the air and just as Ned’s fingers closed around it the box was gone again.
“Ow! What was that?”
“Speed bump … and another coming.”
Their car flew over another of the hard, tarmacked lumps, and Ned smacked his head again on the vehicle’s dashboard.
“One last bump, have you got it?”
“No I have not, and I won’t have a neck if we carry on like—”
The final bump hurt the most, but as they landed, Ned saw the glimmering metal box leap off the ground just before it hit him square in the eye.
“Ow!” he said, grabbing at it before it fell again. “OK. Got it …”
Ned felt his dad’s hand reaching for his neck and, in a single hard pull, he’d yanked him up and back into his seat.
“Don’t lose sight of it again, Ned. Not now, not ever. Do you understand?”
“Is this … is this what they’re after?”
“Only two people in the world know about that box. Those clowns are after me.”
“YOU! What could they possibly want with—”
Crash!
A horrible crunching sound rang through the car as Mo’s van smashed into the back of them again.
Through the fog, Ned could barely make out the ‘NO ENTRY’ sign to Grittlesby’s pedestrianised shopping arcade and the two metal bollards at its sides.
“Dad, we’re not going to make it!”
“Oh yes we are, my boy, oh yes we are!”
Their beloved old car hurtled through the barrier and there was a loud tearing noise as both of the Morris Minor’s wing mirrors were ripped off. Ned looked out the rear window to see Mo’s van screech to a sudden halt as it crashed into the bollards. At the other end of the arcade, their path was blocked by an even larger barrier, that Ned was sure not even his newly crazed father would try and break through. Terry went quiet, looking left and right, then left again.
“Hold on to your seat, son.”
Ned’s dad slammed the gearstick into reverse and spun the wheel. The old Morris Minor flew backwards, turning wildly up a narrow one-way street. Faster and faster the car sped, crossing one then two intersections, and then another. Ned now had no doubt that his father had gone mad when the car hit a high kerb and flew into the air.
In that moment of free fall, Ned saw his life flash before him. He saw his school surrounded by a flock of C’s, his dad staring at the inner workings of a toaster, Whiskers asleep on his pillow. And Ned did the only thing he could think of.
“Arggggggghhhhhh!”
The car landed with a loud crunch. Its boot popped open sending their bags flying as smoke poured out of the engine.
It took a good thirty seconds of his dad shaking him before Ned felt ready to stop yelling.
“It’s all right, Ned, we made it!”
But Ned’s thoughts were somewhere else. “Whiskers … what about Whiskers? Dad! We left him behind!”
“Don’t worry about him; he’s tougher than he looks. You need to move,” said his dad, thrusting one of the black bags into Ned’s arms. “Quickly, Ned, they’ll be on us in a second.”
The thought of the clowns brought him back to the moment with a thump.
“Where am I going? Why?”
“I was going to explain everything before the show, I wanted to prepare you, but my plans they … just get to the Circus of Marvels, Ned, they’ll keep you safe.”
Ned couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“We’re being chased by homicidal clowns and you want me to hide in a circus?”
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be this way, I’ve tried to protect you …”
“What wasn’t? Dad, you’re scaring me. What’s happening?”
“Just get to the circus – they’re waiting for you. Take one of the tickets, you won’t find them without it. Don’t worry, Neddles, just give Benissimo the box, he’ll know what to do.”
Terry grabbed the remaining ticket, tore it into shreds and started swallowing the pieces.
“What is going on, Dad?? How do you know these people? Where are you going? When can I come home?”
Ned could feel the tears welling in his eyes.
“You’re going to need to be brave, son, and grown up, more grown up than I’ve ever let you be before … but I will find you, Ned, I promise. Trust only Benissimo and Kitty, and don’t lose sight of that box.”
“But what does it do? What’s it for?”
From back the way they’d come, still hidden in the fog, came the honk of a horn and somewhere beyond it another.
“The clowns … they’re coming,” said his dad, now peering into the darkness. “They’ve found me.”
“T E R R Y,” called a rasping voice, that was both ugly and near.
“Run, boy, just run!”
Ned held onto his dad, tears beginning to flow down his face. How could he leave him to those monsters, with their cracked make up and glass cutting nails? It was the strength of his dad’s push that gave him his answer. Ned had no choice.
He ran in the direction he was pushed, through the thick fog, only stopping when he could run no more. He looked down at the ticket clutched in his hands. Gold letters spelled out ‘BENISSIMO’S CIRCUS OF MARVELS’ and underneath the words was something he recognised. A picture of an elephant with tiny wings. It was just like the one from his dream. Nothing in his little world made sense any more. How could a travelling salesman obsessed with safety be mixed up in all this, whatever ‘all this’ actually was? Who were those clowns and what was the first one scratching into the glass?
When he had caught his breath, Ned set off again, half running, half stumbling deeper into the wall of fog, until suddenly he hit something hard. When he looked up, in place of the tree he was expecting
