A Bear Grylls Adventure 3 Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  The Bear Grylls Adventures series

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Reach for the Record

  Chapter 2: Minds and Muscles

  Chapter 3: Lost in the Woods

  Chapter 4: More Haste, Less Speed

  Chapter 5: Navigating Nature

  Chapter 6: Grubs Up

  Chapter 7: Death by Diarrhoea

  Chapter 8: Never Smile at a Crocodile

  Chapter 9: Part of the Jungle

  Chapter 10: Shooting Gallery

  About the Author

  Copyright

  The BEAR GRYLLS ADVENTURES series

  The Blizzard Challenge

  The Desert Challenge

  The Jungle Challenge

  The Sea Challenge

  To the young survivor reading this book for the first time. May your eyes always be wide open to adventure, and your heart full of courage and determination to see your dreams through.

  1

  REACH FOR THE RECORD

  Omar’s eyes lit up as he spotted the poster on the noticeboard.

  “Special prize? That’s mine!”

  All the activities at Camp were listed on the board. Sailing. Night hike. Crazy golf. Horse riding. But it was the brightly coloured words next to the ‘Minds & Muscles Relay Race’ that had caught Omar’s attention. He picked up the pencil next to the sign-up sheet and wrote his name.

  A leader was tidying up the old notices from the board, and she smiled.

  “That one’s a favourite every Camp. But hang on. You need to say which type of obstacle too.”

  She tapped the columns next to the names on the sheet. Omar took a closer look.

  Omar thought. In a normal relay race, each person in a team carries a baton part of the way then hands it over to the next runner. But this one had obstacles and mental challenges too. Which type was for him? Hmm.

  Sometimes in class, when the teacher asked a question, Omar’s mind would go blank. Even just a simple maths problem, and the answer would be on the tip of his tongue, but it only came blurting out when the teacher had moved on to another kid. Man, he hated it when that happened. He hated feeling like a loser.

  He wasn’t going to risk it. He was determined to get that feeling of winning instead. Whatever the cost.

  So, he put a tick next to ‘Muscles’.

  The leader smiled again.

  “Well, good luck. There’s a special prize for any team that beats the race record.”

  It was like a hit of adrenaline for Omar. A record.

  Every year, Omar got the Guinness World Records book on his birthday. He loved reading about all the champions. He would flip through it and look at the different records, and choose which ones he was going to beat when he was older.

  Omar set off back to his tent feeling pretty excited.

  “Definitely going to win that!” he told himself.

  Omar played a little game he had made up as he walked through the trees. He would kick a loose pine cone, it would bounce ahead, and then he would kick it again the next time he came up to it, and so on. But the rule was that he couldn’t break step, or change direction. Sometimes it would bounce right off the path, so he would have to start with a new cone.

  His record so far was kicking the same pine cone four times along the path, before it decided to bounce itself out of play. But this time he got up to five before it went off.

  “Result!” he said, pretending to be a sports commentator. “Omar’s on top, again!”

  Meanwhile he had come out of the trees into the clearing where a five-a-side game was just finishing. Suddenly a girl screamed very loudly. Omar looked over and smiled – one of the girls had accidentally squirted her friend with a bottle of fruit juice.

  The look on the wet girl’s face was pretty funny.

  But he stopped smiling when he saw one of the girls drop the empty bottle of juice. He thought her name was Chloe. Instead of putting the bottle in a bin, she just chucked it on the ground as she headed off with her friend.

  “Oi!” he called, hurrying after them, but she didn’t hear him.

  Omar frowned. Annoyed. His mum was always on at him to make sure he picked up his litter. How come she could just get away with it?

  “Hey, Omar!”

  He was distracted by hearing his tent-mates, Olly and Jack, call him. So he picked the bottle up and chucked it into the bin as he headed over to them.

  “Hey, guys!” he called. “Guess what I just put my name down for?”

  2

  MINDS AND MUSCLES

  “Um … um … twenty-three … no, twenty-two … um … fifteen …”

  There were two teams, Yellow and Red. Omar was on the Yellow team.

  A boy called Joe was trying to do the second mind obstacle in the race. He had to count backwards from fifty, in sevens. A girl called Mia was doing the same for the Reds, and she was slightly ahead. The first mind obstacle had been saying the alphabet backwards. Omar was very glad he had signed up for a muscles obstacle.

  So far the two teams were neck and neck. Joe and Mia got to the end of their counts almost at the same time, and handed the baton over to the next runners, Sophie and Jacob. The race track twisted and curved through the woods, so everyone else could dash straight to the next obstacle and get there before the runners, to cheer them on.

  Next was a muscles obstacle. It was a big sandy pit the runners had to get across by zipwire. The two runners appeared around the bend in the track. Jacob was slightly ahead, for the Reds. Sophie was trying hard but she just wasn’t overtaking him.

  “Come on, slow coach!”

  The words came out of Omar without him thinking. He ran alongside her, to shout more. He wanted to get that little extra effort out of her. Sophie just needed to move her feet that little bit faster.

  Sophie reached the sandpit just ahead of Jacob. She tucked the baton into her hoody and leapt onto the zipwire. Omar grinned as she shot off. Excellent. His shouting had worked. They might beat the record!

  Omar didn’t see exactly what happened next but he almost screamed in frustration when he realised that Sophie had fallen off and the Reds had already handed their baton over.

  Fatima, who was next to run for the Yellows, jumped down into the pit to help Sophie.

  A leader shouted a warning. “She has to get to the side first!”

  Sophie looked a bit dazed as she picked herself up. Omar felt anger boiling up inside him. By now the Reds had to be something like thirty seconds ahead.

  He couldn’t help the words that came pouring out as Sophie finally handed the baton to Fatima.

  “Can’t you even stay on a stupid zipwire?”

  Omar hurried through the woods to the next obstacle. He was going to be the next runner.

  It was another muscles obstacle – a pair of rolling logs. The runners had to get across them without falling off before they could hand over the baton.

  Fatima fell off several times. Fortunately Jacob was just as bad. Omar felt anger starting to boil inside him again. How could she not see what to do? She didn’t have to get all the way across. She just had to get far enough to hand him the baton.

  “Just run! You don’t need to stay on it all the way, just get near enough to me!”

  Eventually she got it. Fatima held the baton out ahead of her, and Omar could grab it even though she promptly fell off again. But he didn’t care – he was already running.

  The two boys pelted through the trees. The Red boy was really fast and just slightly ahead when they got to the next obstacle. They had to crawl through a pair of plastic pipes before handing over.

  Omar flung himself forward into his pipe head first
. He wriggled his way along like a caterpillar, jacking his whole body and banging himself against the side. He was the first out and he thrust the baton at his teammate. It was Chloe, the girl who had dropped the bottle.

  “Now run! Run!”

  Chloe turned – and tripped. The baton went flying, into the hands of Sophie, who had caught up.

  “GET UP!” Omar shouted at Chloe. He was immediately ashamed of himself because he could see she had hurt herself. But the desire to win was like a raging fire inside him. He couldn’t control it. To Omar, winning mattered more than anything.

  The Red team’s runner, a boy called Charlie, had already disappeared down the track.

  Chloe was still clutching her leg. But then Sophie was running with the baton instead. And she was really fast.

  Omar got to the finish just in time to see Sophie pull the prize out of a tub full of maggots.

  It was like suddenly being able to breathe again. They’d won! They’d won!

  Omar was really pleased. But had they beaten the record?

  3

  LOST IN THE WOODS

  “Overall time …” The leader checked her board and shook her head. “Sorry. Twenty-two seconds off the Camp record, I’m afraid.”

  It was like being socked in the stomach. No record. No special prize.

  Well, at least his team had won, thanks to Sophie. Omar thought he should congratulate her. So he went over to her and told her well done, but he couldn’t resist grumbling about the missed record.

  “Oh, well,” Sophie said carelessly. “We did our best, and we won the race.”

  Omar glared at her. She didn’t get it!

  “Not the point,” he muttered, and he walked away.

  “Nice one, Omar!” shouted a cheerful voice.

  Olly and Jack were hurrying over.

  “Yellows won, right?” Jack said.

  “That’s cool!”

  Omar couldn’t stand looking at their cheerful, happy faces. No one got it! What’s the point of trying so hard if you didn’t get the record?

  “Kind of,” he said through his teeth. “I, uh, just remembered something I have to do, uh, over here.”

  Omar hurried away quickly before they could ask what the something was. He just wanted to be on his own. When he thought about the last twenty minutes, he felt his toes curl with embarrassment.

  Deep down, Omar knew he hadn’t been nice. He had shouted at Sophie in the race and then been rude to her afterwards. And then he had brushed his friends off.

  But none of them understood what it was like.

  “Like a drink, Omar?” said a voice behind him. He turned in surprise. He hadn’t noticed anyone following him, but Sophie was offering him a juice carton.

  He took it.

  “Thanks.” He still felt bad about his temper.

  “You know …” she said carefully. “You took the race pretty seriously, didn’t you?”

  It was like she had pressed a button inside him. A button marked ‘temper’. Omar felt tears of frustration and shame pricking his eyes. Words just came spilling out of him.

  “I just like to win. Is that so bad? So why am I always surrounded by slowcoaches?!”

  He started to walk away before he said something really unkind.

  “Hey, Omar?” she called gently. When he looked back, Sophie was holding something out. “I just want to give you this.”

  He took it out of curiosity.

  “Just consider it a gift,” she added.

  It was a compass. It obviously meant something to her. If there was one thing Omar knew he didn’t deserve, it was a gift. And he didn’t need a compass. But he didn’t want to be even ruder than he had been, so he put it in his pocket.

  “Thanks.”

  She smiled and went back to her friends.

  Omar still couldn’t face the thought of mixing with other people, so he headed off on his own.

  He didn’t really notice which way he was going. If he heard people one way, he went the other. Strange feelings churned inside him, and he just wanted to cry. He was really embarrassed by his behaviour. He started to feel warm all over. Really warm. A line of sweat trickled out of his hair and he wiped it away while he thought.

  Omar liked Camp. He liked the other kids and all the activities. But winning was just so important to him. Coming first. After all, the opposite of winning was losing. And he didn’t want to be a loser. Who did?

  Sure, Omar knew other people said that doing your best and being kind was more important. Like Sophie, who didn’t seem to care too much about the special prize.

  But how could she think like that?

  The frustration boiled up in him.

  “Aaargh!!”

  Omar swung his fist sideways into the nearest tree. His hand thudded into the rough bark and his shout changed into a loud, “Owwww!”

  Trees were tougher than they looked.

  Omar studied his hand, and drew in his breath with a sharp hiss. He had cut a gash at the base of his little finger and blood was oozing out. It really stung. He felt a bit dizzy and hot all over. His hair was damp with sweat.

  “Smart move, Omar,” he muttered. “Now you can win a special prize for Kid at Camp Who Hurt Himself in the Stupidest Way!”

  Omar had thought Sophie was pretty dumb when she fell off the zipwire. This was about a hundred times dumber.

  He needed to get an adult to look at it, so he climbed to his feet.

  That was when he realised he had no idea which way to go.

  The bushes were thick in every direction and he was surprised how dark it seemed. And it really was hot.

  Why was it so hot all of a sudden?

  Omar tried to listen out for the sounds of Camp – shouts and laughing and people generally having fun.

  Nothing. But there was a lot of strange birdsong, all whoops and whistles.

  So, which way should he go?

  He might set a record after all – a whole new record, for Kid Who Managed to Get Lost at Camp, he thought. I could do without winning that one, thanks.

  Then he remembered, he did have something that could help! He had a compass.

  “Thanks, Sophie,” Omar said, and he pulled the compass out of his pocket.

  But he couldn’t remember the layout of Camp. Did he want to go north, south, east or west?

  Omar looked at the compass. The dial was turning fast, round and round. And somehow there were five directions on it. So the compass was basically useless. Not much of a gift at all.

  Omar rolled his eyes and stuffed it back into his pocket. He needed to get going, and not worry about the stupid compass. He picked a direction at random, and started to walk fast.

  Big mistake. He seemed to have picked a path through the thickest bushes there were. The leaves and branches closed around Omar. The further in he pushed, the harder it got to keep going.

  The damp air was like a thick blanket wrapped around him. Sweat streamed down his face. He shook his head to get the drops out of his eyes.

  The salt in his sweat made the cut in his hand sting. Leaves scraped against his face and scratched the bare skin of his arms and legs.

  “This is crazy!” Omar hurled himself forward into the bushes. A forked branch almost jabbed him in the eye.

  Then a voice shouted, right behind him.

  “Hey, stop right there! Don’t move a muscle!”

  It was a man’s voice, and it was filled with urgency and purpose. Omar did what he was told. He paused exactly where he was, with one foot lifted up.

  “Stay very still,” said the man. “Look about a metre ahead of your left foot.”

  Omar glanced down – and got a huge shock.

  The head of a very large, very vicious-looking snake poked out of the leaves. Its scales were shiny and bright green. Its tongue flicked in and out and its yellow slitted eyes were fixed on him.

  4

  MORE HASTE, LESS SPEED

  “Good reactions! Now hold tight. Give me a few seconds
to help you out,” the man behind him said, in a more relaxed manner.

  Omar stayed exactly where he was. He balanced on one foot and tried very hard indeed not to fall over. He didn’t want to do anything that would upset the snake.

  From the corner of his eye, Omar saw a long stick move slowly towards the snake.

  “When the snake attacks the stick,” said the man, “just walk backwards. Straight back. Got it?”

  “Straight back. Got it,” Omar said. The snake was still staring at him with its yellow eyes.

  The stick got to within a few centimetres of the snake’s head. The snake suddenly struck at it in a blur of movement.

  “Now!” the man said. Omar flung himself backwards. As he put as much distance between himself and the snake as possible, something caught Omar’s heel and he tripped. He landed on his back with a thud that knocked the breath out of him. But at least he was out of the bushes.

  He peered back quickly to see if there was anything bright green and scaly coming at him.

  But it had disappeared into the bushes. Gone.

  Omar picked himself up and got his first look at the man. He had dark hair that was damp with sweat, like Omar’s, but he still managed to look fresh and cheerful. Despite the heat he wore a long-sleeved shirt and trousers, both made of a tough-looking material. He had a backpack, and he was leaning on the long, thick stick he had used on the snake. A canvas scabbard on his belt held a machete – a big knife with a wide, flat blade.

  “Who are you?” Omar asked.

  The man smiled.

  “I’m Bear – I’m going to guide you out of here. And that was a highly poisonous blue temple viper.”

  “Poisonous!” Omar exclaimed.

  “Highly poisonous. As a general rule, the more colourful a reptile is, the more likely it is to be dangerous. The colour is a warning to other animals. And that one, remember, was really bright green. Its venom would have turned your blood into a big lump of black pudding.”