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Lyndon and the boy's father crossed to the other side
of the street. Peter stopped a passerby and questioned him, but the man just shook his head. He heard laughter
and splashing from a public pool nearby. Then he saw the cinema. There was a crowd of people gathering as the
matinee tickets went on sale. He made towards it.
"Officer! Officer!" he heard behind him.
He turned to see a woman flagging him down.
"Yes, Madam?" he said, approaching breathlessly.
"A kid just went through my concession without paying, and now he's causing a scene on the diving board!"
"Look, I don't have time for-- Wait. Did he have a sock-puppet on his hand?"
"How'd you know that? It blew a flippin' raspberry at me as they went in."
"Lyndon!" Peter called. Officer Carter and the boy's father hurried over. "He's in there, up on
the high-dive, apparently."
"High dive?" said the father. "What's he playing at now?"
"Come on!"
Peter struggled like an overfilled water-balloon over the turnstile and the others followed. Kids were jumping
about and enjoying themselves in the water, while a handful of parents and other adults lazed about poolside, soaking
up the blazing sun. They picked their way through the throng, dodged a couple of boys wielding supersoakers, and
headed for the diving board.
A group of children were waiting their turn at the bottom, and more were up on the rungs. The boy at the top,
who looked to be fifteen or so, was arguing loudly with whoever stood on the platform.
"All right, down you come, everyone," said Lyndon. "Keep it orderly."
"Aaargh!" cried the boy at the top, who slipped, clutching his nose. He hurried down after the others,
with blood streaming down his face.
"What happened?" said Peter.
"The little bastard punched me in the nose with that sock of his!"
Peter gulped.
"Let's get you over to first aid," said Lyndon. "You handle this okay on your own, Pete?"
"Hurry back."
Their quarry chose this moment to look down from the top of the ladder. The boy was on his hands and knees.
Even from here Peter could see he was frightened out of his wits.
"Billy!" said his father. "Come down from there!"
"I... I can't!" Billy called down, shutting his eyes tight.
"I'll have to go up," said Peter, gripping a lower rung with his sweaty ham-fist, and secretly wishing
someone would intervene and say: `no, that's okay officer Gumption, I'll go up, you go spend a fortnight's paid
vacation at the North Pole.'
He took a deep breath and began his ascent.
"Billy, listen closely," he said, climbing slowly but steadily. "I'm officer Gumption -- a policeman
-- I'm coming up now to help you down, okay?"
There was silence up above. Whimpering. A faint argument. Peter was almost half-way up. He took his eyes off
the top of the ladder, stared straight ahead, and took a few controlled breaths. When he looked up again, he saw-
Mr. Sockforahead.
He scrambled to keep his footing. There was no question that the sock staring down at him could be anysock else.
It was stitched back together and bleached clean by the ocean, but still oozing with evil.
"Hey, it's Peter Pumpkin!" said Mr. Sockforahead, in that same horrible jolly voice. "Don't tell
me you were promoted?"
Peter clenched tight his gaping jaw. When Mr. Sockforahead had punched the other boy in the face it had left
a blood stain resembling a red nose. It looked comical, but only made the illusion of innocence more perverted.
"It's Gumption, not Pumpkin, you inanimate freak!" he called up, on the verge of hysterics. "I'm
a beat-cop now, and beat-cops don't take shit from socks like you!"
"You see what a shining influence I've been on you? Where would you be if I hadn't shot that nice policeman
in the foot and taken you on a murderous joyride?"
"Murderous? No-one was killed!"
"Yeah, shame really. Still, there's plenty of time for that, eh, Billy?"
The boy whimpered again. His free hand was gripping the edge of the platform for all it was worth. Peter resumed
his climb.
For more, visit the Author's Web Site at: The Manitou's Lair
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