Mr Mumbles (16 page)

With a splash Ameena’s head popped back up from under the water. I rolled on to my side and reached a hand out to pull her up on to the roof. She batted it away playfully.

‘Come on,’ she snorted, ‘j-just because it t-took you forever, doesn’t me I can’t d-do it first time. Watch.’

She bobbed down low, then leapt up, her hands pressed flat on the roof slates on either side, tendons standing clear of her forearms as she tried to pull herself up. Her upper body was almost clear of the water when she suddenly slipped back down.

‘Ha!’ I mocked. ‘First t-time, eh?’

She looked up at me, her brow furrowing into a confused frown.

‘N-no, I didn’t slip, it’s—’

The water burbled briefly as she was pulled down, mid-sentence. In the blink of an eye she was gone. I clambered on to my knees and shouted her name. The wind quickly whipped my words away, and carried them off into the storm.

Five seconds I stood there. No movement. I slipped the sodden school bag down off my shoulders. Seven seconds. I had to go back in. Ten seconds. I sucked in air and swung my legs down into the hole as I prepared to slip back into the water.

Ameena howled like a banshee as she pushed up,
sending me tumbling backwards on to the tiles. Throwing an arm out, I caught hold of hers. The water was pulling her down, making her heavy. A desperate roar of effort burst from my lips as I dragged her out on to the roof.

A second later, Mr Mumbles’ face appeared at the hole. I slammed my foot down into it with as much force as I could muster, and enjoyed the crunch his hooked nose made beneath my shoe. As quickly as he’d appeared, my imaginary friend sunk back down into the darkness.

I knelt on the slates next to Ameena. She lay on her back, gulping and wheezing the life back into her body. She was trembling uncontrollably. We both were. If we didn’t get dry soon we’d freeze to death.

Drained, I collapsed on to the roof next to her. We’d go in a second. Just a little time to get our breath back. Just a few seconds.

‘You didn’t save m-me there, by the way,’ she stuttered. ‘In case you thought you d-did.’

I could only look quizzically at her, unable to make my mouth form words.

‘Y-you still owe m-me big t-time on the life-saving f-front,’ she explained. Somehow, despite the pain and the cold, she managed a wide, toothy grin.

I smiled back at her. ‘W-what else are s-sidekicks for?’

Fat droplets of rain tumbled from the heavens on to my face. I closed my eyes and let them wash over me, cleansing away the pool’s filth. Maybe I’d have just a few seconds of sleep to recharge. Just a short nap to let my muscles rest.

A warning light marked ‘Bad Idea’ began to flash inside my head. I coughed and tried to sit up. It wasn’t easy. My body was shutting down with the cold. Hypothermia was setting in. I had to get dry and warm. I forced my eyes open and rolled up on to my knees.

‘Ameena,’ I slurred, giving her a shake. She barely flinched and I noticed her eyes were also closed. I shook her again, more roughly this time. ‘Ameena,’ I shouted. ‘We need to move!’

She groaned and opened her eyes. They swam wildly for a few seconds, before finally fixing on me. In an instant she was sitting bolt upright, scanning her surroundings, a
puzzled look on her face. It took her a few more seconds to remember where she was.

‘We have to get inside,’ I told her. We used each other for support as we climbed shakily to our feet. ‘If we don’t get dry we’ll die.’

‘OK,’ she nodded, no longer able to keep up the jokes. We joined hands and took a step towards the edge, leaning forwards into the wind in order to stay upright.

The moment we took that first step, a heavy
thud
shook the roof below us. We wobbled, caught off guard by the sudden shaking. A second
thud
sent a slate sliding off over the edge. It shattered on the moss-covered patio below.

‘Oh, come on!’ Ameena squealed. ‘Give us a break!’

The tiles behind us leapt into the air at another
thud.
Faster and faster the bumping came, until with one final creaking and splitting of wood, a tightly bunched fist emerged up into the storm.

Ameena and I staggered and slid away until we were right at the edge of the roof. I risked a glance down at the ground below. It seemed a very long way away. My leg was
still hurt from being twisted half out of its socket back at the house. There was no way I could make the jump.

But Ameena could.

‘Go,’ I told her. The sudden authority in my voice took me by surprise. Mr Mumbles was dragging himself through the hole he had made. His back was to us, but he’d be up and out in moments. He’d find us soon enough. ‘Get down from here. Get away.’

‘What?’ she spluttered. ‘What about you?’

‘I can’t make the jump. My leg won’t take it.’

‘I’m not leaving you alone with him!’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a plan.’

‘What are you going to do?’

My eyes fell on the bag I had abandoned over by the hole. ‘I’m going to believe.’ I turned to face her. ‘But I need a few seconds to get set up.’

‘So you could do with a
distraction!’
Ameena grinned. There was a sparkle behind her eyes – somewhere between excitement and hysteria. ‘Why didn’t you say? Distractions are my speciality.’

As Mr Mumbles hauled himself up through the roof, Ameena sprung forwards into a charge. Ducking low, she slammed her shoulder into the brute’s back, before he even had a chance to turn round.

I watched Mr Mumbles twist and screech, trying to get a grip on the slippery slates of the roof. Ameena roared as she forced him onwards, closer and closer towards the roof’s edge.

By the time they were nearing the drop, they were moving too fast to stop. Mr Mumbles plunged over first, with Ameena still gripping him tightly. I almost cheered. She wasn’t just buying me time, she was using him to break her own fall!

I rushed to the edge and peered over. The rain battered my face, forcing me to narrow my eyes. It took me a few seconds to find the figures in the darkness, and when I finally spotted them, my blood ran cold as ice.

‘No,’ I muttered. ‘Oh,
no
!’

A
meena was face down on the ground, slowly dragging herself through the grass, trying to get away from the hulking shape of Mr Mumbles. He stood over her, watching her feeble attempt to escape. From the way she was moving it was obvious she was hurt – and hurt bad. Mr Mumbles, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have been slowed in the slightest.

‘Hey, baldy!’ I shouted, as loudly as I could manage. ‘How’s that broken nose doing?’

He craned his neck and glared up at me. Even from this distance I could see the hatred burning in those dead eyes. ‘You want me?’ I yelled. ‘Then come and get me!’

Ameena now forgotten, Mr Mumbles turned back to the
pool building. A rusted drainpipe ran all the way up to the roof. He took hold of it with both hands, his eyes still fixed on mine. Without a sound, he kicked his feet against the wall and began to climb.

He was fast for his size.
Too
fast. I had to move or he’d be on me before I was ready!

I hurried over to the bag, ripped it open, and thrust my hand inside. When I pulled it back out, I was clutching a handful of the plastic arrows. There were five of them in total. I hoped it would be enough.

No.
I had to
know
they would be enough. I couldn’t let doubt creep in. I had to believe the arrows would stop him, otherwise they – and I – didn’t stand a chance.

My fingers shook as I pocketed four of the arrows and slid the notch of the fifth on to the bright yellow string of the toy bow. The whole thing felt frail and fragile between my fingers, like it would snap with the first pull. I prayed that it didn’t as I took up my position at the very edge of the roof.

The wind buffeted me from side to side, but I stood my ground. I was sick of running, sick of hiding, sick of being
afraid. This was the last stand, and if I was going to go out, I’d go out fighting.

Mr Mumbles was halfway up the side of the building now. He’d reach the roof in no time.

Unless I stopped him.

I gritted my teeth, pulled back on the bow, and fired.

TWANG!
The arrow slipped from the string and was instantly carried off by the wind. Cursing myself I reached into my pocket and pulled out the remaining four. Clutching three of them between my teeth, I notched another and took aim.

TWANG!
The arrow shot from the bow and curved off at almost ninety degrees, missing its target by several metres. I heard Mr Mumbles laugh as he pulled himself upwards.

TWANG!
Another arrow whizzed away – closer this time, but still not close enough. I wasn’t compensating properly for the wind. I slipped another notch against the string and aimed far off to the right of my target. I concentrated. There was only one arrow left after this. I had to make them count.

TWANG!
A direct hit! The rubber suction cup bounced
harmlessly off Mr Mumbles’ head, then floated off into the night. I lowered the bow. Why wasn’t it working? I was using the arrows just like I had in the drawing, so why weren’t they hurting him? What was different?

I took the last arrow in my hand and placed it in position. Mr Mumbles was almost on me now. One short burst of speed and he’d be here.

My mind raced back to that drawing. I closed my eyes and saw it clearly: every crayon mark, every detail. I could see the arrow embedded into Mr Mumbles’ flesh. I could see the spray of crimson from his chest.

‘Sorry, old friend,’ I whispered. ‘But this is
really
going to hurt.’

A familiar tingle crawled across my head and through my brain. I pulled back the string, opened my eyes, and let fly.

THWIP!
The arrow cut through the air in the blink of an eye. For a fraction of a second I thought I saw metal glinting at the far end, before it disappeared deep into Mr Mumbles’ shoulder.

His wail of agony split the night. The wounded arm lost its
grip on the drainpipe and he swung out from the wall. For a moment I was sure he was going to fall off, but no such luck. He wasn’t finished yet.

Using just his feet and one hand, and with his face twisting in agony, Mr Mumbles continued his climb up to the roof. And I was all out of arrows.

My hand went into the bag again and brought out the toy sword. It was light and flimsy, but then so had the arrows been – to begin with, at least.

Giving the sword a couple of experimental swishes, I stepped back from the roof. Yet again, the storm battered me, as if the weather itself was my enemy. If only the wind would drop, even for just a minute or so.

Just a few seconds later, the wind did exactly that. Lucky. Lucky timing. Aside from the rattling of rain, the world was suddenly all but silent. It would make things easier. Not easy, but
easier
.

With a final growl, Mr Mumbles dragged himself up on to the roof and faced me. The arrow was still stuck in his shoulder, and as he got up I could see the rubber suction cup
had somehow passed right through. It jutted out on the other side, thick with his oily blood.

We stood there watching each other for what felt like forever, neither one in a hurry to make the first move. My fingers gripped the sword handle tightly. The plastic buckled in my hand and I felt all confidence drain away. I was facing a monster, and I was armed with a child’s toy. I had just begun to wonder what it would be like to die, when Mr Mumbles did something unexpected.

He spoke.

‘Conngraaatulaaaationnnsss,’ he said. His voice was a low hiss – unsteady, like he was testing it out for the first time. ‘No one belieeeved you’d lassst thisss long. You’ve ssssurprised usss all.’

‘Who?’ I asked, more than happy to stall for time at this point. ‘Who have I surprised?’

A low, sickening cackle escaped his blood-crusted lips. ‘You didn’t think I wasss the only one, did you? I am just the firssst,’ he sneered. ‘There are thousandsss of us, hidden down there in the Darkesssst Corners.
Millions.
And we’re
coming back.’ His eyes lit up with crazed delight. ‘You thought you could jusssst
forget
about me. But I’m coming back! We’re all coming back!’ He gestured around with his good arm, not once shifting his gaze from me. ‘And then all this – this entire worthlessss world – will burn. We’ll destroy it all!’

The Darkest Corners.
Those three words almost sent me staggering backwards off the roof. But that had all been a dream, hadn’t it?

It didn’t matter now. If I lived through this,
then
I could worry about the Darkest Corners. Right now, nothing mattered but stopping the monstrosity standing before me.

‘No, you won’t,’ I said. My voice was calm and steady – the exact opposite of how I felt inside. I couldn’t let him see my fear. I had to keep bluffing. ‘That’s not going to happen.’

‘Oh, reeeally? And who’s going to ssstop us?’ That cackle again, like a hyena’s death rattle.

With a flick of my wrist I held the sword out. The blunted point aimed right between his dead man’s eyes. ‘Me,’ I declared. ‘Just me.’

And with that, I lunged.

I
’d never fenced before, so there was no skill in any of my movements. Even if the blade had been razor-sharp metal, Mr Mumbles would still have managed to deflect it away just as easily as he did.

On my second or third swing with the sword, he dodged to the side, sending me off balance. I stumbled and almost slipped on the sodden grey slate of the roof. It took just a moment for me to find my centre of gravity again, but he was behind me now, laughing. Always laughing.

I swung the sword round in a sweeping arc and spun on my heels. Mr Mumbles leaned backwards and easily avoided the blow. Once again I overstretched and teetered forwards, my balance lost. My hand steadied me against the
slates, and I was up again.

Every move I made he was ready for. He dodged and weaved, effortlessly avoiding my every blow. The wind was beginning to pick up again, and even though the sword weighed next to nothing, I could feel my arm growing heavy.