch said. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

Was it my imagination, or was that hot, eucalyptus-scented breath on my neck?

“Too late,” I murmured as dread tingled my spine and drew my attention upward, as if I were a real moth drawn to the light.

A furry, fanged fiend perched on a branch above my head.

I gulped. “Oh, naur.”

The drop bear bared its teeth as it plummeted, tiny paws outstretched, still cute and fluffy even when evil. I dove out of the way as Squatch plucked the drop bear out of midair.  It took a bite out of him and tore away tufts of brown fur.

Squatch roared and punched the creature in the face. It hit the trail and lost a tooth, while I took the opportunity to kick it away.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunkthunkthunkthunk.

Several more drop bears rained down from the trees with wild snarls. One landed on my head while another gnawed on my large boots. I thrashed and grabbed at the one on my head before it severed my ear, swinging around until I collided with a tree. More leaves—and more drop bears—fell.

They bit and clawed at me while I battered my head against the trunk until the drop bear attached to my skull gave way. Blood rolled into my eyes, and I swiped at my injuries with one hand.

I stomped on one drop bear and slammed the one on my arm against a tree. The third shredded the legs of my pants, as I was unable to run, unable to take cover.

Until a bottle of Vegemite hit me in the stomach.

“Give ‘em brekkie,” Squatch bellowed.

I opened the bottle of Vegemite and shoved it onto the nose of the drop bear on my arm. It squeaked and collapsed. I might have done the same, too, if adrenaline hadn’t kept just enough of the pain away, since the drop bear had torn a chunk of my shirt and feathers off. Tiny black dots swam in front of my eyes. My breath came in deep gasps. Future dates of tragedies in the world, snippets of disaster that I couldn’t fully fathom or make sense of flashed before me as I focused on the drop bear on my leg.

I slathered Vegemite on its head and fell to the ground as it finally released. Then I attacked the one I’d kicked before turning to face the one that had bit my head, and finally, I faced all the others near me until I’d exhausted the bottle and myself.

I slumped down in a heap, surrounded by normal koalas as they licked the thick, brown paste off their paws and each other’s noses.

How disgustingly endearing.

Squatch stomped over, his footfalls echoing like thunder. I winced as the ground shook underneath me. Three harmless marsupials sat on Squatch’s shoulders, and he carried two more in his massive arms like babies.

“Just got word from Gobs and Flats over in the Kombi,” he said cheerfully. “We stopped the drop bear invasion! Now these little guys will remain cute and cuddly forever.” He kissed one koala’s head. “All we’ve got to do now is spread the rumor that Vegemite will stop drop bear attacks to keep it that way.”

“And what of the zombie kangaroos and giant spiders?” I wheezed, perched on a bed of my fallen feathers.

“This is the land Down Under. There’s always something.”

My head thunked against a tree as I moaned. A koala squeaked at me, and I swore I saw a smile on its Vegemite-stained lips.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah Carter is just a girl who wakes up every day hoping it will be the day she discovers she’s secretly a mermaid. Her debut novel, Depths of Atlantis, is out through SnowRidge Press now. Her stories have been included in several anthologies: Whispers From Before, The Never Tales, and Havok’s Casting Call and Prismatic. Her flash fiction piece, “A Home for Nova,” won the 2022 Flash Fiction Realm Award.

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