Doctor Who_ Time and Relative - Kim Newman [33]
'Burn them out, Flash,' shouted Gillian.
Zack flicked his Ronson lighter a dozen times before he got a flame,
then touched it to his Molotov cocktail. He shook well, scrambling the ingredients back into fuel, and lobbed the bottle. It arced, burning fuse fluttering like a banner, and smashed against the Cold Knight who stood between us and the stairwell.
A fire-shroud instantly melted the Knight's head and arms to stumps. The snow evaporated and the ice core dwindled in seconds, empty gaps appearing and water gushing. Burning petrol splashes sank through the Knight's body, like acid through a paper flower. A circle of bare grey tarmac appeared as the liquid flame soaked through to the platform.
The effect wouldn't last.
I picked up Malcolm and ran.
The drifts and the Knights came after us, converging and combining into one huge, thundering glacier.
We all squeezed into the stairwell and the glacier shattered against the brickwork doorway behind us. I slipped and took a tumble, still wrapped around Malcolm. Zack went over his feet too. Snow and ice poured around us as we rolled down the stairs. I took my lumps, half-falling and half-rolling down the steps. I landed badly.
Someone – John – took my hand and hauled me up. We ran away from the station exit.
Later –
The army isn't on the streets any more. The council isn't clearing up the snow. There are no policemen, postmen, milkmen, binmen. People peer from barricaded upper storey windows, wrapped up warm but not daring to go out. Long-unused chimneys pour thick smoke into the grey sky. Whatever came to hand is being burned in grates left over from before the Clean Air Act.
I don't know how much longer anyone indoors will be safe.
Snow and ice are everywhere, and anywhere they are there can be Cold Knights. Eventually, it will be night again and the general temperature will plunge well below freezing.
Then we might all be for the Chop.
By day, with the temperature just hovering about freezing point, the Cold Knights are like individuals in an army; at night, when all water is ice, they are more purposeful, like one being, one hostile intelligence – a living, thinking, malign glacier.
Gillian still has doubts about going to Grandfather, but she needs something to do, something to fight. She keeps us going, head down with determination, refusing to accept obstacles. John took Malcolm from me and is carrying him. It helps John to have someone to look after.
I keep seeing Dolly, her open-mouthed expression of surprise.
The Cold Knights didn't need to march out of the station after us. They can spring up from anywhere.
Later –
We passed three snowmen by the War Memorial. Frozen heads swivelled, carrot-noses pointing at us. One wore an oversized tam o'shanter.
After this, if there is an after this, I promise I promise I promise I will never make another snowman.
The turn into Totter's Lane was blocked by a twenty-foot-high drift. The tops of lamp-posts stuck out of it.
'I suppose we have to get over that,' said Zack.
He put his foot on the slope of the drift. It sank in below the ankle. The snow here was looser than in the rail-bed.
'There's never a pair of tennis rackets handy when you need them,' said Zack.
Powdery snow closed around Zack's foot and became an ice mantrap. He reacted fast, pulling back, but his boot was still stuck.
'It's making teeth,' he said.
I knelt and saw he was right. Triangular ice wedges scraped the leather of his motorcycle boot.
'Give me your lighter,' I said.
He handed the Ronson down to me. I flipped the top and worked the
flint. This time, the flame came quickly. I let it grow to an inch or so, using up fuel fast, then played it around Zack's gripped boot.
The ice jaws melted enough to loosen and Zack got his foot free.
'Thanks, Suze,' he said.
I gave him back his Ronson. He shook it. All the fluid was gone.
'Time I gave up smoking, anyway,' he said.
We all looked up at the snow wall. Mouth-like traps opened and closed,