Doctor Who_ Beyond the Sun - Matthew Jones [26]
‘Errol, I need to know where the lifeboats are.’
He said something she couldn’t make out. Behind him, she could now see the shape of one of the ships moving relentlessly towards them. It looked ugly. A huge black insect, six legs curled under its length. It filled the entire window. For a moment she just stared at it.
She felt someone tug at her arm. ‘I know where the escape pods are located,’ Emile said.
Bernice nodded. ‘Right . . . right then, come on.’
She moved off after Emile, pulling Tameka along behind her. The young woman was making a low rasping noise that might have been crying. As they turned the end of the corridor, Bernice heard Errol call out her name again and then it was drowned out by a series of small explosions.
‘Here,’ Emile called to her and pointed to two hatches cut into the wall close to the deck. She hurriedly made sense of the simple procedure, thumbed one of the controls and the first hatch slid open after a few seconds, which felt like hours. There was a coffin-sized space clearly designed for one.
‘Get in, both of you.’
Tameka pulled her arm free. ‘I won’t be a minute,’ she promised and disappeared in the direction of the living quarters. Bernice stared after her, speechless. Emile climbed into the small space, still hugging his holdall.
‘You won’t need that,’ she told him and tried to lift it out of his arms but he hung on fiercely.
‘No,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t leave it. It’s all I’ve got.’
It was ridiculous. ‘Emile, listen, this is no time to argue. You can’t take that with you. We need to make the lifeboat as light as possible. It’s already way over capacity.’ Emile didn’t appear to be listening to her – he just turned away and was staring defiantly at the far wall.
Great.
Tameka returned moments later carrying a small black drawstring bag. ‘Overnight bag,’ she said brightly. ‘Well I’m not going anywhere without at least a change of clothes and an eyeliner pencil.’ Her mascara had run down her face in long spikes, betraying her cool expression. She climbed in after Emile. Somehow, there was just enough room.
Bernice felt a wave of anger rise over her. ‘You stupid little . . .’ she started, before realizing that she was just wasting time. ‘Stay near the pod when it lands, we’ll follow you down.’ She closed the door and hit the controls that would activate the pod. There was a slight tremor as the pod was loosed and the control panel glowed green and buzzed cheerily.
‘Bombs away,’ Bernice muttered to herself. She couldn’t believe that girl. She’d almost killed herself over a bag of make-up! She remembered hearing a story of two women returning to a factory after a fire alarm to retrieve their handbags. They hadn’t come out again.
Bernice glanced at the second hatch for a moment. No. It was tempting. But no. She wasn’t going to leave without Errol. She made her way carefully back to the bridge. It was almost impossible to see her hands in front of her face in the smoke. The air was hot. Several of the sprinklers had activated and were spraying jets of unpleasantly warm foam throughout the ship.
Errol was slipping in and out of consciousness. Part of one of the control panels had torn into the side of his thigh as it exploded. It was now embedded in his leg. There was a lot of blood and the sweet smell of burning flesh. She took off her shirt and wrapped it around her hands before pulling the torn metal sheet out of his thigh.
The metal was ragged and misshapen. It sliced into his leg as she pulled it free, making the wound longer. He shrieked – a high and desperate sound. Blood flooded out of the wound and over her hands. Bernice knew that she was making the injury worse by removing the metal, which had probably been keeping a severed artery sealed. But she had to free him from the wreckage or he would certainly die when the ship blew. She used the sleeve of her denim shirt as a tourniquet, tying it above the wound.
She grimaced. She was breaking a first-aid rule with her every action. Never mind, she could sort it all out later. If she