The car gave a violent shudder. The engine spluttered. Ameena stared at the dashboard as all the little warning icons lit up like a Christmas tree.
‘What now?’ I asked.
‘I have no idea.’ Ameena turned the key. The engine rumbled for a few moments, then died away completely. When she turned the key again, the car didn’t make a sound. ‘Dead. It’s completely dead.’
Billy leaned forward. ‘What? How?’
‘I don’t know, Billy! It just died.’
‘You’ve done something, haven’t you?’ Billy snapped. ‘You’ve done something. Start it up again. You’re doing this on purpose!’
‘Of course I’m not doing it on purpose.’
I looked at her. ‘To be fair, it is the sort of thing you’d think was funny.’
‘Well,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Yes, that’s true, but I didn’t do anything. The car won’t start.’
‘What will we do?’ I.C. asked from the back.
‘It’s not far from here,’ I said. ‘A couple more bends and we’re there.’
‘A couple more bends in the dark,’ Billy added.
‘Not scared of the dark, are you?’ Ameena snapped.
‘No, I’m scared of what might be hiding in the dark waiting to kill me. Which at this point is probably everything.’
‘There’s no choice,’ I told him. I looked around the car. There were trees on one side, a rocky slope leading steeply upwards on the other. Driving, it would’ve been two minutes maximum until we reached the edge of the village. On foot it would be more like ten. I opened my door. ‘We’ll have to make a run for it.’
There was a cackle from down near the ground. I looked in time to see something the size of a small monkey come scrabbling up through my half-open door. Its movements were monkey-like too. It swung up the door, bounced on my lap, then propelled itself directly towards my face. I ducked to the side, then heard Billy cry out in panic.
‘Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff!’
Ameena and I spun in our seats. The thing was clinging on to Billy’s face, its hands and feet holding on to clumps of his hair. It was completely bald, with raw-looking pink skin covering it from head to toe. Its face was squashed up like a bat, and its pointed ears flapped as it sniggered with delight.
‘Hold still,’ Mumbles growled. He clamped a hand across the thing’s bony back and pulled. There was a sudden tearing sound and the creature let out a short, sharp squeal.
The thing kept holding on to Billy’s head, but now there was one in Mumbles’ hand too. It blinked rapidly, had a quick check of its bearings, then shot up Mumbles’ sleeve. He punched his forearm furiously, trying to flatten the bulge that was now moving up towards his elbow.
Just as the bulge neared his bicep, a fist smashed down on it. Direct hit. There was a squelchy cracking sound and the lump stopped moving.
A second later, two mounds began making their way along the sleeve in opposite directions. From beneath the coat I could hear both creatures snigger. The one on Billy’s face was still holding on, giggling hysterically as it ground its raw flesh across his cheeks.
‘There’s things in here!’ I.C. announced.
‘We seem them, it’s OK,’ I said.
‘I think they’re squirrels. Hello there, Mr Squirrel.’ I.C. reached over to pat the thing on Billy’s face. It hissed and nipped at his fingers with little sharp teeth. I.C. gave a high-pitched ‘Eek!’ and jumped back. ‘I don’t think they’re squirrels,’ he decided.
Mr Mumbles was thrashing about on the seat now, punching and slapping four mounds that moved around below his coat. Billy was trying to pull the thing off his face, but whenever his hands got near, it would snap at him, then laugh when he pulled away.
‘What are they?’ I asked.
‘Little Nasties,’ Ameena replied.
‘I see that, but what are they?’
‘No, they’re Little Nasties. That’s what we call them. Came across a whole community of them a few years back. Wasn’t much fun. This one must’ve done something to the underside of the car. That’s why it died. That’s what they’re like – not dangerous, just annoying.’
Billy yelped as the Little Nasty on his face took a bite out of the top of his finger.
‘OK, so they’re a bit dangerous,’ Ameena said.
‘Stop discussing it,’ Billy yelped. ‘Get rid of it!’
Ameena shrugged. ‘They usually just get bored and wander off.’
Billy tugged on the creature. It gave a soft pop and another one came away in his hands.
‘Oh yeah, and they’re unstable. Physically, I mean. Although probably emotionally too, if you really wanted to analyse them. They self-replicate when they get injured.’ She glanced at Mr Mumbles, who was now thrashing and kicking wildly at a swarm of lumps moving beneath his coat. ‘Probably should’ve mentioned that sooner, really.’
Mumbles arched his back and tore open his coat. The buttons pinged off the roof and windows, and then the inside of the 4x4 was filled with a dozen or more of the bare-skinned beasts. They leapt across the back of the seats, scrambling through hair and over shoulders and across the controls of the car.
I lashed out, knocking them away, but every time I hit one, it became two. ‘Everybody out,’ I barked, rolling through my open door and on to the road. I heard the driver’s door open and Ameena jumped down. We both ran towards the front of the car, swiping at the Little Nasties that had clung to us through our escape.
I felt one gripping on to my back, right in the middle of my spine. Another clambered up my shoulder and chittered madly in my ear. Ameena grabbed them both, held them by the legs, then tossed them into the trees. They howled as they sailed through the air, then landed with a rustle somewhere in the leaves.
We spent a few seconds checking one another over, then looked back at the 4x4. The front doors stood open, but Billy, Mumbles and I.C. were still sitting in the back. The car rocked violently on its wheels as all three of them flapped wildly at the Nasties.
‘Why don’t they just get out?’ I wondered.
‘No idea,’ Ameena shrugged, then she put a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, wait. Police car. You can’t open the back doors from the inside.’
I felt the blood drain from my face, but couldn’t stop a nervous giggle rising in my stomach. ‘They’re going to kill us.’
Ameena grinned, making her nose wrinkle up. ‘We should probably go and open the doors.’
There was a sharp screeching of metal, then, that made us both jump back. The rear door on the driver’s side buckled and flew away from the car.
‘Or not,’ I said.
Mr Mumbles stumbled out of the car, twisting and bucking like a drunken dad dancing at a wedding.
Billy tumbled out next, the first Nasty still attached to his face. There were at least five others now scampering around his upper body, but it was too dark and they were moving too fast to count them accurately.
‘Can’t… breathe,’ Billy gasped. The one on his face had flattened its torso across his mouth and nose. It cackled gleefully as it smothered him.
He tried to prise the Nasty away, but its teeth nipped his finger again and again. I hurried over to help, but three of the things were suddenly scampering up my legs.
Mr Mumbles was heaving with Nasties now. They covered him from head to toe, inside his clothes and out. One perched on the top of his hat, hungrily chewing the brim. He swung a hand up and punched it off, and five more landed on the road beside him.
I turned to Ameena, but she was struggling with a small army of the things. Removing them gently was impossible because of those teeth, and any sudden movements just made more of them.
As another few of them landed on my back, I began to panic. Billy was on his knees. Mr Mumbles was standing, but only just. Ameena had said the Little Nasties would get bored and wander off, but when? And what if they didn’t? Was this it? Was it really going to end like this?
A blast of chill air hit me, almost freezing
the breath in my lungs. I.C. stood inside the car, his head and shoulders sticking out through the sunroof. He had his arms raised, his eyes closed, and his tongue was sticking out from the corner of his mouth in concentration.
‘Everyone stand still, please,’ he said, and icy vapour swirled from his mouth. ‘But not you, Mr Squirrel,’ he added as an afterthought.
All four of us did our best to stop moving. Even Mumbles, who now had hundreds of the critters climbing over him. The Nasties that were scampering across me twittered anxiously. I felt their body temperature drop, and saw their pink skin become white, then blue.
Where they touched my own bare flesh, it began to sting. The pain was sharp and sudden, and then it was gone. One by one, the Little Nasties fell off and landed like freakishly large hailstones on the road.
It took several long moments for us to grasp what had happened, and to accept that the Nasties weren’t getting back up. Ever.
I looked over to I.C., who was beaming proudly at each of us in turn. ‘OK,’ I said to Mumbles, who was shaking frozen rodent-monsters out through the bottoms of his trouser legs. ‘He can come.’
Ameena and I took the front. Mumbles and I.C. followed at the back, with Billy walking between us. I’d grabbed the police baton, and Ameena had taken hers. They would be useless against any more Little Nasties, but they could do some damage to anything else we might encounter.
As long as it wasn’t too big. Or armoured. Or equipped with any sort of projectile weapon. Or reasonably fast-moving.
Or just very determined.
I looked down at the telescopic baton. Not for the first time, I wished it was a shotgun.
It was a long walk back to the village. The only light was the glow of the fire on the hillside where the plane had come down, and that was barely enough to let us see the road directly in front of us.
The January wind curled around us as we walked, bringing with it the smell of smoke and a light swirl of dusty ash. Everyone but I.C. and Mr Mumbles shivered in the cold.
We hadn’t spoken for several minutes, and the silence was letting doubts creep into my head. The village had been a warzone before the barrier had come down. What chance did we have of getting through it now?
I tried to make conversation, just to take my mind off my fears. ‘At least there’s no snow. The place was covered in it earlier.’
‘I did that!’
I turned back to look at I.C., but could barely make him out in the dark. ‘You did? Why?’
‘Damage control,’ Mumbles said. ‘We found out your dad was planning to send the girl through.’
‘Rosie?’
‘Don’t know, don’t care. I just knew what she could do. That she’d infect people.’
‘So you tried to contain them,’ I said. ‘You really made all that snow?’
‘Yeppy-doodle!’
‘Wow,’ I said with a low whistle. I was impressed. When I’d left I.C. he had no control over his abilities whatsoever. They only kicked in when he was in fear of his life, and even then they were unpredictable. Two weeks with Mr Mumbles and he was capable of snowing in an entire village. What would he be like after a month?
But we’d never know. We’d never know what he’d be like after a month, two months, a year. Tonight was the night we were almost certainly all going to die, just like my mum, Joseph and the others.
Actually, that was a point.
‘There was a guy helping me,’ I said to Mumbles. ‘His name was Joseph.’
‘So?’
‘I don’t know who he was.’
‘How should I know?’
‘I… I don’t know. I think he was from the Darkest Corners. He was balding, about – I dunno – fifty or sixty, maybe?’
Mumbles shrugged. ‘Not a clue.’
‘He was the cop you punched through the glass door of the police station when you were trying to kill us,’ Ameena added.
‘Oh yeah, forgot about that,’ I said. I looked back at Mumbles. ‘Ringing any bells?’
‘I didn’t punch him, I threw him.’
‘Well, that’s not so bad then,’ Ameena said.
‘So you remember him?’ I asked.
Mumbles shook his head. ‘Wasn’t really paying much attention.’
‘Oh,’ I said, disappointed. We walked the rest of the way in silence.
It took longer than we expected – twenty minutes, maybe more – before we finally arrived at the outskirts of the village. It wasn’t a big place: from the first building to my house was really just four or five streets. Of course, those four or five streets would be populated by screechers and worse, so it wouldn’t be easy.
Or so I thought.
‘It’s quiet,’ Ameena whispered. She was leaning round the corner of a fence and peering along the first road. Flames flickered in cars and in the windows of several houses, but the fire damage wasn’t nearly as bad here as it had looked in the town.
‘Almost too—’ I.C. began, but the rest of us cut him off in unison.
‘Don’t say it!’
He looked up at us with solemn eyes. ‘You folks are crazy.’
‘Where have they gone?’ I wondered. ‘The whole place was heaving with them.’
‘Maybe they’ve run away,’ Billy suggested.
‘I hope not,’ I said. ‘Because then I’d have to ask “From what?” and I probably wouldn’t want to know the answer.’
‘From us, maybe?’ he said.
Mumbles snorted. ‘Fat chance. They’d look at us and see lunch. My guess is the plane exploding on the hill drew a lot of them away.’
‘That was lucky,’ Ameena said.
‘Tell that to the pilot,’ I replied.
Mr Mumbles picked I.C. up with one hand and hoisted the boy on to his shoulder. ‘Thanks, Big Nose,’ I.C. said, then he leaned over, pushed in Mumbles’ nose and said, ‘Honk.’
‘We should move now,’ Mumbles barked, and it sounded like an order, not a suggestion. ‘Before they come back.’
‘Right,’ I agreed. I looked to the others. ‘Ready then?’
There were no wisecracks, no complaints. Billy and Ameena just nodded.
I crept out past the fence, leading the others in single file. It would be quicker to take the short cuts through the alleyways behind the houses, but they were too narrow and we could be trapped too easily. The streets themselves, even though they were much more exposed, would be the safest route.
I hoped.
We walked quickly, crouched low, our heads constantly moving as we scanned for danger. The streets weren’t just empty, they were virtually silent too. The only sounds were the crackling of the fires we passed, and the scuffing of our shoes on the pavement.
Which is why I almost jumped out of my skin when Billy spoke. ‘I want you to know. I’m sorry,’ he said. His throat was still dry and his ragged lips made him slur his words. It took me half a second to process what he’d said.
‘What for?’
‘Just, you know? Being a massive git for all those years.’
I hesitated. ‘Don’t worry about it. You weren’t.’
‘He so was,’ Ameena said.
‘She’s right. I was. And I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said to the boy who had made most of my childhood a misery. ‘Everything’s changed. None of us are who we were six weeks ago.’
KAAAAAWRK.
I stopped and ducked. A bird. A crow. I’d heard a crow! We all crouched down in the shadow of the fence, our eyes searching the darkness above us.
‘Can’t see it,’ I whispered. ‘Anyone?’
‘I got it,’ Ameena whispered.
‘Where?’
Her hand passed my cheek and pointed to the top of a telegraph pole ten or so metres along the street. A fat black bird sat there, barely visible in the low light.
KAAAAAAWRK.
It was impossible to know if the bird had seen us or not. It was perched along the route I had planned to take us, though, so even if it hadn
’t seen us yet, it would do soon enough.
‘We should turn back,’ I suggested. ‘Try to find another way.’
‘What if the rest of them come back, though?’ Ameena asked. ‘We need to keep moving.’
‘Any suggestions on how we deal with that then?’ I asked, staring pointedly at the bird.
There was a muffled snap behind me as Mumbles broke a strip off the bottom of the fence. He set I.C. down on the ground, then stood up. His arm drew back. I heard a faint whistle sound as the jagged wood shot like a javelin through the air.
The bird started to let out another squawk, just as the wood pierced its head. Its wings opened and twitched frantically for a second or less, then it fell with a thump on to the road far below.
‘Right then,’ Mumbles muttered, lifting I.C. back on to his shoulder. ‘Let’s go get this over with.’
My house was lit up blindingly bright when we turned the final corner. My heart leapt into my throat at the sight of it. For a moment I thought it was burning, but I soon realised I was wrong.
Every light in the house was on, from the living room to the upstairs bathroom. The rest of the power in the village seemed to be out, so the house stood out like a beacon against the near-darkness.
‘See?’ Ameena said. ‘He’s gloating.’
‘My house. He’s in my house.’ I felt my hands begin to shake. ‘He’s… he’s really in my house.’
‘It’s not too late, you know?’ she said, her dark eyes fixing on mine. ‘We can still run. We can get away. Together.’
‘Trying to protect him, are you?’ I snapped. She blinked, but didn’t look away.
‘Trying to protect you. I don’t want you to die, Kyle. I don’t want him to hurt you any more.’
‘My house,’ I growled, turning away from her. ‘He’s in my house.’
‘Easy. Don’t let it upset you,’ Mumbles said. He put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.
‘I’m way past “upset”.’
It was a two-hundred-metre walk uphill to the house. I set off walking quickly, then found myself breaking into a run. The thought of him there, sitting in the home I’d shared with my mum, made adrenaline surge through my veins and rage fill up what was left of me. I raced on, the pain in my knee all but forgotten.
The Darkest Corners Page 11