Mr Mumbles (11 page)

‘I can’t believe you fell for that twice.’

‘Stop doing that!’ I said, my heart rate still accelerating rapidly. ‘It wasn’t funny the first time.’

‘Trust me, it was bloody hilarious
both
times. You should have seen your face,’ she laughed. She was still giggling when she hopped up and sat on the front desk. ‘It’s been a while now. Aren’t you going to ask?’ she said, eventually.

‘Ask what?’

‘All the questions you’ve been dying to ask me. Who I am, where I’m from, why you’ve never seen me before. That stuff.’

‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ I told her, even though I really had. ‘To be honest I’ve had other things on my mind.’

‘Now’s the perfect time then,’ she said. ‘Danger’s passed.’

‘No it hasn’t,’ I argued. ‘He’s still out there!’

‘Meaning we’re safe in here for now.’ She paused to let me think about this. It sounded almost too good to be true, but she might be right. ‘So,’ she continued, ‘go ahead and ask me.’

‘OK,’ I shrugged, if only to shut her up. ‘I know your name, but who are you?’

‘No one in particular,’ she answered, innocently. ‘Next question.’

‘What’s the point?’ I tutted, turning away. ‘If I ask where you’re from you’ll only say “nowhere special” or something like that.’

‘You’re no fun,’ she smirked. ‘I’m from out of town,’ she announced. ‘Way out of town, actually. I’m moving into the house next to yours.’

‘The Keller House?’ I gasped, spinning back to face her. ‘You’re moving into the Keller House?’

‘I didn’t know that’s what it’s called, but if you say so.’

‘Wow,’ I whistled. ‘You’re braver than I thought.’

‘I’m not even going to ask why you said that,’ she winced. ‘Anyway, I was taking a look around the house when I saw your little wrestling match with Mumbles. Thought you could use a hand. Conveniently, someone left a baseball bat lying around. You know the rest after that.’

‘Why were you looking around on Christmas Day?’

‘My family doesn’t celebrate Christmas,’ she said with a shrug.

‘Is it against your religion or something?’

Ameena looked at me for a moment, then let out a long, loud laugh. Maybe it was just the sheer relief of being safe in the police station, but something about the way she laughed made me chuckle too. Before long we were both cackling like hyenas, with tears running down our cheeks.

‘Against my religion,’ she giggled. ‘That’s a good one.’

‘Where are your family, anyway?’ I asked.

‘They’re around,’ she said. ‘Why?’ She was defensive now, not laughing.

‘Just wondering,’ I shrugged.

She looked at me, suspiciously. ‘My mum and dad are going to follow me in a while.’

‘Any brothers or sisters?’

‘A brother.’

‘Older or younger?’

‘What’s this about?’ she demanded. ‘How come you’re so interested in my family all of a sudden?’

‘I was only asking,’ I protested. ‘Just trying to take my mind off everything, that’s all. Anyway, you’re the one who wanted me to ask you questions.’

‘Hmm,’ she frowned. ‘OK. What about you?’

‘Just me and my mum,’ I told her. ‘And my nan, but she doesn’t live with us.’

‘Where’s your dad?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ I shrugged, beginning to wish I hadn’t started the conversation.

‘Oh,’ Ameena said. ‘I see. Sorry.’ She looked down at the cracker on the desk beside her, thought for a moment, then picked it up. ‘Here,’ she said, offering me one end. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘I don’t think he’d want us to pull that,’ I said, nervously. The policeman had seemed pretty attached to that cracker.

‘Then we won’t tell him,’ she sighed. ‘Come on, this’ll be the first time I’ve ever done this. Chances like this don’t come along very often for me, you know?’

I took the shiny red paper in my hand and gripped it
tightly. Ameena was almost bouncing up and down with excitement. ‘You’re a strange one,’ I said.

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ she smiled, and we both gave a short, sharp pull. I looked down and found myself holding the big end. ‘No fair, you won!’ she cried, but I could tell she wasn’t really bothered. ‘Let’s see what you got.’

I tipped the torn cracker on to the desk, letting its contents spill out. They were less than impressive.

‘That’s got to be the smallest water pistol ever made,’ said Ameena, as I picked up the tiny yellow gun. ‘I could spit more than that holds.’

‘Ooh look, lime green,’ I smiled, unfolding a paper crown and slipping it on to my head. Almost at once it began to dissolve against my wet hair. ‘Does it suit me?’

‘It looks like someone blew their nose on your head,’ she said. ‘Which, if you ask me, isn’t a bad look for you.’

‘Well, thanks,’ I grinned, picking up the last item. It was a small rectangle of paper. ‘Ready for the joke?’

She pulled her legs up so they were crossed on the desk in front of her, and rested her chin on her hands. ‘Go for it.’

‘These are usually terrible, so you should probably brace yourself.’

‘Braced and ready!’

‘Right,’ I began, but immediately stopped. I studied the writing on the paper, then turned it over to see if there was anything more written on the other side. Blank. I turned the paper back and read the text again. It made no sense.

‘What does it say?’

I frowned and showed her the single word printed in thick, black type on the paper. She leaned forwards and read it aloud. ‘Duck,’ she said.

And at that, the doors exploded.

F
or the second time that night I shielded my face from flying shards of glass. Ameena tumbled backwards from the desk, crying out as a large, awkward shape tumbled through the air and hit the back wall with a thud.

I clambered over the desk, away from the gaping wound in the front wall, and fell clumsily to the floor. The limp body of the policeman lay next to me; bleeding all over, groaning in pain. I leaned down to try to help him, but a firm grip yanked me by the collar.

‘Get up,’ Ameena hissed, pulling me up on to my knees. ‘Move!’

I scrambled after her, unable to tear my eyes from the barely breathing policeman. Only a low mumbling from the
doorway was enough to get me to look away.

The metal frames were all that remained of the double doors, and even they were bent so far they’d torn free of the top hinges. The tall panes of glass which had filled the frames were now shattered and spread over the floor and desk.

My attention, though, was fixed on the figure standing just inside the room. A smile played at the edges of Mr Mumbles’ mouth, stretching his stitches almost to breaking point. The pathway of glass cracked and crackled as he slowly began to advance.

‘Come on, there’s got to be a back door,’ Ameena barked, grabbing me by the arm and shoving me hard into the corridor behind the desk. I watched in horror as she dropped to her knees and began to go through the policeman’s pockets. He groaned, his eyes half open.

‘You’re robbing him?’

‘I’m looking for keys!’

Already, Mr Mumbles was almost at the front desk. His dark, sunken eyes bored into me as he continued his steady approach.

‘Hurry up!’ I begged. ‘He’s coming!’

‘Got them,’ Ameena yelped. She sprung back up and we hurried along the short corridor until we found the back door of the station. Locked. Not for the first time, I was relieved Ameena was with me. Stopping for the keys would never have occurred to me. I’d have been trapped with nowhere to go.

She studied the lock and held up the hefty metal key ring. There were easily thirty keys hanging from it. This was going to take time – something we didn’t have. Behind us, Mr Mumbles entered the corridor and strode slowly towards us, like an undertaker in a funeral procession. His low mumbling echoed and amplified between the narrow walls, until the sound seemed to be coming at us from every direction at once.

‘What is it?’ Ameena demanded. ‘What’s he saying?’

I shook my head. I couldn’t make the words out properly. ‘I don’t…Something…something about ripping our eyes out.’

‘Sorry I asked.’

The first key slipped easily into the lock, but didn’t turn. The next few didn’t even make it all the way in. Ameena slammed her shoulder against the wood in rage and frustration, but the door wouldn’t budge. Mr Mumbles’ footsteps
click-clacked
on the polished floor, louder and louder, closer and closer.

I focused, trying to summon up the strength I’d felt earlier. I could do this. I could break down this door.

THUMP!
I swung with my right arm, striking the door with the heel of my hand, like I’d seen people do in kung fu movies. The door remained closed, but my wrist hurt like hell.

‘Get it open!’ I screamed, clutching my wounded arm.

‘I’m trying!’

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
The footsteps drew closer. Another key jangled in the lock. Not the right one.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
He was almost on us now. Another few seconds and we’d be done for!
Click. Clack. Click. CLICK!

Ameena cried out in triumph as the next key turned all the way. At once, the door was whipped wide open by the wind. We collided and almost fell over each other in our rush to
get outside. I only managed to stay on my feet by catching on to the bonnet of the police car which sat, silent and alone, in the small station car park.

The indicator lights of the vehicle gave a sudden bright flash, as Ameena pressed a button on the largest of the keys. With a
bleep
and a
clunk,
the front two doors unlocked.

‘Get in,’ she urged, throwing open the driver’s door and sliding in behind the steering wheel. I glanced up at the station in time to see Mr Mumbles step out after us. There was no time to lose.

‘Can you drive?’ I asked, as I leapt into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. Ameena turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared into life.

‘How hard can it be?’ she shrugged, noisily grinding the gear stick into place. ‘Hold on!’

My head was snapped almost to my chest as she slammed the accelerator down with her foot, sending the car speeding backwards. Something – maybe the tyres, maybe me – screeched sharply. Then, with a grinding of metal, the back end buckled against the wall of a neighbouring building.

‘Wrong way!’ I shouted. ‘Forwards, go forwards!’

‘I know that!’ she snarled, crunching the gears and eyeing up the narrow exit out of the car park. From the corner of my eye I saw her face twist into a scowl, as Mr Mumbles stepped in front of us, blocking our escape.

She spoke, but whatever she said was lost beneath another scream – definitely from the tyres, this time. With a sudden jolt, the car lunged forwards. For a few seconds we weaved wildly as Ameena fought to get control of the wheel, and then we were going straight, and heading right for Mr Mumbles.

He wasn’t smiling when the front of the car struck him. His body bent in half, smashing his head off the shiny white bonnet, before our momentum dragged him down and under the front wheels. Something below us gave a loud
crunch.
I felt my stomach spasm, and for a second I thought I was going to be sick.

‘Got him!’ cried Ameena. She braked hard. Another
crunch,
the sound of something ripping, and then the only noises were the low hum of the engine and our own unsteady breathing.

I looked across at Ameena. Her tan skin looked ashen white. Her body was shaking, her hands gripping tight on the wheel. I couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying.

‘I got him,’ she repeated, more quietly this time. ‘I got him.’

‘What do we do now?’ I asked.

‘I got him. I so got him.’

‘Ameena?’

‘Got him.’ She was babbling now, tears streaking her face. ‘Did you see that? I got him.’

‘You did,’ I said, softly. I was shaking, too, but somehow managing to hold myself together. Just. ‘You got him. You saved us.’

‘I did, didn’t I?’ she trembled. ‘I had to do it, didn’t I?’

Before I could open my mouth to reassure her, a powerful fist punched a hole straight through the back windscreen. We spun in our seats in time to see the entire safety glass window being ripped clear of its rubber seal. Mr Mumbles – his mouth still tightly shut – gave an animal roar of rage from deep down in his throat.

Without a word, Ameena forced the gear stick into reverse and powered the car backwards. Mr Mumbles’ expression didn’t change as we smashed him against the wall, pinning him in place. The abrupt stop bounced me against the seat, then threw me sharply forwards. I cried out in pain as my head thudded off the dashboard.

My fingers flew to the wound and came away red. Cut. I could worry about that later. Mr Mumbles’ arms were stretched out, reaching into the car. His dirty, scarred fingers clawed at the air just a few centimetres from us.

We both pushed open our doors and rolled out, desperate to be as far from the monster as possible. For a few seconds we watched him, as he struggled to move his legs and get a grip on the ground. His feet were trapped under the car, and no matter how hard he tried to move them, they kept slipping from under him. Incredibly, he didn’t look like he was hurt, but at least he was trapped. For now.

‘W-what is he?’ Ameena stammered. ‘Why is he still moving?’

‘I told you,’ I said, as gently as I could, ‘he’s my imaginary
friend. I don’t know how, but he came back. Really came back.’

‘SHUT UP! That’s impossible,’ she cut in. There was an uncertainty to her voice, though, as if she was finally starting to believe it. ‘It’s…it’s impossible. He’s just a guy. He’s just a freaky guy!’

‘You’ve seen what he can do,’ I protested. ‘The garage. This. You said yourself, no one could survive them. No one human, anyway. I’m telling the truth, Ameena. You’ve got to believe me.’

She shook her head. ‘What I’ve got to do is get out of here,’ she said. ‘This isn’t my fight. I shouldn’t be involved in this. I’ve got to go.’ She turned and sprinted off through the car park exit, leaping over the gate and rounding the corner before I could even start to give chase.