Mr Mumbles (10 page)

‘Do what?’

‘How did you know what I was thinking? You read my mind!’

‘Well now,’ he grinned, ‘that’s hardly any great achievement
here
of all places, is it?’

Before I could question any further, he pushed open a heavy wooden door and stepped inside. I followed him through, and we emerged into a startlingly familiar room.

‘This…’ I muttered, looking around at my own carpet, my own
curtains, my own bed. ‘But, this is my room.’

‘An impression of it, anyway,’ the man nodded, sitting on my bed. He leaned back, shook his head once, and smiled at me. ‘I’ve got to tell you, kiddo, I can’t believe you’re actually here. I mean, I knew you were going to be powerful, but to make it here without any help? Without any practice?’ A low whistle escaped his lips. ‘That’s something.’

I frowned. The man was making less and less sense every time he opened his mouth. ‘Sorry?’ I said. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘OK, so not the sharpest knife in the drawer,’ he chuckled, ‘but powerful? You bet.’ He leaned forwards so he was perching right on the edge of the bed. ‘I’m telling you, I’ve got a great feeling about this, Kyle.’

The last word hung there in the air, flashing a furious red.

‘How do you know my name?’

‘I know all there is to know about you, Kyle,’ he said. Suddenly his smile didn’t seem quite so friendly any more, and the room, familiar as it was, no longer felt safe. ‘Tell me. How did you like the present I sent you?’

‘What present?’

‘
The
present!’ he yelled, jumping to his feet. He stepped closer, excitement blazing behind his eyes, and clamped his big hands on to my arms. It didn’t hurt, but it felt like it could if he wanted it. ‘The best present you’ve ever had! The last present you’ll ever get!’

‘I don’t know what—’

‘What was it you called him again? Oh yes.’ His grip on me tightened just a fraction. ‘Mr Mumbles.’

At the mention of the name, my not-quite bedroom began to spin around me. I swallowed, but my mouth and throat felt desert dry. ‘What did you say?’

‘Wow, that guy hates you!’ the man laughed. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly your number one fan either, but Mumbles? Man, does he have a grudge! Course, can’t say I blame him, the way you treated him.’

‘Wh-who are you?’ I asked.

‘If only you knew,’ he smirked. He let go of my arms and turned away.

‘Tell me.’

‘Consider me a teacher,’ he replied, turning back to face me. The smile was gone from his face now, and his expression was cold and stern. ‘And think of Mr Mumbles as your first lesson. If you can beat him – and I’ll be honest here, Kyle, I don’t see that happening – but if you can beat him, you’ll pass the test, and we can move on to lesson two. Pass all the tests, and maybe –
maybe
– you’ll be worthy.’

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, but I had to ask. ‘Worthy of what?’

His eyes glinted as he leaned his face in close to mine. ‘Worthy of helping me bring about the end of your world.’

My eyes flicked everywhere around his face, unable to hold his gaze. ‘What? What do you mean?’

‘You know what?’ he sighed, leaning back. ‘Fun as this has been, I’m bored now. It’s just the same questions with you, over and over, isn’t it? So if you’ll just…’ He caught me by the shoulders again, and spun me around so my back was to him. In the doorway, the hooded figure held up a small, wooden box. It gave an almost inaudible squeal, then nearly blinded me with a powerful flash of white light.

‘Great stuff,’ the man said, releasing me from his grip. ‘Now, get out of my house.’

‘W-what?’ I stammered. ‘But it’s—’

He ran at me, a blaze of fury, the sinews on his neck sticking out like thick, red ropes.
‘GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!’

I opened my eyes with a start and found Ameena staring down at me, her face a mask of concern. I heard her sigh with relief when she saw that I was awake.

‘Don’t do that to me!’ she gasped. ‘You’re such a freak!’

‘D-do what?’ I muttered, trying to get to grips with my surroundings. I could feel cool, varnished wood at my back. Overhead, a chandelier swung gently back and forth on a current of invisible drafts. I was in the church. The real church. Thank God.

‘Wander off like that,’ she said. ‘I turn my back for one second and what, you run off and hide? Took me nearly ten minutes to find you.’

I glanced around and realised I was lying between two long pews, my body half-hidden beneath one of them. I was only a
few paces from where I’d been standing, but from the aisle I would have been almost impossible to spot.

‘I…I didn’t hide.’

‘So I see,’ Ameena nodded, and I thought I could detect just a hint of concern in her voice. ‘What happened? You pass out or something?’

‘Must have.’

‘Well…at least you’re OK. Now tell me,’ she said, ‘how did you
do
that?’

‘Do what?’ I frowned. I sat up and immediately wished I hadn’t. The world lurched and spun, and I spent the next few seconds swallowing back at least three mouthfuls of sick.

‘You blew up the donkey! It was
amazing!’

When I could focus properly, I looked up at the nativity display. The donkey was gone, replaced by a mound of dust and chunks of stone.

‘The donkey,’ I whispered. ‘I blew up the donkey.’

‘You did. You really did! One minute it was there, the next it was like
Ka-boom!’
She was bobbing excitedly from foot to foot. ‘How did you do it?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t mean to,’ I replied. I hadn’t meant to blow it up, but that didn’t change the fact that I had. A shiver travelled the length of my spine.

‘Are you OK?’ Ameena asked.

I felt for the scratches the beast had dug into my back, but found none. ‘Fine. I think I just had the weirdest dream,’ I said, at last.

‘I get that a lot,’ Ameena nodded. ‘One time I dreamt I was an egg. Just, like, a big egg, but with a face and arms and stuff. And bees kept chasing me. Big, angry bees. What do you think that means?’

‘Run,’ I hissed.

‘I tried,’ she shrugged, ‘but it’s not easy when you’re a giant egg.’

‘RUN!’ I shouted, scrabbling to my feet. I caught hold of her arm and pulled her with me towards the exit, barely letting her feet touch the ground. At the far end of the church, a dark figure hung limply from the statue of the cross, arms outstretched in the classic crucifixion pose. As we fled, it raised its head, scowled, and spat at us through swollen, stitched-up lips.

“W
here are we going?’ demanded Ameena. This time she was the one having difficulty keeping up, and I could barely hear her over the sound of the wind and the rain. ‘Why are we running?’

‘It’s him,’ I cried. ‘It’s Mr Mumbles. He’s found us!’

‘What,
already?
I saw the way you hit him. No one could have got up from that so fast!’

‘He’s not human,’ I reminded her.

‘Don’t start that again,’ she yelled. ‘You don’t want to tell me who he is, fine, but don’t play stupid games with me.’

‘What, you accept I can make a statue explode, but not that he’s not human?’ I cried. ‘I’m not playing games, and he did get up!’ I took a left down a side street and heard
Ameena follow. ‘He was there in the church.’

‘Is…are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure,’ I snapped. ‘I saw him, he was there.’ I turned another corner and kept running, my lungs heaving against my ribs. ‘We need to get help. We can’t do this alone any more.’

‘Help?’ she echoed. ‘You’re kidding, right? Who’s going to want to help us fight
that?’

‘Ho ho ho!’ cried the officer on duty, as I flung open the doors of the tiny police station and tumbled inside. On his head he wore a shiny paper hat, and in his outstretched hand he held a bright red Christmas cracker. ‘Merry Christ—’

‘Someone’s trying to kill us!’ I blurted.

‘Oh,’ the policeman said. His shoulders sagged in disappointment. ‘That’s put a dampener on that then,’ he sighed, setting the cracker down on the desk. ‘Been waiting all day for someone to come in and pull that.’

I gaped up at him, not quite sure what to say. It was a
relief to find someone on duty, and I’d been hoping he might turn out to be a square-jawed hero type with bulging muscles. There were times when you really wanted a square jaw and bulging muscles on your side, and this was one such occasion. Unfortunately, the officer on duty was almost the exact opposite of what I’d hoped for.

Even with the party hat covering the top of his head, it was plain to see he was balding. He’d obviously decided to compensate by growing the thickest, bushiest moustache he could muster, which right now was coated in whipped cream. On the desk in front of him wavy lines of steam swirled into the air from a mug of hot chocolate.

He may have had a square jaw once, but his saggy chins were making it difficult to tell for sure. All in all he was around forty centimetres too short, twenty kilos too heavy, and thirty years too old to be the hero I’d hoped for. But beggars can’t be choosers, and he was the only one I had.

‘Sorry,’ he smiled, turning his attention from the cracker. ‘You were saying?’

‘Someone’s trying to kill us,’ I repeated. I thought it best
not to reveal that the person trying to kill us had once been a figment of my imagination. ‘He’s out there—’

‘What,
us
?’ he gasped, panic-stricken. ‘You and me?’

‘No! Not me and you.’

‘Oh, thank God,’ he sighed.

‘Me and…’ I began, turning and gesturing towards Ameena. Or, at least, towards the place Ameena should have been. Behind me there was only an empty entranceway. ‘Where did she go?’

‘Where did who go?’

‘The girl. The girl I came in with. She was right behind me.’

The policeman frowned. ‘I didn’t see anyone,’ he said. ‘And I’ve been watching the door for a while, waiting for someone to…’ He paused and picked up the cracker again. ‘You sure you don’t want to just…?’

‘Listen,’
I snapped, ‘I was with a girl, and someone was trying to kill us. We were hiding in the church, but he found us, and so we ran away, and now she’s gone! She was right there, but now she’s gone.’

‘Right,’ the policeman said, solemnly. ‘I understand. I get what you’re saying.’

‘Good.’

‘You don’t want to pull the cracker.’

I slammed my fist down on the desk in frustration. ‘Of course I don’t want to pull the cracker!’

‘I know, that’s what I just said!’ he scowled. ‘I mean, it’s not like I’m asking much.’

At that, I threw up my arms and turned back towards the door.

‘Where are you going?’ the officer asked. ‘I need to take a statement.’

‘A statement?’ I shouted. ‘Didn’t you listen to anything I said? There’s a maniac out there and my friend could be dying right now.’

‘Listen, I’m sure she’s fine,’ he said, in what he probably thought was a calming voice. If anything, it just annoyed me even more. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Ameena.’

‘That’s an unusual one, isn’t it?’

‘Who
cares?’
I snapped, stunned that anyone this incompetent could get any job, much less such an important one. ‘She saved my life tonight, and I’m not going to stand back and let her die because of it.’

We stood there for a few moments, looking at each other, unsure what to do next. The policeman seemed to be going through his options in his head, and for a second I thought I might have gone too far. Was shouting at a police officer an arrestable offence?

‘Wait here,’ he said at last. The paper hat was pulled reluctantly from his head and replaced by his standard issue cap. He emerged from behind the desk and nodded towards a tatty sofa. ‘Take a seat and I’ll go check it out. If there’s anyone out there I’ll find them.’

‘Thanks,’ I nodded, gratefully. Even though I was ready to go back out and look for Ameena, I was relieved not to have to.

‘Merry bleeding Christmas,’ I heard the officer mutter, before the door swung open and he was swallowed by the howling storm.

*

For several minutes, I stood by the window, trying to look out into the darkness. The glare of the lights turned the glass into a mirror, and all I could see was myself staring back. Freezing rain raged against the pane, shaking it in its frame. Mr Mumbles could be standing right outside, looking in, and I wouldn’t know a thing about it.

Shivering, I turned away and took in the room. Aside from the desk – which looked more like a shop counter than an actual desk – and the sofa, there wasn’t a lot in the place. A stack of leaflets here, a gaudy decoration there – it was depressingly bare, and no place to be spending Christmas. Suddenly I wished I’d helped the policeman pull his cracker. I told myself I’d do it when he came back.

My clothes were cold, wet, and sticking to my skin, so I didn’t much fancy the idea of taking a seat. Instead I snuck a sip of the policeman’s hot chocolate, and paced nervously up and down, waiting for him to return.

I’d just picked up the hot chocolate for another drink when I spotted the figure lurking behind the sofa. The mug
shattered noisily as it slipped from my hand. Even before it had hit the floor, though, I realised my mistake.

‘What are you doing down there?’ I demanded. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack!’

‘Sorry,’ Ameena shrugged, unfolding herself upright. ‘I don’t have a very good relationship with the police. Probably should have warned you.’

‘I thought Mr Mumbles had got you! I thought you’d been grabbed and—’

‘I know,’ she interrupted. ‘I heard.’ She looked me up and down and smiled. ‘You were really going to run out there after me, huh?’

I felt my cheeks flush red. She’d heard everything! ‘Suppose so,’ I nodded.

She crossed to the window and cupped her hands against it so she could block the light and see outside. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

‘Anything?’ I asked.

‘Rain,’ she replied. ‘Lots and lots of – OH MY GOD, THERE HE IS!’

‘Where?’ I shrieked, jumping in fright. Ameena turned, a toothy grin almost splitting her face in two.