Doc Mortis (13 page)

Chapter Twenty
FOSTERING RELATIONS

I
prodded the unmoving mound on the floor with the tip of my toe. ‘You alive?'

At first, nothing, then a groan. ‘I hope not.'

I looked across at the slumped form of Wobblebottom, half visible in the gloom. His eyes were closed and his mouth was no longer fixed in that demented grin. The huge chest was absolutely still, not a breath entering or leaving his ravaged body. At peace, at last.

‘You won then.'

I stepped back as the mound at my feet rolled over and became something more like a man. Mr Mumbles's face was a mass of black bruising and barely congealing blood. One eye was swollen shut, and his hooked nose was more crooked than ever.

All in all, though, he didn't actually look any
more
horrific than usual, just equally horrific in a slightly different way.

‘Why are you here?' he growled. ‘I told you I never wanted to see you again.'

‘No, you didn't.'

He shrugged, then winced at the pain it brought. ‘Worth a try.'

I.C. was clinging to my leg, peeking out from behind my back. I could feel him trembling, a little boy lost in the dark.

‘I need your help,' I said.

Mr Mumbles snorted and dragged himself upright. He didn't reach his full height, but bent slightly at the waist, unable to straighten all the way up. ‘We're even, remember?' he grimaced, placing his hands on his lower back and clicking something into place.

‘It's just information, that's all.'

He rolled his eyes and dabbed at a cut on his forehead with the back of his hand. He didn't respond for a while, then eventually spat, ‘Well?'

‘Oh, right. OK.' I looked down at the boy. ‘I can't take him back with me. Why not?'

‘He belongs here.'

I.C. whimpered. I put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

‘You got out.'

‘But not with you.'

‘With my dad, I know. Is there another way?'

Mr Mumbles shook his head. ‘No. Anyway, it makes no difference. He's not strong enough. Not yet. The jump would kill him.'

I stepped in closer than I'd normally have liked, keeping my voice low. ‘Staying here will kill him too.'

Mr Mumbles gave a grunt, then a shrug. ‘He won't be the first.'

‘But... he's just a kid.'

He roared at me through his bloated lips, and I could smell the decay deep within him. ‘
So was I!
' Fury blazed behind his eyes as he jammed a finger against his temple. ‘Not outside, maybe, but in here.
In here
I was!
'

His chest rose and fell quickly. His face twitched, agitated, but when he spoke again his voice had lost its angry edge.

‘And who was there then, Kyle?' For some reason the sound of my name from his mouth made me flinch. ‘Who was there then?'

I fumbled for words. ‘I didn't... It's not...'

‘Look what they did to me.' He craned his neck back to give me a better view of his scarred face. ‘Take a long, hard look at what they did.'

I did look, and didn't turn away, determined not to let him bully me into feeling sorry for him.

‘Still,' I said, smiling as cheerfully as I could, ‘at least you got the mumbling sorted out. That's something, eh?'

His face scrunched up into a snarl, then relaxed, then furrowed again, like he was having difficulty working out how to react. His body tensed, his hands becoming fists. I didn't take my eyes away from him.

At last, he let out a single big breath, and all the fight seemed to go out of him along with it. ‘Yeah,' he admitted. ‘There is that.'

Reaching into my pocket, I dug out the wallet and flipped it open. ‘I want you to see something,' I said. ‘See if you can make sense of it.'

He took the offered photograph and raised it closer to his eyes, angling it as he tried to make out the image in the gloom.

‘Well?' I asked. ‘Any idea when that was taken?'

He stared at the picture – the one showing him, me and I.C. all together. The one that shouldn't exist.

‘It wasn't,' he said. ‘That never happened. It's a trick.'

He handed it back to me. ‘Looks pretty real to me.'

‘It's a trick,' he said, more emphatically this time. ‘Didn't happen.'

‘Maybe,' I admitted. ‘But why would someone fake it?'

He didn't reply. He just snapped the collar of his crumpled coat up round his ears, and I got a definite sense the conversation was about to be over.

‘What should I do about him?' I asked quickly. ‘About I.C., I mean. I can't just leave him.'

‘You left me.'

‘Oh, get over it!' I snapped. ‘I didn't know what would happen, OK? How could I? Kids grow out of their imaginary friends, that's just the way it is. They don't know about this place, they don't have any idea what happens next. You can't blame me for growing up.'

Mumbles looked like he might turn away, but he didn't. His eyes crept past me, down to the scared little boy at my back.

‘Someone needs to look after him,' I said, more softly.

‘No,' Mr Mumbles said, glaring at me and shaking his head. ‘No. No way.'

‘He's lost here. He just needs a friend.'

He growled. ‘Don't we all?'

‘Exactly,' I said. ‘And he can do things. He can freeze things with a touch. Admittedly only when he's paralysed with fear, but still – that's got to be useful, right?'

I guided I.C. out from behind my back, so he was standing between me and my old imaginary friend. ‘There was no one to look after you when you arrived and that was terrible.
Really
terrible. And they tortured you and hurt you and made you... different.'

Mr Mumbles's one still-functioning eye swivelled down and found the boy looking back up at him, his face wet with tears. I wasn't sure if I.C.'s sad, wide-eyed expression was real, or if it was just an Oscar-worthy performance. Either way, it could only help my case.

‘There was no one there for you,' I said. ‘Be there for him.'

Mr Mumbles's broad jaw moved, his teeth grinding together as if he was chewing the idea over.

‘Who'll feed him?' he asked at last. ‘Food doesn't come cheap.'

‘What? You buy food?' I asked, taken aback. ‘Don't you, like, just sort of, you know, eat... each other?'

I.C. gasped and drew closer to me. ‘You ain't eating me, big nose!'

Mr Mumbles's voice was like the grinding of tectonic plates. ‘Eat...
each other
?' he said. ‘We're not
all
monsters.' He looked down at his scarred hands, flexing and unflexing his fingers. ‘Just some of us,' he added quietly.

‘Right, yes, sorry,' I said, suddenly embarrassed. ‘Course you don't.' I opened Joseph's wallet, knowing there was no cash inside, but feeling compelled to at least look like I was checking.

‘Money for food, money for food,' I muttered, but I was pretty sure he could see through the act. I came clean, opening the wallet right out for him to see. ‘I don't have any money.'

He snatched the wallet from my fingers and pulled out the three remaining photos. One by one he flicked through them, transfixed by the scenic images.

‘They're just photos,' I said, as if he hadn't figured that out by himself.

‘They'll do,' he replied, finally tearing his eyes away from them. He let the wallet fall to the floor and stuffed the photographs in his inside coat pocket.

I looked down at I.C., and I.C. looked up at me. ‘So, what, you'll take care of him?'

‘I'll do what I can. No promises.'

‘Wait,
I'm staying with big nose
?' I.C. asked.

‘Stop calling me that!'

‘It's just for a while,' I said, kneeling down so I was the same height as the boy. ‘Until I can figure out how to get you out. He'll keep you safe.'

I.C. looked like he might burst into tears again. ‘You'll come back?'

I nodded.

‘Promise?'

I thought about the one photograph I still had. The impossible photograph. The photograph that hadn't happened.

Hadn't happened
yet
?

I slipped the picture into I.C.'s hand and folded his fingers over it. ‘Promise.'

I.C. wiped his tears on his sleeve. ‘How do you know he isn't going to kill me?'

I looked up. Mr Mumbles met my gaze. ‘Because,' I said, ‘he's an old friend.'

‘OK, runt, let's move,' Mumbles said.

I.C. wrapped his arms round my neck and pressed his cheek against mine. His skin was cold. At least now I understood why.

‘See you around,' he said, when he eventually pulled away.

‘Yeah,' I replied, my throat suddenly tight. ‘See you around.'

‘One thing,' Mumbles said. ‘Your dad. He can be... persuasive. Make you do things you don't want to do.' He looked away from me, then briefly looked back. ‘Be careful.'

I.C. released his grip on my neck and turned away. His voice sounded lighter than it had been for hours, as if all his fear had simply melted away. ‘Right then,' he said, ‘where to, big nose?'

‘I told you, don't call me that!'

‘It's not my fault you've got a big nose! So, where to?'

I heard Mr Mumbles sigh, watched him turn and head for the door. I.C. skipped alongside him, looking up.

‘To find my hat.'

‘Oh, right. Is it a nice hat?'

‘What?'

‘Can I hold your hand?'

‘No!'

‘
Please!
'

‘No!'

‘But it's scary, and I'm only small.'

‘If I say yes, will you shut up?'

‘Maybe.'

‘Right, fine,' Mumbles grunted, and as his big hand wrapped round I.C.'s, I focused on a spark, and brought myself home.

Chapter Twenty-one
CONFESSIONS

I
t took me twenty minutes to find the room. It was a private one, just beside the entrance to a communal ward on the third floor of the main building. I'd passed it three or four times before I remembered Joseph had told me the room number when driving me here. Armed with that knowledge, I'd set off to find room forty-two.

The door had a large window set in it, taking up almost half the space. I could see Ameena on the other side of the glass. She was on the end of the bed, her back to me, watching over the bandaged figure tucked beneath the sheets.

Ameena turned as I entered. She didn't speak, but her relief was etched on her face. Around us, the room was a chorus of machines that beeped and clicked and wheezed. Machines, I knew, that were keeping my mum alive.

‘How is she?' I asked. My voice was a whisper, as if I was afraid I'd wake Mum up, when, in fact, that was exactly what I hoped would happen.

‘Stable, I think,' Ameena said. She indicated the clipboard hanging over the foot of the bed. ‘Couldn't make much sense of it.'

I picked the clipboard up and looked over several pages filled with graphs and charts and handwritten notes. I couldn't make sense of it, either, and I quickly clipped it back to the end of the bed.

‘Where's the kid, then?' Ameena asked. ‘You find him?'

‘Found him,' I replied. ‘He's safe. I think.' She raised her eyebrows. ‘Long story,' I said. ‘Tell you later.'

She gave a shrug that suggested she didn't really care, then slid down from the bed. ‘I think I'll go get some water,' she said. ‘Give you a bit of time.'

I flashed her a thin smile of thanks as she passed me on the way to the door. I waited until the door was closed before I turned to my mum.

She was a mess. As much of a mess as Mr Mumbles had been. Her head was bandaged, the face below it swollen and stained with purple bruising. A thin tube ran across her top lip, below her nose, two strips of white tape holding it to her face.

Another tube dangled from a clear bag that hung from a metal pole. The tube was attached to a needle that had been inserted into her left hand and bandaged securely in place. It was the same sort of tube that had been drip-feeding the chemicals into Wobblebottom. I had to remind myself that this stuff was helping Mum, not hurting her.

‘Hi, Mum,' I said, imagining a reply in the clicking, wheezing and bleeping of the machines.

I half sat, half leaned on the bed beside her. Her right hand lay on top of the covers, palm upwards, fingers curled over like the legs of a dead spider. I lifted it, squeezed it gently, then sat it down the other way up.

I didn't know what to say. After everything I'd been through to get here, I didn't know what to say. ‘I'm sorry,' was all I could think of, but it didn't seem nearly enough.

In the end, I stopped trying to think of anything, and I just told her how I felt, like I would've if she'd been awake.

‘I'm scared, Mum,' I said. ‘Everything's out of control. Marion's dead. I nearly got stuck in the Darkest Corners. There's still my dad to worry about.' I covered her hand with mine and gave it another squeeze. ‘I hit him in the face with a brick, by the way,' I told her. ‘You'd have liked that.'

I almost expected her to smile at that. Of course, she didn't. ‘I don't know what's happening to me,' I said. ‘Or what's going to happen. He says I'm going to end the world, but that's one thing I do know
won't
happen. I won't help him. I'll never help him.'

The door opened and Ameena was back. She quickly closed the door behind her. ‘Cops,' she said. ‘They're coming.'

‘What? How do they know I'm here?'

‘They don't. I overheard them, they're just coming to check on your mum. They think you attacked her, and they think you'll come back to finish the job.'

‘
What?
' I spluttered. ‘They think I did this?'

‘And they still think you killed Marion too,' she said. ‘Never rains but it pours, eh? We've got to get you out of here.'

‘I can't just go,' I replied, getting up from the bed. ‘I can't leave her alone. Who'll protect her if my dad sends someone to finish the job? There'll be no one to look after her.'

‘You think they'll let you stay?' Ameena snapped. ‘You think you'll be able to guard her from a prison cell?'

‘They won't send me to prison,' I said, my jaw setting in determination. ‘I won't let them.'

‘Fight the cops? What, all of them?'

‘If I have to.'

‘Don't be stupid, that'll never work.'

We would've kept arguing, had the door not swung open right then. Two policemen hesitated in the doorway for a moment, before one stepped into the room and the other hissed into his shoulder-mounted radio.

‘Kyle Alexander?' said the first, in a voice that made my name sound like an accusation.

The second policeman joined the first, blocking the door so there was nowhere for me to run. Already I could hear more footsteps racing along the corridor.

And that was when I realised what I had to do. The moment it all became clear. The moment everything changed.

The moment I became a monster.

Creating the gun was easy, barely taking any effort at all. I did it behind my back, out of sight of the policemen and the swelling ranks of the other officers out in the corridor.

‘You think I did this,' I said, gesturing towards my mum. ‘And you think I murdered Marion and burned down her house.'

‘We're just making enquiries, son,' the second policeman said. ‘Just making—'

‘You're right,' I said. ‘I did do it. All of it.'

Ameena turned on me. ‘What? Why are you—?'

I raised the handgun and pointed it between her eyes. ‘Shut up,' I told her.

I heard a curse from the policemen, then the crackle of a walkie-talkie being put to use. I stepped closer to Ameena, keeping the gun to her head. It looked like one from an old Western I'd seen, more like a toy than a real weapon, but the cops weren't taking any chances.

Draping an arm across Ameena's throat, I pulled her in front of me. She struggled, but not as much as I'd expected her to. Either she could see through my bluff or she was genuinely terrified. I'd have to ask her later.

‘I'm going to walk out of here,' I said. ‘You're not going to follow me.'

I cleared my throat, knowing the next few words were going to be difficult. ‘And then, when no one's guarding my mum, I'm going to come back, and I'm going to finish her off, just like I did Marion.'

I pressed the barrel of the gun against Ameena's head, emphasising my point. ‘Understand? The moment you stop protecting her, she dies.'

‘Look, son, we can—'

‘Shut up,' I said. ‘Tell me you understand.'

Both policemen in the room nodded. ‘Understood, but you won't get away, son. Let the girl go. We've got the place sealed off. You can't escape the hospital.'

‘Trust me, you're not the first person to tell me that today,' I told him. With the gun I motioned for them to step aside. They did, pushing back into the corridor and giving me room to move.

‘You sure about this?' Ameena whispered, quiet enough that only I would hear.

‘It's the only way,' I said in her ear. ‘They'll protect her now. She'll be safe.'

‘Yeah? Well what about you?'

I thought back to earlier, when I'd first arrived in the hospital in the Darkest Corners. I'd been sure there was no way I could survive without Ameena's help. But I was wrong.

‘I can handle myself.'

I glanced down at the figure on the bed, smaller and more shrunken than I'd ever seen her before. I wondered if she was dreaming. Good ones, I hoped.

‘Bye, Mum,' I whispered, and I shoved Ameena out of the room, past the ranks of helpless policemen, and onwards into the dark and uncertain future that lay beyond.