Doctor Who_ The Bodysnatchers - Mark Morris [48]
Then, quite suddenly, she began to slow down.The steep angle of the chute appeared to be lessening, levelling out. She felt her shoulder strike the wall of the chute, but this time, instead of bouncing, she simply rolled, as though down a gentle slope. As her senses, which had seemed jarred from her head, began to settle into place again, she managed to use her arms and legs to halt her progress.
Next moment she was motionless, lying on her stomach, panting hard, her heart thudding away. She blinked, and though she had kept her eyes open the whole time, only now did she realise she was looking back up the chute again.
She couldn't see the top, however. It curved away above her, out of sight.
As the more petty concerns of life began to filter back into her consciousness, she found herself hoping that Litefoot and Emmeline had seen little of her graceless descent.
'That didn't do much for your image, did it?' said a voice behind her, as though stealing her thoughts.
Sam pushed herself up on to her elbows and looked round.The Doctor was just a few feet below her, leaning back against the wall with his hands behind his head, looking so relaxed she wanted to hit him.
'I missed my footing,' she said huffily.
'Several times,' said the Doctor, nodding. He shoved himself away from the wall, his redistribution of weight causing the surface of the chute to ripple like the skin of a trampoline. 'Are you all right?' he asked, now displaying what sounded like genuine concern.
'Yeah, I'm fine,' she said.'I bruised my ego, that's all.'
'That'll mend,' he said. Lolloping past her, he called up,'Who's next?'
There was a short pause, then Sam felt the membranous surface beneath her shiver as something above impacted with it. Next moment Emmeline appeared, and - much to Sam's chagrin - slid gracefully to a halt beside them, as though she had been doing this kind of thing all her life.
Litefoot's descent was more uncoordinated, but still not as undignified as Sam's. He appeared without coat, hat, or cane (which he had left in a neat pile on the basement floor as though fully intending to pop back for them later), on his stomach, facing back the way he had come, arms stretched out, hands splayed. He looked, thought Sam, trying not to laugh in case the Doctor mentioned her own shortcomings, like Wile E. Coyote vainly trying to prevent himself sliding down a cliff face. She almost expected to see vertical lines in the soft tissue where he had tried to dig in his fingernails.
He came to a gentle stop and rose shakily to his feet, blinking around. With a dignity that made Sam feel a sudden burst of affection for him, he tugged down his jacket, which had ridden up almost to his armpits, and smoothed his hands over his wayward grey hair. His cheeks were flushed but his eyes were sparkling.'What a way to travel!' he exclaimed. He examined the glowing, pulsing walls closely, running his fingers over the fleshy surface.
'This is a rum place, Doctor. I feel rather like Jonah in the belly of the whale.'
'Pongs a bit,' said Sam.
'Pongs?'
'Smells'
'Ah.' Litefoot sniffed the air.'Indeed.Though oddly the odour is not unfamiliar.'Then his face cleared.'Ah, I have it! It is an odour very reminiscent of... Oh dear, but I'm afraid I'm rather forgetting myself.'
'Why?' asked Sam.
Litefoot looked embarrassed.'Well, my dear, it's simply that the topic is not really an appropriate one for discussion in... um, polite company.'
Sam rolled her eyes.'Oh God, not all that sexist nonsense again. It's all right, Professor, we girls are tougher than we look. Aren't we, Em?'
Emmeline nodded, though her face was deadpan; in fact, she looked as though she had not heard what Sam had said