Doctor Who_ Nightshade - Mark Gatiss [77]
With a roar, the creature hauled itself over the lip of the He looked down at the floor which had cracked right across.
hole and clawed at the carpet, dragging its disgusting body A harpoonlike claw was thrashing through the hole, inside. This was all the incentive Trevithick required. He attempting to gain purchase on the floor.
punched the hatch out and gazed through at chilly darkness.
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The creature had one leg through now, sliding through the hole like a monstrous dragonfly sloughing off its old skin.
Trevithick managed to get his arms through the hatch up to the elbows and howled with effort as he tried to pull himself through. The ashtray below him shook unsteadily as the beast fell inside the lift. Trevithick was through up to his waist, his old arms seared by pain. Cold sweat flooded down his face.
The creature stood upright, uncurling its enormous body and chittering in triumph. Trevithick thanked God he was wearing his steel-toed boots, and kicked it savagely in both wounded eyes. It lashed out instantly, ripping through his trousers to his bare flesh underneath. Trevithick cried out in pain and kicked again, struggling to retain his fragile grip on the top of the lift.
Again it fell, spraying the lift walls with black blood.
The creature’s maw dripped with fluid as it thrust its head Trevithick looked about him desperately. The lift shaft was towards Trevithick’s legs. With a titanic effort he pulled totally dark. His only choice was to attempt a climb up to himself right through the hatch, curled around, pulled out the next level and somehow prise open the doors which led his revolver and pumped two more bullets into the creature.
to safety. But, in his heart, he knew this was impossible. He hadn’t the strength left and his plans failed to include one thing. The creature.
It was roaring and slamming at the ceiling hatch now, determined to break through and find him. Trevithick shivered, half through fear and half through cold. He glanced at his old revolver. Two bullets left.
Then a wild idea lit up his brain. He scrabbled about inside his jacket and pulled out the fire extinguisher. The creature was half blind now anyway. All he needed to do was complete the process and then... It was too perfect! The extinguisher didn’t spray foam; it was for electrical fires, 216
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obviously the main worry in a place like the tracking station.
and stabbed his finger decisively on to the Level 18 button.
So it contained carbon dioxide. Compressed carbon dioxide!
The lift began to ascend immediately, stranding the creature Trevithick checked his gun again unnecessarily. Two on the cable, its claws scraping and slipping on the metal.
bullets. He would need only one. He tore off his jacket and Trevithick lay down by the hole and took out his revolver crouched by the hatch, holding his breath. The creature’s with careful deliberation. He gazed through the hole in the head was through now, peering about in the gloom to locate floor and watched the creature diminish in size.
him. Trevithick slid across the lift so he was behind it, At Level 18, the lift stopped and, to Trevithick’s relief, the holding his jacket in one hand and the extinguisher in the doors sprang open. Instantly, he slid the tubular ashtray on other. He said a silent prayer and then launched himself at to the threshold to prevent the doors closing, then looked the creature.
back down the hole.
He delivered a kick to its eye and instantly sprayed its The creature was struggling up the cable, the shiny entire head with carbon dioxide, then cocooned the head extinguisher glinting on one of its hooked spines. He cocked with his jacket and flung himself and the creature back into his revolver and took aim.
the lift.
The creature’s head rolled back as it saw his face. It roared Trevithick’s whole body screamed in pain but he in fury and redoubled its efforts, wrapping its vicious claws wouldn’t give up