Downtime - Marc Platt [92]
She had watched Crichton’s confrontation with the young officer from a safe distance behind a laurel bush.
Twigs cracked. She ducked into the foliage. Two furry shapes as big as grizzly bears lumbered past no more than twelve feet from her. They walked upright with a rolling gait, their forepaws clawing the air.
Yeti, she thought, and tried not to think too much of Charlie Bryce. Somehow these hulking creatures didn’t look like the shy, endangered species that the documentaries always made them out to be. Or like fluffy bundles that bit prime ministers.
They also emitted a persistent high-pitched bleeping signal.
She saw Crichton’s group start to retreat. More of the huge brutes were emerging from the trees on the far side of the lawns. And still more from the building.
Blue UN berets were visible ranged across the parkland.
Battle lines were being drawn up. Sarah ran through the layout of the campus in her mind. She heard the first rapid gunshots as she skirted the bushes and headed for the administration block.
There was web on the inside of the reception windows. She cautiously pushed open the door and went inside. The squeaky-clean place she had visited only yesterday had changed beyond belief. The air was stale and clogged.
Something unearthly was in residence here. She had sensed it on her first visit, but it was no longer just an uncomfortable gut feeling. It had erupted into visible form, filling the place with an evil nebulous gossamer. She immediately thought of spiders and parlours and giant versions of things that kept eating her roses in the garden at home.
In the gloom, Sarah was suddenly aware of a figure seated behind the curve of the desk, a young woman with long blonde hair and her head buried in her hands. She slowly looked up, plainly exhausted. Sarah knew her identity immediately.
‘It’s Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, isn’t it?’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Your father said it might be a family affair.’
She reached across the desk and heartily shook the perplexed woman’s hand. ‘Sarah Jane Smith. Hello. This place is like a beacon.’
In truth, she also recognized Kate from a photo of a little girl that the Brigadier had always carried in his wallet. The family resemblance was striking.
Sarah flapped her hands in a busy sort of way. ‘So show me where to find your dad. I used to work with him sometimes.’
There was a pause. Kate hardly reacted.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Sarah.
Kate was rubbing her fingers. They looked raw. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I feel used, dirty. A computergeist.’
A clanking sound came from further inside the gloomy building. They heard a high-pitched bleeping signal approaching. Sarah darted through the open side of the reception desk beside Kate. They ducked below the counter as a Yeti emerged through the veils of hanging web.
It passed the desk and stopped in the centre of the foyer, facing the main doors. It seemed to be waiting. The signal died. The massive shape did not move. Sarah and Kate crouched close to the floor, too terrified to breathe.
Above them, there was a slight burr as the computer terminal on the desk activated. The screen started to glow with an empty pallor. It began to turn slowly back and forth like a cyclopean eye searching for them.
Sarah pulled Kate down tight under the desktop until they were practically chewing carpet. The screen continued to cast to and fro, searching in frustration.
Finally the glow died.
Silence – apart from the distant gunfire.
Signalling Kate to stay still, Sarah rose slowly to peer over the top of the desk.
The Yeti had not moved a shaggy muscle. It still faced away from them towards the door.
Sarah waited an age. She wondered if Yeti slept standing up. Any minute the gunfire, which was getting nearer, would wake it. Finally she signalled to Kate to crawl out through the back way as slowly and silently as she could.
Kate did as she was told, inching her way out, a look of forced concentration almost certainly stifling a yell of terror.
Sarah, unable to take her eyes