Doctor Who: Paradox Lost by Mann George

Author:Mann, George [Mann, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781446416907
Publisher: Ebury Publishing
Published: 2011-06-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

8

London, 13 October 1910

The church was cold and empty. Their footsteps echoed in the cavernous space as Rory, Amy and Arven hastily took cover inside.

‘Help me with this,’ said Arven, attempting to close the heavy oak doors with his remaining arm. Rory ran to his aid, pushing them shut and sliding the deadbolts into place. Within seconds, the doors were bucking violently in their housing as the three Squall threw themselves against the other side, trying to force their way in.

‘Great. Now we’re trapped again,’ said Amy, despondently.

Rory looked around, trying to get his bearings. The building was ancient and sombre, solidly built, thick stone walls inset with rows of stained glass windows. The sunlight shining through them cast colourful patterns over the rough wooden furniture below.

‘They’re not going to give up,’ said Arven, and as if to underline his point there was a tremendous bang from above as the creatures tried to batter their way in through the roof. Rory saw dark shadows flitting past the windows.

‘There’s more of them,’ he said. ‘They’ve found us.’

‘It won’t take them long to work out they can break in through the windows,’ said Amy. ‘We need to think of a plan.’

‘We can barricade the doors with some of those pews,’ said Rory, pointing at the ranks of wooden benches lined up behind them.

‘They’ll still be able to get in through the windows,’ said Arven. ‘Amy’s right. We don’t have very long.’

Amy crossed to the altar at the far end of the hall. ‘Do you think there’s another way out?’ she called, her voice echoing around them.

Rory shrugged. ‘Probably. But that won’t do us much good. They’ll be waiting outside.’

‘No, I don’t mean a back door,’ said Amy. ‘These old churches always have hidden nooks and crannies, secret passageways and stuff. You know the sort of thing: dark, dingy tunnels, dead people.’

‘I think you’ve been watching too many horror films,’ said Rory. ‘But we’re running out of options.’ He went to join Amy. Behind him, the Squall were scratching frantically at the doors with their talons. He could hear hordes of them chittering and squawking outside.

‘OK,’ he said, determinedly. ‘There’s got to be something around here. Some other way out. Arven, can you keep an eye on those Squall while Amy and I take a look around?’

The AI nodded and turned to face the door. Rory turned to tell Amy they should split up, but found she’d already gone. Sighing, he set out after her.

Behind the altar and pulpit was a series of smaller rooms – private rooms, Rory assumed – for the vicar. They were sparsely furnished. One of them contained only a beaten old table and a few chairs, along with a basic stove and tea-making equipment. Another held a desk and a number of bookcases, the shelves lined with row-upon-row of musty leather-bound tomes. The doors were solid enough, and if it came to it they’d be able to retreat into one of the rooms, effectively shutting themselves off from the invading Squall, but Rory knew they wouldn’t be able to hold out for long.

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