Mr Mumbles (5 page)

Fighting this monster was not an option.

Where before Mr Mumbles had been thin and spindly, he was now built like a bear. His densely packed frame strained the seams of his trailing overcoat. Hands the size of dinner
plates clenched and unclenched into powerful fists.

His breathing was unsteady and erratic. It whistled slightly as it came down through his nose. The wind howling in through the window made his coat swish against his knees as he held me in his gaze.

The puckered skin around his lips stretched and shifted slightly as he spoke. The low, rumbling mumble was hard to make out, but I was sure I knew what he was saying. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those words tonight.

Time to die.

I feigned a move towards the back door, then shot off in the opposite direction. The sofa’s wheels squeaked as I shoved it into Mr Mumbles’ path and sprinted for the front door. The lock turned easily this time and I hadn’t even heard Mr Mumbles make a move by the time I’d got the door open.

Suddenly, an ice-cold grip grabbed my ankle, sending me sprawling on to the front doorstep. I yelped with pain as my forearms hit the edge of the raised stone, bruising them with twin bands of purple. The baseball bat went clattering away down the garden path. But that was the least of my worries.
With his hand still tightly wrapped around my right leg, Mr Mumbles was dragging me back into the house.

I lashed out in panic, my left leg kicking violently against the chill night air. Once or twice my foot found its target and thudded against some part of my attacker. He shrugged the blows off without a word. I’m not convinced he even noticed them.

Before I knew it he was on me, his hands tight on my throat, his face almost touching mine. I could feel his weight trapping me, pinning me against the hard frosty path, smothering me. As a kid I’d been able to see him and hear him, but I’d never been able to
smell
him until now. His stench filled my nostrils; rancid and decaying, like months-old meat left rotting in the sun. I’d have choked on it if I hadn’t been choking already.

My hands clawed the ground around me, searching for the baseball bat. They came back empty. Wherever the bat was, it was out of reach. I tried punching him, but he didn’t flinch. I heard a rattle at the back of his throat, and realised he was laughing. His demon gaze burned into me, eyes
wide, blazing with a hatred like none I’d ever seen.

His hands tightened around my windpipe. The world shimmered before my eyes, forcing me to close them. His hands tightened further still. His hands. So tight. No breath. Hands. Laughing. Choking. Choking.
Choking.

‘Hey, big ugly dude,’ yelled a female voice from somewhere nearby, ‘heads up!’

I forced open my eyes and peered through the checkerboard which swam before them. There seemed to be a girl walking down the garden path towards us. But that couldn’t be right. Mr Mumbles raised his head.

Then, with a
crack
and a splintering of wood my baseball bat connected hard with his face. The grip released on my throat and the crushing weight left my body, as Mr Mumbles tumbled backwards into the house. Lungs almost bursting, I kicked myself backwards into the garden, gulping down mouthfuls of sweet, sweet air.

‘Move!’ the voice demanded, and I felt a firm hand pull me to my feet. A girl stood there – older than me, but probably not by much. The rain had matted her dark brown
hair against her lighter brown skin. In her hands she held the broken remains of my baseball bat. On her face she wore an expression which said
don’t make me hurt you!

‘Where to?’ I gasped, still getting my breath back. Behind me, Mr Mumbles slowly sat upright.

‘Anywhere but here,’ the girl hissed. Without another word she turned and bounded along the path, with me in hot pursuit.

Icy rain lashed against me, numbing my face into a fixed scowl. Sheet after sheet of water battered down, blinding me. Several times I thought I’d lost sight of the mystery girl, only to find her waiting for me a little further ahead. Each time I caught up she barked that she wouldn’t wait for me again. She always did.

‘Who are you?’ I asked on one of the times I’d caught up with her. I didn’t have a lot of friends as such, but I knew who pretty much everyone in the village was. This girl wasn’t from around here. I’d definitely have noticed her if she was.

‘Questions later,’ she hissed. ‘Running away, now.’

We’d sprinted – and sometimes stumbled – through gardens, across roads, along winding alleys; the wind and rain trying to drive us back with every step. The warm glow of Christmas evening seeped out from the windows of almost every house we passed.

The temptation to run to any of the homes and shelter inside was almost overwhelming, but I wasn’t sure Mr Mumbles would care where I hid. I suspected nothing would stop him coming for me, and all I’d be doing was putting someone else in danger. Besides, for reasons I wasn’t quite sure of, the girl made me feel safe. Well, safer than I had felt before she arrived, at any rate.

My legs had begun to feel like lead as I ran down an alley between two houses and skidded to a stop at a T-shaped junction in the path. High wooden fences stretched towards the sky on both sides of a filthy alleyway. Bags of rubbish had been torn open and strewn across the sodden ground. I looked along the narrow passage in both directions. Each way the path stretched out as far as the eye could see, but the girl was nowhere in sight.

‘Hello?’ I hissed into the darkness. The words were swept off on the wind as soon as they’d left my lips. I tried again, louder this time: ‘Hello? Girl? Where are you?’

A hand clamped down over my mouth. An arm wrapped around my throat. I struggled in vain against the grip as it dragged me through a gap between two tall fence posts and into a heavily overgrown garden.

‘Shut up or you’ll get us killed,’ the girl growled into my ear. She waited for me to nod I understood before releasing my head from her judo hold.

We crouched down together in the long grass at the back of the garden, and held our breath. The only sound was the roar of the rain on the cracked stone slabs of the alley.

After several minutes of squatting in silence my legs began to cramp and I had no choice but to straighten up.

‘Sorry,’ I puffed. ‘Any longer and I was going to—’

The girl flew at me, knocking me on to my back in the high grass. She squelched into the mud beside me, pulled some tall weeds down over us and held her finger urgently to her lips. I nodded again, not sure what else to do.

Slow footsteps scuffed and splashed along the alley. With a final
clack
they came to a stop right outside the garden. I’m not sure why I covered my eyes against the darkness. Maybe I thought if I couldn’t see Mr Mumbles he couldn’t see me. Maybe I just didn’t want to see that face again. Whatever the reason, I screwed my eyes tight shut and pushed my fists hard into them until colours danced behind my eyelids.

After what felt like forever, the splashing and scuffing continued on its way. The girl put her hand on my chest to keep me from moving until she was sure the coast was clear. When she was certain he had moved on, she stood up, pulling me with her. She crept to the gate and peered along the alleyway, barely appearing to notice me.

‘Is he gone?’ I gulped. I held my breath as I waited for her reply. Luckily for my lungs, it didn’t take long.

‘He’s gone,’ she nodded. I breathed out again as she turned and walked back along the path in my direction. She looked me up and down as she approached, as if only now seeing me for the first time. When she was halfway back to me, she asked the question I’d quietly been hoping
she wouldn’t: ‘Who the hell was that?’

‘Just some guy,’ I lied, stepping backwards into the doorway of the abandoned house, and taking shelter below the dirty plastic roof of the porch. I wasn’t sure myself what was going on tonight, so there was no way I could expect anyone else to understand.

‘Right.
Just some guy,’ she echoed. She was in front of me now, fixing me with eyes so brown they were almost black. ‘Just some guy with embroidered lips and a violent dislike for all things you.’

‘Pretty much,’ I said, quietly.

‘So that’s it then? Just some guy? You’ve never seen him before in your life?’

‘Nope,’ I shrugged. ‘Never.’

The girl narrowed her eyes and stared deep into mine. I felt myself wilt under her gaze, but I had to keep eye contact. If I looked away even for a second she’d know for sure I was lying.

‘You’re lying,’ she said.
Damn!
How did she guess? ‘You know who it is.’

‘I don’t!’ I argued, but I was already talking to the back of her head.

‘Fine,’ she snapped, throwing her hands in the air as she strode away, ‘don’t tell me. If it wasn’t for me you’d be dead, but fine, keep your little secret. Why am I even bothering to care?’

‘Mr
Mumbles,’
I blurted, desperately trying to stop her leaving. She was right: I’d have been dead by now without her help, but the night was still young and there was plenty of time left to die. I’d have a better chance of surviving with her around. Better than no chance at all, at least.

She paused at the gate, but didn’t look back. I cleared my throat and spoke, just loud enough to be heard over the swirling storm.

‘His name’s Mr Mumbles,’ I explained. ‘He’s my invisible friend.’

I
’d expected her to laugh. She didn’t. In fact, she didn’t do much of anything. She just stood there, framed in the gateway, not doing or saying a thing. I think I’d have preferred it if she’d laughed.

When I was sure she wasn’t going to reply I spoke again.

‘Did you hear me? I said—’

‘I heard you,’ she answered, flatly. I watched her turn to face me once again. From her expression I could tell laughter was definitely not likely to be happening any time soon. ‘I risked my life for.’ she growled, before her voice trailed off into silence. When she spoke again she sounded calmer, but there was still a dangerous edge to her words which made me uneasy. ‘What’s your name, kid?’

‘Kyle.’

‘OK, Kyle, well, I want you to listen to me,’ she said, advancing slowly. ‘I risked my life for you tonight. I could have walked away and left you to be strangled on your front step, but I jumped to the rescue. You remember that part, right?’ she scowled. ‘The part where I stopped the crazy guy killing you?’

I nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ she said, flashing me a false smile. ‘Now in doing that – in saving your life – I’ve put myself in danger. You with me? Crazy guy doesn’t just want to kill you any more, crazy guy wants to kill me, too.’

‘He might not,’ I protested, weakly.

‘I broke a baseball bat across his face.
I’d
want to kill me for that, if I was him.’

‘Fair point.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, sarcastically. ‘You see, Kyle, what I’m getting at – and I want you to listen to me here – what I’m saying is: This isn’t a game.’ She was right in front of me again, her dark eyes half covered by her darker hair, which
the rain had slicked to her face. ‘There’s a man out there who wants to murder us, and frankly, getting murdered isn’t high on my list of things to do right now. I can’t imagine you’re exactly sold on the idea, either.’

I shook my head. ‘No.’

‘Then tell me who he is, and why he was trying to kill you,’ said the girl. ‘The truth, this time. No games.’

I looked down at my feet and saw myself reflected in a puddle. Droplets of rain splashed into it, warping my image like a funhouse mirror. I could hear the girl’s breathing, fast and unsteady. She was barely containing her anger. I raised my head and braced myself for the storm.

‘His name is Mr Mumbles,’ I told her. ‘When I was five he was my imaginary friend. Then he went away.’

‘I knew I should have kept walking,’ she scowled, and she began to do just that.

‘He came back,’ I called after her. ‘I don’t know why, but he came back, and now he’s trying to kill me!’

‘Yeah, well you know what?’ she shouted over her shoulder. ‘Right now I don’t blame him. I’ve only known you
five minutes and already I’m half thinking of killing you mysel—’

The end of her sentence caught in her throat as she stepped out into the alleyway. Clumsily she stumbled backwards into the garden, struggling to stay on her feet. All the familiar feelings of fear swept over me again as I saw the panic in her movements. I knew what she was going to say even before she opened her mouth.

‘He’s there,’
she hissed.
‘He’s right out there!’

I had to see for myself. I peered out into the alleyway. Mr Mumbles was walking slowly in our direction, scanning the gardens, hunting us down. I ducked back into the garden before he could spot me.

‘What do we do?’ I whispered. My voice was so low and trembling I’m not even sure the words made it out of my throat.

Whether she heard or not, the girl pushed past me and grabbed hold of a wheelie bin, which lay on its side in the jungle of grass. It made a hollow boom, like a bass drum, as she stood it upright in the corner of the garden.

‘Up here,’ she urged, scrambling up on top of the bin. She’d positioned it next to where the fence met the back of a garage that had been built on to the side of the house. With a grunt, she pulled herself up on to the garage’s flat roof. ‘Now you. Come on!’

I risked a glance at the gate and was relieved to see no one there. Still, with Mr Mumbles out in the alleyway, up and over the garage roof seemed to be the only way out of the garden. Not looking back again, I ran over and began to climb.

The plastic bin was slippery in the rain. As I clambered up, my foot slipped and I dropped back down into the garden. Again I tried, and again my feet slid off the wet vinyl.

On the third try, I managed to wedge my knee against the rough stone wall and pull myself up into a standing position. The bin wobbled unsteadily beneath me, making me shift around to catch my balance. All the while I could see the girl scanning the alley behind me.