Doctor Who_ The Also People - Ben Aaronovitch [110]
'We could run to the rocks,' suggested Bernice. The seething patches of sand had closed to within three metres.
'Too far,' said the Doctor. He was tossing the blue cylinder from hand to hand. 'Something closer.'
'The beach-bar! We can stand on the tables and call for help.'
'Brilliant,' said the Doctor. 'Which way?'
Bernice pointed and the Doctor threw the blue cylinder a short distance in that direction. He held the sonic screwdriver at arm's length, aiming it at the cylinder.
'When you say run,' said Bernice, 'we run.' The Doctor gave her a sideways glance. 'This isn't exactly the first time we've done this,' she said, 'now is it?'
The sonic screwdriver screamed and the cylinder exploded in a flash of white-blue light. A blast of freezing air rocked them back on their heels. Bernice blinked; there were ice crystals in her eyelashes. A stretch of the beach ahead had turned white, frozen solid.
'Run,' said the Doctor.
They charged over the freezing beach. Bernice realized that the things crunching under her sandals were frozen grubs and picked up the pace. She could see the beach-bar a hundred metres ahead. 'Don't look back,' yelled the Doctor so of course she did.
Behind them thin plumes of sand were being kicked up as thousands of grubs accelerated after them under the surface. It reminded her insanely of a flea circus. The plumes were avoiding the frozen sand but Bernice and the Doctor were running out of that.
Unfrozen, the beach was much harder to run on. Bernice felt her breath burning in her throat and lungs. The Doctor ran beside her, lips pursed, a look of intense concentration on his face as if he were planning his next move. Another glance behind revealed the plumes were less than three metres behind her and closing.
The grubs were right on their heels when they reached the beach-bar. The Doctor seemed to trip over a table, flip head over heels and end up lying on his back on top. Bernice didn't feel the need to be anything like as artistic. She just threw herself flat on top of the nearest table and then scrambled to get her limbs inside its circumference.
'Would you like a drink?' asked the table.
Bernice tried to phrase a suitably sarcastic remark but she was too short of breath. She glanced over at the Doctor. He was sitting cross-legged on his table with his hands resting palm upright on his knees. Around the base of the table she saw that the sand was boiling with grubs.
She wondered what the table was made of and whether the grubs could eat it.
Her own table shuddered and dropped a couple of centimetres.
Maybe, she thought, there really is something to magic thinking, especially the negative kind.
The table again asked if she would like a drink, hot beverage or savoury snack from its wide selection.
Still sitting cross-legged the Doctor had grasped hold of the sides of his table as if he were planning to levitate himself and the table off the beach.
'Help,' gasped Bernice, 'I'm being attacked.'
'I'm sorry to hear that,' said the table. 'Perhaps you would like a drink while you wait for rescue. Why don't you offer one to your attacker? A shared drink can often defuse the most hostile of encounters.'
The table sank another centimetre and began to list as the grubs chewed methodically through its base. I don't think these guys are into hot beverages, thought Bernice. Or maybe they are?
'I'd like two litres of liquid nitrogen in a heavily insulated flask, please,' said Bernice. 'And make it snappy. I'm dying out here.'
The table lurched again. It had begun to tip alarmingly by the time the serving tray came swooping out from behind the dunes and slowed to a hover in front of her. She picked up the flask very gingerly only to find the surface was slightly warm; freezing vapour began pouring from the open top like heavy smoke. Leaning carefully over the side of the table she poised the flask over the boiling mass of grubs at the base.
'Eat this, maggots,' she cried and emptied the flask on top of them. She