Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [51]
In the background of her attention Roz was aware of Mrs Woodcott reloading her revolver, spilling the spent cartridges on the tiled floor, then reaching out to touch Roz on the shoulder.
‘I think it’s time for a tactical withdrawal, dear.’
‘So do I.’
The kitchen window was momentarily free of intruders because the bodies of the dogs had formed a solid wall, plugging it shut. But already the obscene blockage was beginning to wriggle and shift as others pressed in from the outside.
Roz and Mrs Woodcott ducked out of the kitchen as the wall of corpses came down, slithering and tumbling into the sink and across the clean white counters as living dogs began pouring through in a flood of dark shapes.
Roz slammed the kitchen door behind them and was looking for something to block it with when Mrs Woodcott came through from the sitting room dragging an armchair.
Roz was amazed at the old woman’s strength.
‘This should be all right if you can endure the hideous sub-William Morris fabric, dear.’ She helped Roz wedge the kitchen door with the fat armchair. On the other side they could hear excited panting and snuffling and the click and slither of claws on the tiled floor. The dogs had taken the kitchen and they were triumphant.
Roz jolted with shock. The knocking had begun at the front door again, louder than before.
‘Into the sitting room, I think.’
Mrs Woodcott and Roz began backing down the hallway.
The armchair that wedged the kitchen door shut was trembling with the impact of blows as the dogs threw themselves wildly at the barrier. The front door was rattling in its frame too, as the knocks turned into ugly pounding sounds, and came louder and faster.
‘If they get in we stand back to back,’ said Roz. She had to shout to make herself heard.
‘Agreed, dear,’ yelled Mrs Woodcott.
Then Roz realized why they were shouting. It wasn’t the noise of the dogs battering at the doors.
They were shouting to make themselves heard over the noise of the engine.
The armoured car engine.
Roz and Mrs Woodcott turned around in time to see the armoured car come rolling into the back wall of the garden.
For a moment the low brick wall held; then it began to slowly crumble and topple, chunks of brick like broken teeth snapping under the weight of the vehicle as it ground inexorably forward.
That was when Roz knew that Redmond must be dead.
The vehicle was creeping forward in low gear, obviously out of control. Only luck had brought it here to them.
Small cement statues crumbled and toppled into an ornamental pond. Stone flower-pots shattered as the armoured car lumbered into the garden, dragging chunks of the wall with it. Shadows flowed out of the garden as the dogs retreated at the approach of this huge metal beast.
The big armoured vehicle had never looked so good to Roz. Sturdy and invulnerable, armour gleaming in the moonlight.
‘We’ll be safe once we’re on board,’ said Roz. ‘Come on.’
She reached for the French windows and slid the nearest panel open. The thunderous rattling of the engine came into the sitting room on a warm night breeze smelling of diesel.
‘Our chariot awaits,’ said Mrs Woodcott, grinning at the big vehicle rolling towards them.
Then the front door caved in behind them.
The first wave of dogs knocked the wedged armchair aside, unplugging the kitchen doors. A wild scrambling horde of dogs joined those already streaming into the hallway through the front door.
Roz and Mrs Woodcott turned to face them. Mrs Woodcott’s revolver was empty within seconds and she began to reload, fumbling in her handbag for ammunition.
Roz kept firing, but she knew it was hopeless.
Because the dogs just kept coming and she had the Styer AUG on rapid fire, spraying the hallway with bullets as fast as she could to stop them getting into the sitting room.
But in a few seconds she would be out of ammunition and she would have to reload and the six bullets now in Mrs Woodcott’s gun wouldn’t buy them enough time to do