Doctor Who_ Corpse Marker - Chris Boucher [72]
‘The entryway is blocked and burning,’ Poul said. ‘Our options are fry, suffocate, or possibly get blown up.’
The Doctor was struck by how rational and normal the man was compared to the last time they were both conscious. ‘How are you with heights?’ he asked.
Poul came and stood beside him and stared downwards. ‘All right apparently.’
‘You don’t remember?’
Poul shook his head. ‘Too complicated.’ He smiled. ‘I’m working on my name at the moment.’
‘Ander Poul,’ the Doctor said.
‘You or me?’
‘You.’
‘Doesn’t help,’ he said. ‘Not that it’s going to matter much longer.’
The Doctor glanced back at the fire. It was spreading rapidly. He was surprised that the flier still had not ignited. An explosion could only be moments away. Smoke was billowing out of the hole around them. Below them the wall of the building was sheer, unbroken by windows or ledges or anything they could use to climb. Above them it was the same though the roof was much closer, tantalisingly closer. He held on to the edge of the hole with one hand and leaned out for a better look.
‘There’s some sort of bridge up there,’ he said.
The smoke was making it difficult to see. The Doctor leaned further out. The brickwork crumbled under his fingers and he felt himself losing his balance. He scrabbled for a grip.
Poul grabbed his wrist.
‘Thank you,’ the Doctor said and leaned out further still. ‘It’s definitely a bridge.’ He could see there were one or two people crossing. They were paying no attention to the smoke or to him.
He waved. ‘Hullo?’ he called. The smoke swirled about, enveloping him. He felt in his coat pocket and pulled out his hat and tried waving that to waft the smoke away. ‘Hullo?’ he called again.
‘I can’t hold you much longer,’ Poul shouted.
‘Hullo?!’ The Doctor waved his hat more vigorously and shouted louder. ‘Hullo? Somebody? Anybody?’ He was obviously wasting his time. There was no one on the bridge any more. How could they not have seen him?
Poul was shouting, ‘I’m losing you,’ and leaning back, desperately trying to brace himself against the edge of the broken wall.
The Doctor could feel his grip slipping. He swung round awkwardly and grabbed at Poul’s other outstretched hand and managed to claw himself back. As his balance wavered and he fumbled for a hold he let go of his hat.
Leela reached the bridge only to find that there was nothing to see but smoke. As she had expected, the bridge was a good position from which to see the hole in the side of the building. It was also a good position from which to see into the hole in the side of the building, but not since she was a young child had she been interested in peeking down the flues of cooking pits. She stood on the bridge and looked at the dense smoke. It was her own fault for being stupid. There was no point in knowing what you had to do if you did not do it. She stared into the smoke for a moment or two longer. Idle curiosity was for careless fools.
She was starting to turn and go back the way she had come when a movement below the bridge caught her eye. Something had fallen out of the smoke and was drifting and toppling slowly down between the buildings. It was a hat. It was a hat like no other Leela had seen since they had arrived in this world. Even at that distance, tiny and disappearing into the shadows and gloom, it was a very familiar hat. ‘Doctor?’ she shouted down towards the smoking hole. ‘Doctor, is that you?’
Chapter Ten
‘The masonry’s soft so here’s what we do,’ the Doctor said, groping through the choking smoke to gather up some of the shards of metal which had been scattered around by the shattered flier. ‘We make hand and footholds across the face of the building and climb to safety on that bridge.’
Poul took a couple of the pieces. ‘If I had the breath