Doctor Who_ The Last Dodo - Jacqueline Rayner [41]
One of the old ladies whimpered. ‘Go on,’ he urged me again, then called out, ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be all right,’ in a cheerfully reassuring voice that was almost drowned out by the sound of sirens from outside. I turned to look through the glass store front, and could see two great big fire engines drawing up. Firemen jumped down and the automatic doors swished open to let them into the shop. They saw the sabre‐tooth. They ran out again.
All except one, a tall, moustached black man. ‘No fire, then,’ he called out to the Doctor – and I won’t say he didn’t sound scared, but I guess he was the kind of man who didn’t let being scared get in the way.
‘No fire,’ the Doctor called back. ‘I won’t say it was exactly a false alarm, but…’
‘What can I do to help?’ the fireman yelled over the sound not only of the bell, but also of one of the fire engines hastily reversing away outside.
I nudged the Doctor. I could see that the tiger was beginning to focus, wasn’t shaking its head anywhere near so violently. We might not have very long.
‘Right!’ said the Doctor, all firm and decisive. ‘As soon as the spell breaks, I’ll try to lead it out. Could you, er…?’
‘Albert.’
‘Albert, you see to Agnes and Millicent here. But make sure you’re not in its path.’ I could see the Doctor was worried. How much easier for the animal to turn on sitting prey rather than chase after a running target.
And Albert got the idea too. He nodded, and before the Doctor could say another word he had leapt onto a chiller cabinet and was inching along, making his way to the other side of the tiger, to where the two old ladies were huddled together. ‘Be careful!’ I shrieked, ridiculously – I mean, as if you weren’t going to be careful when you were climbing over a deadly prehistoric predator.
He jumped down the other side and, after a breathless hello to the women, began grabbing packets and tins, building a barrier between them and the animal. Even worried as he was, I saw half a grin on the Doctor’s face – this was his kind of man.
‘How did the sabre‐tooth die out?’ I asked, hoping for a clue. I mean, I know we couldn’t – shouldn’t – kill the last member of an otherwise extinct species, but if it was it or me…
‘Climate change, leading to vegetation change, leading to prey change, leading to no food,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Probably.’
‘So not a solution we could utilise in the next two minutes, then,’ I said – as the tiger took a step towards us.
The Doctor began to pull packets of bacon out of the chiller, ripping them open and draping the rashers over his shoulders. He had, I decided, gone totally loopy. ‘Might help if I really smell of meat!’ he told me. ‘Entice him in this direction!’
Yes, loopy. Noble, but loopy.
‘Now, Martha, run!’ he yelled at me. And I decided that this time, it really was a good idea to do as he said.
I stumbled down the aisle towards the exit, swerving round abandoned groceries and pushing my way through ‘Five items or less’. ‘Faster!’ the Doctor was yelling, not seeming to appreciate the fact that I was carrying a bird the size of a sheep. And I wasn’t going to leave her – but, on the other hand, I didn’t want to be ripped to pieces by a sabre‐toothed tiger either. What to do?
At that moment, just as my head was about to explode (and my lungs too, come to that), I spotted the solution. Two seconds later, Dorothea was happily sat in a supermarket trolley, and I was dashing down the road pushing it like a demented contestant on Supermarket Sweep.
The Doctor caught me up as I passed the remaining fire engine. ‘Is it coming?’ I gasped.
‘Oh yes. Albert and the others’ll be fine.’
‘Good,’ I replied, although, selfish as it may sound, I was at that exact second more worried about me. ‘What now?’ I asked.
‘Oh, I’ll think of something,’ the Doctor said, filling me with no confidence whatsoever..
A roar came from behind and I upped my speed. ‘Are you sure