Mr Mumbles (6 page)

‘Can you see him?’ I whispered. I needed a second to
rest. Just one second to catch my breath before making the final push for the roof.

‘Yes!
He’s in the garden! Move, move!’

My legs kicked furiously against the wall, and in one movement I dragged myself up on to the roof. The rough, rusted iron scraped against my knees as I spun to look back at the monster below.

Who wasn’t there.

‘Gotcha,’ the girl sniggered. ‘He went thataway,’ she said, pointing back in the direction of my house. ‘You can sure move fast when you need to, though.’

‘What?!’ I spluttered. ‘You…I mean, that’s…I nearly…’ I gulped down a deep breath and felt my panic die down a little. ‘That was just plain nasty.’

The girl nodded and grinned so hard her nose rumpled up to the size of a button. ‘I know.’ She got to her feet and took a few steps across the corrugated iron of the garage roof. ‘Now come on, before he really does come back.’

‘Is this safe?’ I asked, warily. The metal was rusted into a rainbow of browns, and seemed to sag dangerously at one
side. As I stood up, the whole roof complained loudly.

‘Course it is,’ she said. To prove her point she bounced up and down a few times. Each time she did, the metal let out a sharp squeal. ‘See? There’s nothing to worry—’

With a final screech of protest, a big section of the roof collapsed beneath her. For a split second she seemed to hang there in thin air, like a character in an old cartoon, before gravity sucked her down into the darkness lurking below.

I froze, not daring to move a muscle. There was no sound but the rattling of raindrops on the roof. The deluge had spent the last few days forming puddles, which now ran like rivers along the iron grooves, and down into the hole just a few feet in front of me.

‘Girl?’ I said, not daring to shout in case it brought the rest of the garage down on top of her. ‘Are you OK?’

If she replied, I didn’t hear her, but I told myself that didn’t necessarily mean bad news. Even if she was shouting, I might not be able to hear her over the din of the downpour. Like it or not, I had to get closer.

Slowly, being careful not to make any sudden movements, I lowered myself down on to my hands and knees. I figured that if I spread my weight out, there was less chance of the metal buckling. Besides, I was so scared at that point I was finding it difficult to stand, so walking would have been out of the question.

Shuffling along, I edged closer to the gaping wound in the metal. Sharp, rusted edges scratched at me with every movement I made. I gritted my teeth and did my best to ignore the stabs of pain.

As I got closer to the broken section, I lay flat on my front and inched forwards on my elbows. The roof gave a few low grumbles, but otherwise seemed to be holding. With one final pull, I made it to the jagged edge of the hole.

‘Girl,’ I hissed. ‘Are you OK?’ I stared down into the garage, but only the darkness stared back. ‘Girl?’

‘Ameena,’ came a reply from below. ‘My name’s Ameena.’ There was a series of dull
clangs
as she clambered free from the tangle of metal she had landed in. ‘And define ‘OK’.’

I almost laughed with relief. She was alive and conscious, which meant she could tell me what to do. I’d known the girl for less than half an hour, but already I was placing all my faith in her. Usually it takes me a while to get to trust anyone, but I was too far out of my depth to handle tonight’s events on my own, and she’d done a pretty good job of things so far.

Until she fell down the hole, obviously.

‘What should I do?’

‘Let me see now,’ she replied. ‘What should you do? What should you do? Oh, I know. How about
get me out?’

‘Right, yeah. Course,’ I nodded. I thought for a few seconds, trying to ignore the freezing rivulets of rain which were trickling down my back and forming a pool at the base of my spine. It was no use. I came up blank. ‘How?’

‘I don’t know, throw me a rope or something!’

‘I haven’t got a rope.’

‘Well get one!’

‘Isn’t there anything down there?’ I asked. ‘A ladder or something?’

‘As convenient as that would be,’ she snapped,
‘no.
And before you ask, the door’s locked, too.’

‘Any—’

‘No. No windows, either.’

‘Oh,’ I muttered, defeated. ‘Where will I find a rope?’

‘Ropes ‘R’ Us? How the hell am I supposed to…
Wait!’
she cried. ‘The garden. There was a washing line, wasn’t there?’

‘There was!’ I yelped. She was right! A long length of rope had been strung between two metal poles in the garden. It was just what we needed. ‘I’ll go get it.’

Not thinking, I leapt to my feet. Like a wounded animal, the roof gave a desperate, deafening screech. The world lurched sideways. Something solid rose up and slammed hard against my shoulder, then did the same to my legs. I lay there, motionless, trying to blink away the shapes which danced and swam before my eyes.

‘So,’ sighed Ameena from somewhere beside me, ‘did you get it, then?’

Something – either me or the metal I was lying on—
groaned as I stood up. Now that my vision was clearing, I could see…nothing at all.

The inside of the garage was just as dark as it had looked from up above. Even darker, if that was possible. It smelled faintly of petrol and chemicals, but the rain pouring in through the hole overhead would soon take care of that.

‘What do we do now?’ I ventured. ‘Have you got a plan?’

‘I did have,’ replied Ameena, curtly. ‘But it fell through.’

Stumbling through the gloom, I reached for the nearest wall. It was closer than I thought, and I smacked into it almost at once. It gave a low rumble, like distant thunder.

‘That’s the door,’ said Ameena, her voice short and cold. ‘And before you ask, yes, it’s locked. The metal’s quite thin, but not thin enough to break through.’

‘You sure?’ I asked. Determined to make up for not getting the rope, I kicked the door as hard as I could. It rang out like a church bell on Sunday morning, but otherwise didn’t budge.

‘Yes, I’m sure!’ Ameena hissed. ‘And unless you want to draw your friend’s attention to the fact that we’re trapped in
here like rats,
don’t do that again!’

‘Sorry,’ I whispered, feeling stupid. Again. It was becoming a habit.

‘Just sit somewhere, will you?’ she sighed. ‘Just…just sit down and don’t move while I try to figure this out.’

‘Wait, that’s it!’ I said.

‘What’s it?’

‘We just sit here! We just sit right here and wait until someone comes looking for us!’ I felt the hairs on my arm prickle with excitement. This was a good plan – a plan which didn’t involve any more running, or any more encounters with Mr Mumbles. The
perfect
plan! ‘My mum’ll be home soon, and when she sees the house and realises I’m gone she’ll call the police, and then they’ll come find us!’

Ameena wasn’t responding as enthusiastically to this idea as I’d expected her to. ‘Don’t you see?’ I pressed. ‘We can just stick it out here until we’re rescued.’

‘That’s not a bad idea,’ she whispered. ‘Apart from one teensy problem.’ Overhead, what remained of the roof gave an ominous creak. I looked up. Less than a metre above me,
the silhouette of a man in a hat hung over the edge of the hole.

Ameena pointed at Mr Mumbles.
‘Him.’

T
his time, he didn’t even give me a chance to start panicking. Without a sound, he dropped down through the hole, arms outstretched, reaching for me. I half leapt, half stumbled aside, until my back was pressed up against the rear wall. The night surrounded me like a thick, black curtain, swallowing everything up, making it impossible to see. Where was he?
Where was he?

Off to my left, Ameena cried out in shock. Instinctively, I turned in the direction of the sound, but it was no use. My visual range didn’t even reach the end of my nose, let alone the other end of the garage.

She screamed in panic, but it was soft and muffled and indistinct, as if she was shouting from inside a cloud. With a
start, I realised her mouth was covered. Mr Mumbles was smothering the life right out of her!

I flew at the sound, wildly flailing my arms around like windmills and screaming for him to leave her alone. After just a few steps, my fists found their target. I heard him spin to face me, and I quickly let fly with another few punches. Most of them missed, and the ones which didn’t probably hurt me more than they hurt him. I kept swinging anyway.

I was still windmilling when he hit me in the chest. The blow struck like a sledgehammer. I didn’t feel any pain at first, just the sensation of no longer being on my feet. Most of the air in my lungs exited in one sharp, sudden breath. What little was left was quickly knocked out when my back thudded against the garage wall.

My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor, gasping for breath. The smell of petrol swirled up my nostrils and caught in my throat. Tiny pinpricks of light sparkled like fireflies wherever I looked. Somewhere – I couldn’t even guess where – my imaginary friend let out a low, throaty laugh.

‘Kyle!’ Ameena yelped. ‘Are you OK?’

I gave my head a shake, trying to clear the cobwebs away. A knot of pain throbbed between my eyes. Oxygen was gradually flowing back into my lungs, but my chest had begun to ache where Mr Mumbles had hit me.

‘Define “OK”.’

With a rustle of clothing, Mr Mumbles lunged at me. Still on my knees, I rolled sideways, and felt the wind move as he passed just above my head. Close.
Too close.

The darkness made it impossible to know where to run. There could have been another door, or even something to fight him with, but we’d never know. We’d never find out. If only there was some sort of—

A foot splashed into a puddle at my side, and I rolled again, hoping there were no walls waiting in the direction I dived. Near the spot I’d just been, I heard a mumble of frustration. At a guess I reckoned Ameena must be somewhere to my right, keeping quiet so as not to give her whereabouts away.

Maybe we could both rush him. He was strong, but the
two of us might be able to overpower him if we worked together. Of course, to do that we’d have to be able to see him, and for that we would need—

A squeal burst from my lips as a hand caught me by the back of the neck and forced me to the ground. There was a brief flash of pain across my jaw, before the lower half of my face went cold and numb.

Icy, dirty rainwater swirled up my nose. Frantically, I blew down both nostrils, trying to keep the puddle out of my airways, until there was no air left to blow with. Automatically, my body breathed back in, and I immediately tasted filth and grime at the back of my throat.

Coughing, spluttering, I pushed back against the hand which held me, but he was too heavy, too powerful. I thrashed wildly, more terrified of the water beneath me than of the monster above.

The puddle could only have been a few centimetres deep, but that didn’t matter. The water still made my pulse race and my head spin and a bubble of fear form far back in my throat.

It couldn’t end like this. Not drowning, please!
Please.
Anything but drowning!

Somewhere, miles off in the distance, I could hear Ameena calling my name. Why wasn’t she helping me? Why wasn’t she stopping him? Couldn’t she see what he was doing?

Of course she couldn’t see. She couldn’t see anything. None of us could see anything. I was drowning, and she was just a few feet away, and she couldn’t see. Why wasn’t there a light? Why couldn’t there just be one—

With an electrical crackle, a bare bulb burst into life on the closest wall. I felt the hand on my neck relax just a fraction, and heard a low mumble of surprise, before Ameena launched herself at the man on my back.

Mr Mumbles caught her by the arm and swung her behind him. With a
clank
of metal, Ameena staggered into a mound of debris from the fallen roof. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her head hit the crumpled iron, hard. She whimpered once, then slumped down on to the flooded floor.

Finding strength I didn’t know I had, I twisted, knocking
Mr Mumbles off balance. He toppled sideways, and I helped him on his way with a kick to the ribs.

We both made it to our feet at the same time. Eyes locked, we stood there in the garage, the rain matting my hair and curving the brim of his hat. The light bulb buzzed on the wall, hissing quietly whenever a raindrop touched the glass. I still hadn’t quite figured out where it had come from, but I wasn’t about to question it. I’d needed a light, and I’d been lucky enough to get one. Now if only I could find some kind of weapon, I might stand a chance.

Almost immediately, my toe brushed against something solid on the floor. I let my eyes flick down, losing sight of Mr Mumbles for only a fraction of a second. An axe. There was a large, double-handled axe at my feet. Another coincidence? Maybe my luck was changing.

When I met Mr Mumbles’ gaze again, I saw something there I hadn’t seen before. Something raw and primal. Was it fear? Probably not, but I could have sworn it was something close.

Like a sprinter off the starting blocks, he made his move.
I bent double and my hands found the axe handle. It was heavy – heavy enough to do some serious damage. The silver blade glinted in the light. I gripped the smooth wood tightly. The axe felt deadly in my hands. It felt unstoppable.

It didn’t stay in my hands for long. Even before I’d straightened up, Mr Mumbles wrenched it from my grip. He stood and examined it for a few moments, weighing it in his hands, studying the polished metal head, as if it were some weird, alien artefact.

Backing away, I quickly scanned the garage for something else to use against him. There was nothing. Aside from the bits of broken roof, which would be too heavy to lift, there was nothing in the garage but me, Ameena and Mr Mumbles.

And the axe in Mr Mumbles’ hands.

The blade gave a low whistle as Mr Mumbles ran at me, swinging the weapon in a wide, sweeping arc. I dropped down on to my knees, as – with a
whum
– the axe cut through the air just a few millimetres above my head. A crop of neatly sliced stray hair drifted down from the top of my head.