Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [49]
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The rock fall forced a plug of heavy, dusty air in front of it. Through instinct, Nathan dropped to the floor of the tunnel and bent across Martha to protect her. The crash of tumbling stone and snapping wood washed over them and Nathan coughed as his mouth was filled with fines of sand.
The rumble died away and he wheezed and panted. What little light there was coming in through the mine entrance was suddenly gone, and he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He listened hard, hearing the skitter of settling pebbles and Martha’s laboured breathing. At least she’s still all right.
‘Nathan?’ she said weakly. ‘Talk to me.’
‘I’m right here, Miss Martha, don’t you fret.’ He tried to say it with confidence, but in all truth he was more than a mite afraid. The longriders, then the run from the wagon, the cave-in. . . The youth felt like he’d been one step ahead of the Grim Reaper all the way; and then the girl asked the question he’d been dreading.
‘Where’s the Doctor?’
He couldn’t see her face, but he didn’t have to. The worry was right there in her words, plain and simple. ‘He’s hereabouts,’ Nathan managed, unable to get his bearings in the darkness. He patted the pockets 121
of his waistcoat, looking – for the matchbook he carried. ‘Crow-bait!
Can’t see a darn thing. . . ’
Martha moved and gasped with pain. ‘Here,’ she said, pressing something into his hands. ‘Use this. The screen lights up.’
Nathan ran his fingers over the object. Was it some kind of powder compact, a lady’s little mirror? It seemed like a piece of polished metal, but with a strange texture to it he’d never felt before. He found a hinge and a seam along the length, and opened it. All of a sudden there was light in the tunnel, a pearly white radiance emanating from the object in his hand. Nathan nearly dropped it in surprise. ‘What is this thing?
Glows like a box of fireflies. . . ’ There were raised bumps on one side and a square set above them that might have been made of glass. He pressed experimentally on one of the bumps and the object made a low chirping sound.
‘Mobile phone,’ Martha croaked. Telegraph. . . But no wires.’
‘Mow-Bile?’ He held it close to his face and frowned. He’d seen a telegraph machine in the Western Union office back home, and it was a heavy thing the size of a kitchen table, with a cable coming from it that was as thick as his thumb. He had no clue what this contraption was, but he wasn’t about to question Martha. The poor girl was probably delirious. . .
Unable to fathom any more of the device’s function, he shrugged and used the glow to find a brass lantern lying on its side. He was rewarded with the slosh of lamp oil inside, but without matches to light the wick, it was as good as useless.
Nathan’s frown deepened; how was he going to tell Martha that they were alone now? He swallowed hard. It was up to him, then. He would have to find Godlove, and when he did-Suddenly the light died and he jerked with fright. Nathan tapped the bumps again and it returned, bright enough to illuminate a dark, looming face right in front of him. The face split in a grin and Nathan stifled a yelp.
‘Hello,’ said the Doctor, brushing red dust from his coat and his skin.
‘Ugh. I feel like I’ve swallowed half the desert.’
‘The rocks. . . ’ Nathan said lamely. ‘I saw them falling on you. . . ’
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‘Nah, not me,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Too nimble by half.’ He rubbed his head, sending up a puff of dirt. ‘Did get beaned by a couple of big ones, but I’m fine. A goose-egg and a headache, but otherwise I’m copasetic.’ He knelt at Martha’s side and took her hand. ‘She all right?’ His expression turned serious again.
‘Askin’ for you,’ he said.
The girl drifted in and out of wakefulness. She blinked owlishly.
‘Doctor? Where’s Walking Crow?’
‘He’s gone,’ the Doctor said softly. ‘We’re going on, the three of us.’
Nathan waved the mow-bile. ‘We need more illumination than this.
I scared up an old lantern.’
The Doctor picked up the lamp. ‘This is too new to be a leftover from when